Fic: Nothing Else to Choose
Title: Nothing Else to Choose
by wesleysgirl
McKay/Sheppard, NC17
For shetiger in exchange for her donation to fire_fic.
Many, many thanks to merryish and kimberlyfdr for the betas and invaluable advice. Remaining errors are my own.
McKay's twitchy with what John is pretty sure is nervous excitement; he keeps wiping his hands on his pants like they're sweaty. John would be tempted to poke fun at him -- okay, hell, he is tempted to poke fun at him -- but he knows what that kind of nervous excitement feels like, and it doesn't seem fair to take any of it away from Rodney.
Ten minutes later, John's stomach is clenched into knots so tight he thinks it might literally explode and McKay's palms are so slick with sweat that he can barely keep hold of the controls.
"Okay, that's it for today," John says.
"What do you mean? I'm just starting to get the hang of it," Rodney complains, but he still looks relieved when John takes over, slumping back in his seat and flexing his fingers.
"You did great," John tells him.
"Oh, yes, very convincing."
"No, I mean it. Remember I've been flying for years." The puddle jumper responds like it knows him; it's the most incredible thing John's ever experienced. He'd trade anything to keep it, even if it means never getting back to Earth.
Rodney sighs. "I guess I just thought I'd be a natural."
"Yeah, well, I'm sure you're a natural at a lot of things." It comes out sounding kind of weird, and John glances at Rodney, vaguely embarrassed but unable to put his finger on why.
Rodney glances back at him, frowning a little bit, and their eyes meet for just a few seconds longer than they should. Rodney opens his mouth as if he's going to say something, then seems to think better of it and purses his lips instead, ducking his head and looking at the control panel instead.
Neither of them says anything, but it's like something has changed between them.
After that, John can't help but notice that Rodney keeps looking at him in thoughtful, almost calculating sorts of ways. It's like he's trying to figure John out, weighing his good and bad qualities and, surprisingly, not finding him lacking. Since Rodney's obviously the smartest person in Atlantis, and definitely the smartest person John's ever met, John feels flattered, because even if he's not as smart as Rodney, he's no idiot.
As the next week or so passes, John decides that he likes feeling flattered. He likes the way Rodney always turns to him with an idea. He likes watching Rodney talk -- the way he gets all worked up, gesturing with his hands and snapping his fingers impatiently. He likes the way Rodney's mind works. He even likes it when Rodney turns that sharp sarcasm in his direction.
At the risk of sounding obsessed, even to himself, John likes Rodney. And he's pretty sure Rodney likes him, too.
* * * * *
They end up on M7G-677, distracted by dealing with a bunch of kids who think that someone who's 24 is an "elder." John can't help but feel for Keras; the poor kid believes that killing himself will protect his people from the Wraith, believes that he's doing the right thing, and it's a hell of a job convincing all of them that it's not anywhere near that simple. By the time Rodney gets the shield functioning again and they get Keras patched up, it seems like a week, minimum, has passed.
It isn't until they're back on Atlantis that John realizes Rodney must have managed to fly the jumper without crashing it. He hadn't thought about it too much at the time, what with everything else that'd been going on.
"Guess I'm a pretty good teacher," he says to Rodney after the debriefing. It's more fun to give himself the credit and watch Rodney get flustered, which he immediately does.
"Oh, yes, because everything's always about you," Rodney snaps.
"Sure it is," John tells him. "Hey, you want to go get something to eat? I mean, if you're not too exhausted from all that running around you were doing on the planet to walk that far."
"Some of us prefer mental workouts," Rodney says haughtily, but follows him to the mess hall and in the middle of their conversation steals John's dessert without so much as an apology.
* * * * *
John figures out how deeply Rodney's gotten under his skin when he has to leave him behind with Tyrus and his people. Not that he feels all that much better about leaving Teyla, but Rodney's kind of vulnerable in ways Teyla's not. And John's gotten used to being around to watch Rodney's back, which is something he's found himself doing more and more often, and not only when they're in trouble.
It's a relief to get back and find out Rodney's okay, and a bigger relief when they all manage to get away from the Genii with the Wraith data. Unfortunately, it's short-lived relief, and he finds himself standing behind Rodney in an otherwise empty lab late that night.
"Yes, yes, what is it?" Rodney asks, not looking up from the computer he's hunched in front of, then turns his head and sees John. "Oh, it's you." He blinks and frowns at the expression on John's face. "What is it?"
John hesitates, wondering if this is the line they haven't yet crossed. "Sixty ships," he says.
"Oh." Rodney nods and turns around the rest of the way. "Well, it's not good news, no. But we'll figure something out. We have an incredible amount of the Ancients' technology at our fingertips; we just need to -- "
"Sixty," John repeats, disbelief making his voice low. "Rodney. Sixty ships."
"I know." Rodney stands up and grips onto John's arm, his hand large and solid. "We've gotten out of other situations that seemed equally hopeless -- we can get out of this one, too."
"Can we?" John asks.
"Yes," Rodney says. "Don't worry. Everything's under control." This seems to exhaust his ability to be reassuring, and he shakes his head. "You're overtired. Go and get some sleep. I'll meet you for breakfast at 0800, all right?"
