Challenge #57 fic: Winning Move. John/Rodney.
Title: Winning Move
Author: velocitygrass
Pairing: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, Rodney McKay/Jennifer Keller
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/Content notes: ( skip) Kissing when one of the participants is in a relationship with someone else. Angry!John. Overuse of repetition.
Spoilers: Through 5x20
Word count: 1846
Summary: In fact, right now, right this second, John doesn't give a damn about the way things go, the rules of life and friendship and being in love with your best friend so much that it fucking kills you.
Note: Title from the well-known quote from WarGames: "The only winning move is not to play."
Winning Move
John knows what he should do. He knows it because he's been there before, done this before.
But he knows that this time he cannot bring the words over his lips. "Go get the girl," or another encouragement. He'd been stumped the last time when Rodney had popped open the box with the ring. He hadn't in his wildest dreams-nightmares rather-imagined that Rodney and Katie Brown had come that far.
This time he's expected it. It doesn't make things easier though. To accept, to learn to live with it, to put on a smile and fake it.
He knows that it's what he should do, but he simply can't.
Rodney's got that same nervous spring in his step, looking a bit flustered, a bit like he doesn't know what he's doing, but John is sure that he'll go through with it this time. He'll go on and marry Keller and one day wonder what happened to his life. Or maybe he will never wonder. Maybe he will go through life thinking that this is all he can expect. Or maybe he really is happy.
John doesn't dwell on it. Rodney's looking at him expectantly, waiting for John to do the friend thing, to encourage and reassure him, but the mere thought of doing it makes John feel sick.
Rodney will be disappointed, angry, hurt when John doesn't say something soon and he'll still go ahead and propose to Keller. There's nothing John can do that won't hurt like a bitch and end up with him losing Rodney. Not that he ever had him.
Fuck.
John is sick and tired of it. For years, he's been telling himself that he can't expect anything, that he'll happily take whatever Rodney's willing to give him. If the rumors are true, Rodney will stay on Earth with Keller, and John will end up with exactly nothing.
Knowing that it couldn't have ended any other way doesn't make it easier. In fact, right now, right this second, John doesn't give a damn about the way things go, the rules of life and friendship and being in love with your best friend so much that it fucking kills you.
The corner of Rodney's mouth turns downwards, and John knows the hurt look in his eyes will be next, but he refuses to play his role and comfort Rodney. The time for following rules is over. Why on Earth should he play a game he can't win?
And he'll be damned if Rodney will guilt-trip him, intentional or not. He's the fucking injured party here. He's the one who goes home alone every night, dreaming about what he can't have, putting a smile on, so that others won't feel bad for him. Enough is enough.
If Rodney thinks he wants to spend the rest of his life with Keller, that's his problem. John knows he's only kidding himself. He's been there, said, "I do," went on the honeymoon and ended up with nothing but divorce papers. John isn't even sure if he wants it to be the same for Rodney. Is he really desperate enough to wish that on the man he loves?
And god, how fucked up is this? The man he loves .... John is desperate enough. Or maybe it's the opposite. John's been desperate for a long time now, watching and waiting for the moment when he would inevitably lose Rodney. Now that the moment is here, he's no longer desperate. He plain and simply has nothing left to lose. He's free.
For years John has dreamed about kissing Rodney, never considering that he could ever do it. He still can't, but right now he doesn't care. Doesn't care and doesn't think, simply takes the two steps towards Rodney, right into his personal space, grabs his face and pulls him close until their lips touch.
Rodney makes a noise in protest and pushes at him, hands against John's chest, gripping his shirt, but John ignores it. He angles his head, trying to turn it a bit more into an actual kiss. Of course, that's not really possible when the kiss is so obviously not returned.
Still, John can't make himself stop. He holds on, willing to wait until Rodney pushes hard enough or maybe even kicks him in the balls. He finds himself almost wishing for that. At least then he'd have a physical reason for the pain.
Rodney keeps pushing and moving and trying to say something, but John doesn't let up, mentally spurring Rodney on, because part of him wants Rodney to push him to the ground and shout at him, because then he might be able to shout back.
But instead of pushing harder, Rodney's grip on John's shirt weakens and his mouth stills. He stops fighting it, and John wants to curse him for giving up, for not giving John the chance to yell the things he needs to say at least once.
John keeps kissing him, unwilling to give up so easily. He's not going to pull back first. He doesn't have a date with his girlfriend to keep. He doesn't have a little box in his hand and the promise to live happily ever after on his lips.
