Rodney - A retelling of Roxanne (RomComDrama) Ch2
Chapter Two
John went upstairs to his office, trying to blot out the fact that ten men were still cleaning up one mess. He finished off his paperwork in a matter of minutes but then got sidetracked by planning the training sessions that he wanted to run the next day. He had a new crew member arriving some time the next day who had years of experience. John was hoping that he could help him and Lorne whip the guys into shape, preferably before a real fire occurred. Eventually, he realised the time and decided to call it a night, headed back down to make himself a coffee and have a quick chat with the guys before he left. He hated to leave any bad feeling in the air, and a casual chat normally did the trick to get everything back on the right track.
As he was wandering through the station he saw a reel of hose lying on the floor, but decided not to say anything. Training would start in earnest tomorrow and hopefully this would be the last time he had to check up on his team. Sheppard tucked the hose into the appropriate cupboard and looked around the fire station, what he could see of it with their one and only fire engine sat gleaming in the middle. Satisfied that the hose was the last of the apparatus they had been using that day to be stowed, he wandered through to the back of the station, to the kitchen area where most of the shift were sat playing cards round a large table. The remainder were upstairs shooting pool.
The guys hollered out to him as he entered to come join the game, “Come on, Chief,” pleaded Lorne, “Markham’s killing me here.”
John smiled widely, Markham was a tall gangly lad with an easy smile, who looked younger than his years and who had an uncanny knack with cards. If his nature wasn’t so benign, you’d call him a card shark, if that wasn’t tantamount to calling a nun a hussy. The guy didn’t have a sly bone in his body.
“You should know better by now, Lorne,” John answered as he crossed the kitchen area to the urn of hot water, and proceeded to make himself a coffee.
“Yeah, you really should,” chipped in Bates.
“So wise,” Lorne said as he turned to him with a raised eyebrow, “and yet it’s your dime sitting next to mine in that pot,” he said, indicating the small pile of coins in the middle of the table.
“I was trying a pincer movement,” Bates grumbled.
The men’s answering laughter nearly covered the knock at the back door, and probably would have if John had been any further away. He glanced at the door, waiting for someone to enter, when no one did, he put down his coffee and went to investigate. The door was at the rear of the station not used much, leading onto the porch. He stepped out into the glorious summer night, just in time to see a naked man turning sharply and trot back into the firs that bordered the side of the fire station. He presumed this was an abortive attempt to repeat the knock, no longer needed at his sudden appearance.
His eyes fell from broad shoulders to the full globes of the man’s perfect ass as it disappeared into the firs. Intrigued, and if he was honest with himself, already a little obsessed with how the paleness of the man’s skin appeared to glow in the moonlight. He pulled the door shut behind him, not wanting to share this with the rest of the crew just yet.
He smirked wide, unable to stop himself, “You changed your mind, Sir?” he asked in his most cordial voice.
“What?” came a sharp disembodied voice from behind the firs.
“Well, you were leaving, so I presumed you’ve changed your mind.”
“No, I haven’t changed my mind,” the words bitten out in anger and that just made John grin all the wider. “I’m locked out of my house,” the voice continued, “don’t you guys help with that sort of thing?”
“You live here?” John asked, not recognising the voice or that glorious rear.
“I’m renting a place in town, look can we move this along? It’s getting kinda cold out here.”
“Really, I think it’s a beautiful night tonight,” he answered with a glance upwards, looking over the stars before returning his gaze to the talking firs. “Wouldn’t it just be easier to get the landlord to let you in?” John enquired innocently, enjoying himself way too much.
“I’m not exactly dressed appropriately to go all over town looking for her,” the voice answered, with an intriguing mix of anger and embarrassment in equal measures. John nearly laughed out loud at that response.
“Oh, okay. Well if you want to come and wait inside while I get my housebreaking tools,” Sheppard said, pretending to turn back towards the door, knowing full well what was coming next.
“No, I’ll just wait out here. Please hurry.”
“Well, it’s warmer inside, and you did say it was kinda cold out here.” There was a heavy pause while John stood watching the firs, almost biting his cheek to stop himself from laughing.
“I’m....er...I’m naked,” the voice hissed.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” John said, wondering if that actually sounded as fake as he felt it did to the guy behind the firs.
There was a heavy sigh, “I’m naked,” the voice said in a tight but audible tone.
“Oh,” is all John said, because that’s all he trusted himself to say and still manage to contain the laughter.
“Look, it’s not like I make a habit of walking the streets naked. I just came down for a glass of water and realised the cat wasn’t in. I went out onto the back porch to call her and when I reached down for her the door closed behind me, trapping my robe and locking me out. I couldn’t get the robe or the door to budge and remembered this station on my way to the house and figured I could make it here without being seen. I’m not some kind of pervert, just a victim of circumstance and although it’s a nice night out here, it’s actually got a chill factor when you’re naked. So if we could please just get on with this.” This long rant was followed by a heavy sigh of defeat.
John finally took pity on him, and also figured he had to put a stop to this before he just sat down and laughed outright because the guy just hit his funny bone with everything that came out of his mouth. “I’ll be back in a minute, let me just get my tools.”
As John turned and put a hand on the door knob there was a whispered, “thank you,” from the firs, sounding so vulnerable that John felt a jolt of guilt for playing the guy for so long.