Strangely comforted, John pats Rodney's shoulder, his touch lingering three or four times longer than it really should. "Okay," he says, his gaze slightly unfocused on Rodney's mouth. "I'll see you in the morning."
On his way to his quarters, John can't help but think he's the only one who notices whatever it is that's going on between them.
* * * * *
He find out that's not true the next afternoon, when Rodney requests another flying lesson, then pushes him up against the wall of the puddle jumper as soon as they get inside it and kisses him, all big hands and quick, talented mouth.
"Please tell me this is okay," Rodney says, kissing a sensitive spot underneath John's ear. "Because it's been driving me crazy. You've been driving me crazy."
"I have?" John asks, pleased. Rodney lifts his face and looks at John, hovering on the edge of stricken because John hasn't told him that it's okay, and John hastens to reassure him. "Yeah, it's okay, geez."
They make out some more, right there in the Jumper Bay where pretty much anyone could stumble upon them, but John doesn't care until Rodney pulls away.
"What?" John says.
"Hang on," Rodney says, turning and activating his radio. "Yes? What is it?" He rolls his eyes at John and moves his fingers and thumb together, miming someone going on and on, which is pretty funny considering he's the one who usually won't shut up. "But can't you -- oh, okay, fine. I'll be there in five minutes. See if you can manage not to blow anything up in the meantime. McKay out."
"Gotta go, huh?" John asks.
Rodney nods and straightens his shirt, which had ridden up while they'd been making out. John grins as he realizes he's been making out with Rodney McKay. "That Czech guy -- I can never remember his name. Zemka? Something like that -- is having some trouble with the sensors, and I have to go hold his hand. We'll... maybe we can get back to this?"
John's surprised by how eager he feels. "Sure," he says. "That'd be cool. I'll check in with you later."
* * *
It's also a surprise when John answers his door that night to find Rodney standing in the hallway; as the day had gone on, he'd managed to convince himself that the earlier thing with the kissing had been some kind of hallucination.
Apparently not.
"Hi," Rodney says. He gestures behind him -- there's no one there -- then adds, "I know we said we'd talk later, and I suppose just showing up doesn't really qualify, but... well. If this is a bad time, and you'd rather -- "
John grabs him by the wrist and drags him through the doorway.
"I really think I'm getting the hang of flying the puddle jumpers," Rodney says as John's pulling off his shirt.
"I'm sure you are," John agrees. He drags his mouth over Rodney's shoulder and down along his chest until his lips find a nipple, small and hard. He sucks at it, hears Rodney gasp.
"I am," Rodney says breathlessly. "I'm a very fast learner, I -- " He cuts off when John turns him and starts walking him backwards toward the bed, which John hadn't realized until then is going to be way too small for the two of them.
John fumbles with Rodney's pants, gets them unfastened and down over his hips. There's more fumbling -- Rodney shoving at John's shirt impatiently, the front of his own pants undone, Rodney's hand on his cock -- God yes, yes, like that -- and then somehow they're naked on the bed. Rodney's flat on his back, legs spread, and John's kneeling up so close that his knee is pressed to Rodney's inner thigh. He can feel the soft crinkle of Rodney's leg hair against his own.
He watches as his own hand closes around Rodney's cock and strokes it. Rodney's so pale that his veins are visible through his skin; John traces one with his thumb, then glances up at Rodney's face and is instantly transfixed.
Rodney's eyes are wide, his pupils dilated, and his lips are moist and reddened. But better than any of those things is the way he's looking at John in return -- like he can't believe this is really happening, like this is all he's ever wanted and more. John can't look away.
He shifts his weight a little, but still can't shift his gaze from Rodney's face as he gets down to business jacking Rodney off. Rodney's cock is thick and heavy in his hand, the skin hot, and Rodney's breath catches when John's finger rubs up near the head. John's never fucked another guy before -- the sum total of his gay experience is a couple of hasty hand jobs -- but looking at Rodney lying there, for the first time he thinks he can understand wanting to.
"Do you want to fuck me?" Rodney asks hoarsely, and John's cock twitches in response. "I haven't -- I mean, not really -- but you, if you..."
If Rodney keeps talking about it, John's going to do it, probably badly, and he doesn't want to screw it up. It's important to get this right. "No," John says. "Like this. I want to watch you." I want to see your face. He swallows around the sudden lump in his throat and tightens his hand. Rodney's eyes widen impossibly and his hips lift as he comes, cock jerking in John's grasp.
Before Rodney's even finished, John's hand, slick with Rodney's come, is working his own cock, hard and fast. Rodney blinks slowly, dazed, then locks eyes with John again. A groan forces its way along John's throat and emerges as a choked sound, and he comes, too, shooting onto Rodney's cock and belly with a force that shocks him and leaves him gasping and shaking.
"Here," Rodney says, moving to one side, kicking the tangle of blankets out of the way and pulling John down into the narrow space. "I've been told that it's a good idea to breathe." He sounds worried.
John laughs and tries to catch his breath at the same time, which isn't easy. "I don't know," he says. "It might be overrated."
"Lots of things are overrated. Breathing isn't one of them." Rodney drapes an arm over John tentatively, like he's afraid there's a no-cuddling rule, and John turns his head and rubs his nose along Rodney's collar bone.
