FIC: In Which Tibet Features (Sort of) Part 2
Title: In Which Tibet Features (Sort of)
Author:
9zanite
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~10,000
Warning: proofread by a pair of engineers. I wouldn't say beta after walking in on a discussion along the lines of "Integral is spelled with an a, so finagle should be, too." "But what about double integrals?" "They aren't spelled integraal, brainiac." "Is there a dictionary somewhere? The library has them, right?"
A/N: My prompt was: John Sheppard is chief of staff for Senator Weir and needs access to research materials in the Library of Congress. Rodney McKay is a cranky librarian at the LoC who John encounters.
Weir got demoted, I took extreme liberties with the Library, a diplomat's life/staff/job, and Washington, D.C., and I probably horribly abused commas and grammar in general. Please point out errors - engineers aren't the best writers around. I can use all the help I can get.
Refusing to admit that he was awake, John curled into the warmth sharing the bed with him. He hadn’t had the chance to lazily drift in and out of sleep, enjoying the sun streaming in the window and a comforting weight holding him in place since before Elizabeth had been tapped for these negotiations and her staff had started putting in sixty-five hour work weeks.
Wait, sunlight? He had to be at the train station well before sunup in order to be at the Hill for Elizabeth’s 7 am start to the day, even with summer’s extra hours of light. Why hadn’t the alarm gone off?
Panicking, Sheppard was out of bed and struggling into his clothes, frantically trying to come up with a logical excuse for being … oh shit, was it really 10:37?
“Wha?” came the sleepy protest from the bed.
“I’m so late and I have no idea what to tell Elizabeth and I was supposed to be in by 6:30 to get everything set for Elizabeth’s day. I am so screwed!” Pants and shirt were on, but where had his shoes gone last night?
“Hey, relax a minute. Hey, John,” Rodney had pulled himself out of bed and was fishing something out of the pocket of his pants from the day before.
“I can’t! I was supposed to be in hours ago. Fuck! I need this job!” Shoes successfully corralled, John hunted down important things like keys, cell phone, and wallet.
“Spill coffee down your front before you go in. Change before anyone has a chance to get a good look at you - you seem like the super prepared Boy Scout who keeps a change of clothes in your office. Take the flash drive and pout about the horrible customer service at the Library.” Rodney handed over the drive with an unsure smile.
Annoyed at himself both for failing to set an alarm and for taking his frustration out on Rodney, he stepped over to the man and tried to convey an apology with a kiss.
“You’re a lifesaver. Thanks.” John paused a moment to enjoy the way Rodney felt pressed up against him, even through a layer of clothing.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but a shower would be a good idea. You smell like you’ve been having a much better morning than if you’d really been fighting with idiots for hours.” That was a good point - they hadn’t bothered to clean up beyond a quick wipe down and John could feel the come dried on his stomach.
Freshly showered and in borrowed underwear, John tried to talk around the spare toothbrush Rodney had dug out during John’s shower but gave up on multitasking halfway through the sentence. “’inner tonigh’? I won’ ee done til late and I have to go back to my apartment tonight, but I can bail for a little while.”
Catching Rodney’s surprised expression in the mirror, he backpedaled as well as he could manage, “That is, if you don’t have stuff. Judging by when you were at the Library yesterday, your hours suck more than mine, and you’ll have interns and things.”
“What? No, no, no, I don’t work Wednesdays and they’re so lucky to have me that they should just be grateful that I show up at all because, hello, genius here.”
“Is that a yes, then?” John dared to hope this thing might have meant something to Rodney as well.
“Provided interns and Congress contain their respective stupidity, it’s a yes. 7 sound good?” Rodney dropped John’s discarded toothbrush in the cup by the sink. John may have beamed on his way out the door.
****
Despite a month that provided John with no legitimate reasons to be in the Library of Congress, he ended up meeting Rodney there for dinner or more four nights a week. A set or two of clothes and the box set of Back to the Future DVDs migrated to Rodney’s apartment. The toothbrush found a more permanent home in the medicine cabinet on the shelf above John’s aftershave. A small furry ball named Schro got used to John and the kitty treats that sometimes came with him enough to allow John to regularly see more than just eyes glinting from under furniture.
