Fic: Connection (Part 2/2) (McKay/Sheppard)

[sgasesa_admin]

Title: Connection
Author: kassrachel
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: adult
Recipient: chase_acow
Spoilers: Set S4ish, so -- general character spoilers through S4 so far.

Summary: When the gate bridge goes down, what kinds of connections arise?

Part 1



When Rodney finally sat down at John's breakfast table again and offered him half a donut, John took it even though he wasn't hungry anymore.

"Have you run out of comic books yet?" Rodney said, with no preamble.

"Actually, I've been re-reading," John said. He took another gulp of coffee to keep his probably-dorky smile of relief from view. Guess enough time had passed for Rodney to be through with his misery. It was a little bit ridiculous, how good it felt to be sitting across a table from Rodney again.

"Mmm, because there's so much to glean from a re-reading of Cosmic Capers," Rodney said, rolling his eyes.

And just like that, things were back to normal again, or what passed for normal between them, anyway.

The only trouble was, John's guard kept slipping. He'd snap into alertness, suddenly realizing he was standing right next to Rodney. He kept catching himself resting a hand just a second too long on Rodney's shoulder or his arm. It was stupid and risky but John just couldn't resist.

Friday morning he cancelled their nightly combat drills. They were getting pretty tight, starting to anticipate each others' moves and weaknesses, and it just made John hungry to get offworld again.

He had a whole speech planned out when he knocked on Sam's door.

"Come in, sit down. What can I do for you?"

"It's like this," he began. "I think we're starting to feel a little cooped-up around here."

"You want me to green-light your team going off-world," she said.

"Is it that obvious?"

Sam smiled. "I've been in the Air Force a long time, Colonel. I recognize the signs of pilots going ground-crazy."

"We don't have to go far," he said. "It doesn't have to be for long. We're just -- we need to be a team. And a change of scene might help McKay think in new directions," he added. It sounded like an afterthought, because it was, but maybe it would help.

"Do you have a destination in mind?"

"Teyla was telling me about a harvest festival on F92-RK4," he said. "Honestly, it doesn't matter that much where we go; I just think it would do wonders for morale."

"You don't have to explain that to me," Sam said. "SG-1, remember?"

"Right."

There was a pause.

"So --"

"I could authorize a daytrip."

"Thank you," John said, and meant it.

"You'll have to get your own team on-board with the idea."

"No problem," John said, instantly, and rose.

Though as he thought about it, it was possible there might be a small problem with that. Rodney wasn't getting anywhere with the gate bridge macros -- it didn't look like anything was wrong with the code anywhere -- but he had been known to be stubborn from time to time. If John didn't broach this right, Rodney would dig in his heels and refuse to leave until he'd solved the problem. Which was exactly what Rodney didn't need. But how to make him see that...?

He found Rodney in his lab at dinnertime, eating a sandwich at his computer.

"Hey," he said, leaning against the desk.

"Mm?" Rodney said, his mouth full.

"It's been a while since we've hung out," John said, as casually as he could manage.

Rodney swallowed. "Yes, well, somebody orchestrated these ridiculous nightly combat drills."

John didn't dignify that with a response. "Want to watch a movie tonight?"

Rodney's smile was so immediate, and so real, that it brought an answering one to John's face. "I'd like that," Rodney said. "My room's a disaster area --"

"My place, name the time."

"I was planning to work late -- is eleven okay?"

"Eleven's fine, no problem." God, he felt like he was making a date. The flirty kind. "See you," he said, and escaped before he could say anything lame about how much he was looking forward to it.

From 2200 hours onward, John was jittery and couldn't focus on his book. He kept checking his watch, waiting for the hour to turn. He made popcorn too soon, and ate a third of it without realizing, and had to make another batch so the bowl would be full.

Rodney showed up on the dot of 2300 hours, as though he'd been waiting for it too. He was carrying his binder of pirated dvds under one arm. "Brought these," he said, smiling.

Wait, was that a...different shirt than he'd been wearing that afternoon? Had Rodney changed clothes just to lounge on John's floor and watch movies on a laptop screen?

He must have spilled something on the first shirt, John decided. "Great," he said. "Did you have anything in mind?"