* * * * *
Right after they get together, there's the confusion on M5S-224; John still can't figure out how he ended up hanging out with Teyla in the fabricated reality those mist-people created, but in the long run it doesn't matter. He and Rodney have some pretty spectacular reunion sex in Rodney's quarters that makes up for it.
Then the storm hits and there's barely time to think until it's over.
John manages to keep it together for a lot longer than he would have imagined -- through a number of conversations and even walking Rodney to the infirmary so Carson can take off the bandage wrapped around the outside of Rodney's jacket to try to fix him up. He forces himself to take a good look at the wound and isn't surprised when he ends up feeling a little bit sick. It makes him think of the moment when Kolya had told him Elizabeth was dead and Rodney was next in line, and how this incredible wave of helplessness and anger had surged through him.
"Hey! Easy!" Rodney says, jerking his arm away from Carson, who just takes hold of Rodney's elbow and goes back to work.
"Just give the anesthetic a minute and you won't feel a thing," Carson tells him.
Rodney glares at him. "Easy for you to say. You weren't the one being cut open with a knife."
"Rodney," John says. It just slips out, and he isn't even sure if he's asking Rodney to shut up for Carson's sake or his own.
Maybe it doesn't matter, because Rodney does shut up, pressing his lips together and not saying a thing as Carson stitches him up and re-bandages the wound.
Rodney doesn't say much as he and John walk back to Rodney's quarters, either. It isn't until they're inside, Rodney pulling his torn, blood-stained shirt off awkwardly, that he mutters, "Look, I know you're disappointed in me. All I can say, for whatever it's worth, is that your disappointment is nothing compared to my own." For a minute, John's confused. What the hell is Rodney talking about? Disappointed that he sucks as a field medic? Then Rodney continues, "I tried to keep my mouth shut, I -- " and John has to step forward and press his fingers to Rodney's lips to stop him, because there's no way in hell he can listen to Rodney try to apologize for breaking under torture.
"Hey," he says gently, trying to find words that will wipe the look of misery off Rodney's face. "I'm not disappointed, okay? I'm just grateful that you're alive. That's the most important thing."
"But, I -- " Rodney tries, and John shushes him again.
"No." He leads Rodney over to the bed and pushes him down onto it, kneeling on the floor in front of him. "Do you know how it felt -- how I felt -- when that bastard told me Elizabeth was dead and you were next?"
Rodney's focused on him. "Bad?" he guesses.
"Yeah," John says gently. "Bad. The worst. So don't you ever think that I'm upset with you for letting something slip when someone's got you in that position. I'd have told him myself if it meant keeping you alive."
"Really?" Rodney's eyes search his.
"Yeah," John says. "Really." He leans forward and wraps his arms around Rodney's waist, and Rodney's hand settles at the back of his neck.
* * * * *
The next few months are sort of like an action movie, except with less Bruce Willis and more Rodney sarcasm-is-his-middle-name McKay. It's weird; John never would have guessed someone like Rodney would be his type, but he is. He really, really is.
They lose Abrams and Gaul to a Wraith attack on the other side of the solar system -- John comes a little too close for comfort to buying it, himself -- and then a handful of the scientists to a nanite-based virus. That's the night they have the craziest sex so far, not because of anything they do but because of what they say while they're doing it. John's pretty sure they're equally uncomfortable about it the next day, even though neither of them mentions it.
The stuff with Chaya is a road bump John wasn't expecting, but they get past it. The Wraith hive ships turning up is kind of expected -- not that that makes it any easier to deal with, although, as he points out to Rodney, three is hell of a lot better than sixty -- but the Daedalus shows up in the nick of time to save both John's ass and Atlantis. He has to do a hell of a lot of apologizing to get back into Rodney's good graces, that's for sure.
They're too tired to shower together after P3M-736 and almost getting Ford back. Rodney's moving like an old man and tells John to go first; by the time he's finished, Rodney's naked and leaning in the doorway.
"You don't look sunburned," John says. He steps out without shutting off the water.
"That's because I wore sunblock," Rodney says, pushing past John and getting into the shower.
"I didn't wear sunblock and I'm not burned." John towels himself off and pokes gingerly at his shoulder, which doesn't seem to be bruised but is hurting anyway. Ronon must have wrenched it tying him up.
"You got lucky," Rodney says.
John goes out and lies down on his good side so he doesn't aggravate his sore shoulder. Five minutes later, Rodney joins him. The bed's not any bigger, but they've gotten used to sharing. John can't stop thinking about Ford. It must be obvious that he's upset, because Rodney rubs the back of his neck comfortingly.
"Hey, listen." Rodney says, fingers stroking through his hair briefly. "Can I -- can I ask you something?"
It sounds serious enough that John really focuses him. "Sure."
"When I'm being, you know, me... when I'm sarcastic and impatient and insulting and, well, not particularly nice... you know that it doesn't mean anything, right?"
John smiles a little bit. "Yeah, I know."
"Other people don't always," Rodney says. "Not that I care what they think, of course..."
"Of course," John agrees. "And I'm pretty sure some of them know. Elizabeth, Carson, Teyla..." He'll keep naming names all night if it means getting to watch Rodney's anxious face relax by increments, but Rodney leans in and kisses him, and that's almost as good.