He walked back into the kitchen to see the guys had given up on poker for money and moved back to playing for fun. They looked up at him quizzically when he came back in. “Just a lock out,” he said as he walked through.
He picked up his toolbox from the locker near the door. As he passed back through the room, Lorne spoke up, “You want me to take it?”
As casually as he could he responded, “Nah, you’re okay. It’s on my way home anyway, I’ll just do this job and then call it a night. See you guys tomorrow.”
They all hailed good night to him as he left, stepping once more into the summer night. He walked up to the firs but didn’t go through, that last vulnerable word keeping him in check. He figured he had already had enough fun at the guy’s expense, even though he could imagine the squeak of surprise if he did. “Where to?” he asked.
“Turn to your left and follow the firs to the end, and then to the right. Just follow the firs. You stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine.”
“Okay,” he turned to his left and started walking. He could hear the other guy walking through the brush on the other side. “Hey, your feet okay?”
“No, I’ve probably got a thousand splinters that are going to get infected and fester,” the voice sighed resigndley.
“We’ll have a look at them once we get you back inside,” John answered sympathetically.
There was silence from the other side of the firs, and as crazy as it sounds, John could swear it was a shocked surprise kind of silence.
“Erm...”
Sheppard cast a frown to the other side of the firs when nothing else followed. Had he said something wrong? He backtracked. Maybe the guy thought it was a proposition. Was it a proposition? He was about to say something when the guy spoke up again.
“Thanks... it’s just most people just ignore me, I wasn’t expecting...”
“What’s your name?” Sheppard interrupted, because the guy just sounded so exposed and defenceless that is was almost painful to listen too, especially when John recalled the game he’d played with him. That feeling, yeah, that’d be guilt. Know that one.
“What?” The voice said, clearly thrown by the sudden change in subject.
“I can’t keep thinking of you as naked guy in my head. It’s creepy.”
There was an audible smile in the voice when it answered, “Dr. Rodney McKay.”
John nodded, even though Rodney couldn’t see him, securing the name in his mind. “Hello, Rodney,” he said with a smile.
There was a huff of laughter before Rodney replied. “Hi... oh... what’s your name?”
“John Sheppard.”
“Oh. Hello, Sheppard.”
John frowned at the use of his last name. Lorne had done that when he first arrived, but that was because he was ex military. This doctor didn’t strike him as a field medic. “So, what kind of doctor are you?”
“Physics and astrophysics,” Rodney replied, smugness now infusing his tones.
Sheppard whistled, “Wow, double doctorate, eh?” Not a field medic then. “So, what brings you here?”
“It’s a secret. Here’s the house. I’ll be waiting out back.” John heard him carry on round the side of the house, flashes of pale skin in amongst the bushes. He made his way round the back too.
“I thought you’d go in the front?” Rodney queried from behind the bushes as John neared his position, still unable to see anything but flecks of luminescent skin. There was a faint suspicion to his voice.
“Didn’t really want people to see me breaking in here, and figured you wouldn’t want people to know I had to, or for it to come out that you were running all over town naked.”
“Oh. Good point.”
This was Teyla’s house, small world. Teyla was like a sister to him but even he couldn’t figure out why she preferred staying over the bar she owned in town when she could stay here. John suddenly had the thought of Rodney trying to gain access to the bar, while nude, at either the front or the back and it made him pale just thinking about it. He also realised it was lucky the fire station was so close, and that Rodney had seen it on his way in. If any of the patrons thought he was after Teyla for anything other than the keys, then Rodney could have got himself in a lot of trouble because everyone in town defended Teyla with a passion, even if she could look after herself. If Ronon had found him, well it didn’t bear thinking about.
It was a beautiful house, big light rooms which always made it easy to rent. He walked up the three steps to the porch and knelt by the kitchen door. He opened the lid of the toolbox that was empty save for the single credit card sat in the bottom, which had expired long ago, bearing the name of the previous fire chief. He would have loved for Rodney to see that, he just knew the guy’s response would have made him smile. He reached in and got out the card and started jimmying the lock but it wasn’t working, probably due to the big fluffy bathrobe stuck in the door.
“This lock doesn’t accept Master Charge. We will have to try the old reliable,” he said as he backed down the steps, looking up at the walls of the house, working out the path he would take. “And when I say, ‘old reliable’, I’m lying because I’ve never tried this before. You may not want to watch this.”
John leapt up and grabbed the iron bar that was positioned above the porch which he thought was just for ornamental use but hoped it held regardless. He swung his legs forward to give him momentum, using the bar like a gymnastic bar, and managed to swing himself up so he was suspended above the bar, arms locked straight. He brought his legs up on the bar and managed to find himself standing. John balanced there for a while as he gauged the jump, and the angle of the sloping roof before he took the leap. He leant forwards as he leapt as a counterweight to the angle of the roof as he landed and then he was running across the tiles, thankful he wore his sneakers that night. He reached the balcony of the master bedroom, but the windows and door were closed so he kept on to his initial course, the window in the attic that was open.
He pulled himself up onto the banister that ran around the balcony and walked along until he was level with the attic window. John judged how sturdy the guttering was and with some mental calculations, figured it will hold his weight. He fell forward with a small push off the banister, grabbed the guttering and pulled himself up and over then it was a quick run across the tiles and a quick dive into the open window before he lost his footing. He caught something on his way through, something that made a hell of a racket when it fell over but he remained unhurt. He managed to locate the door and headed down to the master bedroom.
