| Title/ Acoustic About a month ago, Margie announced her intention to run in a marathon to help support the American Stroke Association, in order to raise the donation money, she set up a live journal modeled after fandom_charity. For more information, please visit fund_fic. All donations go directly to the ASA, you can view her progress here, at her donor page. Please, visit the live journal, visit the web site, sign up and offer graphics, writing, donate items for the silent auction. If you are able, donate to her fund. Leave Margie a note offering encouragement; she is doing an amazing thing here. Every little bit helps. I volunteered my writing skills, and Mel graciously pounced me, requesting a 3000 word x-over. This chapter comes in at 4500 words, and it’s only the first chapter! Love you sweetie, thanks for this. My eternal gratitude to Jeani, for telling me this was good even after I had read it so many times I was starting to second and third guess my words. And to my dearling Asgard clone, Kerry, for walking me through the sunset. ~*~*~*~ His skin felt thin and brittle, like that cheap cellophane wrapping that fake old-fashioned candy used to come in. He thought that everybody must be able to see right through him, past him, like he wasn’t there anymore. That’s how John treated him anyway, he didn’t count any more, didn’t matter. He wasn’t going back, wasn’t going to submit himself to that kind of agony, that kind of torture for a handful of stims and a <em>’So long Rodney’</em>. Regardless of the benefits to humanity, he just wasn’t cut out for life in another galaxy. He’d left his signed confidentiality form and his resignation in triplicate on everybody’s desk and walked out. Out into the thin Colorado sunshine and the cars that stank and the noise, god the fucking noise of civilization. Rodney made it all the way out to the sedate blue Ford and refused to think of the irony of that, to find Daniel sitting in the passenger seat, already buckled in. “Sam’s called your spot.” Daniel didn’t even have the grace to soften that with a smile, just gave Rodney that same You are such a fucking idiot look that he always gave Rodney. “Good for her, I hope she has fun.” And he was just too tired to fire back, there just wasn’t anything left. “Where can I drop you?” “Where you going?” Daniel reached across to the back seat, pulling two stainless steel thermoses into his lap. Rodney glanced down, then snaked his hand out and snatched one. “Canada.” He turned the key, listening to the quiet purr of the motor, and wondered briefly how it would sound in deep space. If that gentle rumble would echo in the jumper room, or if the sound would just crawl across the floor and be absorbed by the walls. “Sooo…Minnesota’s a little out of your way then?” Daniel cracked the window, letting in a faint breeze when Rodney put the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot. “Just a touch.” He didn’t have any bags, no luggage except the shit tumbling around in his head and his conscience, no need to stop to pick anything up or drop anything off. Except Daniel of course. “Road trip?” Daniel settled back into his seat, tilting his head back onto the headrest and crossing his arms over his chest. Like he was staying there or something equally idiotic. “Drunken binge?” The horizon was more purple than blue, and somewhere amidst the teasing lilt of Daniel's words, Rodney found himself easing onto the freeway facing a direction he never intended to take. The irony of that wasn’t exactly lost on him either. Daniel was silent for twenty seven mile markers, arms crossed over his chest, staring at Rodney. Rodney had been stared at enough in his life that it didn’t really bother him; Daniel would see what he wanted to see regardless. “I’m guessing you didn’t do a lot of bartering in the Pegasus galaxy?” Mile marker twenty eight and Daniel picked up right where he left off, like the previous mile markers were just eye blinks. “Now you get a clue?” Point in Daniels favor was the coffee, Rodney wished he’d just drink it and shut up. “Just askin’.” Daniel apparently didn’t grant wishes. “Not my job.” The sun was completely down now, leaving the sky colored with smoky trails of purple and orange and red. Rodney imagined that’s what the bruises on his soul looked like, so shocking against the almost dark sky. A click, and a burst of static fills the silence, but only for an instant, before agile fingers spin the insufferable little knob again, leaving them beneath the blanket of un-words, too many unspoken thoughts hanging heavily in the conditioned air. “What was your job?” Now this was just getting ridiculous. “Confidentiality clause.” Daniel didn’t seem to share the sentiment. “I have higher clearance.” “I don’t remember.” “I’ve read your reports.” “You can read my writing?” “More like…deciphering.” Daniel fell silent again, turning his head to press against the cool glass. Rodney watched him from the corner of his eye, the way he twisted his fingers together in his lap, and how he seemed almost on the verge of sleep. “Maybe you should have claimed that spot.” Rodney could have shot himself for saying that out loud. “Tried, Jack had a fit.” “And that stopped you?” “He gave me a ring, so yeah.” He refused to feel anything remotely resembling jealousy when Daniel held up his hand, shoving it close to the dashboard so the overhead lights could glint off the platinum band. “A ring.” “Matches his.” “That’s…congratulations?” Nope, no jealousy, no envy, no wild Technicolor fantasies of John maybe even just saying Hey, I like you. “Housewarming.” That made absolutely no sense at all in the Rodney McKay book of familiar terminology. “It’s cold?” His confusion must have shown on his face, but Daniel smiled a nice smile, all full of pride and joy and hope. “No, we’re having a house warming. You’re invited.” “My RSVP must have gotten lost in the mail.” Snark, snark ha ha very funny, who in their right mind would invite him to a housewarming, much less people who didn’t even like him. And why would he subject himself to another drunken round of ‘hie hie we saved the world again’ when he wasn’t going back to save the galaxy? “I considered it answered.” “Did I mark the no with a red or blue sharpie?” “I figured you were cranky when you replied, so I added you to the head count anyway.” Daniel didn’t even laugh as he said this, Rodney