* * * * *
John is changing. It feels like someone injected acid into his veins and it's burning its way through his body, erasing most of what he knows. His cells are mutating, and the room's too hot, and it feels good.
He can hear the footsteps in the hall outside. They pause, and -- no, no -- Rodney says something to the guards in a low voice. No, not a good idea. This is why he'd told Elizabeth not to let Rodney come; everything in him is yearning for Rodney, wanting him, and it's so beyond safe that it's terrifying.
The door slides open, and Rodney steps into the room. "Hey," he says, hesitating before coming toward John. He's all suited up for a mission.
John holds up a hand. "Don't."
"What, now I can't be in the same room with you?" Rodney grins, but there's nervousness and hurt all wrapped up in his voice. John can read it better than he's ever been able to, and somehow seeing it feels good, too. Which ought to freak him right the hell out, but doesn't.
"I told Elizabeth to keep you away."
Rodney shifts his weight, but doesn't come closer. "Yes, because she has nothing better to do than to monitor my whereabouts." He pauses, then adds, "We're leaving in about ten minutes. To collect the iratus embryos. I wanted -- "
"To see me one last time before I finish mutating into a bug?" John suggests.
"We're going to stop this," Rodney tells him quietly.
John snorts and shoves his hand into his pocket. "Have you been taking lessons from Elizabeth? Because you've really gotta find someone with a better bedside manner."
Rodney looks resolute, but his heart's beating pretty fast; John can hear it. "Carson thinks that he'll be able to program the iratus stem cells with human RNA. It's a good plan. It's going to work." Looking right at John, he adds, "Trust me."
"I do," John says. Then, quick enough that Rodney doesn't have time to blink, John moves to him, close enough to feel his radiated warmth. He takes hold of Rodney's hips, then slides his hands back, lower, to cup Rodney's ass. "The question is," he says in a low voice, rubbing himself slowly against Rodney, "should you be trusting me?"
Rodney swallows but doesn't look away. "I trust you," he says. "I know you. And I know you wouldn't -- "
"Hurt you?" John grabs onto Rodney's wrist and squeezes, feeling fragile skin crushed in his grip. He wants to push Rodney down to the floor and fuck him, all that heat... "Are you sure?"
"I have to go," Rodney says. His jaw is set, and he doesn't try to pull his wrist away, but somehow John lets go of him. He leans in and kisses John, the hard press of his mouth off-center. "I'll be back."
"I'm going to tell them not to let you in!" John calls after him, but Rodney just goes on out the door and it slides shut, leaving him alone.
* * *
There are vague flashes of memory like dreams: Crawling up a wall like goddamn Spiderman. Ronon shooting him. Waking up in the infirmary with adrenaline coursing through him, his head aching like a son of a bitch. Being told they were gonna let him go get the iratus eggs. Being in the cave, surrounded by the bugs.
When John wakes up for real, he's in the infirmary again.
"The improvement is remarkable," he hears Teyla's voice saying.
"Aye; the transformation's well on its way to reversing itself," Carson says, sounding pleased.
"Good thing he was able to get those eggs," Ronon says.
"Colonel Sheppard is very resourceful," Teyla says loyally.
"He's also very lucky," Rodney says, and at the sound of his voice John's eyes open involuntarily.
"Ah, there y'are, Colonel," Carson says. Warm, slightly calloused fingers press themselves to John's wrist.
It's all reassuring, but John has to ask. "Is everything okay?"
Carson nods and pats his shoulder. "You're going to be just fine. You should be up and around in a week or so, I'd imagine."
It sounds like a long time, but John's tired enough that he believes it. He shifts a little on the bed, turning toward Rodney, and gestures at him with a few curls of his fingers. Carson steps back and Rodney takes his place, reaching for his hand.
"You're not allowed to do anything even remotely like this ever again," Rodney says firmly.
"Okay," John says. His throat is dry and a little sore. "I won't." He blinks at Rodney's wrist, which is in his line of sight and darkly bruised, then frowns. "Is that -- did I -- ?"
Rodney glances at the others, and Teyla says, "We will go so that you may talk." She has to widen her eyes at Carson before he takes the hint, but then they all leave and it's just John and Rodney.
John rubs his thumb lightly over the bruises, not sure whether to be sorry or glad he can't completely remember making them.
"Don't go feeling all guilty on me now," Rodney says, trying for a joking tone and not quite making it. "It's not your fault."
It isn't like John didn't already know that he's capable of hurting Rodney, but somehow that doesn't really make it any easier. "I'm still sorry," he says, and looks up at Rodney.
"Don't be an idiot," Rodney says. "I'll trade a few bruises for you sticking around in human form. It's not a hard choice to make." He looks strained around the eyes, like he hasn't been sleeping.
John tugs at Rodney's arm gently, brings it to his mouth and presses his lips to the purpled skin. They've always been pretty careful, not touching each other when someone might see, but right then careful seems kind of pointless, what with how narrowly he just escaped being turned into a giant bug.
"Sorry," he murmurs against Rodney's wrist, and Rodney leans down and nuzzles his hair, whispering soft reassurances that are the best thing John's ever heard.