Rodney is entirely unresponsive against John's slightly moving lips. His hands just seem to rest against John's chest now. John moves one hand to Rodney's temple, stroking his hair. It feels a bit like an apology. God, what is he doing?
His lips stops moving and they just stand like that, mouths fused together in a kiss that isn't a kiss, breathing in each other. John still can't bring himself to pull back first. He doesn't know what to do.
There's no right way to end this. He can't even begin to imagine what will happen if their lips part and their lives go on. There is- Was that movement against his lips?
Rodney's hands slowly wander down John's chest. To pull away, probably. That must have been the movement he felt.
Except it happens again and it's not away. It's a minute press of Rodney's lips against his.
John stops breathing for a moment, only hearing the beating of his heart and then he feels it again. Rodney's mouth tentatively opens up. His hands settle on John's hips.
This can't be happening.
As if wanting to prove John wrong, Rodney presses against him, angling his head and opening his mouth until their lips align perfectly for a real kiss. John is too shocked to return the kiss for a several seconds. This has never been an option.
But Rodney disagrees. He moves his arms around John, one hand flat on his back, the other still holding the little box that now digs into John's spine.
That's when John understands that Rodney is kissing him back, that he hasn't pushed John away and left to propose to Keller. He's still here and they're kissing, well, almost kissing if only John would-
When John opens his mouth, a faint moan escapes from Rodney's throat, and John stops questioning what's going on and just feels. He's desperate again now, as desperate as the little noises Rodney makes and the way his hand has grabbed John's shirt as if he was afraid that John could run away.
It's such an absurd thought that John has to laugh into Rodney's mouth. Then he has to moan when Rodney pushes his tongue out and into John. They start to move, hands pushing at clothes, their mouths open and demanding, their lips wet. They stumble forward until Rodney's back hits the door and they end up flush together, mouth to mouth, chest to chest, groin to groin.
John doesn't know how Rodney's hand ends up under his shirt or why his thigh is now between Rodney's legs. He just knows that it's hot and wonderful and perfect and that he doesn't ever want it to stop.
It's like they're putting years and years worth of waiting into this kiss, and John has to remind himself that it cannot be because that would mean that Rodney always felt the same and that's just not possible.
Of course, none of this seemed possible just minutes ago, even though it feels like hours since Rodney's lips first moved against his uncertainly. He's not uncertain now, kissing John as if he too can't get enough of this kiss.
It's amazing that they're in this together now when John had thought he'd always be on the sidelines, alone.
The kiss slows down, still passionate but not quite as wild, quite as desperate. They're taking their time now, and John has to wonder if this is what this really means: that they have the time now, to explore, to be together, to actually be together.
There's only one way to find out. He'll have to pull back to know if there can ever be a second kiss. He wants to believe that there must be, that he cannot have found the only way to win the game only to lose after all.
The kiss is soft now, lips brushing together, fingertips caressing skin, the exchange of inaudible whispers that don't actually carry words but are still full of promise.
Then their lips finally part and they open their eyes.
John wishes he could read Rodney now. He's not afraid of what he sees in the blue depths, but he's also not sure if it's all that he hopes for.
They stand like that, staring at each other, mouths red, lips shiny, breathing a bit more heavily than they normally do.
After what feels like an eternity Rodney's hands move from where they've remained under John's shirt and John doesn't want to let them go. It's only when Rodney turns, though, that John grabs his arm to stop him.
"You're not proposing to her," he says because even if Rodney isn't sure about them, even if they have to think and even talk about the kind of future they can have, Rodney can't go on as if nothing had happened.
Rodney turns back and gives John a look. "No," he says, drawing the word out as if John is a moron.
"Good, okay," John mumbles. He realizes that he's still holding Rodney's arm. He slowly pulls away when he suddenly notices that Rodney is still holding the box. He knows that it's irrational but John still snatches the box out of Rodney's hand, just in case.
Rodney frowns at him, then quirks one side of his mouth up. "I'm not proposing to you either."
"I didn't..." John begins because he really just wanted to make sure that Rodney didn't change his mind, didn't somehow decide to ask Keller to marry him after all. He didn't want Rodney's ring for himself. Not like that.
"Yet," Rodney adds in a tone that belies the teasing grin on his face.
He turns and is out the door, leaving John standing with his mouth open, an engagement ring in his hand and the unfamiliar feeling of hope in his chest.