felt his spine stiffen and crackle when he realized Daniel was being gentle with him. “Of course you did.” “Of course I did.” “So how many will be attending this little soiree?” “Four.” “Small house.” “Private party.” “I’ll pass.” “No, I don’t think you will.” ~*~ Rodney pulled over just as the first hint of dawn lit up the sky; he poked Daniel in the arm then dropped the keys in his lap. “Coffee, piss, and then you get to drive. I don’t even know where the fuck we are.” He opened the door then sat there, not sure his legs would even hold him upright. It took two tries and Rodney was leaning against the hood of the car glaring down at his traitorous feet and the gravel that seemed to be inviting him down for a face plant. Daniel grunted, then followed suit, using the doorframe to pull himself out. “Language Dr. McKay, what would the locals think?” Daniel scrubbed the sleep off his face, and then headed for the gas station bathroom. Rodney filled the tank, using every drop of self-control to not lean against the pump and go to sleep right there, and met Daniel inside the too brightly lit building. He stocked up on chocolate while Daniel rinsed out the thermos, refilling it with thick black coffee; Rodney refused to wonder how long it had been sitting on the burner. Daniel didn’t even smile when Rodney let him pay for half. Back in the car, Rodney decided it was really time to set down some ground rules for this little adventure, not the least of which was no prying. “I’m going to drink my coffee, then go to sleep. Shut up.” Short, to the point, no room for interpretation. “I’ll just…drive then, with the radio on.” Daniel had asked the store clerk where they were, and armed with a road map he figured it should only take about an hour to get them turned back around and on the right road. It was actually closer to two, but Rodney had drunk his coffee then tilted his head back and closed his eyes. Daniel didn’t think he was actually asleep, he’d seen Rodney sleep, and there hadn’t been any drooling or muttering or finger twitching that he normally associated with the man. But he was quiet, and that left Daniel to his own thoughts. He didn’t know why Jack had called and asked him to bring Rodney, but the evil chuckle and muttered “you really don’t want to know” ensured that this would be amusing if nothing else. But the fact that Rodney hadn’t asked worried Daniel a little. He’d read the doctor’s personal history and his mission reports, Rodney was a lot braver than any of them had even given him credit for, and stronger than his high-strung tendencies had suggested, but he still didn’t like Rodney much. ~*~ Rodney stared at the cabin for a long time, eyes wide and silent, until Daniel nudged him just a little with his elbow and Rodney staggered up the chipped-rock path. The front door was open, soft yellow light spilled out to bathe the front stoop in an eerie gold glow. Well, eerie if you’d just spent the last year or so in a galaxy where colored lights of any sort heralded impending doom, but Daniel didn’t seem worried so Rodney followed him up into the house. He should have stuck to his instincts. General O’Neill stood when Daniel came through the door, the smile on his face making him look young and kind and all of those other things Rodney had never associated with the General. Daniel smiled back, exhaustion draining from the slump of his shoulders and sending a little bounce into his step. Rodney hated them both right then. John walked into the room, wearing his ‘all is right with the world’ smirk for about 0.2 seconds until he saw Rodney, then the smile dissolved and John assumed his ‘I am in charge here’ scowl. Rodney felt it like a punch to the gut. “What are you doing here?” And it sounded just like he was asking ‘what’s for lunch?’ when he wasn’t hungry, or ‘when’s bed?’ when he wasn’t tired. John Sheppard simply didn’t care. There was no way this was going to matter, no way in any solar system that one man was going to break Dr. Rodney McKay, genius. “Leaving.” Rodney tilted his head briefly at Daniel, and then turned towards the open door. “Good, see ya back at the mountain.” It would have been so simple then to turn back and engage John in another pointless round of snark, Rodney considered it between one step and the next, and surprised himself and everyone else when he silently left the cabin. John would find out when he got back to the SGC. “Daniel?” Jack took a step towards the door, glaring at his lover. “I have his keys; he’s not going anywhere, not tonight at least. John, play nice.” Then Rodney was back on the porch, soaking wet and glaring. “You have my keys and it’s raining.” Because of course even his defection would be difficult and every stumbling block the universe could possibly throw in his path would be doubled. “I’ll just show you to your room then?” Rodney wondered if Daniel had some sort of magical voice powers, some way of hypnotizing him with just a few words, because Daniel not only showed him to his room, but opened the door to the bathroom, gave him a towel and a robe and an extra pillow for his bed. And Rodney let him. Without bitching or whining or just being a pain in the ass for the fun of it. Maybe he was broken. ~*~ “Why is he here?” Jack was amazed that John’s teeth didn’t shatter under the pressure of his clenched jaw, or that the palms of his hands weren’t gushing blood. He shrugged, as casual as you please, and motioned for John to sit down with his beer. “Dr. Weir might have mentioned that there was some stress between you two, and that you needed someplace…quiet to work it out.” Jack watched John carefully, he’d read all about the Colonel, met him briefly prior to the Atlantis send off, but didn’t know him well enough to anticipate any reactions. John just shook his head and drank his beer. Then Daniel was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking at Jack slightly hopeful and slightly disappointed. Jack just grinned. He’d been planning this night for a year, and he’d soundproofed. ~*~ “Daniel, do you really want to talk about Rodney McKay right now? Cause I could put my dick away…” And that got the reaction Jack was looking for; Daniel snapped his mouth shut and took off his glasses. “No, not really. I can think of…better things to um…talk about.” There was that little hitch in his voice that made Jack’s mouth go dry, that little hip roll