“He’s a stray who came inside and wouldn’t leave. Have you seen his claws? I’m not going to pick a fight with something that could shred me to ribbons!” had been the explanation. John hadn’t commented on the plethora of cat toys scattered across the floor or the cabinet full of cat food that sure wasn’t generic. Besides, it was possible that not all the toys had been bought by Rodney.
****
“That’s a good look on you, John.” Elizabeth commented one day as she stopped at John’s desk while he was replying to a seven page dissertation on why Kavanaugh was no longer allowed near Rodney’s desk.
“What?” John said, checking to make sure he hadn’t spilled anything on himself or left an imprint on his face from leaning against his watch.
“You look happy. Not just your normal smile,” she cut off his instinctive protest, “but genuinely happy.” She smiled at his blush. “This Rodney is good for you.”
“Um…” John stuttered. He was positive he hadn’t mentioned Rodney’s name or even mentioned dates, and he definitely hadn’t expected his employer to be so accepting of the fact that Rodney was a Rodney instead of a Laura, Jane, Emily, Sara, etc.
Laughing at John’s lack of words, Elizabeth continued, “I’m a little jealous. Simon and I used to be like that, but everything’s gotten more complicated with this latest set of negotiations. I’d promised to marry him next month, no more rescheduling, but it’s unlikely that I’ll be back in the states by the official date.”
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth.” That was just unfair - nobody deserved to have their wedding day pushed back indefinitely like that.
“You could have the staff that stays behind work on fixing all the arrangements - they might as well do something beside work a fax machine while we’re gone,” he suggested.
“I may have to,” she laughed before turning to the incomplete military assessment that had brought her to John’s desk.
Because he had a reputation to maintain, he dumped enough paperwork on Lorne’s desk to keep the man there until after midnight. He ignored the hastily covered smirks when he used the time that cleared for him to meet Rodney earlier than usual. It was possible that this didn’t help him at all in the reputation department.
****
Just when John’s life seemed as good as it could get, Murphy’s Law took over. The negotiations regarding where and when and who Elizabeth would be negotiating at and with concluded, meaning John went from generally busy to absolutely frantic as Elizabeth and her staff prepared to leave for Asia in less than two weeks. He barely saw Rodney at all, but managed to finagle an official trip a week after the announcement.
On his way to Rodney’s desk, however, he was stopped by an incredibly unwelcome familiar face.
“John! It’s so good to see you!” Chaya exclaimed, smiling brightly.
“Um, it’s nice to see you, too, but I’m a little short on time today, so we’ll have to catch up some other day.” Flashing the standard charming smile, he attempted to sidestep the woman.
“But John, wait! You haven’t come looking for answers recently. Athar would surely welcome you back!” Chaya neatly caught hold of his wrist and looped her other arm around his waist. Sometimes the nutcase seemed to have tentacles, she latched on so well.
“I really can’t, Chaya. I have to pick up the latest security briefing for Dr. Weir’s upcoming travel.” John tried to ooze his way out of her hold.
“Don’t worry, John. I’ll go fetch it for you and then we can chat.” With a quick kiss to his lips, she was gone, leaving him wishing for mouthwash and looking for an escape route.
Hoping to find Rodney for even a quick conversation as well as a copy of the report that didn’t require interaction with Chaya, John headed to his lover’s area. Not seeing the man at one of the desks, he asked after him, only to be met with several versions of “maybe in back somewhere but we’re much to busy to track down a librarian for you.”
He gave up when he spotted a pale, billowy dress approaching and promptly faked an emergency phone call from Elizabeth. After excusing himself with a polite “some day when there isn’t such an urgent request from Dr. Weir” and his distracted yet polite smile, he couldn’t exactly stick around looking for Rodney.
When working through lunch and dinner that night didn’t seem to make his to-do list shrink noticeably, John decided it was time for food and a break before he spent hours more getting everything settled for the departure in less than a week. He headed for the Library, hoping that he’d be able to find Rodney this time.