End.
by wesleysgirl
McKay/Sheppard, NC17
For shetiger in exchange for her donation to fire_fic.
Many, many thanks to merryish and kimberlyfdr for the betas and invaluable advice. Remaining errors are my own.
McKay's twitchy with what John is pretty sure is nervous excitement; he keeps wiping his hands on his pants like they're sweaty. John would be tempted to poke fun at him -- okay, hell, he is tempted to poke fun at him -- but he knows what that kind of nervous excitement feels like, and it doesn't seem fair to take any of it away from Rodney.
Ten minutes later, John's stomach is clenched into knots so tight he thinks it might literally explode and McKay's palms are so slick with sweat that he can barely keep hold of the controls.
"Okay, that's it for today," John says.
"What do you mean? I'm just starting to get the hang of it," Rodney complains, but he still looks relieved when John takes over, slumping back in his seat and flexing his fingers.
"You did great," John tells him.
"Oh, yes, very convincing."
"No, I mean it. Remember I've been flying for years." The puddle jumper responds like it knows him; it's the most incredible thing John's ever experienced. He'd trade anything to keep it, even if it means never getting back to Earth.
Rodney sighs. "I guess I just thought I'd be a natural."
"Yeah, well, I'm sure you're a natural at a lot of things." It comes out sounding kind of weird, and John glances at Rodney, vaguely embarrassed but unable to put his finger on why.
Rodney glances back at him, frowning a little bit, and their eyes meet for just a few seconds longer than they should. Rodney opens his mouth as if he's going to say something, then seems to think better of it and purses his lips instead, ducking his head and looking at the control panel instead.
Neither of them says anything, but it's like something has changed between them.
After that, John can't help but notice that Rodney keeps looking at him in thoughtful, almost calculating sorts of ways. It's like he's trying to figure John out, weighing his good and bad qualities and, surprisingly, not finding him lacking. Since Rodney's obviously the smartest person in Atlantis, and definitely the smartest person John's ever met, John feels flattered, because even if he's not as smart as Rodney, he's no idiot.
As the next week or so passes, John decides that he likes feeling flattered. He likes the way Rodney always turns to him with an idea. He likes watching Rodney talk -- the way he gets all worked up, gesturing with his hands and snapping his fingers impatiently. He likes the way Rodney's mind works. He even likes it when Rodney turns that sharp sarcasm in his direction.
At the risk of sounding obsessed, even to himself, John likes Rodney. And he's pretty sure Rodney likes him, too.
* * * * *
They end up on M7G-677, distracted by dealing with a bunch of kids who think that someone who's 24 is an "elder." John can't help but feel for Keras; the poor kid believes that killing himself will protect his people from the Wraith, believes that he's doing the right thing, and it's a hell of a job convincing all of them that it's not anywhere near that simple. By the time Rodney gets the shield functioning again and they get Keras patched up, it seems like a week, minimum, has passed.
It isn't until they're back on Atlantis that John realizes Rodney must have managed to fly the jumper without crashing it. He hadn't thought about it too much at the time, what with everything else that'd been going on.
"Guess I'm a pretty good teacher," he says to Rodney after the debriefing. It's more fun to give himself the credit and watch Rodney get flustered, which he immediately does.
"Oh, yes, because everything's always about you," Rodney snaps.
"Sure it is," John tells him. "Hey, you want to go get something to eat? I mean, if you're not too exhausted from all that running around you were doing on the planet to walk that far."
"Some of us prefer mental workouts," Rodney says haughtily, but follows him to the mess hall and in the middle of their conversation steals John's dessert without so much as an apology.
* * * * *
John figures out how deeply Rodney's gotten under his skin when he has to leave him behind with Tyrus and his people. Not that he feels all that much better about leaving Teyla, but Rodney's kind of vulnerable in ways Teyla's not. And John's gotten used to being around to watch Rodney's back, which is something he's found himself doing more and more often, and not only when they're in trouble.
It's a relief to get back and find out Rodney's okay, and a bigger relief when they all manage to get away from the Genii with the Wraith data. Unfortunately, it's short-lived relief, and he finds himself standing behind Rodney in an otherwise empty lab late that night.
"Yes, yes, what is it?" Rodney asks, not looking up from the computer he's hunched in front of, then turns his head and sees John. "Oh, it's you." He blinks and frowns at the expression on John's face. "What is it?"
John hesitates, wondering if this is the line they haven't yet crossed. "Sixty ships," he says.
"Oh." Rodney nods and turns around the rest of the way. "Well, it's not good news, no. But we'll figure something out. We have an incredible amount of the Ancients' technology at our fingertips; we just need to -- "
"Sixty," John repeats, disbelief making his voice low. "Rodney. Sixty ships."
"I know." Rodney stands up and grips onto John's arm, his hand large and solid. "We've gotten out of other situations that seemed equally hopeless -- we can get out of this one, too."
"Can we?" John asks.
"Yes," Rodney says. "Don't worry. Everything's under control." This seems to exhaust his ability to be reassuring, and he shakes his head. "You're overtired. Go and get some sleep. I'll meet you for breakfast at 0800, all right?"