that made the rest of his body stand up and shout. Then Daniel had his mouth on Jack’s neck, sucking a wet line from collarbone to ear. There were fingers brushing his shirt open, pushing it off his shoulders and down his arms. Jack could feel Daniel’s heartbeat thundering in his chest, pressed against his. They moved together like they had been doing this every night of their lives, something practiced and perfected until every motion had a mirrored counter motion. Clothes were shed, dropped into mixed up piles of denim and cotton and wool. Skin was bared, touched, worshiped. Daniel slid his fingers down Jack’s side until he encountered sharp hips, cradled them in the palm of his hand and brought them together. Jack bit his lip, pushing his face into the crook of Daniel’s neck and breathed. Too fast. Too ready. They’d been good, waited until Jack had retired to actually do anything beyond kiss, and he’d be damned if he popped like some wet-behind-the-ears punk kid before he even got Daniel flat on his back. So he twisted, he pushed, until Daniel got the hint and moved backwards until he bumped into the bed. It shouldn’t be a surprise that Daniel could sprawl gracefully, something elegant and rich spread out in the middle of his bed, just waiting to be appreciated, to be savored. But he did, and Jack planned to. He moved to the nightstand, Daniel’s eyes following every movement, and pulled out the lube. “Do you want a condom?” It was only polite, after all. Daniel just scowled a little and shook his head. Then Jack was stretched out on the bed, pressed shoulder to hip to ankle, and all that precious flesh just waiting for him. They had waited long enough. His mouth met Daniel’s somewhere in the middle, wet lips and slick tongues and sharp teeth. Daniel treated his mouth like a wondrous exciting new cavern, searching out all the hidden spots and plundering them, breath hitching in the back of his throat. Jack wanted to make him whimper, moan, scream. His hands roamed across Daniel’s chest, trailing over thin scars, threading through baby fine hair. They found tiny nipples, teasing until the buds stood up like pebbles, until Daniel twisted and pushed up into his hands. Jack broke the kiss, licking a path down Daniel’s jaw to his throat, sucking until a perfect welt formed beneath his lips. It wouldn’t be the last mark he left. Down Daniel’s chest to scrape his teeth across one sensitive nipple then the other, and Daniel was whimpering now. Fingers lightly stroking, tracing muscles and bones and skin. Jack licked his way down Daniel’s stomach, kissing fine white scars he’d never noticed. Then the tip of Daniel’s cock bumped into the underside of Jack’s chin, Daniel whined and Jack smiled. He licked, one long slow stripe from base to head, fingers trailing down the crease of Daniel’s thigh. When Daniel arched up, muttering curse words in an archaic language Jack was glad he couldn’t understand, he knew playtime was over. They’d waited too long. He sucked the tip of Daniel’s dick into his mouth, pushing his tongue into the sensitive slit. Jack relaxed his jaw and let Daniel thrust up into his mouth, let Daniel fuck his mouth. When Jack pressed one knuckle against Daniel’s hole, Daniel bypassed moaning and went straight to screaming. Jack twisted his knuckle, swallowing around Daniel’s cock, and fisted his own dick roughly. He had one passing thought before the world dissolved into sharp white lights. It was over too soon. ~*~ It was still raining when Rodney opened his eyes, the thin grey light bleeding through the curtains making the room seem dirty and old. He knew that there would be coffee waiting downstairs, but had no real desire to crawl out from under the blankets to get some. There was really no place for him to hurry up and get to, nobody waiting for him in some non-existent home to welcome him with open arms. His cat had probably decided to forget about him now. Rodney lay there until his bladder threatened to make the bed as wet as the ground outside, and there was just a moment when he wanted to go left into the bathroom, like his quarters on Atlantis. Down the hall to the right instead, and try not to let the acrid fumes from his own piss make his stomach even more sour. He skipped an entire step in his morning routine by brushing his teeth in the shower, and wondered why he hadn’t thought of this when he was pressed for time to save the galaxy. Then decided he really didn’t care. He’d walked off the mountain without any of his clothes, putting on his jeans from the day before shouldn’t have been so distasteful, since even Rodney couldn’t count the number of times he’d worn the same uniform for 72 hours in a row. But it was and Rodney wondered if Daniel had any jeans that might come close to fitting. A quiet knock startled Rodney out of his thoughts; he wrapped the towel around his waist and tucked it in with one hand and opened the door with the other. Daniel stood in the hallway, bleary eyed with pillow creases faintly marring the side of his face, with a folded stack of clothes in one hand and a cup of steaming coffee in the other. Rodney couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such simple gratitude. “I…ah, there’s no underwear, um…that would just be weird. But I think we’re close to the same size?” Daniel carefully pushed his hands forward, he didn’t know how cranky the scientist could be first thing in the morning, and was mildly surprised to get a small smile and a murmured thank you from Rodney. Rodney drank the coffee slowly, determined to actually taste it and enjoy it in a way he hadn’t been able to for almost a year. Nobody here was dying, no klaxons going off and no shouting. He couldn’t remember ever hearing quiet like this before. He found his shoes next to the bed, silently thanked Daniel again for the thick white socks that came in the bundle of clean clothes, and then went downstairs for his second cup of coffee. The sky outside was a solid mass of grey, dark striations of black making the storm look like some kind of diseased chunk of hematite. The rain was falling in a light drizzle and it only took Rodney a moment to make up his mind. Coffee in one hand and fuck the chances of getting pneumonia, something about sitting out in the rain next to the lake just seemed right to him. ~*~ “Oh for cryin out loud, get your ass out there already.” They’d watched