He pulled a throw off the bed just as he heard a faint, “Hey, where’d you go?” drift up from outside.
He went to the window and threw the blanket down, aiming for the flecks of pale skin shining through the dappled green of the bushes, “Figured you’d want something to cover your modesty.”
“Oh, thanks,” he heard as the blanket was dragged through the bushes, the pale flecks disappearing as Rodney drew the blanket around him.
He went to the bathroom next, picking through the cabinet until he found the antiseptic cream. He went back down stairs and opened up the back door, to find Rodney bouncing on his feet with the blanket wrapped round him, “You get lost?” Rodney grumbled as he walked in, shivering, even with the blanket wrapped around him. “I’m going to put some clothes on,” he said as he walked through the kitchen and up the stairs.
“Bring socks down with you but don’t put them on just yet.” John called after him, as he shut the back door.
The footsteps on the stairs paused, and then carried on without a word. John put the kettle on and prepared the percolator. He filled the sink with hot water and found a new, clean cloth. He quickly arranged a platter of snack foods from the fridge, placing it on the central kitchen top, opposite the sink. He was interrupted while filling the percolator with hot water.
“This is quite the after service.”
He glanced over to get his first glance of Dr Rodney McKay. You’d think the bright orange fleece would have taken all his attention but it was passed over, in favour of the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, alight with a bright intelligence. “We’ve got a special promotion on this month,” he replied easily, belying the hammering heart in his chest or the butterflies in his stomach. “Come sit up here,” he said as he patted the counter top, “let’s get a look at those feet.”
He busied himself with the percolator, to avoid staring, and to get himself under control, whilst Rodney hopped up onto the side. John went to the sink and plunged the cloth into the water, then turned and picked up one of Rodney’s feet and started cleaning it, checking for splinters or abrasions. John realised Rodney was staring at him, now able to see him fully under the house lights. He froze. How could he have forgotten? He hadn’t been able to forget since waking up in that hospital bed after failing to pull Mitch and Dex out of that burning laboratory. Even when he was alone, John could still feel it. Always there, a patch of coldness, like the hand of death on his shoulder.
They had done what they could with skin grafts, had reduced the scarring measurably, but the scarred skin that was left was still horribly deformed, running along his shoulder where he could hide it beneath clothes, and up his neck where he couldn’t. He hated it, a reminder of his failure for all to see.
Scarring would have been bad enough, but oh no, he had to go better didn’t he. John had to have an experimental chemical fall on him as he crashed into the lab table, falling to his knees next to Mitch and Dex who were already near death. All records burnt in the fire, no record of what it contained and no doctor able to tell him why it had stained his skin iridescent blue and green and no way to undo it. John’s ex had told him it looked pretty and John had packed his bags and left that very day. It disgusted him in every way, and yet every person that looked at him reminded him it was there, every eye that drifted to his neck shouted it out and made it impossible to forget. John had got into a lot of fights about it, and everyone in town had learned not to look, but there were always new people coming in who had to learn the hard way, who had to remind him he’d failed and it seemed Rodney was no different.
“How does your hair do that?” Rodney asked, and just like that all the tension drained away. He looked up to find Rodney seemingly mesmerized by his hair, eyes following it, the way other people followed his scar.
“It’s natural,” he said, unable to keep the full grin off his face. No one had ever seen past the scar when they first met, either watching it’s every move but saying nothing, or speaking about it as if it was acceptable, normal. Sometimes he felt like he was part of the scar instead of the other way round. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to hold Rodney and thank him for seeing him, but he knew that was ridiculous. Rodney wouldn’t understand just how special this was, or just how much John appreciated this, that at least one person remembered he was here, underneath, just wanting to be normal.
“Atrocities to physics do not occur naturally, Sheppard. Humanities hand is always to blame, and in this case I suspect it was coated in copious amounts of hair gel.”
Sheppard gave a bark of laughter as he finished cleaning the foot in his hand, feeling light and happy inside. He rinsed the cloth and moved to the other foot as he spoke, “I can assure you that the only hair products I use are shampoo and conditioner.”
He felt fingers in his hair, the tips brushing his scalp as he bent to wash the other foot. He was willing himself not to react to the innocent but deeply affecting caress. There was a soft, “huh,” and then the fingers left his hair and he saw them wave about dangerously in his peripheral vision as Rodney continued. “Well, that doesn’t prove anything. You can get invisible gel nowadays.”
“Invisible gel?” Sheppard inquired, looking up at Rodney with one eyebrow raised and a wide smirk, “You’ll go to extraordinary lengths to convince yourself you’re not wrong, won’t you?”
Rodney glared at him before deflating, “Okay, it seems as though you don’t use hair gel. It’s just that I’m not used to seeing things that defy gravity so openly. Do you have a special helmet?”
John’s mind went to the dark but fun side before he remembered he was a fireman, “Well, mine says ‘chief’ on it, but apart from that it’s the same as everyone else’s.”
Rodney’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, belying the teasing tones that he spoke with, “Chief? Wow, now I feel all kinds of special. Does every new resident get this treatment?”
“Only the naked ones,” Sheppard responded easily. “Talking of which, I can’t find any splinters or cuts. Your feet should be fine. I’ll just put this antiseptic cream on, just to be on the safe side.” He leant over to get the cream and proceeded to rub it into Rodney’s feet, trying to remain remote from the act. He hadn’t realised until now how intimate it felt to rub cream into pale, pale skin. Watching his fingers glide over Rodney’s skin was intoxicating. He finished as quickly as he could, even though he wanted nothing more than to stand here and take his time.
