"Where the Similarities End" by Alizarin. SGA/Torchwood crossover
Title: Where the Similarities End
Author: Alizarin_NYC
Fandoms: SGA/Torchwood
Pairings: Jack/John, but also Tosh/Teyla, Owen/Rodney, Gwen/Ronon, hints of Rodney/John
Rating: NC-17
Beta: viciouswishes who tried to de-cliche me. All errors are mine.
Written for: My dear friend scribblinlenore because she lived to tell more tales. (Originally conceived for allvoodooanyway)
Warning: CRACK fic. Okay?
Summary: “You need this, John Sheppard, so tell me what you want. And then let me give it to you.”
“You lot are bloody stupid, aren’t you?” said Dr. Owen Harper.
“Excuse me?”
“Bloody. Stupid. As in, not even knowing your arse from your elbow.”
“I’ll have you know,” McKay said, standing up as he did so and brandishing a finger in the air,
“Nobel Prize winning physicist here. Well, if we could actually publish what we know. And besides, I live on an alien world, while you guys sit around here, picking through the garbage. In the arse - I mean ass-end of the world!”
“Shut it or I’ll rearrange your face,” Harper shouted.
“Boys,” Teyla said, looking up from where she sat with Toshiko Sato, at a computer with seven blue, blinking monitors. Teyla looked stern as did Sato.
“Who’re you calling boy?” Harper snarled. He drew up to his full height, which, John noticed, was all of not-very-tall.
McKay ignored him completely, moving forward with his data pad to continue scanning the alien artifacts that Capt. Jack Harkness had pulled from a vault for their review. The Captain - and a less military-looking Captain John had never seen - had then stomped up a set of metal stairs and closed himself in his office, further testament to his previous statements that he didn't approve of interference in his business.
John sighed and braced himself for another scene. In truth, he had had enough of McKay’s antics in the Torchwood labs, not all of them entirely his fault. Dr. Harper was at least as difficult, and a lot less intelligent. But John figured it was time to smooth things over with the Captain.
His light knock was answered immediately, and Captain Harkness loomed in the doorway. “Come in,” he said brusquely.
John sat down in an uncomfortable chair as Harkness settled into his leather one and pulled out a crystal decanter with amber liquid in it. He poured out two glasses and gave one to John.
“I’m on duty,” John said, eyeing the old fashioned glass and the other items in Harkness’ office that gave him away as a historian of some sort. Or a sentimentalist.
“Rude to decline, in this place,” Harkness said.
John complied with the unspoken order and took a sip. “Strong stuff,” he said, trying not to grimace.
Harkness’ eyes never left his face. He was looking for something, some chink in John’s armor, and keeping his mask on was both John’s strong suit and his weakness. He liked to hide, and he didn’t like people looking for him. “This is awkward for me,” he admitted. “I’m not used to the IOA’s way of handling things. I’ve never been a big fan of their directives.”
“I can see that,” Harkness said. “I’m not a big fan of your SGC or whatever it’s called, either. And now that they’ve decided to poke their noses into our business regularly, I like them even less.”
“I get that,” John said, as amicably as possible. “We’ll try to be out of your hair as soon as we can.” He rubbed at his wristband, as he always did when he felt touchy. He noticed that Harkness had an even bigger wristband.
“Take your time,” Harkness said, eyes narrowing. “And then don’t come back anytime soon.”
“Right,” John said.
“You took a man from Torchwood a few years ago. Good guy. You never gave him back.”
“We did? I mean, we didn’t?”
“Peter Grodin. You know him? How’s he doing?”
John’s mouth suddenly went dry. “He’s dead.”
“Oh.” A shadow crossed the crag of Harkness’ forehead and then cleared quickly. “That’s a real shame.”
The door opened, and John breathed a sigh of relief. A neatly dressed young man with a colorful tie came in with a coffee tray. “Tea?” he asked, but it wasn’t a question so much as an announcement. He set a cup of coffee in front of Harkness, not tea. Harkness thanked him, taking the coffee and letting his hand linger on the young man’s hand. The man stared meaningfully into Harkness’ eyes before dragging his eyes away to look at John. He took John in, measuring him head to foot, as John accepted the cup of tea, afraid of being called rude again. Then the man turned on his heel and huffed out of the office.
“Everyone's making it pretty well known we’re not welcome,” John said.
“That just now is probably not what you think,” Harkness said. “He’s just a little jealous.”