Rodney sitting out in the rain for three hours, coming in twice for a refill, and Jack was just about ready to hog tie the pair together. He could see John seriously thinking about playing stupid, just shook his head minutely and smiled when John gave it up as a bad idea. Daniel had already offered, twice, to drive into town for more beer, but Jack had argued that sobriety was the better part of valor. “Rodney actually has a pretty mean right hook. And he owes me. And I really don’t wanna have to explain, again, why I did what I did.” Jack watched John watch Rodney, recognized that carefully blank expression that did nothing to hide the confusion in his eyes. This might be a bit harder than he’d originally anticipated. “Do you have any idea how many times Daniel has died?” And to John’s credit he didn’t even look surprised or confused, just shook his head slowly but kept his eyes on the still figure by the lake. “Me either, but it was a lot. And often. And I couldn’t stop him and I couldn’t save him. And it really, really pissed me off. But I had to let him do what he had to do to save us all, then fuck his damn brains out the minute I got him home.” That made John blink a couple of times, then he turned that carefully schooled expression to Jack. “I’m not exactly sure how to respond to that sir.” He shifted slightly, feet spreading and hands automatically tucking together behind his back, and Jack only considered decking him for a heartbeat. “Jack.” “I’m sorry sir?” “I was Jack last night when you were drinking my beers, and it’s not like we’ve exactly been subtle about it.” Which was true, they’d stumbled out of the bathroom together, walking past John’s room on their way to get dressed. “Don’t ask don’t tell?” John was getting tenser by the minute. “I’m retired, John.” “I’m not.” Jack nodded his acknowledgement of that little stumbling block, and then forged ahead. “Anyway, isn’t that what you want with your scientist?” John’s composure slipped a little, his mouth tilting down in a barely there frown. “Honestly, Jack, I haven’t thought about it.” “Well, you better, cause he sure as hell has.” Jack turned away, off in search of his very own scientist. ~*~ “It’s raining.” John held out a fresh cup of coffee, carefully protected under an old black umbrella, Daniel had handed both to him on the way out the door and John didn’t question either. “And they only made you a lieutenant colonel, shame.” John wondered if it was the effects of the rain dulling Rodney’s voice, or if something really had snapped inside the man. “I meant, it’s cold and raining out here and that can’t be good for your hypoglycemia.” John missed the days when they could bite and snarl and growl at each other, and it was a good thing, now it just felt like a fight. “Thank you for your concern, Colonel, but I won’t be needing it anymore.” Rodney wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t turn his head away from the rain making patterns on the surface of the lake. He’d taken the proffered coffee cup and set it in the gravel beside him, but kept his hands curled around the cold empty cup in his lap. For some reason, this pissed John off more than anything else, that whole not really existing in the Rodney McKay hemisphere thing. “Listen, asshole. As long as you are a part of my team, you’ll get my concern, and be fucking happy about it.” A little voice that sounded suspiciously like Jiminy Cricket whispered that this really wasn’t rational, the bigger voice that sounded like Smokey the Bear said go ahead, let it all out. “I’m not.” And that just confused all the voices, which should have scared the shit right out of John, but after all he’d been through, what was a little schizophrenia among friends. “Not what?” Not part of your team.” There was just something so casual about his tone, not that Rodney did casual, but if he did he could have been talking about something casual. And then the actual words kicked in. “Not part…what the hell? You are my scientist, you can’t just…” John waved his hand in the air, watching the rain bounce off his skin,”…not be.” “Actually, yes I can.” “Fine, as long as you are a member of the Atlantis team – “ “Not that either.” Rodney seemed to breathe for the first time since John had come out, a low long sigh that just said everything else. John took just a moment to calmly collapse the umbrella, taking the tip in one hand and the handle in the other, and broke it in half. “Jesus fucking Christ Rodney, what in the hell do you want from me?” He didn’t yell, yelling was bad, Rodney tended to yell back and John really wanted to see if they could get through this without that. He wasn’t very hopeful, call it an experiment. Rodney tensed, shoulders snapping out and head tilting to the side. John watched him climb to his feet, half-expecting the right hook that still hadn’t come yet, “What do I want from you?” Rodney turned, tilting his face up into the sky and letting the rain wash away whatever expression was on his face. “What I want…I can’t even put into words that small, John.” And here it comes, the rage, the pain, all the shit John had been waiting for, including the right hook. He blinked the rain out of his eyes, staring up at Rodney from the ground. “I’m military.” It hurt that Jack had been right, like a betrayal only John had no idea who or what had been betrayed. “Oh, shit, you’re kidding me! I must have missed that with the whole Major/Colonel thing. Not that all those shiny medals would have tipped me off or anything. I know you’re military!” It struck John as odd, Rodney wasn’t screaming, he should have been. Yelling at least. “I fucking died when the jumper disappeared off the screen. You just left and didn’t…didn’t give me a chance.” There was something wrong about seeing Rodney fold in half without a shot being fired, without a wraith stunner being pointed at him. But he did, right at the waist like somebody had put a hand in the middle of his back and pushed. This close John could see that not all the wetness on Rodney’s face came from the shattered skies. “I’ve never…I don’t think about you like that, you’re my friend.” That was the betrayal John felt, Rodney wasn’t supposed to do this, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Not with him. “God, you are just batting a thousand today, aren’t you Colonel shit-for-brains! If I’d have thought for a second, for a fucking