"Let me see," Rodney said, and sat down on the bed and started absently flipping pages.

"So I was thinking," John began, cautiously.

"Oh? How unprecedented."

John threw a popcorn kernel at Rodney's head. "Ronon's getting kind of antsy."

"Is he."

"And Teyla tells me there's a harvest festival coming up on one of the planets where the Athosians used to trade."

"Ah, well, wouldn't want to miss that."

"You like harvest festivals!"

"Depends on what's being harvested."

"Assuming neither citrus nor killer ragweed pollen is involved," John amended, graciously.

"Doesn't make any difference. I'm busy, remember?"

"Sam okayed it," John said. "For a day. You deserve a break. Fresh air. Food. Sunlight."

"Contrary to popular belief, we do not, in fact, photosynthesize," Rodney protested.

"C'mon," John wheedled. "We can hang out. Stop thinking about work for a few hours and just...enjoy ourselves."

For an instant John saw barely-contained longing on Rodney's face. It made John swallow hard. Rodney looked at him like that in one of his favorite fantasies. Like he'd just been handed something he really wanted.

But then Rodney's face turned suspicious. "What's the catch?"

John shrugged. "No catch. You'd just have to free up your time."

"If it means that much to you, I suppose I could hand the gate bridge investigation off to Zelenka."

Leave it to Rodney to make it sound like he was doing John a favor, when he was obviously as excited about the prospect of getting offworld again as John was. "That's big of you."

"I'm a big-hearted guy," Rodney said, and grabbed a handful of popcorn.

"Big-hearted enough to let me pick the movie?"

Rodney groaned but acquiesced.

John picked Rounders. Even though it always made Rodney swear up and down that he would never play Texas Hold 'Em with John again.

The morning they were slated for offworld travel again, John woke up as happy as if he'd just gotten laid.

It had been way too long. Honestly, all four of them got irritable when they weren't out in the field on a regular basis. Heightmeyer used to call him on it, on the rare occasions when they'd been grounded for more than a day or two. That was a depressing memory; he pushed it out of his mind, because he felt too good today to mourn.

Atlantis wasn't the problem. Atlantis was home. Nothing in the universe could be better than waking up to the sight of his city, the feel of his city, the subtle subterranean hum of his city. It was the people who were the problem. It was weird, but it seemed like people were pairing off again.

Katie Brown kissing Philip Kuofor had been the first sign. But there were others. Hendricks and the Ice Queen. One of the RNs (was her name Jill?) and the short butch pastry chef, who he'd seen holding hands. Sure, they could be out and proud, they were civilians. It wasn't against their regulations. But his...

Pegasus was far enough away that it might be safe to test the limits of don't ask, don't tell. He didn't figure Colonel Carter really gave a damn. But it still rankled a little, being reminded of how easy this was for people who weren't part of his world.

Anyway, the whole pairing-off thing was annoying. It was getting to where John didn't want to move through the city alone at night anymore, because if he wasn't talking loudly with Ronon or Rodney as he went, odds were good he'd stumble on some late-night assignation. He was learning things about the Lanteans' proclivities that he really didn't want to know.

All of which added up to why it felt so very good to be strapping on his tac vest and hefting his P-90, checking and rechecking his gear, and meeting his team in the gateroom bright and early for their first offworld visit in...well, about three weeks, though it felt like forever.

"Be careful out there," Sam said over the comm system.

"It's a harvest festival," John said again.

"Ah, yes, what could possibly go wrong?" Rodney, chipper and sarcastic all at once.

"I wish you wouldn't say that," John stage-whispered to him.

Teyla rolled her eyes.

"We ready?" Ronon asked.

"Back tonight," John said. As he stepped into the wormhole, he couldn't help grinning.

They were met by a man wearing some kind of leafy wreath around his head. He had curly dark hair and a Mediterranean tan and he smiled very broadly at all of them.

"I'm Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard," John began.

"Teyla!" the man yelled happily. The forehead press that followed lasted just a little bit longer than John was strictly comfortable with. From the looks of things, Ronon felt similarly. Rodney just looked discomfited, like he was steeling himself for some stranger to plant a forehead-press on him.

"This is Shalak, of the Plorans," Teyla said, when they parted. She looked slightly flushed, which John decided to ignore. "We knew each other many, many years ago."