When he was done, he slapped Rodney’s feet, making him jump. “All done, you want to put your socks on now,” he advised as he turned back to the sink, washing his hands before he moved over to the percolator that had now finished processing the coffee. He poured them a cup each, “Milk, sugar?” he asked, raising the filled cup in question to Rodney who was just finishing putting on his second sock.
“No milk, three sugars. I’m hypoglycaemic,” Rodney stated defensively, “I have to keep my sugar levels up.”
Sheppard noted the information and piled three sugars into one of the cups, passing it over to Rodney, just after he pushed himself off the side to stand. Rodney took the cup eagerly and took a sip.
Sheppard’s eyes went wide, his eyebrows shot up and he tried to bury as much of his face into his cup as he could, humming loudly in his head the first song he could think off, anything to try and distract himself from the sounds that Rodney was making, obscene noises, sexual throaty intoxicating noises. God, if he sounds like that just drinking coffee imagine what he sounds lik.....no! Don’t go there, don’t go there. He couldn’t distract himself, maybe he could distract Rodney. A thought popped in his head on how exactly he could distract Rodney but he pushed it away.
“So, what’s the big secret that brings you to our town then?” he asked.
“Hmmm?” Rodney queried, coming back to the real world unwillingly, “Oh, wouldn’t be much of a secret if I told everyone would it?”
“I have secrets,” John responded haughtily, before deflating, “well, I have one good secret, well, actually it’s not that good, well actually I don’t have any secrets.” He grinned wide, before he placed a hand to his heart, “I’m the fire chief. Surely you can trust me,” Sheppard said, as he used his best ‘who me?’ expression.
Rodney cocked his head to one side, studying Sheppard and suddenly he felt hot, the intense look in Rodney’s eyes as he studied him, making it seem like he could see into his very heart, his eyes suddenly like lasers. John always thought he would find that uncomfortable to be under that level of scrutiny, he never knew until this moment how turned on he was by that, how hot it was to be the centre of Rodney’s world.
Suddenly Rodney grinned, putting down his coffee cup and rushed into the other room. John was left floundering. When Rodney smiled.....God, he had it bad. John always kept a distance, even before the accident he was never one to fall easily and yet here he was nearly swooning like a fangirl over a man he’d known all of one hour, just because he smiled. It scared him a lot, but at the same time he felt alive like he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Rodney was dangerous, Rodney was addictive and he couldn’t bring himself to walk away.
Rodney walked back into the room, carrying a folder, totally oblivious to the spin he had put John in. He put it on the table and began to open it and then closed it again sharply, looking intently at Sheppard. “You’re sworn to secrecy though. You can’t tell another soul, okay?”
“Yeah, course. Not another soul,” John made a cross sign over his heart.
“What are you, twelve? I’m not gonna make you pinky swear. But I will say that if you tell another soul, I’ll track you down and kill you seven ways till Sunday. I don’t make idle threats. I made a nuclear bomb for my school science fair and I’ve gotten a lot smarter since then.”
Rodney reached over and grabbed John by the upper arm, dragging him over to the centre island in the kitchen. He opened up the folder and spread out photographs. They were of the night sky, stars and clusters burning brightly, beautiful, clear shots of the universe. There were doodles all over the photographs, arrows pointing to a specific section over and over again. “You’re here to look at the stars?” Sheppard asked, not sure what he was expecting, but definitely not that.
“Not a star as such. A comet. It’s due to travel overhead in a months time. If I’m right, and I invariably am, this comet hasn’t been seen in our skies in over one thousand years.”
Sheppard was grinning more at Rodney than by being let into the big secret, not that he thought it was that big a secret anyway. Rodney though, was like a kid, bouncing with excitement and John found it intoxicating. He couldn’t help but get dragged along with him, like a hurricane, pulled into the excitement that Rodney was projecting in waves.
“So, what then?”
“Ah, one secret at a time,” said Rodney, and Sheppard knew he wasn’t going to tell him tonight.
They sat up going over the star charts, Rodney explained where he was from, how he had discovered it, about his colleagues. The only one earning any respect was one called Radek Zelenka, and when John realised he was feeling jealous of a guy he had never met, he realised it was time to go.
“Well, I’d best be going, got to get my beauty sleep and all. Maybe I’ll see you around town tomorrow. If you want a good breakfast, I can suggest Liz’s Diner, best in town.”
“Oh, okay then. I guess it is getting kind of late. Yeah, maybe I’ll see you around tomorrow.” Rodney walked him to the front door and Sheppard left without even shaking his hand, not trusting himself not to just lunge at the guy and steal a kiss, well received or not.
He made his way home, the streets quiet now except for the sounds of the crickets. The sky overhead clear and bright with a million stars. He got home and went straight to bed. Lying there, looking at the ceiling, wondering how a stranger had gotten under his skin so deep he didn’t think he’d ever get him out.
He knew it was dangerous but he couldn’t stop himself from fantasising, from thinking what if. What if a man with blue eyes, a perfect ass, wide shoulders and a personality full of contradictions, both egotistical and vulnerable, wanted him too? John fell asleep with butterflies in his stomach, falling into dreams that made him smile.