micro-second, I’d have had you flat on your back with your dick in my mouth. In a millisecond even. Did it happen? Did I ever once…once give you any indication…That was me, being your friend. And I’m not, not anymore.” Rodney dropped to his knees, wincing as the broken rocks dug into his skin, and pressed one brief light kiss to John’s lips. Then he was on his feet, skirting the edge of the lake and disappearing into the trees. Six Months Later Spring happened before Rodney fully settled into winter, cherry blossoms and tulips sending his allergies into overdrive and he seriously considered a pellet gun for all the damn birds nesting right outside his window. Couples wandered around the campus in a daze of spring-induced fever, and Rodney considered shooting them as well, but settled for giving pop quizzes on random days of the week. Working for the university wasn’t a bad job, except that he hated it with a passion once reserved for bluish gray soul sucking aliens, but it was a pay check and it didn’t require heroic measures. He’d bought a tiny house within walking distance of the campus, picked up a stray from the shelter since the cat he’d left behind had decided to die two weeks before he came home, and ate take-out on paper plates. SGC had sent him two duffels full of his stuff, including a ceremonial warrior shield from Teyla and a tiny ZPM paperweight from Radek that Rodney promptly shoved into one of the few closets and bought the biggest bolt lock he could find. The key stayed lost until the nights Rodney got morose and drunk and dug it all out. He named the cat Cat, or rather didn’t name the cat and just kept calling it Cat until the damn thing answered to it. Because giving things names meant they went away or died or pissed all over you when you weren’t looking. And that? Wasn’t high on his list of things to do ever. Jack called twice, Rodney told him to jump in his lake, preferably in an anatomically impossible position. Daniel called once a week, Rodney told him the same thing, but nicer. The other professors quit talking to him, once he started tacking all his degrees and awards up on his office wall. His students made animated gifs of him dying in improbable ways, and Rodney figured he had about six more months until the sheer unrelenting boredom made him consider trying some of them. Nobody had shot at him in six months, and some mornings Rodney missed it. Then he would remember those companionable smiles and endless hours of brain battle with John, and suddenly the students didn’t seem that bad. He exercised every morning and showered every night and nothing ever changed, he had nightmares of Genii boot knives and puddle jumpers that disappeared off radar screens, still touched his ear when he wanted to talk to somebody and refused to ever think about the things he had lost. So when the appallingly bright and cheerful knock on his door happened, Rodney passed it off as an auditory hallucination. Cat tried to answer it, weaving back and forth brushing against the baseboard with his tail straight up in the air, and Rodney wished he knew if the damn thing was saying ‘open the door you idiot’ or ‘oh goody, somebody sane to rescue me.’ “Hello Rodney, miss me?” Cat had been saying ‘hurrah! Time for murder and mayhem!’ “About as much as a good case of the clap, thank you.” And he would have shut the door, hard, except for the military issue trainer stuck between it and the doorjamb. Rodney wondered if it was too late to teach Cat to attack. “Aww, come on Rodney, it’s been months. How long are you going to hold a grudge?” John stuck his bottom lip out and did that thing with his lashes, then gave his very best innocent smile. Rodney just wasn’t going to fall for it this time. “How long does your average adult male genius live? In this galaxy?” Rodney took a step away from the door, knowing John would eventually push his way in, and opting for a tactful retreat rather than winding up on his ass sprawled on the floor. “You call this living?” John could have been cruel just then, could have been unbelievably sarcastic and witty and said everything that would make Rodney explode. He was almost gentle instead, almost kind, and that was infinitely worse. “I call this my life, and while it may not be filled with life-altering heroics or incredibly beautiful damsels in distress, it is mine. And you are not welcome in it. Go away.” He turned away before John could catch a glimmer of the truth, he knew what John saw here, knew how pathetic he had become. “We need you.” And there was that same gentleness, that same kindness. “I don’t need you.” Strange, he could look at Cat and say those words. “Bullshit.” Rodney turned, hand hovering in the air primed to shove against John, only to find John had started wandering around the room. Ho poked around in all the corners, not that there was much to poke in, making little ‘huh’ noises in the back of his throat. “I’ve spent the last six months thinking about that damn kiss, Rodney, and I gotta tell ya, I just can’t imagine anything after that.” John finally sat, staking his claim on the recliner instead of the couch, and stared at Rodney. “I can’t even picture you on your knees on or your back. It’s just…beyond me.” Rodney stared back, not even bothering to hide his disbelief. “That’s assuming, Colonel, that I would go to my knees for you.” He snorted, and then tried to erase the image from his mind. Then he really looked at John, really saw the confusion and the need to understand, and decided. “It’s a rush; it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before.” His voice took on an intensity usually reserved for higher mathematics, “When was the last time you slammed a woman against the wall and shoved your tongue down her throat? Probably never, probably never just grabbed her and jacked her up against something hard and pushed into her. You could, you know, with me. And I would push back; you’re not going to hurt me.” Rodney watched John, watched his pupils dilate and his breath hitch in his chest. “I’d shove back, John, I’d give as good as good as I got. You could dig your fingers into my arms, and sink your teeth into my shoulder, and yeah I’d howl. But it would be good.” He let his voice drop, let himself growl the words. “You could mark me, John, suck all that blood right to the surface of my skin and I wouldn’t bitch about it. You could put