Author: velocitygrass
Pairing: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, Rodney McKay/Jennifer Keller
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/Content notes: ( skip) Kissing when one of the participants is in a relationship with someone else. Angry!John. Overuse of repetition.
Spoilers: Through 5x20
Word count: 1846
Summary: In fact, right now, right this second, John doesn't give a damn about the way things go, the rules of life and friendship and being in love with your best friend so much that it fucking kills you.
Note: Title from the well-known quote from WarGames: "The only winning move is not to play."
Winning Move
John knows what he should do. He knows it because he's been there before, done this before.
But he knows that this time he cannot bring the words over his lips. "Go get the girl," or another encouragement. He'd been stumped the last time when Rodney had popped open the box with the ring. He hadn't in his wildest dreams-nightmares rather-imagined that Rodney and Katie Brown had come that far.
This time he's expected it. It doesn't make things easier though. To accept, to learn to live with it, to put on a smile and fake it.
He knows that it's what he should do, but he simply can't.
Rodney's got that same nervous spring in his step, looking a bit flustered, a bit like he doesn't know what he's doing, but John is sure that he'll go through with it this time. He'll go on and marry Keller and one day wonder what happened to his life. Or maybe he will never wonder. Maybe he will go through life thinking that this is all he can expect. Or maybe he really is happy.
John doesn't dwell on it. Rodney's looking at him expectantly, waiting for John to do the friend thing, to encourage and reassure him, but the mere thought of doing it makes John feel sick.
Rodney will be disappointed, angry, hurt when John doesn't say something soon and he'll still go ahead and propose to Keller. There's nothing John can do that won't hurt like a bitch and end up with him losing Rodney. Not that he ever had him.
Fuck.
John is sick and tired of it. For years, he's been telling himself that he can't expect anything, that he'll happily take whatever Rodney's willing to give him. If the rumors are true, Rodney will stay on Earth with Keller, and John will end up with exactly nothing.
Knowing that it couldn't have ended any other way doesn't make it easier. In fact, right now, right this second, John doesn't give a damn about the way things go, the rules of life and friendship and being in love with your best friend so much that it fucking kills you.
The corner of Rodney's mouth turns downwards, and John knows the hurt look in his eyes will be next, but he refuses to play his role and comfort Rodney. The time for following rules is over. Why on Earth should he play a game he can't win?
And he'll be damned if Rodney will guilt-trip him, intentional or not. He's the fucking injured party here. He's the one who goes home alone every night, dreaming about what he can't have, putting a smile on, so that others won't feel bad for him. Enough is enough.
If Rodney thinks he wants to spend the rest of his life with Keller, that's his problem. John knows he's only kidding himself. He's been there, said, "I do," went on the honeymoon and ended up with nothing but divorce papers. John isn't even sure if he wants it to be the same for Rodney. Is he really desperate enough to wish that on the man he loves?
And god, how fucked up is this? The man he loves .... John is desperate enough. Or maybe it's the opposite. John's been desperate for a long time now, watching and waiting for the moment when he would inevitably lose Rodney. Now that the moment is here, he's no longer desperate. He plain and simply has nothing left to lose. He's free.
For years John has dreamed about kissing Rodney, never considering that he could ever do it. He still can't, but right now he doesn't care. Doesn't care and doesn't think, simply takes the two steps towards Rodney, right into his personal space, grabs his face and pulls him close until their lips touch.
Rodney makes a noise in protest and pushes at him, hands against John's chest, gripping his shirt, but John ignores it. He angles his head, trying to turn it a bit more into an actual kiss. Of course, that's not really possible when the kiss is so obviously not returned.
Still, John can't make himself stop. He holds on, willing to wait until Rodney pushes hard enough or maybe even kicks him in the balls. He finds himself almost wishing for that. At least then he'd have a physical reason for the pain.
Rodney keeps pushing and moving and trying to say something, but John doesn't let up, mentally spurring Rodney on, because part of him wants Rodney to push him to the ground and shout at him, because then he might be able to shout back.
But instead of pushing harder, Rodney's grip on John's shirt weakens and his mouth stills. He stops fighting it, and John wants to curse him for giving up, for not giving John the chance to yell the things he needs to say at least once.
John keeps kissing him, unwilling to give up so easily. He's not going to pull back first. He doesn't have a date with his girlfriend to keep. He doesn't have a little box in his hand and the promise to live happily ever after on his lips.