TBC... Chapter Three
John went upstairs to his office, trying to blot out the fact that ten men were still cleaning up one mess. He finished off his paperwork in a matter of minutes but then got sidetracked by planning the training sessions that he wanted to run the next day. He had a new crew member arriving some time the next day who had years of experience. John was hoping that he could help him and Lorne whip the guys into shape, preferably before a real fire occurred. Eventually, he realised the time and decided to call it a night, headed back down to make himself a coffee and have a quick chat with the guys before he left. He hated to leave any bad feeling in the air, and a casual chat normally did the trick to get everything back on the right track.
As he was wandering through the station he saw a reel of hose lying on the floor, but decided not to say anything. Training would start in earnest tomorrow and hopefully this would be the last time he had to check up on his team. Sheppard tucked the hose into the appropriate cupboard and looked around the fire station, what he could see of it with their one and only fire engine sat gleaming in the middle. Satisfied that the hose was the last of the apparatus they had been using that day to be stowed, he wandered through to the back of the station, to the kitchen area where most of the shift were sat playing cards round a large table. The remainder were upstairs shooting pool.
The guys hollered out to him as he entered to come join the game, “Come on, Chief,” pleaded Lorne, “Markham’s killing me here.”
John smiled widely, Markham was a tall gangly lad with an easy smile, who looked younger than his years and who had an uncanny knack with cards. If his nature wasn’t so benign, you’d call him a card shark, if that wasn’t tantamount to calling a nun a hussy. The guy didn’t have a sly bone in his body.
“You should know better by now, Lorne,” John answered as he crossed the kitchen area to the urn of hot water, and proceeded to make himself a coffee.
“Yeah, you really should,” chipped in Bates.
“So wise,” Lorne said as he turned to him with a raised eyebrow, “and yet it’s your dime sitting next to mine in that pot,” he said, indicating the small pile of coins in the middle of the table.
“I was trying a pincer movement,” Bates grumbled.
The men’s answering laughter nearly covered the knock at the back door, and probably would have if John had been any further away. He glanced at the door, waiting for someone to enter, when no one did, he put down his coffee and went to investigate. The door was at the rear of the station not used much, leading onto the porch. He stepped out into the glorious summer night, just in time to see a naked man turning sharply and trot back into the firs that bordered the side of the fire station. He presumed this was an abortive attempt to repeat the knock, no longer needed at his sudden appearance.
His eyes fell from broad shoulders to the full globes of the man’s perfect ass as it disappeared into the firs. Intrigued, and if he was honest with himself, already a little obsessed with how the paleness of the man’s skin appeared to glow in the moonlight. He pulled the door shut behind him, not wanting to share this with the rest of the crew just yet.
He smirked wide, unable to stop himself, “You changed your mind, Sir?” he asked in his most cordial voice.
“What?” came a sharp disembodied voice from behind the firs.
“Well, you were leaving, so I presumed you’ve changed your mind.”
“No, I haven’t changed my mind,” the words bitten out in anger and that just made John grin all the wider. “I’m locked out of my house,” the voice continued, “don’t you guys help with that sort of thing?”
“You live here?” John asked, not recognising the voice or that glorious rear.
“I’m renting a place in town, look can we move this along? It’s getting kinda cold out here.”
“Really, I think it’s a beautiful night tonight,” he answered with a glance upwards, looking over the stars before returning his gaze to the talking firs. “Wouldn’t it just be easier to get the landlord to let you in?” John enquired innocently, enjoying himself way too much.
“I’m not exactly dressed appropriately to go all over town looking for her,” the voice answered, with an intriguing mix of anger and embarrassment in equal measures. John nearly laughed out loud at that response.
“Oh, okay. Well if you want to come and wait inside while I get my housebreaking tools,” Sheppard said, pretending to turn back towards the door, knowing full well what was coming next.
“No, I’ll just wait out here. Please hurry.”
“Well, it’s warmer inside, and you did say it was kinda cold out here.” There was a heavy pause while John stood watching the firs, almost biting his cheek to stop himself from laughing.
“I’m....er...I’m naked,” the voice hissed.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” John said, wondering if that actually sounded as fake as he felt it did to the guy behind the firs.
There was a heavy sigh, “I’m naked,” the voice said in a tight but audible tone.
“Oh,” is all John said, because that’s all he trusted himself to say and still manage to contain the laughter.
“Look, it’s not like I make a habit of walking the streets naked. I just came down for a glass of water and realised the cat wasn’t in. I went out onto the back porch to call her and when I reached down for her the door closed behind me, trapping my robe and locking me out. I couldn’t get the robe or the door to budge and remembered this station on my way to the house and figured I could make it here without being seen. I’m not some kind of pervert, just a victim of circumstance and although it’s a nice night out here, it’s actually got a chill factor when you’re naked. So if we could please just get on with this.” This long rant was followed by a heavy sigh of defeat.
John finally took pity on him, and also figured he had to put a stop to this before he just sat down and laughed outright because the guy just hit his funny bone with everything that came out of his mouth. “I’ll be back in a minute, let me just get my tools.”
As John turned and put a hand on the door knob there was a whispered, “thank you,” from the firs, sounding so vulnerable that John felt a jolt of guilt for playing the guy for so long.
He walked back into the kitchen to see the guys had given up on poker for money and moved back to playing for fun. They looked up at him quizzically when he came back in. “Just a lock out,” he said as he walked through.