He seemed to have much better luck this time around. Chaya was nowhere to be seen and Rodney was at his usual desk, scowling down at a stack of books.
“Rodney!” he called across the room, giving the man a genuine smile and expecting the scowl to reshape itself into Rodney’s usual smug smile.
If anything, Rodney’s scowl deepened. “What are you doing here?” he barked.
Hoping that he’d be able to improve the librarian’s obvious dark mood, John said, “I’m playing hooky for a couple of hours. You look like you could use an escape yourself. Up for a drink?”
“Oh yes, how wonderful of you to grace me with your presence. I’ll pass.” The sarcasm wasn’t in jest - this was Rodney in full ‘You are an idiot that I want as far away from me as possible in case your stupidity taints the air I’m breathing’ mode.
Hiding his hurt, John asked as casually as he could, “What’s up, Rodney? I know things have been kind of nuts and they’re only going to get worse, but you know my phone number, too.”
“Your social docket seems a bit full for me. You might have better luck in one of the other buildings,” Rodney snapped.
“What the hell, Rodney? What’s going on?” John didn’t know where this was coming from. He’d thought they were fine, heck, better than fine, but Rodney certainly wasn’t happy to see him. Maybe things like this were why his marriage hadn’t lasted.
“What’s going on? What’s going on is that while I can understand an unwillingness to choose in certain circumstances, I mean, I’m a librarian because I couldn’t decide what fields I wanted to study so I picked them all, essentially, but when it comes down to it, I’m not willing to be your back up date when you can’t get a woman. Brush-offs are one thing, but I won’t put up with you wandering in with your arrogant smile and making out with someone else right in front of me. For someone who works for a diplomat, you’ve got absolutely no tact.”
What? He hadn’t been making out with anyone? What was Rodney talking about?
Some of his confusion must’ve shown, because Rodney snorted impatiently and spat, “Chaya.”
“No! I never, well, not never, but not for months! She’s a wacko who doesn’t understand the meaning of ‘go away!’”
“Right. Because you were trying so hard to get her to go away this morning. Just go home, Sheppard.”
“Rodney, I didn’t do anything! She just came up and was all over me and I got away as fast as I could! I swear, I would never cheat like that! You have to believe me!” John was pretty sure his desperation was obvious, but he didn’t care that the interns were getting a good show as long as Rodney believed him.
“I don’t have to do anything. As touching as this scene is, I’d rather not give the gossip any more fuel. I’ll make one of the interns drop off your stuff tomorrow.”
“Rodney, I didn’t… it’s not like that… Rodney, please…” there had to be words that could fix this, but John didn’t have them. He’d never been good at talking, but Rodney had always seemed to fill in the blanks just fine. Apparently that was over.
“Now who’s the wacko who doesn’t understand the meaning of ‘go away?’” Rodney’s words were more weary than cutting, but they still hurt.
Gathering what was left of his pride, John went. He wasn’t going to grovel for someone who wouldn’t give him the time of day to explain or trust him enough to believe he wouldn’t willingly accept the advances of another.
Besides, he told himself, it was convenient that things had ended when they did. In three days Elizabeth and her staff would be leaving for Singapore, the unlikely location all involved parties had managed to agree on as the site of negotiations. With the long hours they both worked, a relationship complicated by drastic differences in time zones on top of the distance was practically doomed from the start. Sure, Singapore would be boring with hours and hours waiting for Elizabeth to need him to have this or that report sent or an event schedule rearranged, but there were sure to be days off. Bangkok had always been one of the places everyone in the South Pacific tried to get leave in at least once.
True to his word, Rodney had John’s stuff delivered to Elizabeth’s office. It appeared sometime in the five hour window when he went home, showered, changed, and got nowhere near enough sleep before reappearing at the office. Obviously Rodney had terrified some poor intern into delivering it when he knew John was least likely to be there. John wondered what exactly Rodney thought he’d have done to the intern if they had showed up during normal hours. He was pretty sure it wasn’t to spare him the embarrassment of the rest of the staff seeing him get a delivery of clothes, toiletries, and John’s favorite DVDs. He convinced himself it wasn’t a bigger deal than the packing up he was doing in his apartment.