bruises on my arms and my hips and my ass, and I’d probably beg for more. And I’d twist my fingers in that shit you call hair, yank your head back and mark you as mine.” John shifted in his seat, spreading his legs open and digging his fingers into the flesh of his thighs. “You’ve never had another guy’s hand on your cock, none of this light soft tentative shit, unh uh. It’s strong, John, everything you like and some tricks you’ve never thought of when you’re jacking off in the shower. And you can fuck up into it, you can thrust and twist and come hard enough to see every star in the sky explode.” John’s eyes were hazy now, one hand cupped over his balls and the other dug into the arm of the chair. “I’d suck your dick, while you pulled on my hair and called me every fucking god you could think of. I’d stick my finger up your ass, and you would love it, you’d beg me for my cock. You’d beg me for everything I could give you and then come back for seconds.” John had gone slack jawed by now, head bobbing up and down in some vague parody of assent. “Okay. Show me.” If Rodney hadn’t been watching John so closely, he would have missed the whispered words, the look of shock that flashed in his eyes then was replaced by pure, unrelenting lust. “Let me think about that…no. Go away.” John shot out of the chair like it had been set on fire. “No? What the hell…what do you mean, no?” Rodney crossed his arms over his chest, glaring when John curled his hands into tight fists. “I realize the concept is difficult for you to understand, John, but no.” “But…I mean, I thought…no?” And this was mildly entertaining, making smooth talking John Sheppard sputter and hunt for words! “Think about it, you moron. When have I ever done anything half assed? When was the last time I put less than one hundred percent into anything? What makes you think sex would be any different?” When John pressed one hand over his dick and the other hand over his eyes, Rodney knew he could finally see it. Finally got the image of Rodney devoting that infamous focus on John’s body, on John’s pleasure. “So what are you doing here?” John’s voice was weak and scratchy. “I’m devoting one hundred percent to not caring.” Rodney hated that John seemed to curl inward just a bit at his words, but this was his life now, and there was no room in it for John, or anything that John fought for. “I’m going to go shower now, I’d appreciate it if you were gone when I got back.” “Rodney…” “Goodbye John.” ~*~ Rodney lay on his bed and stared blankly at the ceiling. His skin was still damp and he’d just draped the towel over his hips on the way down. And it was over, that vague sense of waiting for something to happen had vanished when John closed the door behind him. For the first time since walking out of the SCG, Rodney thought about tomorrow. Granted, it would be the same as yesterday, and the day before that, but that wasn’t the point. There were possibilities now, that hadn’t been there before. And for the first time in six months, he didn’t dream about blue-gray soul sucking aliens or wicked boot knives with ribbons of his blood or snarky sultry grins. ~*~ For the first time in six months, John finally had images to jerk off to. For the first time in his life, he masturbated in front of the mirror, wanting to see what Rodney must have imagined. He finally knew what they meant when they said ‘eyes glazed with lust’ and ‘bite-swollen lips’ because he had both. John braced himself against the bathroom wall, watched his own hands tease his nipples into hard little points and wondered if Rodney would just lick, or if he would bite and pinch as well. He wondered if Rodney would see all of his scars and think they were ugly, marring something he imagined perfect, or if they were badges of pride, of survival. Wondered if Rodney would try to kiss away any lingering pain or if he would just ignore them. His fingers traced the curvature of his ribs, felt bones too prominent and flesh too thin, felt the ridges where two had been broken and wondered what would have been different if Rodney had been there. There was a slight dip to his waist, skin twitching as his own light touch tickled the nerve endings too close to the surface, imagined they were blunt calloused pads, thicker than his own. John’s heart was racing and his breath felt hot and harsh in his lungs, and he hadn’t even touched his cock yet. Hadn’t even imagined Rodney touching it yet. He flipped the cap of the lube, pouring a small puddle in the palm of his hand and sucked in a lungful of air. His knees wobbled when he gripped the base of his shaft, staring at his own reflection and picturing Rodney’s hand. John stroked once, imagining different calluses and soft moist breath in his ear. He spread his legs wider, watching how the shift made his balls look heavy and full, cradled them with his other hand. He touched the bridge of skin between his sac and his hole, pushing and rubbing and crying out when he found a pressure that reached up and curled around his spine. Both hands were slick now, the sticky wet sliding sounds matching the little grunts coming from his mouth. He pushed back with his finger, pressing against his hole, and remembered Rodney’s words. I’d stick my finger up your ass, and you would love it, you’d beg me for my cock. It was easier than John thought it would be, sliding his finger in his own ass, fucking himself. He’d done it to women, one gentle push in and a slide and a twist and watch her arch up off the bed and feel like a God. So slide and twist and oh holy fuck watch himself come up off the bathroom wall and grip his dick and push back and god oh god oh god and again and again and again until the image in the mirror splintered into thousands of glittery shards and he came hard enough to spray droplets over the bathroom sink and slide down the wall and curl into a boneless ball on the floor. ~*~ John slouched down in his seat, tucked behind two really big guys in lettermen’s jackets that seemed out of place, but John wasn’t about to argue. He just wanted to sit here, listen to Rodney for a little while, and figure all this shit out. Masturbating+Rodney=Body parts he didn’t know he had freaking out. In a good way. Returning to Atlantis one more time-Rodney=Body parts he wasn’t going to admit having freaking out. In a bad way. Seems his world just got a little more fucked up. Go figure.