He picked up his toolbox from the locker near the door. As he passed back through the room, Lorne spoke up, “You want me to take it?”
As casually as he could he responded, “Nah, you’re okay. It’s on my way home anyway, I’ll just do this job and then call it a night. See you guys tomorrow.”
They all hailed good night to him as he left, stepping once more into the summer night. He walked up to the firs but didn’t go through, that last vulnerable word keeping him in check. He figured he had already had enough fun at the guy’s expense, even though he could imagine the squeak of surprise if he did. “Where to?” he asked.
“Turn to your left and follow the firs to the end, and then to the right. Just follow the firs. You stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine.”
“Okay,” he turned to his left and started walking. He could hear the other guy walking through the brush on the other side. “Hey, your feet okay?”
“No, I’ve probably got a thousand splinters that are going to get infected and fester,” the voice sighed resigndley.
“We’ll have a look at them once we get you back inside,” John answered sympathetically.
There was silence from the other side of the firs, and as crazy as it sounds, John could swear it was a shocked surprise kind of silence.
“Erm...”
Sheppard cast a frown to the other side of the firs when nothing else followed. Had he said something wrong? He backtracked. Maybe the guy thought it was a proposition. Was it a proposition? He was about to say something when the guy spoke up again.
“Thanks... it’s just most people just ignore me, I wasn’t expecting...”
“What’s your name?” Sheppard interrupted, because the guy just sounded so exposed and defenceless that is was almost painful to listen too, especially when John recalled the game he’d played with him. That feeling, yeah, that’d be guilt. Know that one.
“What?” The voice said, clearly thrown by the sudden change in subject.
“I can’t keep thinking of you as naked guy in my head. It’s creepy.”
There was an audible smile in the voice when it answered, “Dr. Rodney McKay.”
John nodded, even though Rodney couldn’t see him, securing the name in his mind. “Hello, Rodney,” he said with a smile.
There was a huff of laughter before Rodney replied. “Hi... oh... what’s your name?”
“John Sheppard.”
“Oh. Hello, Sheppard.”
John frowned at the use of his last name. Lorne had done that when he first arrived, but that was because he was ex military. This doctor didn’t strike him as a field medic. “So, what kind of doctor are you?”
“Physics and astrophysics,” Rodney replied, smugness now infusing his tones.
Sheppard whistled, “Wow, double doctorate, eh?” Not a field medic then. “So, what brings you here?”
“It’s a secret. Here’s the house. I’ll be waiting out back.” John heard him carry on round the side of the house, flashes of pale skin in amongst the bushes. He made his way round the back too.
“I thought you’d go in the front?” Rodney queried from behind the bushes as John neared his position, still unable to see anything but flecks of luminescent skin. There was a faint suspicion to his voice.
“Didn’t really want people to see me breaking in here, and figured you wouldn’t want people to know I had to, or for it to come out that you were running all over town naked.”
“Oh. Good point.”
This was Teyla’s house, small world. Teyla was like a sister to him but even he couldn’t figure out why she preferred staying over the bar she owned in town when she could stay here. John suddenly had the thought of Rodney trying to gain access to the bar, while nude, at either the front or the back and it made him pale just thinking about it. He also realised it was lucky the fire station was so close, and that Rodney had seen it on his way in. If any of the patrons thought he was after Teyla for anything other than the keys, then Rodney could have got himself in a lot of trouble because everyone in town defended Teyla with a passion, even if she could look after herself. If Ronon had found him, well it didn’t bear thinking about.
It was a beautiful house, big light rooms which always made it easy to rent. He walked up the three steps to the porch and knelt by the kitchen door. He opened the lid of the toolbox that was empty save for the single credit card sat in the bottom, which had expired long ago, bearing the name of the previous fire chief. He would have loved for Rodney to see that, he just knew the guy’s response would have made him smile. He reached in and got out the card and started jimmying the lock but it wasn’t working, probably due to the big fluffy bathrobe stuck in the door.
“This lock doesn’t accept Master Charge. We will have to try the old reliable,” he said as he backed down the steps, looking up at the walls of the house, working out the path he would take. “And when I say, ‘old reliable’, I’m lying because I’ve never tried this before. You may not want to watch this.”
John leapt up and grabbed the iron bar that was positioned above the porch which he thought was just for ornamental use but hoped it held regardless. He swung his legs forward to give him momentum, using the bar like a gymnastic bar, and managed to swing himself up so he was suspended above the bar, arms locked straight. He brought his legs up on the bar and managed to find himself standing. John balanced there for a while as he gauged the jump, and the angle of the sloping roof before he took the leap. He leant forwards as he leapt as a counterweight to the angle of the roof as he landed and then he was running across the tiles, thankful he wore his sneakers that night. He reached the balcony of the master bedroom, but the windows and door were closed so he kept on to his initial course, the window in the attic that was open.
He pulled himself up onto the banister that ran around the balcony and walked along until he was level with the attic window. John judged how sturdy the guttering was and with some mental calculations, figured it will hold his weight. He fell forward with a small push off the banister, grabbed the guttering and pulled himself up and over then it was a quick run across the tiles and a quick dive into the open window before he lost his footing. He caught something on his way through, something that made a hell of a racket when it fell over but he remained unhurt. He managed to locate the door and headed down to the master bedroom.