****
The night before departure, Elizabeth treated her staff to dinner. Due to the size of the staff and the budget she got, this meant takeout Thai laid out on a folding table stolen from the Department of Transportation (and so labeled) and wedged in between two almost clear desks so that only Parish, who was about two inches wide, could squeeze through.
Afterwards, just about everyone but the interns moved the party to a nearby bar to properly celebrate. Gradually, they lost the people used to having at least some of their night devoted to sleep. When just Elizabeth, Lorne, and John remained, they decided to call it a night. Being gentlemen, Lorne and John insisted on escorting Elizabeth to her car, which had been left near the office.
The group had just reached the Hill when they ran into trouble in the form of a group of rowdy college boys. Judging by the guys with a bottle of liquor duct taped to each hand, fall pledging was in full swing. Crossing the street to avoid them resulted in jeers and catcalls, but most of the group stayed across the street.
Focused on the three who staggered across the street, proudly displaying Sigma Nu tshirts and empty bottles taped to their hands, John wasn’t paying any attention to the student on the other side of the street who decided to call his buddies back by hurling a mostly full liquor bottle at them from the middle of the road. Before he knew it, he was lying on the pavement wondering why his head hurt so much and Elizabeth looked so tall and concerned.
Too dazed to process anything besides ‘ow, bright light, loud noise,’ John missed the police showing up thanks to a noise complaint, frat boys and pledges scattering, an ambulance and EMTs arriving and loading him in, a ride with the flashing lights on, and most of the first hour of his hospital experience.
He started to tune back in a little when he heard Rodney’s voice in the hallway saying something about an emergency, but couldn’t process what Rodney would be doing in the hallway of whatever hospital he’d ended up at. Hadn’t Rodney essentially thrown him out? He strained to hear the conversation.
“…hoped you would know where he lives and could take him home,” Elizabeth was saying.
“Yes, yes, if we were dating, sure, that would almost disguise itself as logic instead of trying to drop this problem in my lap!” Rodney protested. Ouch, problem? Guess he knew where he stood, didn’t he?
“I assure you, I do not intend to give ‘this problem’ to you. I assumed he would want you here, but if this is how you view one of my closest friends, there is no way in hell I will let you with a mile of him.” He’d never heard Elizabeth that angry. A little frosty and disapproving, certainly, but nothing close to this.
There was an exasperated sigh. “That didn’t come out how I meant it. Look, why don’t you just call Chaya if you don’t have a family member? I’m sure she knows where he lives and would be more than happy to collect him.”
“That’s unlikely. She didn’t take it kindly when he wanted no part of her or her religion.” She paused a moment, but Rodney was uncharacteristically quiet.
“I have to leave for Singapore in seven hours. I could take him home with me if they let him out before then, but I don’t want to leave him completely alone. Most of my staff will be either coming with me or reporting back to the various departments we borrowed them from for all the prep work on these negotiations. John was supposed to be coming, but now I have to call and get his ticket switched to Lorne because a hospital stay within thirty days means John violates the customs laws for entry into Singapore. If you just take him to his apartment, at least his neighbors can make sure he’s alright.”
“Okay, fine, I’ll take him home and make sure the neighbors know not to let him drown in his own blood or get dizzy and take a header out his window or - “
“Thank you, Rodney.” Elizabeth’s voice held genuine warmth as she cut him off. John wondered what she was reading on McKay’s face, because his words hadn’t been particularly kind.
He must have dozed off in the quiet left in the wake of the hallway discussion, because he was woken up by a nurse who made him move to get x-rayed and scanned and tested until he just wanted to curl up and hold a pillow over his head to block out the light and noise and people who wouldn’t let him hide until his brain finished exploding through the left side of his head.
When he got back to his curtained off section, Rodney was waiting in a plastic chair by the bed, but Elizabeth was nowhere in sight.