“Of what?” John asked idly.
“Of you. He thinks you’re handsome enough for me to want to fuck. And you are; it’s true.”
“What?” He watched Harkness’ face for signs that he was joking, but he wasn’t. “You and him...?”
“Sometimes. After we killed his girlfriend - well, she wasn’t his girlfriend anymore, she was a Cyber - nevermind. Anyway. He needed the comfort.”
“Okay then.”
“You’re fucking your scientist,” Harkness said.
“What? No, no, I’m not, I’m not fucking anyone. They’re my teammates, I’m not…”
“This isn’t the American military, son,” Harkness said. “You’re pinging my radar. I know what it’s like being in the American military, to a certain extent.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” John said. He rose, leaving his tea and liquor on the desk.
“Sit down, sit down,” Harkness said and again John felt compelled to obey his orders. “I didn’t mean to out you on your first visit to Torchwood. Rather, I had hoped to make you more comfortable. And it would be good to know who’s fucking who or who hopes to fuck who, before making any moves myself.”
John’s head swam. Was he that obvious about Rodney? Surely, he’d been excruciatingly careful. Did Harkness have his eye on Rodney? That thought made John cringe. What would Rodney do if this strapping, handsome man hit on him? Would he make another scene? Would he sink to his knees? John shut his eyes compulsively at the thought. No, no. It didn’t matter; he shouldn’t care.
“Hey.” Harkness pushed the tea towards him. “You’ve got a bit of jet lag, don’t you? I know Cardiff isn’t much in the way of things to do and see, but would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”
“Oh.” John’s heart picked up speed. So, not Rodney then. “Sure, sure. The airplane food was disgusting. And I think we’re about done for the day.”
Harkness grinned, beautiful and feral at the same time, and John felt his heart drop into his groin. Damn. This was problematic, indeed.
~*~
“A human. From another galaxy,” Toshiko breathed, running her hands over Teyla’s biceps and down to her fingertips, which she ghosted lightly over, before pulling Teyla’s hand to her mouth and sucking in a finger. “You don’t taste any different.”
Teyla laughed. “I have never been taste-tested before.”
“Then you should let me,” Toshiko said, looking into Teyla’s eyes. “Right now, in fact. I’ve set the vault security cameras to play a very convincing loop.”
Her eyes were liquid black and new to Teyla. She’d seen Asian earthers before - Sergeant Hariko, for one, but no one quite as beautiful and intelligent as Toshiko. The pull of the new was as exciting to Teyla as it seemed to be to Toshiko.
“I am convinced,” Teyla replied. Before Toshiko could sink to her knees, she threaded her hands in Tosh’s soft, silky hair. She held Tosh there, looking into her face. First there was lust, and then uncertainty, and then a resigned patience, when she realized that Teyla only wanted to savor the moment, to look her fill, to hold her in place so the memory and the moment wouldn’t feel rushed.
~*~
John was aware that some people looked at him as some sort of wanton and debauched pretty boy. Or at least fantasized about him that way.
He was the opposite, actually, but a lot of people kept making the mistake of thinking he was what they wanted him to be. They thought that once they got him in bed, he’d be pliable; he’d be theirs, like a pet.
As he stood at Captain Harkness’ window, looking out from his apartment over a rainy Cardiff, he worried that this would be the same. He swirled his single malt in the glass, listening to the ice clink. Jack downed his whiskey in one and came over to where John stood. They’d split a bottle of wine over dinner, but Harkness was easily absorbing the liquor while John felt it going to his head.
“It’s not an ugly city,” Harkness commented.
“No, it’s not bad.”
“Not as pretty as where you live, I’d imagine.”
John grinned. “Not even close.”
It looked as if Harkness didn't spend much time in his own place. It was furnished much like his office: antique with strange modern touches in odd places. No pictures of family or friends, no art that represented the man, no way to tell, really, who Jack Harkness was.
“What's it like out there?” Harkness asked.
“You wouldn't believe it even if I had clearance to tell you.”
“You'd be surprised.”
“Probably. What about your team? You guys work well together?” John turned from the window and found Harkness standing much closer than he'd anticipated. “You slept with them all yet?”