"I had heard you might be coming! Come, the merriment has already started," he said, and they followed him on the narrow path through the stubbled fields.

"I can't wait for you to meet my wives," he said excitedly, and John exchanged a raised eyebrow with Rodney: wives, plural?

"This could be interesting," John said, sotto voce, and Rodney snorted a laugh in response.

After a few minutes' walk they arrived at a settlement, neat farmhouses separated by fields and small groves of trees. A big tent with drink and food under it, and more tables of food under the larger deciduous trees. People talking in clusters, with little kids running around everywhere.

Fortunately, they hadn't missed lunch; the feast seemed to be ongoing. John and Rodney both helped themselves to some kind of roast beast and tankards of lightly hoppy beer. The centerpieces were a little bit troubling, though. John wasn't sure he'd ever seen gourds quite so phallic. But he ignored them, and smiled at everybody while he filled his plate.

"There are contests of strength in the lower field," Shalak said. Ronon's grin was vaguely feral and made John grin in return.

"You should go try your hand at--" John trailed off, wondering what the local sport was.

"Tree-tossing," Shalak filled in.

"Tree tossing?" Rodney looked like he was going to choke on his sandwich.

"The pilik tree! We fell it in its fourth year," one of the children piped up. "And then men throw them. Papa says I can try when I am seventeen." He looked about eleven, and he was looking up at Ronon like Ronon was some kind of deity.

"You cut off the branches?" Ronon asked, and the kid nodded vigorously.

"And shave off the bark," kid said, eyes wide.

"Sure. I'll toss some trees." And with that Ronon headed down toward the field, kid in tow.

"That should be fun," John said to nobody in particular; Teyla was following Shalak to meet his wives, and Rodney was investigating another buffet table under another stand of trees.

Eventually John sacked out on a blanket in the shade, because the day was getting kind of hot, and the beer was maybe stronger than he'd realized. But hey, no one would be offended if he just took a little nap, right?

He woke up from a particularly tantalizing dream -- in which Rodney had been tracing his earlobe with a finger in between kissing his neck hungrily -- to find one of the local girls plastered to his side. Tracing his ear with a finger and, yeah, sucking on his neck.

"Hey!" he said, jerking out of her grasp and scooting back on the blanket a couple of feet.

"Am I not pleasing?" she asked, her lower lip quivering in a textbook adolescent pout. Oh, God, there was no way she was legal. Maybe on this world, but John's scruples had been formed a trillion miles away, and this was just not okay.

"That's not -- you're very pleasing," he said, backing away further as she advanced. "I'm just -- spoken for."

That was it; he was spoken for. He was congratulating himself for coming up with the perfect excuse when she shrugged. "It's the Autumn Equinox," she said. "Transgressions are not transgressions." The words had the ring of an oft-quoted proverb, or maybe Scripture. Which was not a good sign.

"I really didn't see this coming," John muttered, tapping his earpiece. "Hey, you guys out there?"

"What's that, John?" Rodney sounded lazy and sated. Oh no, if they'd sic'd one of their farmgirls on him, too --

"I've got a -- situation here," John said, increasingly desperate as Lolita crawled towrd him on her hands and knees, a flash of breast visible through her tunic as she moved.

"Keep your pants on, I'll be right there," Rodney said. He rounded the corner of a barn and came into view. "Jeez, I guess I wasn't kidding about the pants."

"Shut up, McKay," John gritted. Backing away from the girl slowly, trying to make placating gestures, he grabbed Rodney by the arm and they put a few tables of food between him and his would-be assailant, who pouted one more time just for good measure and then turned to one of her friends, probably already telling the story of the big mean offworlder who wouldn't let her molest him.

"My day has also taken a turn for the peculiar," Teyla said in his ear. "Shalak has made a...proposition...with which I am not comfortable."

"Yeah, this tree-tossing thing?" Ronon said. "I'm winning, but I think winning might come with some...wives."

"Let's get out of here," John said.

Rodney was laughing so hard he was clutching his sides.

"Thanks for having us," John said, loudly, to the gathering-at-large, and pulled Rodney after him onto the path toward the gate.

"We will meet you at the gate," Teyla said in his ear.