He pulled a throw off the bed just as he heard a faint, “Hey, where’d you go?” drift up from outside.
He went to the window and threw the blanket down, aiming for the flecks of pale skin shining through the dappled green of the bushes, “Figured you’d want something to cover your modesty.”
“Oh, thanks,” he heard as the blanket was dragged through the bushes, the pale flecks disappearing as Rodney drew the blanket around him.
He went to the bathroom next, picking through the cabinet until he found the antiseptic cream. He went back down stairs and opened up the back door, to find Rodney bouncing on his feet with the blanket wrapped round him, “You get lost?” Rodney grumbled as he walked in, shivering, even with the blanket wrapped around him. “I’m going to put some clothes on,” he said as he walked through the kitchen and up the stairs.
“Bring socks down with you but don’t put them on just yet.” John called after him, as he shut the back door.
The footsteps on the stairs paused, and then carried on without a word. John put the kettle on and prepared the percolator. He filled the sink with hot water and found a new, clean cloth. He quickly arranged a platter of snack foods from the fridge, placing it on the central kitchen top, opposite the sink. He was interrupted while filling the percolator with hot water.
“This is quite the after service.”
He glanced over to get his first glance of Dr Rodney McKay. You’d think the bright orange fleece would have taken all his attention but it was passed over, in favour of the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, alight with a bright intelligence. “We’ve got a special promotion on this month,” he replied easily, belying the hammering heart in his chest or the butterflies in his stomach. “Come sit up here,” he said as he patted the counter top, “let’s get a look at those feet.”
He busied himself with the percolator, to avoid staring, and to get himself under control, whilst Rodney hopped up onto the side. John went to the sink and plunged the cloth into the water, then turned and picked up one of Rodney’s feet and started cleaning it, checking for splinters or abrasions. John realised Rodney was staring at him, now able to see him fully under the house lights. He froze. How could he have forgotten? He hadn’t been able to forget since waking up in that hospital bed after failing to pull Mitch and Dex out of that burning laboratory. Even when he was alone, John could still feel it. Always there, a patch of coldness, like the hand of death on his shoulder.
They had done what they could with skin grafts, had reduced the scarring measurably, but the scarred skin that was left was still horribly deformed, running along his shoulder where he could hide it beneath clothes, and up his neck where he couldn’t. He hated it, a reminder of his failure for all to see.
Scarring would have been bad enough, but oh no, he had to go better didn’t he. John had to have an experimental chemical fall on him as he crashed into the lab table, falling to his knees next to Mitch and Dex who were already near death. All records burnt in the fire, no record of what it contained and no doctor able to tell him why it had stained his skin iridescent blue and green and no way to undo it. John’s ex had told him it looked pretty and John had packed his bags and left that very day. It disgusted him in every way, and yet every person that looked at him reminded him it was there, every eye that drifted to his neck shouted it out and made it impossible to forget. John had got into a lot of fights about it, and everyone in town had learned not to look, but there were always new people coming in who had to learn the hard way, who had to remind him he’d failed and it seemed Rodney was no different.
“How does your hair do that?” Rodney asked, and just like that all the tension drained away. He looked up to find Rodney seemingly mesmerized by his hair, eyes following it, the way other people followed his scar.
“It’s natural,” he said, unable to keep the full grin off his face. No one had ever seen past the scar when they first met, either watching it’s every move but saying nothing, or speaking about it as if it was acceptable, normal. Sometimes he felt like he was part of the scar instead of the other way round. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to hold Rodney and thank him for seeing him, but he knew that was ridiculous. Rodney wouldn’t understand just how special this was, or just how much John appreciated this, that at least one person remembered he was here, underneath, just wanting to be normal.
“Atrocities to physics do not occur naturally, Sheppard. Humanities hand is always to blame, and in this case I suspect it was coated in copious amounts of hair gel.”
Sheppard gave a bark of laughter as he finished cleaning the foot in his hand, feeling light and happy inside. He rinsed the cloth and moved to the other foot as he spoke, “I can assure you that the only hair products I use are shampoo and conditioner.”
He felt fingers in his hair, the tips brushing his scalp as he bent to wash the other foot. He was willing himself not to react to the innocent but deeply affecting caress. There was a soft, “huh,” and then the fingers left his hair and he saw them wave about dangerously in his peripheral vision as Rodney continued. “Well, that doesn’t prove anything. You can get invisible gel nowadays.”
“Invisible gel?” Sheppard inquired, looking up at Rodney with one eyebrow raised and a wide smirk, “You’ll go to extraordinary lengths to convince yourself you’re not wrong, won’t you?”
Rodney glared at him before deflating, “Okay, it seems as though you don’t use hair gel. It’s just that I’m not used to seeing things that defy gravity so openly. Do you have a special helmet?”
John’s mind went to the dark but fun side before he remembered he was a fireman, “Well, mine says ‘chief’ on it, but apart from that it’s the same as everyone else’s.”
Rodney’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, belying the teasing tones that he spoke with, “Chief? Wow, now I feel all kinds of special. Does every new resident get this treatment?”
“Only the naked ones,” Sheppard responded easily. “Talking of which, I can’t find any splinters or cuts. Your feet should be fine. I’ll just put this antiseptic cream on, just to be on the safe side.” He leant over to get the cream and proceeded to rub it into Rodney’s feet, trying to remain remote from the act. He hadn’t realised until now how intimate it felt to rub cream into pale, pale skin. Watching his fingers glide over Rodney’s skin was intoxicating. He finished as quickly as he could, even though he wanted nothing more than to stand here and take his time.