Rodney was everywhere. Rodney was underfoot and in the way and completely unapologetic about the whole damn thing, and John was about to kill him. Really kill him, like trap him in an air lock and whoops, did I do that? The Daedalus only had so many supply closets to hide in, and Rodney seemed to be able to sniff out where he was with a minimum of effort. It took John two days to find the tracking device Rodney had hid in the sole of his boot, and the screaming match that had erupted from that one would go down in Atlantis history as one of the most vulgar and bitter fifteen minutes ever. Rodney had stayed away after that, obscenely polite when talked to and eerily silent the rest of the time. John figured if they stayed out of each other’s way for a while, everything would go back to normal and the snark would resume as scheduled. It never did, but John found himself too busy after that to do anything beyond vaguely miss it. The first 48 hours back on Earth felt more disorienting to John than the first 48 on Atlantis had, there he’d had an instantaneous sensation of ‘home’, here he just felt out of place. The crew had scattered, Elizabeth immediately closeted herself with the PTB to begin negotiations for their return, even Carson disappeared into the med labs and spent countless hours entering data into the base computers. John was left to defend himself against the hundred and one scientists and apparent military inquisition team who all wanted some piece of him. John saw Rodney twice the two weeks they were locked in the SGC, once they had a staring contest across the cafeteria and John wondered why he didn’t just go over to Rodney and apologize, and once when Rodney was chewing on some zit-faced kid right out of school that seemed to be having second thoughts about putting in his change of address form to the Pegasus galaxy. John decided that he really didn’t owe Rodney an apology and that they were both at the end of their ropes and somehow he would fix things between them on the trip back. General O’Neill had cornered him shortly after that, inviting John up to the cabin for an extended weekend before being confined to the Daedalus for another month. John thought about it for about an eye blink and met Jack at the front gate with the carry-all he really hadn’t bothered to unpack. To say that Minnesota had been a revelation would be one of those understatements he would laugh about in a few dozen years or so, but for right now…boggling seemed to be pretty high on his priorities. And of course Rodney couldn’t not go back to Atlantis, could he?
Rodney strode back and forth down below; voice rising with passion and falling with awe, and apparently this was something his students were unused to. They were all pretty much silent, watching his motions like a one-sided tennis match.
John believed that right up to the moment Caldwell initiated hyperdrive. John watched the Mountain, Colorado, the U.S and finally Earth disappear, waiting to hear Rodney’s voice suddenly break through on the radio, calling John every kind of idiot for forgetting him. But Rodney wasn’t coming home. Colonel Carter was amazing, pretty, smart, nice to just about everybody. She didn’t barge into the middle of conversations and she never, ever called anybody an idiot or moron to their face. The scientists respected her for her intelligence, and the military respected her for the star on her collar. There was just a whole lot of respect going on, and John wondered why it felt so damn wrong. That whole Wraith virus thing could have been worse; the Daedalus could have flown all the way to the Hives, totally devoid of human life because John was more than willing to shoot each and every person aboard to keep them from meeting that end. But Carson had looked at John and John had looked at Carson and Elizabeth had asked ‘What would Rodney do?’ and they only lost three of the new scientists and two military personnel to the AI virus. Carter had been frustrated and apologetic, not for anything that she might or might not have done, but for not doing it fast enough. John was pretty sure she never would have.
Rodney promised certain death to any student who wrote their thesis on the Chaos Theory, assuring them beyond any reasonable doubt that they would be wrong.
So…Atlantis. Atlantis was calm, almost peaceful, there was always a cup of coffee left in the pot and the cook could use what passed for citrus with impunity. Ford was still MIA, and while Ronon was great, he wasn’t Ford. There was no question about Carter joining the team, between her brain and her years of experience with SG1; she had assets they couldn’t even begin to explore. Out on the field, she followed orders with amazing speed, and started every objection with a ‘With respect, sir, can I just say…’ and it only took once for it to really creep John out. Which is how John got his ribs broken. The world was calm, peaceful, and green. Green everywhere, except the multitude of black-shadowed caves scattered across the face of every hill or bump tall enough to have a cave. There were no life signs, no strange energy emissions, just green. John had been following a tiny stream, complete with little iridescent minnow-looking fish and bits of rock that looked like gold flakes. He decided the fish would make a welcome addition to Elizabeth’s office, brighten up the place, and make it a little homier. John sent Tayla and Ronon east, maybe stretch their legs a bit, have some quiet time. Carter he ordered west, take samples of the various plant life for the botanists, while he spent a few minutes fishing. He was already crouched down; specimen jars in hand, when he gave the order. Carter was already thirty paces away when she turned to point out the stupidity of leaving John alone. The hermit, who John would forever after think of as Clan of the Cave Bear guy thanks to the rank brown fur wrapped crazily around his body, thought it was a fantastic idea. He jumped out of the cave screaming like a lunatic, whacking John across the back with what was probably the leg bone of the animal he had skinned then donned, before Carter could get a shot off. Everything got a little blurry after that, pretty much all of John’s attention was taken up by the effort of just breathing. Another something slammed into him, and then everything got really dark and really wet. When John came to in the infirmary, Carter apologized for making Clan of the Cave Bear guy bounce off the rock wall and then fall into him, which explained the second impact, and then for almost letting him drown, which explained the dark and wet part. Carson told him about the two broken ribs, the cracked clavicle and the punctured lung, which explained all the tubes and monitors attached to his arm and chest. And Elizabeth thanked him for the minnow-like fish, which were apparently the Pegasus galaxy’s version of piranha, and they had attached themselves to John’s face and neck for the ride back.
