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It’s a promotion, but standing in O’Neill’s office listening to his new assignment, Evan can’t help but feel he’s in trouble.
“You’ll be Sheppard’s XO.” O’Neill says it like it’s a joke, not a responsibility far above Evan’s station.
Evan knows about Sheppard. The Marines are vocal with their opinions. “He’s good to his men.” It’s the only thing anyone can agree on.
O’Neill frowns, serious now, intimidating. “That’s not why they’re sending a good little soldier with a spotless record to serve as his XO.”
The words are heavy. Evan keeps his back straight. It’s all he can do.
The glint in O’Neill’s eye does nothing to prepare Evan for Atlantis.
There are regulations, but they’re relaxed beyond recognition. Luckily, the Marines from the first wave follow something that resembles a code of conduct, even if the new recruits have yet to figure it out.
“You’ll be escorting the botanists,” Sheppard says without glancing up from his laptop. Evan’s no stranger to a CO at a temporary desk. Even the t-shirt, loose laces, and week’s worth of stubble on his chin are familiar.
“Yes, sir.”
Sheppard’s smile is too easy.
Evan’s no stranger to the scent of trouble, either.
It’s a month before Evan realizes exactly how much trouble John Sheppard has stored up in his little finger.
Another day, another mission gone wrong, and Evan’s fifth successful rescue of AR-1. The last thing he expects is for Sheppard to push him into a dark corner of the locker room, slide to his knees, and blow him.
After he comes down Sheppard’s throat and joins him on the floor for a quick return handjob, it starts to sink in.
“Holy shit,” Evan says, pressing his lips to the underside of Sheppard’s chin.
Sheppard pats his shoulder. “Welcome to Pegasus.”