Harkness smiled. He clearly had a fondness for his team. “Gwen is dead sexy. I'd have shagged her, but Owen beat me to it while I was shagging Ianto. Tosh doesn't like men. She loves them - as in, with all her heart. Owen broke it first. He'll sleep with anything that's human, gotta admire that about him. But not Tosh. Never could figure that one out. She loves women too. When she lost her mate, Mary - the girl was an alien, long story -- she blamed me. But I don't generally accept the mistakes of the heart as mine. Your emotions, your issue, you take the blame.” The smile on his face closed, and he raised his eyes to John's face.
“Not very understanding of you, is it?” John asked.
“Can leaders afford to be understanding?”
“Sometimes, they can't afford not to be,” John said, thinking of all the ways he forgave his team and they forgave him. Imagine if he'd laid all the blame for Doranda at Rodney's feet? Imagine if he'd failed to offer forgiveness? The team wouldn't have survived; he'd have lost his friend and the best asset to his team. “Some things aren’t completely out of our control, am I right?”
Harkness tensed visibly. “Some things,” he said. John turned away again and stared back out the window. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Harkness -- Jack - white shirt reflected in the window as he came up behind him. He saw his own reflection too, and thought briefly of himself as prey and Jack, smiling Jack, as predator.
Not tonight, he told himself. Losing control had to be out of the question. But that didn't mean denial had to be part of it.
Then Jack was reaching around him, setting their drinks down, turning John into his arms and leaning forward. The kiss was searing, Jack's lips hot and tasting of single malt whiskey, and he opened John's mouth with his tongue. He didn't bother to pull the curtains. Jack’s hands fell to the small of John's back, tongues making deep slow rolls against each other.
It was a first date kiss: part of the conversation, part of the getting-to-know-you. Jack's erection barely brushed against John's thigh, but it was enough to give John the idea of its size and thickness and heat. He suddenly wanted it on his tongue, wanted Jack's tongue on him, wanted to see him naked and hard and on his back. John suddenly wanted to move from first base to winning the World Series.
Just as John was busy realizing that hell yes, this is what I want in a throw-caution-to-the-wind sort of way, Jack broke off the kiss. But he kept his hand on John's face, cupping it firmly.
“What do you want, John Sheppard?”
“I can have whatever I want?” John asked, somewhat breathlessly. He wanted to rethink it, wanted to regain control. Instead, he settled on compromise. “Anything?”
“I won't say no,” Jack said, “to anything, I think you know that. You need this, John, so tell me what you want. And then let me give it to you.” A car passed by outside and its headlights shone briefly in Jack's eyes, lighting up the blue in them. They glowed, almost alien, but then the car was gone and it was just a handsome face, eyes once again gray in the low light.
“Yes,” John said, as if in answer to a question. “You're right. I want this. I…” John paused. He was going to have to say it, and say it fast. “I want it all, sucking, fucking, I want you to fuck me, and I want you to ride me. Condoms, lube, and...” John waved his hand in the direction of the apartment. “I sleep here.” He took a deep breath as the flush rose up into his face. “Any questions?”
“Did you read my mind, John Sheppard?” Jack asked, pretending to be surprised.
“One more thing. We don't talk about this tomorrow, or ever. Your team is one thing; my team is another.”
“Prudes,” Jack snorted.
~*~
Rodney thumbed through the rough catalogue of artifacts, sighing with displeasure. “Don't you have this stuff on a computer somewhere?” he complained. “The dust's killing me! I'm highly allergic, I'll have you know.”
“Feel free to sod off and die then,” Dr. Harper replied. “Or go home. Everyone else has.”
Harper was right. Well, partially. There was that Yanni or Yanto guy still lurking around in crisp suit and tight tie, making Rodney coffee, which he so greatly appreciated. He thought briefly about recruiting Yanni for Atlantis. Someone to make him great coffee and bring it to him, every day... dressed like that... what a luxury.
Teyla was nowhere to be seen, and Ronon had snuck off to the pub with that Gwen girl to try the “local” brew. Damn Ronon and his undeniable sex appeal. Rodney could have spent some time with Gwen himself... but more than Gwen, he'd had eyes for...
“Where's Doctor Sato?”
“If I knew the answer to that, we'd be studying the computer specs like you wanted instead of Ianto's anal-retentive pencil scribblings. Tosh's password is hard to crack. Where the hell could she be?” Dr. Harper was getting seriously steamed. He'd been nothing but impolite to Rodney all day and if Rodney were a different kind of man, he'd have punched him instead of simply attempting to belittle him.
“She's your team member, Dr. Harper,” Rodney said irritably.