Strangely comforted, John pats Rodney's shoulder, his touch lingering three or four times longer than it really should. "Okay," he says, his gaze slightly unfocused on Rodney's mouth. "I'll see you in the morning."
On his way to his quarters, John can't help but think he's the only one who notices whatever it is that's going on between them.
* * * * *
He find out that's not true the next afternoon, when Rodney requests another flying lesson, then pushes him up against the wall of the puddle jumper as soon as they get inside it and kisses him, all big hands and quick, talented mouth.
"Please tell me this is okay," Rodney says, kissing a sensitive spot underneath John's ear. "Because it's been driving me crazy. You've been driving me crazy."
"I have?" John asks, pleased. Rodney lifts his face and looks at John, hovering on the edge of stricken because John hasn't told him that it's okay, and John hastens to reassure him. "Yeah, it's okay, geez."
They make out some more, right there in the Jumper Bay where pretty much anyone could stumble upon them, but John doesn't care until Rodney pulls away.
"What?" John says.
"Hang on," Rodney says, turning and activating his radio. "Yes? What is it?" He rolls his eyes at John and moves his fingers and thumb together, miming someone going on and on, which is pretty funny considering he's the one who usually won't shut up. "But can't you -- oh, okay, fine. I'll be there in five minutes. See if you can manage not to blow anything up in the meantime. McKay out."
"Gotta go, huh?" John asks.
Rodney nods and straightens his shirt, which had ridden up while they'd been making out. John grins as he realizes he's been making out with Rodney McKay. "That Czech guy -- I can never remember his name. Zemka? Something like that -- is having some trouble with the sensors, and I have to go hold his hand. We'll... maybe we can get back to this?"
John's surprised by how eager he feels. "Sure," he says. "That'd be cool. I'll check in with you later."
* * *
It's also a surprise when John answers his door that night to find Rodney standing in the hallway; as the day had gone on, he'd managed to convince himself that the earlier thing with the kissing had been some kind of hallucination.
Apparently not.
"Hi," Rodney says. He gestures behind him -- there's no one there -- then adds, "I know we said we'd talk later, and I suppose just showing up doesn't really qualify, but... well. If this is a bad time, and you'd rather -- "
John grabs him by the wrist and drags him through the doorway.
"I really think I'm getting the hang of flying the puddle jumpers," Rodney says as John's pulling off his shirt.
"I'm sure you are," John agrees. He drags his mouth over Rodney's shoulder and down along his chest until his lips find a nipple, small and hard. He sucks at it, hears Rodney gasp.
"I am," Rodney says breathlessly. "I'm a very fast learner, I -- " He cuts off when John turns him and starts walking him backwards toward the bed, which John hadn't realized until then is going to be way too small for the two of them.
John fumbles with Rodney's pants, gets them unfastened and down over his hips. There's more fumbling -- Rodney shoving at John's shirt impatiently, the front of his own pants undone, Rodney's hand on his cock -- God yes, yes, like that -- and then somehow they're naked on the bed. Rodney's flat on his back, legs spread, and John's kneeling up so close that his knee is pressed to Rodney's inner thigh. He can feel the soft crinkle of Rodney's leg hair against his own.
He watches as his own hand closes around Rodney's cock and strokes it. Rodney's so pale that his veins are visible through his skin; John traces one with his thumb, then glances up at Rodney's face and is instantly transfixed.
Rodney's eyes are wide, his pupils dilated, and his lips are moist and reddened. But better than any of those things is the way he's looking at John in return -- like he can't believe this is really happening, like this is all he's ever wanted and more. John can't look away.
He shifts his weight a little, but still can't shift his gaze from Rodney's face as he gets down to business jacking Rodney off. Rodney's cock is thick and heavy in his hand, the skin hot, and Rodney's breath catches when John's finger rubs up near the head. John's never fucked another guy before -- the sum total of his gay experience is a couple of hasty hand jobs -- but looking at Rodney lying there, for the first time he thinks he can understand wanting to.
"Do you want to fuck me?" Rodney asks hoarsely, and John's cock twitches in response. "I haven't -- I mean, not really -- but you, if you..."
If Rodney keeps talking about it, John's going to do it, probably badly, and he doesn't want to screw it up. It's important to get this right. "No," John says. "Like this. I want to watch you." I want to see your face. He swallows around the sudden lump in his throat and tightens his hand. Rodney's eyes widen impossibly and his hips lift as he comes, cock jerking in John's grasp.
Before Rodney's even finished, John's hand, slick with Rodney's come, is working his own cock, hard and fast. Rodney blinks slowly, dazed, then locks eyes with John again. A groan forces its way along John's throat and emerges as a choked sound, and he comes, too, shooting onto Rodney's cock and belly with a force that shocks him and leaves him gasping and shaking.
"Here," Rodney says, moving to one side, kicking the tangle of blankets out of the way and pulling John down into the narrow space. "I've been told that it's a good idea to breathe." He sounds worried.
John laughs and tries to catch his breath at the same time, which isn't easy. "I don't know," he says. "It might be overrated."
"Lots of things are overrated. Breathing isn't one of them." Rodney drapes an arm over John tentatively, like he's afraid there's a no-cuddling rule, and John turns his head and rubs his nose along Rodney's collar bone.