“Elizabeth went to clean up and get some coffee before she has to head to the airport. The PA who checked you out said that you’ll be discharged as soon as a doctor takes a look at the preliminary test results that will come back in an hour or two. Unless any surprises show up, which they aren’t expecting, but really, how can you expect surprises? If they were expected, they wouldn’t be a surprise, just going to show that medicine is about as scientific as voodoo.” Rodney kept his voice low, even when giving his opinion of the medical experts, but his hands were their expressive selves. John found that surprisingly comforting.
“’K. Thanks.” Curling in on himself, he pulled the pillow over his eyes to block out the light and tried not to worry about all the things Lorne would have to remember to do in his place.
“Don’t go to sleep in there! Do you want your brain to explode?” Even stage whispering, Rodney managed to convey loud panic.
“Tests, genius,” John muttered from his cocoon.
“Yes, well, forgive me if I’m worried about the two brain cells you have left,” Rodney huffed.
An indeterminate amount of time passed before Elizabeth woke him from a doze to say good bye before she went to the airport, re-explain that Rodney would take him home when he was discharged, and tell him that she’d see him in a month, but she expected a damned good wedding planned when she got back.
When John was finally discharged another, much longer indeterminate time later, Rodney insisted on using a wheelchair. John was still dizzy enough that it didn’t seem worth the fight, but he managed the transfer from chair to Rodney’s car without much trouble.
“John, where am I going?” Rodney looked somewhat irritated, as if this wasn’t the first time he’d asked this question.
“Huh?” That didn’t mean that John had a clue what was going on.
“I need to take you home, but I need you to tell me how to get there.” Rodney sounded like this part of the conversation had also been repeated.
“Where am I?” He vaguely recalled Elizabeth explaining what had happened and where he was, but the details were gone.
“Never mind about directions. Where do you live? Tell me your address, John.”
“Just by the train station.” That’s where he’d left his car. He had to go move it so it wouldn’t get towed while he was gone… or had he already done that? Or was that the car he’d sold before they went to Germany for three months?
“You don’t actually know where you live, do you?” Rodney sighed. At John’s confused look, he added, “So far you’ve told me that you live by the train station, in Ms. Emmagen’s building, and that you left clothes in Dr. Weir’s office, but nothing like a street or even a zip code!”
“Sorry?” John didn’t remember the other two conversations at all. But still, he knew Rodney had been less than thrilled about driving him. “If you drop me at the metro station, I can just take that to the connection with the train lines and go home from there. I know it’s my stop when I see the bagpipers.”
“Were you always this stupid and I somehow didn’t notice? I am not just dropping you off at the train station with seventeen stitches and clothes covered in blood and oh, yeah, a serious head injury!” Rodney looked furious at the idea.
“Stitches?” He brought his hand up to feel at the bandaging, but Rodney slapped it away.
“Don’t touch that! Yes, you have stitches. You were mostly unconscious for that, thankfully, but then you decided to wake up and guess who had to help hold you down? I can’t say that’s an experience I want to repeat.”
“Sorry,” John said again. No wonder Rodney was irritated - he didn’t handle blood well, even in small quantities.
“Just shut up. You can stay with me. Possibly your rampant stupidity won’t kill us both. The same cannot be said for the seat you’re getting blood all over.”
John apologized again, but that only seemed to make Rodney more upset, so he stayed quiet and spent the rest of the drive half-awake, listening to Rodney fill the silence with inane chatter and watching the city pass his window without taking any of it in.
When they reached Rodney’s apartment, John was out of it enough that he did need Rodney’s arm wrapped around his waist, but he wasn’t so out of it that he needed to lean in quite as much as he did. His night had been pretty crappy and he wasn’t above taking advantage of the only good part of it. Rodney shot him a suspicious glance as he found himself taking more of John’s weight, but he didn’t protest, just held on tightly enough to keep them both upright and moving forward.
John stayed awake just long enough for Rodney to force water and meds into him before crashing. He woke up hours later and wandered out of the bedroom, only to find that it wasn’t still dark out, it was again dark outside.
“Would sleeping beauty prefer Chinese takeout or frozen pizza?” Rodney asked, making John realize just how hungry he was.
“Chinese, unless you’ve got a serious pizza stash.” Rodney somewhat obediently ordered, muttering under his breath about commandeered beds and being eaten out of house and home. He did, however, order enough sesame chicken and fried rice to feed a dozen people.