“Are there any questions? Now’s the time people, today, right now not in two weeks when you should be sliding those correctly formatted thesis papers across my desk!” One hand was tentatively lifted into the air, and when Dr. McKay didn’t actually bite it off and give it back to the student, more hands began popping up.
They’d found two fully charged sunset orange ZPM’s a week after Radek figured out the schematics for the deep-sea submersibles in the dive bay. They were buried in the ocean floor, locked in a large metal box, carefully wrapped in still-pristine white cloth that John would give his eyeteeth to have on his bed. One was staying here; one was going through the gate to SGC. Teyla went through on the first trip, on a presidential invitation, she returned with a fondness for Versace leather and Godiva chocolate. John and Carter got captured by the Genii, John returned secure in the knowledge that Kolya was actually dead this time, having had the back of his head blown out by that canon Ronon called a hand-gun. Carter returned with a multitude of scars, and nightmares from which she would never recover. John held Sam’s hand on the way through the gate, not releasing her until Daniel and Jack stepped up. It took an entire day to debrief, Teal’c displayed mild irritation when it was intimated that Colonel Sheppard was somehow responsible for Colonel Carter’s injuries, forcing General Landry up against a wall with an arm pressed against his throat, and calmly requesting a formal apology be issued. It was typed in triplicate with a copy in John’s box before he left the base. Carter wept in his arms, flanked by Daniel and Jack, then straightened her spine and saluted John with every drop of military precision running through her blood. John got on the first flight to Quebec, and slept the entire way.
“Two weeks people! Goodbye!” John had to scrabble to keep up with his human shields; the last thing he wanted was for Rodney to know he was here. He made it outside, weaving between students and ducking behind one of the bigger trees to wait for Rodney ~*~ “So, care to tell me just what happened back there?” Rodney didn’t stumble, didn’t drop any papers, didn’t so much as blink twice when John fell into step beside him. He was rather proud of that. “I kicked you out of my house?” John had played dumb for the better part of a year, it was his turn now. “Rodney.” And to John’s credit, he only growled a little. “John.” Rodney could growl too. “Back on Atlantis. What happened on Atlantis?” Rodney glanced over, sure enough; John’s fingers were clutching the top of his thigh, right where his non-existent 9M lived. “Not really, no.” He lengthened his strides, knowing John wouldn’t take the hint but hoping anyway. John sped up, Rodney could hear the disapproval echoing in his footsteps on the concrete. “We need to talk about this, Rodney.” He could feel John’s fingers twitching on the sleeve of his shirt, knew he wanted to curl them around his arm and yank both of them to a stop. “It’s been six months John, I’m not going back, so there isn’t anything to talk about.” Rodney side-stepped, moving away from John’s hand. “I have a class in fifteen minutes, go back to the SGC, go on vacation, go do whatever it is you do on your down time. Go away and leave me alone.” He hated that he could sound this tired, could feel this tired, and still function. He hated that after all this time, it still hurt. “No.” When Rodney looked over, John had spun around and was walking away. “Chinese for dinner, I’ll bring sushi for your cat.” Then he disappeared among the students. Rodney wasn’t sure how he made it through the rest of the day, by the time he got home he couldn’t remember the rest of his classes or his meeting with the other science professors. ~*~ “I can’t do this with you John.” Rodney continued backing away, away from that look of determination and desire in John’s eyes, until there was no where left to go unless he wanted to try climbing the wall. “Ya know Rodney, I really think you can.” And John just kept coming, stripping off his shirt, kicking off his shoes, slipping the button free on his jeans. “I need to know.” Then his hands were on Rodney, firm and solid on his biceps. He slid his knee between Rodney’s thighs, pressing up and making Rodney yelp in surprise. “I’ve never done this before.” John was murmuring against his neck, “You’re the only guy I’ve ever kissed, the only one I’ve ever wanted to. Gotta say, I’m pretty much scared shitless right now.” The words were accented by little bites to his jaw, Rodney wanted to move, wanted to flip John around and press him against the wall and climb inside him, but apparently his body hadn’t caught up to his brain yet. John pulled his head back, licking his lips and stared at Rodney’s mouth. Rodney wished he knew the formula to stop time, to freeze-frame every expression flickering across John’s face. The heat, the want, the uncertainty, the trust. There was no question about doing this, about having sex with his former very bestest bud in two galaxies, no question about not doing this. They were going to fuck. Probably more than once. He was going to blow John, he was going to lick and bite and touch, catalogue every whimper, every moan. And when it was all over, when everything was all said and done and he’d wrung every orgasm out of both of them, John was going to quietly…carefully climb out of bed, get dressed, and tiptoe out. With any luck at all he would be on the next flight to Colorado, and Rodney would avoid that whole ‘Hey this was fun, let’s not do it again’ scenario. “Fine.” Rodney leaned in, brushing his lips across John’s, then took his hand and led him into the bedroom. |
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