* * * * *
Right after they get together, there's the confusion on M5S-224; John still can't figure out how he ended up hanging out with Teyla in the fabricated reality those mist-people created, but in the long run it doesn't matter. He and Rodney have some pretty spectacular reunion sex in Rodney's quarters that makes up for it.
Then the storm hits and there's barely time to think until it's over.
John manages to keep it together for a lot longer than he would have imagined -- through a number of conversations and even walking Rodney to the infirmary so Carson can take off the bandage wrapped around the outside of Rodney's jacket to try to fix him up. He forces himself to take a good look at the wound and isn't surprised when he ends up feeling a little bit sick. It makes him think of the moment when Kolya had told him Elizabeth was dead and Rodney was next in line, and how this incredible wave of helplessness and anger had surged through him.
"Hey! Easy!" Rodney says, jerking his arm away from Carson, who just takes hold of Rodney's elbow and goes back to work.
"Just give the anesthetic a minute and you won't feel a thing," Carson tells him.
Rodney glares at him. "Easy for you to say. You weren't the one being cut open with a knife."
"Rodney," John says. It just slips out, and he isn't even sure if he's asking Rodney to shut up for Carson's sake or his own.
Maybe it doesn't matter, because Rodney does shut up, pressing his lips together and not saying a thing as Carson stitches him up and re-bandages the wound.
Rodney doesn't say much as he and John walk back to Rodney's quarters, either. It isn't until they're inside, Rodney pulling his torn, blood-stained shirt off awkwardly, that he mutters, "Look, I know you're disappointed in me. All I can say, for whatever it's worth, is that your disappointment is nothing compared to my own." For a minute, John's confused. What the hell is Rodney talking about? Disappointed that he sucks as a field medic? Then Rodney continues, "I tried to keep my mouth shut, I -- " and John has to step forward and press his fingers to Rodney's lips to stop him, because there's no way in hell he can listen to Rodney try to apologize for breaking under torture.
"Hey," he says gently, trying to find words that will wipe the look of misery off Rodney's face. "I'm not disappointed, okay? I'm just grateful that you're alive. That's the most important thing."
"But, I -- " Rodney tries, and John shushes him again.
"No." He leads Rodney over to the bed and pushes him down onto it, kneeling on the floor in front of him. "Do you know how it felt -- how I felt -- when that bastard told me Elizabeth was dead and you were next?"
Rodney's focused on him. "Bad?" he guesses.
"Yeah," John says gently. "Bad. The worst. So don't you ever think that I'm upset with you for letting something slip when someone's got you in that position. I'd have told him myself if it meant keeping you alive."
"Really?" Rodney's eyes search his.
"Yeah," John says. "Really." He leans forward and wraps his arms around Rodney's waist, and Rodney's hand settles at the back of his neck.
* * * * *
The next few months are sort of like an action movie, except with less Bruce Willis and more Rodney sarcasm-is-his-middle-name McKay. It's weird; John never would have guessed someone like Rodney would be his type, but he is. He really, really is.
They lose Abrams and Gaul to a Wraith attack on the other side of the solar system -- John comes a little too close for comfort to buying it, himself -- and then a handful of the scientists to a nanite-based virus. That's the night they have the craziest sex so far, not because of anything they do but because of what they say while they're doing it. John's pretty sure they're equally uncomfortable about it the next day, even though neither of them mentions it.
The stuff with Chaya is a road bump John wasn't expecting, but they get past it. The Wraith hive ships turning up is kind of expected -- not that that makes it any easier to deal with, although, as he points out to Rodney, three is hell of a lot better than sixty -- but the Daedalus shows up in the nick of time to save both John's ass and Atlantis. He has to do a hell of a lot of apologizing to get back into Rodney's good graces, that's for sure.
They're too tired to shower together after P3M-736 and almost getting Ford back. Rodney's moving like an old man and tells John to go first; by the time he's finished, Rodney's naked and leaning in the doorway.
"You don't look sunburned," John says. He steps out without shutting off the water.
"That's because I wore sunblock," Rodney says, pushing past John and getting into the shower.
"I didn't wear sunblock and I'm not burned." John towels himself off and pokes gingerly at his shoulder, which doesn't seem to be bruised but is hurting anyway. Ronon must have wrenched it tying him up.
"You got lucky," Rodney says.
John goes out and lies down on his good side so he doesn't aggravate his sore shoulder. Five minutes later, Rodney joins him. The bed's not any bigger, but they've gotten used to sharing. John can't stop thinking about Ford. It must be obvious that he's upset, because Rodney rubs the back of his neck comfortingly.
"Hey, listen." Rodney says, fingers stroking through his hair briefly. "Can I -- can I ask you something?"
It sounds serious enough that John really focuses him. "Sure."
"When I'm being, you know, me... when I'm sarcastic and impatient and insulting and, well, not particularly nice... you know that it doesn't mean anything, right?"
John smiles a little bit. "Yeah, I know."
"Other people don't always," Rodney says. "Not that I care what they think, of course..."
"Of course," John agrees. "And I'm pretty sure some of them know. Elizabeth, Carson, Teyla..." He'll keep naming names all night if it means getting to watch Rodney's anxious face relax by increments, but Rodney leans in and kisses him, and that's almost as good.