“And I suppose you know exactly where your team is at this very moment? Where is Kayla? I would like to get to know her better. How do you get any work done with her tits in your face all day?”
“Oh shut up, you Neanderthal. First of all, it's TEYla, and second, she'd kick your ass into next week if you even waggled your silly suggestive eyebrows at her.”
“My eyebrows are suggestive are they?” Harper countered.
“Hey, what's this?” Rodney asked, his attention back to the task at hand. “Hmm. Not really Ancient in design, but definitely not from earth.”
“Ghost machine,” Owen replied, off-hand. “Can see the past and the future based on emotional residue. Not recommended, I must tell you.”
“Interesting. What's this?” Rodney put down the Ghost Machine and pulled out what looked like a sleekly-designed perfume bottle.
“Now that,” Owen said, moving toward Rodney quickly - too quickly, it seemed - and his hand collided with Rodney's and the bottle was spinning in slow motion, Owen's hands, long-fingered, graceful, but suddenly clumsy, were fluttering and the bottle banged on the metal desk corner and fell to the floor, leaking fluid.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Owen screamed. “It's an alien sex spray. It's highly toxic! Quick!”
Rodney should have listened to his Inner Rodney and jumped away quickly at the word toxic, but instead, he knelt down, wanting to preserve the item, wanting somehow to save it, study it, and not let it be wasted all over the floor of this creepy lab.
Owen and Rodney bumped heads and gasped, inhaling the alien gas from the broken bottle and falling back on their respective asses.
Owen spoke first.
“I'm so having you,” he panted, lust covering his face like a mask.
“You're... what?” Rodney asked, just as he felt a jolt through his body that went straight to his groin. “Not if I have you first!”
~*~
“You’re a big one... for an alien,” Gwen said, listing slightly to one side from her pub stool.
“I’m not an alien,” Ronon replied.
“What are you then?”
“Satedan. Human.”
“But you’re from another galaxy.” Gwen’s beautiful mouth expressed some bewilderment at the prospect.
“So are you,” Ronon smiled and Gwen blushed.
“Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to be insensitive.”
“You’re less so than a lot of people I’ve met from this planet.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I... oh, nevermind it,” Gwen had started to reach a hand toward Ronon, then stopped. She picked up her pint glass and drained the last of it. Ronon decided he liked the taste of beer. He'd also like to taste it from Gwen’s lips, but she had earlier been discussing her boyfriend, so that was clearly taboo.
“What?”
“Can I touch your necklace-thing... that thing around your neck?” She blushed.
Ronon assented to her request. Next, she inspected his tattoos, first his forearm, and then he let her fingers trail along the side of his neck, and when she rubbed the material of his clothing between her fingers, he gave in and kissed her. She kissed really well - tongue and teeth and plenty of enthusiasm.
“Let’s get out of here,” Ronon said.
They made it out the door and around the corner to a back alley where he pressed her up against a brick wall and covered her with his body. She gripped him fiercely and rubbed against him.
Ronon got her jeans unzipped and made her come with his fingers, knuckles brushing the damp outside of her panties before thumbing them aside. Gwen brought him around with her hand on his cock and her knee up between his legs urging him on, her tongue in his mouth doing all sorts of wonderful things.
“Alien ass,” Gwen muttered as they straightened up. “Now I see what Jack’s so worked up about.”
“Your first?” Ronon inquired.
“Um, actually, no. You’re not my first alien.”
Ronon lifted an eyebrow at her and smiled.
~*~
Jack kept kissing John as he walked him backwards into the bedroom. John saw cream-colored sheets and blankets tucked in with military precision over a wide antique four-poster bed that looked like it had never been slept in.
“Do you even live here?” John asked.
“Not really,” Jack said, between kisses. “It’s my place, but I live at Torchwood. I don’t need sleep.”
“You look pretty good for someone who doesn’t get any beauty rest.”
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Jack said with a wry smile. He stepped away to undress and John sat on the bed to remove his shoes. Jack was a true showman, and his striptease didn’t disappoint. He deftly removed cuff links from his French cuffs, and when he shrugged off his white shirt, and let it trail to the floor, it was the sexiest bit of disrobing John had ever seen. Jack was much faster than John at this sort of thing, so the minute John pulled off his t-shirt, Jack was right there, naked and helping John with his pants. Jack slid them off, stroking over and down John’s ass. They kissed again, politely not letting their cocks touch, entwining fingers together to see who was going to push whom down onto the bed.