"For a guy who was chomping at the bit to get away from Atlantis this morning," Rodney began, still chuckling.

"Shut up and let's get home," John said.

The four of them wound up at their usual table in the mess hall. Teyla and Ronon were drinking an Athosian herbal infusion; John fixed cups of instant cocoa for Rodney and himself.

"Well. That was an adventure," Rodney said, still looking smug.

"I don't see how you managed to escape unscathed," John said, feeling a little put-out.

"Evidently the Plorans find me eminently resistable," Rodney said, shrugging. "Their loss."

"I did not remember that the Ploran harvest festival had such a focus on fertility," Teyla admitted. "I was much younger last time I was there; the symbolism must have been...lost on me."

Ronon snorted. "How you could miss those gourds?"

Teyla whacked him on the arm hard enough that John had to resist the urge to rub his own bicep.

"So we came back here to be around people who are pairing off, instead?" Ronon's eyes were amused.

"It is bizarre," Rodney agreed.

"This is the way people respond to uncertainty," Teyla said, gently. "Among the Athosians, renewed interest in courtship always followed a culling."

"But we haven't been culled! We're not in danger!" Rodney sounded offended by the lapse in logic.

Ronon shrugged. "What's wrong with people wanting to have sex?"

Teyla looked like the cat who'd gotten her canary. John smirked. "That's not the point," Rodney said, hastily, and -- hey, was he blushing? Wow. "It's just weird to see this kind of commitment-crazed siege mentality around here again."

Ronon threw a glance John's way. Uh-oh; John really didn't want to field questions about his love life or lack thereof. So he deflected.

"You harboring any inappropriate crushes since the news about the gate bridge came down, McKay?" John leaned back in his chair.

He expected Rodney to bitch at him, and he was already Not Thinking about what it said that the combination of Rodney bitching him out and Rodney blushing like a schoolgirl turned him on something fierce. But instead Rodney's mouth settled into an unhappy line. "Thanks for the reminder, Colonel." Uh-oh; if he'd just been demoted from 'John' to 'Colonel,' Rodney was not a happy man.

Rodney pushed back his chair.

"Hey, wait," John began, but Rodney had already picked up his coffee cup and headed for the door.

Ronon and Teyla exchanged another look.

"What was that about?" John asked them, as if they knew.

"If I had to guess, I would imagine that Rodney is interested in someone he perceives would not welcome his advances." Teyla looked at him as if he were a particularly slow child.

"Well, yeah, but..." John's voice trailed off. "I didn't mean to piss him off."

"Perhaps you should follow him."

"Talk this out," John said, making a face.

"That's one option," Ronon said. "Hey!" He put his arm out, blocking Teyla's strike to the hip.

"Okay, you two clearly have some energy to burn off," John said. In the momentary silence that followed his words, a mental image flashed before his mind's eye. Ronon and Teyla burning off that energy. Mostly unclothed.

Oh, God, had they paired off too? How had he missed that?

"Y'know what?" he said, hastily. "I'm gonna go after Rodney. We need to work this thing out."

"Good idea," Ronon said. Teyla just smiled.

"Night," John said, and set off.

He didn't go to Rodney's quarters, though. He went back to his room, stared at the walls for half an hour, and tried to fall asleep.

It didn't work; he was awake for hours.

The Atlantis expedition was officially non-denominational. A couple of small religious groups met on their own time -- Zen meditators, the Society of Friends, an assortment of Christians who seemed to have worked out some kind of compromise between their different variations on the theme. But most of the people who'd chosen to come to Atlantis weren't particularly religious, per se.

They had an annual holiday party, though. Roughly around the time Earth's northern hemisphere was experiencing midwinter. The first year, Elizabeth had decided that people needed a way to feel connected with home. Like they were in synch with loved ones who were gathering to enjoy togetherness despite the dark and the cold. That was the year Jacobson had posted an email to the @lantis listserv about Chanukah --something about a small band of rebels prevailing against mighty forces of evil; it sounded kind of Star Wars-y -- which had moved John so much he'd never deleted it.

The Athosians had gotten right on board. They were good guests, too: showed up with food and drink and traditional instruments. Carson had tried to teach them to play a traditional Highland reel...