* * * * *
John is changing. It feels like someone injected acid into his veins and it's burning its way through his body, erasing most of what he knows. His cells are mutating, and the room's too hot, and it feels good.
He can hear the footsteps in the hall outside. They pause, and -- no, no -- Rodney says something to the guards in a low voice. No, not a good idea. This is why he'd told Elizabeth not to let Rodney come; everything in him is yearning for Rodney, wanting him, and it's so beyond safe that it's terrifying.
The door slides open, and Rodney steps into the room. "Hey," he says, hesitating before coming toward John. He's all suited up for a mission.
John holds up a hand. "Don't."
"What, now I can't be in the same room with you?" Rodney grins, but there's nervousness and hurt all wrapped up in his voice. John can read it better than he's ever been able to, and somehow seeing it feels good, too. Which ought to freak him right the hell out, but doesn't.
"I told Elizabeth to keep you away."
Rodney shifts his weight, but doesn't come closer. "Yes, because she has nothing better to do than to monitor my whereabouts." He pauses, then adds, "We're leaving in about ten minutes. To collect the iratus embryos. I wanted -- "
"To see me one last time before I finish mutating into a bug?" John suggests.
"We're going to stop this," Rodney tells him quietly.
John snorts and shoves his hand into his pocket. "Have you been taking lessons from Elizabeth? Because you've really gotta find someone with a better bedside manner."
Rodney looks resolute, but his heart's beating pretty fast; John can hear it. "Carson thinks that he'll be able to program the iratus stem cells with human RNA. It's a good plan. It's going to work." Looking right at John, he adds, "Trust me."
"I do," John says. Then, quick enough that Rodney doesn't have time to blink, John moves to him, close enough to feel his radiated warmth. He takes hold of Rodney's hips, then slides his hands back, lower, to cup Rodney's ass. "The question is," he says in a low voice, rubbing himself slowly against Rodney, "should you be trusting me?"
Rodney swallows but doesn't look away. "I trust you," he says. "I know you. And I know you wouldn't -- "
"Hurt you?" John grabs onto Rodney's wrist and squeezes, feeling fragile skin crushed in his grip. He wants to push Rodney down to the floor and fuck him, all that heat... "Are you sure?"
"I have to go," Rodney says. His jaw is set, and he doesn't try to pull his wrist away, but somehow John lets go of him. He leans in and kisses John, the hard press of his mouth off-center. "I'll be back."
"I'm going to tell them not to let you in!" John calls after him, but Rodney just goes on out the door and it slides shut, leaving him alone.
* * *
There are vague flashes of memory like dreams: Crawling up a wall like goddamn Spiderman. Ronon shooting him. Waking up in the infirmary with adrenaline coursing through him, his head aching like a son of a bitch. Being told they were gonna let him go get the iratus eggs. Being in the cave, surrounded by the bugs.
When John wakes up for real, he's in the infirmary again.
"The improvement is remarkable," he hears Teyla's voice saying.
"Aye; the transformation's well on its way to reversing itself," Carson says, sounding pleased.
"Good thing he was able to get those eggs," Ronon says.
"Colonel Sheppard is very resourceful," Teyla says loyally.
"He's also very lucky," Rodney says, and at the sound of his voice John's eyes open involuntarily.
"Ah, there y'are, Colonel," Carson says. Warm, slightly calloused fingers press themselves to John's wrist.
It's all reassuring, but John has to ask. "Is everything okay?"
Carson nods and pats his shoulder. "You're going to be just fine. You should be up and around in a week or so, I'd imagine."
It sounds like a long time, but John's tired enough that he believes it. He shifts a little on the bed, turning toward Rodney, and gestures at him with a few curls of his fingers. Carson steps back and Rodney takes his place, reaching for his hand.
"You're not allowed to do anything even remotely like this ever again," Rodney says firmly.
"Okay," John says. His throat is dry and a little sore. "I won't." He blinks at Rodney's wrist, which is in his line of sight and darkly bruised, then frowns. "Is that -- did I -- ?"
Rodney glances at the others, and Teyla says, "We will go so that you may talk." She has to widen her eyes at Carson before he takes the hint, but then they all leave and it's just John and Rodney.
John rubs his thumb lightly over the bruises, not sure whether to be sorry or glad he can't completely remember making them.
"Don't go feeling all guilty on me now," Rodney says, trying for a joking tone and not quite making it. "It's not your fault."
It isn't like John didn't already know that he's capable of hurting Rodney, but somehow that doesn't really make it any easier. "I'm still sorry," he says, and looks up at Rodney.
"Don't be an idiot," Rodney says. "I'll trade a few bruises for you sticking around in human form. It's not a hard choice to make." He looks strained around the eyes, like he hasn't been sleeping.
John tugs at Rodney's arm gently, brings it to his mouth and presses his lips to the purpled skin. They've always been pretty careful, not touching each other when someone might see, but right then careful seems kind of pointless, what with how narrowly he just escaped being turned into a giant bug.
"Sorry," he murmurs against Rodney's wrist, and Rodney leans down and nuzzles his hair, whispering soft reassurances that are the best thing John's ever heard.
End.