Rodney is entirely unresponsive against John's slightly moving lips. His hands just seem to rest against John's chest now. John moves one hand to Rodney's temple, stroking his hair. It feels a bit like an apology. God, what is he doing?
His lips stops moving and they just stand like that, mouths fused together in a kiss that isn't a kiss, breathing in each other. John still can't bring himself to pull back first. He doesn't know what to do.
There's no right way to end this. He can't even begin to imagine what will happen if their lips part and their lives go on. There is- Was that movement against his lips?
Rodney's hands slowly wander down John's chest. To pull away, probably. That must have been the movement he felt.
Except it happens again and it's not away. It's a minute press of Rodney's lips against his.
John stops breathing for a moment, only hearing the beating of his heart and then he feels it again. Rodney's mouth tentatively opens up. His hands settle on John's hips.
This can't be happening.
As if wanting to prove John wrong, Rodney presses against him, angling his head and opening his mouth until their lips align perfectly for a real kiss. John is too shocked to return the kiss for a several seconds. This has never been an option.
But Rodney disagrees. He moves his arms around John, one hand flat on his back, the other still holding the little box that now digs into John's spine.
That's when John understands that Rodney is kissing him back, that he hasn't pushed John away and left to propose to Keller. He's still here and they're kissing, well, almost kissing if only John would-
When John opens his mouth, a faint moan escapes from Rodney's throat, and John stops questioning what's going on and just feels. He's desperate again now, as desperate as the little noises Rodney makes and the way his hand has grabbed John's shirt as if he was afraid that John could run away.
It's such an absurd thought that John has to laugh into Rodney's mouth. Then he has to moan when Rodney pushes his tongue out and into John. They start to move, hands pushing at clothes, their mouths open and demanding, their lips wet. They stumble forward until Rodney's back hits the door and they end up flush together, mouth to mouth, chest to chest, groin to groin.
John doesn't know how Rodney's hand ends up under his shirt or why his thigh is now between Rodney's legs. He just knows that it's hot and wonderful and perfect and that he doesn't ever want it to stop.
It's like they're putting years and years worth of waiting into this kiss, and John has to remind himself that it cannot be because that would mean that Rodney always felt the same and that's just not possible.
Of course, none of this seemed possible just minutes ago, even though it feels like hours since Rodney's lips first moved against his uncertainly. He's not uncertain now, kissing John as if he too can't get enough of this kiss.
It's amazing that they're in this together now when John had thought he'd always be on the sidelines, alone.
The kiss slows down, still passionate but not quite as wild, quite as desperate. They're taking their time now, and John has to wonder if this is what this really means: that they have the time now, to explore, to be together, to actually be together.
There's only one way to find out. He'll have to pull back to know if there can ever be a second kiss. He wants to believe that there must be, that he cannot have found the only way to win the game only to lose after all.
The kiss is soft now, lips brushing together, fingertips caressing skin, the exchange of inaudible whispers that don't actually carry words but are still full of promise.
Then their lips finally part and they open their eyes.
John wishes he could read Rodney now. He's not afraid of what he sees in the blue depths, but he's also not sure if it's all that he hopes for.
They stand like that, staring at each other, mouths red, lips shiny, breathing a bit more heavily than they normally do.
After what feels like an eternity Rodney's hands move from where they've remained under John's shirt and John doesn't want to let them go. It's only when Rodney turns, though, that John grabs his arm to stop him.
"You're not proposing to her," he says because even if Rodney isn't sure about them, even if they have to think and even talk about the kind of future they can have, Rodney can't go on as if nothing had happened.
Rodney turns back and gives John a look. "No," he says, drawing the word out as if John is a moron.
"Good, okay," John mumbles. He realizes that he's still holding Rodney's arm. He slowly pulls away when he suddenly notices that Rodney is still holding the box. He knows that it's irrational but John still snatches the box out of Rodney's hand, just in case.
Rodney frowns at him, then quirks one side of his mouth up. "I'm not proposing to you either."
"I didn't..." John begins because he really just wanted to make sure that Rodney didn't change his mind, didn't somehow decide to ask Keller to marry him after all. He didn't want Rodney's ring for himself. Not like that.
"Yet," Rodney adds in a tone that belies the teasing grin on his face.
He turns and is out the door, leaving John standing with his mouth open, an engagement ring in his hand and the unfamiliar feeling of hope in his chest.