By year two, they'd reestablished contact with Earth, which changed things. That year, even though Colonel Caldwell had sworn up and down that the Daedalus was not anybody's delivery truck and it sure as hell wasn't any kind of sleigh, it had arrived just before the party, bearing an assortment of gifts and foods. Including a crate of good coffee John had ordered for Rodney, which he'd left anonymously outside Rodney's door. Rodney had speculated for weeks about who his secret admirer might have been.

This year they were cut off from Earth again, and the party seemed more important than ever. It felt kind of like a tribute to Elizabeth's memory. John didn't say that to anyone out loud, but he wondered how many other people were thinking it too.

One way or another, they'd pulled out all the stops. Lorne and about eight other guys had spent hours decorating the mess hall with twinkling lights, Ronon had brewed an enormous batch of Satedan mulled wine, and the kitchen staff had outdone themselves baking cookies and making canapés.

By the time John arrived, half the people there seemed mildly tipsy. The place was crowded, and everyone was talking a little too loud. Music was playing, some indie-sounding band John couldn't identify.

He made his way over to Ronon, who was entertaining a steady stream of people who wanted to sample his hot spiced wine.

"You want some?" Ronon offered, holding out a steaming cup.

"No thanks, I'm the designated driver," John said, just to see Ronon give him the look that said 'you people and your crazy Earth references.' Ronon didn't disappoint.

"I'll have another," Zelenka said, holding out his glass, and Ronon refilled it, splashing a little down the side.

"You're a fan, huh?" John asked.

"It is similar to the hot mulled wine they sell from street carts in Prague," Zelenka said, enunciating a little bit too carefully, and raised his glass to Ronon and John before walking away.

"Why am I guessing your version is a little stronger than the stuff he's used to."

Ronon shrugged, grinning. "It's good. You should try some."

"Maybe in a minute," John said, and looked around the room.

Tinsel, check; lots of people clustered in knots, talking and eating canapés, check; Rodney outside on a balcony alone, check.

"I'll be right back," John said, and headed for the door.

He grabbed a little sausage on a stick from one of the trays that whizzed by him, and proffered it to Rodney with a flourish.

"Mmm, thank you," Rodney said, and took it from him, looking back out at the moonlit sea.

"It's a traditional 'I'm sorry I was a dick' offering among my people," John said seriously.

Rodney gave a little laugh, which turned into a coughing fit.

"Hey, easy," John said hastily, whacking him on the back.

"I'm -- ow -- fine," Rodney said. "Really."

"You want another one?"

"Maybe I ought to hold off," Rodney said.

There was a pause. "Look," John said, "the thing I said the other night was way out of line, and I'm sorry."

"Which thing was that, again?" Rodney turned to lean on the railing, finally facing John. The casual thing was totally an act, but John let him get away with it.

"Asking if you were interested in someone." John held up a hand, quickly, to forestall whatever Rodney was about to say. "It's none of my business. And I'm sorry."

Rodney regarded him with mild suspicion. "Did Teyla tell you to say that?

"Kind of," John admitted, "but I was going to anyway."

"Sure you were," Rodney said, but he seemed mollified.

"We okay?"

"What? Of course we're okay."

"Good." John felt good, knowing that. Whatever secrets Rodney was keeping from him, they couldn't hold a candle to the secret John was keeping from Rodney -- but either way, it was good to know that they were all right. That if something awful happened, they had each others' backs. That John could return to fantasizing about Rodney without feeling like quite so much of an ass.

"You're cold," Rodney said suddenly, putting a hand on John's arm. John shivered, though whether from the chill air or from Rodney's touch he couldn't have said.

"Ronon made mulled wine," John said, inanely, and pulled away to head toward the indoors again, because this was exactly the kind of moment that made him want to just plant one on Rodney, consequences be damned.

They'd just made it back inside the doors when the string of lights festooning one third of the room went dark. A bunch of people chorused "aww," in stereo.

"Oh," Rodney said, in response to nothing in particular. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me." He tapped his earpiece. "Zelenka, where the hell are you?"

"Am here," Zelenka said, from the corner of the room where Ronon had set up shop, and Rodney fought his way through the crowd to reach him, bumping into people indiscriminately and almost spearing one of the younger scientists with his sausage skewer. John followed, making conciliatory gestures in his wake.