Now that he was awake, John couldn’t help but notice that he smelled like alcohol, blood, and hospital antiseptic. He had the added bonus of clothes stiff with dried blood, even though Rodney had gotten his pants and shirt off. Rodney eventually agreed to let him shower, provided it was fast and involved Rodney standing right on the other side of the shower curtain, but wouldn’t let him wash his hair for fear of aggravating the ‘gaping hole in your head.’
They ate in front of a Sci-Fi channel movie special that involved science so sketchy Rodney’s four year old niece wouldn’t buy it and a plot so thin it could have doubled as a certain emperor’s clothes. Dinner conversation mostly involved not choking as they laughed at it, but afterwards, Rodney got a lot quieter and seemed edgy. John was startled to see that it was almost midnight. That explained Rodney’s mood - he’d only signed up for driving John to John’s own apartment, not taking John home with him and playing babysitter all day and probably tonight, too. He should leave so Rodney could go to sleep in his own bed.
“I should probably - ”
“I think, no, I know I do - ” they both spoke at once, then stopped just as suddenly.
Wanting to hear what Rodney had to say and more than willing to put off his own departure for as long as possible, John played the ‘you first’ game to win.
Rodney scowled at his immaturity, but continued anyway. “I may possibly have overreacted.”
John waited for the rest of the sentence. And waited.
“What? Fine, yes, um.” Rodney drew a deep breath. “When you suddenly stopped coming around. I may have.” Another deep breath. “Possibly. Okay, definitely.”
Still not sure what Rodney was trying to say, John tried to look encouraging. “What might you definitely have done?”
“Overreacted. Pay attention!” The eye roll and snap didn’t even begin to cover Rodney’s agitation.
“Sorry,” John replied automatically.
“Stop interrupting! This is hard enough without help!” John nodded and stayed silent.
“So I might have assumed that you were just being nice.” Seeing John’s clear confusion, Rodney continued, “When you said you were going to Singapore in less than two weeks and that it was going to be tight having everything ready for that deadline. In my defense, most people generally decide I’m more work than I’m worth pretty quickly. I thought you wanted an out of the relationship thing.”
“And you saw Chaya latch on that day and assumed she was the reason I wasn’t around much.” John filled in the blanks.
“Did I look like I was trying to do anything but escape from her?” John asked somewhat rhetorically.
“That may have been pointed out later,” Rodney admitted. “I believe words like ‘pale as a sheet’ and ‘hiding behind a wheelchair’ were used.”
“Damn straight!” John said. “She’s creepy and just doesn’t let go! And then there’s the whole religion worshipping the goddess Athar, which just happens to be her last name!”
This got a small smile from Rodney.
“Listen, Rodney. I would never do that to you - any of that. If it ever came to that, I would not feed you some shitty line. And I don’t cheat on people.” He’d always left that to his ex-wife.
“I’m sorry.” Rodney’s blue eyes conveyed his sincerity along with obvious hope.
John sighed. “Me, too. I should’ve done a better job of giving you no reason to doubt.” He hated talking in general and discussions about feelings even more so. Avoiding any sort of relationship talk had always been high on his list of priorities, but behavior like that had left Rodney completely in the dark about how much he meant to John. John was starting to realize that meaning something was possibly well on its way to totally in love and one tiny relationship talk might be worth it. As long as they never, ever did it again.
“Yeah?” Rodney asked, “Is that something you’re willing to work on?”
“That’s in the range of possibilities.”
****
“How are you feeling, John?” Elizabeth asked two days later when she called at what must have been a ridiculous hour to catch him in the middle of the day.
“Head’s been better, but it’s fine. Everything’s good,” he replied.
“Everything?” came the tiny voice from the phone speaker.
John glanced over at Rodney, who, after calling the Library of Congress to tell them that he had a family emergency and he’d come back when he damn well felt like it, had spent the past day and a half finding out how fast and often he could make John come and was now mouthing “who is it?” and demanding details with all the patience of a toddler.
“Everything,” he confirmed. “Get some sleep, Elizabeth!”