When he was done, he slapped Rodney’s feet, making him jump. “All done, you want to put your socks on now,” he advised as he turned back to the sink, washing his hands before he moved over to the percolator that had now finished processing the coffee. He poured them a cup each, “Milk, sugar?” he asked, raising the filled cup in question to Rodney who was just finishing putting on his second sock.
“No milk, three sugars. I’m hypoglycaemic,” Rodney stated defensively, “I have to keep my sugar levels up.”
Sheppard noted the information and piled three sugars into one of the cups, passing it over to Rodney, just after he pushed himself off the side to stand. Rodney took the cup eagerly and took a sip.
Sheppard’s eyes went wide, his eyebrows shot up and he tried to bury as much of his face into his cup as he could, humming loudly in his head the first song he could think off, anything to try and distract himself from the sounds that Rodney was making, obscene noises, sexual throaty intoxicating noises. God, if he sounds like that just drinking coffee imagine what he sounds lik.....no! Don’t go there, don’t go there. He couldn’t distract himself, maybe he could distract Rodney. A thought popped in his head on how exactly he could distract Rodney but he pushed it away.
“So, what’s the big secret that brings you to our town then?” he asked.
“Hmmm?” Rodney queried, coming back to the real world unwillingly, “Oh, wouldn’t be much of a secret if I told everyone would it?”
“I have secrets,” John responded haughtily, before deflating, “well, I have one good secret, well, actually it’s not that good, well actually I don’t have any secrets.” He grinned wide, before he placed a hand to his heart, “I’m the fire chief. Surely you can trust me,” Sheppard said, as he used his best ‘who me?’ expression.
Rodney cocked his head to one side, studying Sheppard and suddenly he felt hot, the intense look in Rodney’s eyes as he studied him, making it seem like he could see into his very heart, his eyes suddenly like lasers. John always thought he would find that uncomfortable to be under that level of scrutiny, he never knew until this moment how turned on he was by that, how hot it was to be the centre of Rodney’s world.
Suddenly Rodney grinned, putting down his coffee cup and rushed into the other room. John was left floundering. When Rodney smiled.....God, he had it bad. John always kept a distance, even before the accident he was never one to fall easily and yet here he was nearly swooning like a fangirl over a man he’d known all of one hour, just because he smiled. It scared him a lot, but at the same time he felt alive like he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Rodney was dangerous, Rodney was addictive and he couldn’t bring himself to walk away.
Rodney walked back into the room, carrying a folder, totally oblivious to the spin he had put John in. He put it on the table and began to open it and then closed it again sharply, looking intently at Sheppard. “You’re sworn to secrecy though. You can’t tell another soul, okay?”
“Yeah, course. Not another soul,” John made a cross sign over his heart.
“What are you, twelve? I’m not gonna make you pinky swear. But I will say that if you tell another soul, I’ll track you down and kill you seven ways till Sunday. I don’t make idle threats. I made a nuclear bomb for my school science fair and I’ve gotten a lot smarter since then.”
Rodney reached over and grabbed John by the upper arm, dragging him over to the centre island in the kitchen. He opened up the folder and spread out photographs. They were of the night sky, stars and clusters burning brightly, beautiful, clear shots of the universe. There were doodles all over the photographs, arrows pointing to a specific section over and over again. “You’re here to look at the stars?” Sheppard asked, not sure what he was expecting, but definitely not that.
“Not a star as such. A comet. It’s due to travel overhead in a months time. If I’m right, and I invariably am, this comet hasn’t been seen in our skies in over one thousand years.”
Sheppard was grinning more at Rodney than by being let into the big secret, not that he thought it was that big a secret anyway. Rodney though, was like a kid, bouncing with excitement and John found it intoxicating. He couldn’t help but get dragged along with him, like a hurricane, pulled into the excitement that Rodney was projecting in waves.
“So, what then?”
“Ah, one secret at a time,” said Rodney, and Sheppard knew he wasn’t going to tell him tonight.
They sat up going over the star charts, Rodney explained where he was from, how he had discovered it, about his colleagues. The only one earning any respect was one called Radek Zelenka, and when John realised he was feeling jealous of a guy he had never met, he realised it was time to go.
“Well, I’d best be going, got to get my beauty sleep and all. Maybe I’ll see you around town tomorrow. If you want a good breakfast, I can suggest Liz’s Diner, best in town.”
“Oh, okay then. I guess it is getting kind of late. Yeah, maybe I’ll see you around tomorrow.” Rodney walked him to the front door and Sheppard left without even shaking his hand, not trusting himself not to just lunge at the guy and steal a kiss, well received or not.
He made his way home, the streets quiet now except for the sounds of the crickets. The sky overhead clear and bright with a million stars. He got home and went straight to bed. Lying there, looking at the ceiling, wondering how a stranger had gotten under his skin so deep he didn’t think he’d ever get him out.
He knew it was dangerous but he couldn’t stop himself from fantasising, from thinking what if. What if a man with blue eyes, a perfect ass, wide shoulders and a personality full of contradictions, both egotistical and vulnerable, wanted him too? John fell asleep with butterflies in his stomach, falling into dreams that made him smile.
TBC... Chapter Three