"Series circuit," Rodney said, urgently, and Zelenka muttered something that sounded like "oh, muy boze" before the two of them took off at a run.

"What was that about?" Ronon asked.

"I think that may have been a breakthrough," John said. "Pour me one of those, will you?"

"I haven't seen McKay all night," Sam said, holding a plate of cookies and looking concerned. "Was he here?"

"He was," John said, "but he and Radek took off about an hour ago. Looked like they figured something out." He gulped down the end of his second mulled wine.

"And it couldn't wait until morning?"

John shrugged, spreading his palms. "Scientists," he said. "What can you do?"

"Careful there, John," Sam said. "You don't want to --"

"Colonels," said a slightly drunken Radek beside them, "your gate bridge is --"

"Fixed!" Rodney chimed in.

"What?" Sam looked back and forth from one to the other, startled and delighted. "What happened?" She set the cookies down on a nearby table and waited.

"I can't believe we didn't think of this sooner," Radek began.

"Yes, yes, of course it was obvious, but the way the problem was initially framed," Rodney cut in.

"I still think you should have considered," Radek said.

"That's hardly the point, is it?" Rodney, snippy.

"Somebody want to fill us in?" John asked.

"Oh, yes. Sorry." Rodney looked sheepish for an instant. "It turns out the problem wasn't in the code after all -- which, by the way, I knew it wasn't. That code is impeccable, it's some of the best work I've ever done."

Radek muttered something in Czech.

"The reason the gate bridge wasn't initializing had to do with the way the bridge is linked; it's a flaw in the system, something we should have anticipated really."

"The problem was localized at P24-Y2L," Radek said. "That's the eleventh gate in the series of jumps."

"That's one of the gates in planetary orbit, isn't it?" Sam asked.

"Yes. It's also, at this moment in time, entirely nonfunctional, thanks to that planet's star going supernova," Rodney began.

"At least, that is one theory," Radek added, holding up a finger as if to demonstrate, "though it's also possible something simply damaged the gate -- asteroids, comet, some other kind of collision. Point is, that gate is the culprit."

"You mean redundancy isn't built into the system?" John couldn't believe it.

Rodney and Sam both looked embarrassed. "Adding parallelism was always in the plan," Sam said, "but other things took priority. How did you diagnose this?"

"It took some rejiggering," Rodney said, his chest proud and his smile so self-satisfied it was all John could do not to lick it off his face. "We had to convince the system it was okay to send a test pulse through even though it wasn't capable of reaching its destination."

"Having one gate down," Radek began.

"Was like a broken bulb in a string of Christmas lights." John got it.

"Exactly." Rodney beamed. "Once we were able to isolate which gate was down, and reconfigure the system to go directly from gate ten to gate twelve, it worked like a charm. We can dial the midway station again."

"That's wonderful news. Thank you both," Sam said, clasping Rodney's arm and then turning to Radek, who -- ebullient -- pulled her into a hug.

John just stood there for a second. The hell with it; they'd all been drinking, nobody was even going to notice this. He reached for Rodney.

"Nice work," he murmured into Rodney's hair. Rodney's body was solid against his, and he hugged John like he meant it.

"Thanks," Rodney said.

Was it John's imagination, or did Rodney hold on just a little bit too long?

"I should go send a message." Sam's voice made them jump apart. "SGC's probably been panicking this whole time."

"The system still requires a little hand-holding," Radek said. "I will accompany you."

"Thank you again," Sam said, and she and Radek made a beeline for the door.

John looked around; the party was wrapping up. About half the people who'd been there were gone now, back to their quarters, their post-celebration assignations. Ronon and Teyla had gone. Lorne was gone. Keller was sitting in a corner with one of her RNs, laughing, surrounded by empty wine cups.

"I guess I missed the party," Rodney said, sounding mildly regretful.

"The night's still young," John said, on impulse. "I've got some decent scotch stashed away. You want a drink?"

"Here's to getting the gate bridge working again." John raised his coffee cup to meet Rodney's, and the inch of whiskey left in it sloshed slightly as their cups touched.

The scotch felt good going down, hot and sharp with the faintest hint of sweetness. They'd drunk toasts to Carson, and to Elizabeth, and to Ford, and now they were on to happier things.

"Returning to normalcy," Rodney declared, holding up his mug, and John clinked cups with him and they each took a long swig.

"You emailed Jeannie yet?"

Rodney looked mildly embarrassed. "I might have sent a quick email from the lab before we came to tell Sam we'd fixed it."

"Good for you," John said, approvingly. "To family!" He raised his cup, which was getting surprisingly close to empty.

"To family," Rodney echoed. As their cups met, John glanced from their hands to Rodney's face, and something in his eyes took John's breath away.

John took a quick gulp, finishing his scotch, but the sudden ache of longing in his chest didn't die down.

"We're family too," Rodney said, a little unsteadily.

John had to close his eyes for an instant, because if he kept looking at Rodney he was going to make an enormous mistake. "Yeah," he agreed.

He felt Rodney's hand pulling the mug out of his, and heard Rodney set it on the floor beside them. "Hey," Rodney said, and his voice was too close -- he was right there. "You okay?"

"Sure," John said. He opened his eyes, meaning to plaster on his usual façade, but Rodney was right there, looking at him with such tender concern that John felt his heart crack right open, and he couldn't help himself: he leaned just the slightest bit forward, staring at Rodney's lips.

"John," Rodney murmured, and closed the gap between them.

Rodney's lips were soft, and he kissed John like he'd been dying for it. When John kissed him back he made a tiny broken sound and clutched at him, one hand fisting his sleeve.

John sensed the moment when Rodney was about to pull back, and it terrified him. Like this might be some crazy one-time thing, a single kiss and that's it. Or when they pulled apart Rodney was going to drop some kind of bombshell: I've never done this before, John, I can't. So John kept going: kept kissing him, his hands roaming over Rodney's broad shoulders, and Rodney sighed into his mouth.

When they did finally pull apart John rested his forehead against Rodney's, wordless.

"If I'm dreaming right now, please don't wake me up," Rodney muttered, and John felt himself laugh, his tension starting to dissipate.

"You have dreams like this often?" John asked.

Rodney pulled back far enough to look at him, and John felt a frisson of anticipation at the naked hunger in Rodney's eyes. "Do waking dreams count?"

Rodney admitting he had fantasies about John--! That was an incredible rush.

Before John could figure out what to say in response, Rodney was scrambling back and pushing himself to his feet. "We are not doing this on the floor," Rodney said, and John ignored the relief that suggested that for an instant there he'd thought Rodney had changed his mind.

"We're not?" John said.

"Maybe you Boy Scout types are comfortable down there, but I for one would frankly prefer something with a little more give," Rodney said, his fingers flashing fast as they unbuttoned his soft blue shirt.

John knelt up and knee-walked his way over to where Rodney stood. "Floor's not so bad," he said, and leaned in to press his face against Rodney's thigh.

"Oh God," Rodney said, and his stance widened. John felt Rodney's erection hot and hard against his cheek, and shifted slightly to mouth it through his pants.

"Oh, oh, oh," Rodney murmured, a chant of desperation, and when John reached up to unfasten his belt buckle his fingers tangled with Rodney's.

"Here, hang on, I've got it," and Rodney did, and John tugged everything down as far as he could with Rodney's legs just slightly more than hip-width apart, revealing Rodney's dick. It was beautiful and right in front of him and he leaned forward to lick at it. Rodney gasped and started pleading, instantly, a low stream of words that made John ache.

John let Rodney's voice wash over him as he urged Rodney to fuck his mouth. Honestly, it didn't take much; Rodney wasn't the kind of guy who had to be asked twice. Rodney going after exactly what he wanted was strangely thrilling, and John sucked harder, wanting to encourage him. He wrapped his arms around Rodney's thighs, one hand kneading Rodney's ass, and Rodney groaned.

The sudden touch of Rodney's hands made him shiver. One hand on the back of his head, the other one cupping the side of his face, fingertips lightly brushing the line of his jaw. "Oh," Rodney gasped. "John." And that was it: John was swallowing, his mouth burning with salt.

Eventually he let go and rocked back on his heels, wincing a little as the movement trapped his erection tight.

Rodney sat back on his bed, tugging his boots off and kicking his pants down and away. "Get up here."

"Yes sir," John said, although he couldn't help grinning, which kind of spoiled the effect.

"Please get naked right now," Rodney added, and John had been about to give him grief for needing to run the show until that "please," which took him right back to Rodney begging for more as his dick slipped between John's lips. John had to look away to strip his clothes off because he felt dangerously close to coming already.

Getting naked in front of Rodney hadn't been a big deal before. They'd gone swimming a few times, they'd been half-dressed in the infirmary when one or both of them was hurt. But this was different. This time John felt like he was naked in a whole new way.

And Rodney scooted over to make room for John on the perilously narrow bed, and climbed on top of John to kiss him. Like their first kisses, but slower and dirtier. Like he was trying to fuck John into incoherence just with his mouth.

Rodney's body was heavy over him. It was a little bit alarming how much John liked that. He'd always needed to be on top, on the rare occasions when he'd done this before. Leave it to Rodney not to even ask, to just arrange him where he wanted him. In a burst of recklessness John let himself go boneless beneath Rodney, let Rodney take control.

Hot wet kisses along his jaw to his neck, and oh, God, Rodney's tongue on his iratus scar. John jerked up, gasping, but Rodney was surprisingly heavy, Rodney held him there. "Do you have any idea," Rodney murmured, biting the side of his neck, "how long I've wanted this?"

There was no answer to that, not one that felt safe. If he tried to respond, he'd wind up admitting things he wasn't sure he was ready to acknowledge. So instead he just said "Fuck me?"

Rodney jerked above him, thigh brushing John's erection, and John hissed with pleasure at the contact.

"Jesus," Rodney murmured fervently. "Damn it, I can't." He gave a self-deprecating little laugh. "Too soon." He thumbed one of John's nipples, and it felt so good John let his legs fall even further open.

"Just your fingers," John said. Some part of him hardly believed he was this shameless. He was all but begging for it, not because he could pretend Rodney needed it but because he did. "Please," and his voice cracked, and Rodney kissed him hard and sweet for a second before pulling away.

"Lube," Rodney said, a little wild-eyed, and John found it for him. Watching Rodney slick his fingers was almost unbearable. As though, having admitted the desire, he was going to spontaneously combust of it before it could be filled.

And then oh, oh God, Rodney's finger. John gasped for breath.

"Oh fuck," Rodney said, in what sounded like wonderment.

John moaned.

"You're so hot," Rodney murmured, "so tight, I can't -- oh, fuck, you like that?" His thrusts were getting harder, deeper, and John couldn't help working himself on Rodney's fingers, aching for more.

And then Rodney brought his other hand up to his mouth and licked it, and John tensed up trying not to come, but it was a losing battle: as soon as Rodney added the other hand to his cock, that was it, John was flying.

"Nice to have you with us, gentlemen." Sam sounded more amused than annoyed, but John still felt the tips of his ears turning red. First morning back to the normal routine and he and Rodney were late to the senior staff meeting -- not exactly how he'd intended to mark the transition back to active duty.

"My fault," Rodney volunteered.

Damn right it's your fault, John thought. They wouldn't have been late if John hadn't come out of the shower to see Rodney lying on the bed, knees up and feet firmly planted, working himself with slow hard strokes. Waiting for John to join him.

Sam gave him an appraising look, as if she were considering asking, and then picked up her tablet. "Okay, everybody! Let's start with department reports, and then I want to talk about what our priorities are this week."

Getting offworld, John thought, as Keller launched into her spiel about what was happening in medical. That's my priority. He could already hear the watery sound of stepping through the gate, could already feel the wormhole tunnel oscillating around them. He grinned.

"We're glad you find the new organ scanners so exciting, Colonel," Sam said. Her voice was brusque but her eyes were laughing.

"Sorry," John said, a little sheepishly. "I didn't mean to space out, Doc. I'm just looking forward to getting back out there with my team."

"All right, let's talk about where you're headed," Sam said.

New worlds. Wild adventures. John thought about where they were in the universe -- the map of the Pegasus galaxy spiraling out around them --and he looked over at Rodney, and he smiled.

END