John won. Jack probably let him.
He shoved Jack down and let him stretch out beneath his gaze. Yes, okay, Jack was gorgeous naked, his cock big and hard. Jack pulled John down too, grinning again. He pushed at John's chest and then twisted him around with his confident hands, so John ended up kneeling near Jack’s face, looking down the length of him.
John gasped at the feel of Jack’s head butting between his legs, his mouth on his balls and he was suddenly fully erect like he hadn’t been before -- but whatever, it didn’t matter, because now he was leaning forward and licking the tip of Jack’s cock.
Jack pulled John’s cock down into his mouth, and John’s concentration was shot. Jack sucked him all the way down, while John did his best to reciprocate, working his mouth around Jack’s length, not the easiest thing in the world. John figured that deep-throating was not going to be possible, much less recommended by the Surgeon General or the laws of physics - and that last one made him wonder what McKay would make of such a problem. Regardless, the issue kept him distracted enough not to shoot down Jack’s throat and end it all far too quickly. And Jack was making pleased sounds in the back of his throat that didn’t seem entirely for John’s benefit.
“Not yet,” John gasped. Jack stopped what he was doing and gracefully nuzzled John’s balls.
“Here,” he said, pushing something in John’s hands. Lube. Jack’s hands were slick already -- did he keep it under the pillow, or what? John popped the cap and spilled it over his fingers, staining the bedcover.
“Shit. Sorry.”
“It’s washable.” Jack’s voice came from between John’s thighs. “And cream-colored for a reason.”
“Smartass,” John said, right before gasping as Jack’s finger started probing him. “Dammit Jack!”
He was determined to give as good as he got, so he spread Jack’s legs and took his cock back into his mouth. He sucked as mindlessly as he could and pushed two fingers into Jack. Jack groaned and did the same to John, nosing John’s cock back into his mouth. John’s legs started to tremble.
The multitasking was killing him, John thought, as they worked on each other. His jaw was starting to complain so he pulled off and twisted his fingers inside Jack one more time.
“Fuck me, Jack,” he said, his voice not entirely even.
Jack released him carefully and sat up. “Sure?”
“Sure.” John turned around and scooted up to grab the headboard of the four-poster, his fingers finding the smooth wood perfect for gripping, and he briefly wondered about the number of fingerprints left there over the years by other lovers.
Jack rolled on a condom and tossed the wrapper and lube to the floor. “Hard,” John said. If he was going to do this, he was going to go fast and not leave any room for anything else, especially not for thinking.
Jack didn’t oblige him on that one. He rubbed John’s ass, digging in softly with his fingertips before pressing just the head of his cock in. He slowly pushed in, hands still poised on John’s ass.
“Oh God,” John said. Jack felt even bigger than he looked.
“Only halfway,” Jack said apologetically. John wanted Jack's cock all the way in, so he pushed back. The friction and burn alone would have made him come if he hadn’t taken the lead. He felt Jack up against him, finally, and Jack eased him back up toward the headboard, fingers running up and down John’s spine. “You’re so gorgeous John, so fucking amazing. So tight, so hot, God, let me fuck you,” Jack said.
John nodded his assent, and Jack pulled back and slammed forward. John’s arms faltered, and he nearly crashed headfirst into the headboard.
“Easy,” Jack said. His next thrust was gentler, and he pumped into John, crescendoing, his voice rising as he came, shuddering and still gripping John’s hips. A few sharp breaths later, he disentangled himself slowly.
John didn’t waste any time. He released the headboard and flipped onto his back. He grabbed Jack by the wrists and pulled Jack over him.
“Hey, hey, one second, let me get a condom, cowboy,” Jack said, twisting out of John’s grip and reaching for the nightstand. John grabbed the condom and ripped it open.
“Okay. Ride me. Now.”
Jack chuckled and kneeled up over John. He pulled the condom off his own soft cock and slid down without complaint. John surged up inside him. His fingers had opened Jack up earlier, but his orgasm had tightened him up again, and John felt the hot clench as Jack struggled to adjust. John thrust up into him anyway, loving the look of pleasure that crossed Jack’s beautiful face.
John dug his fingers into Jack’s biceps and pulled him down, straining up, wanting to fuck him deep, break him, even though he seemed unbreakable. Jack breathed out and placed a hand on John’s chest as he began to ride him. He slid up and down John’s cock and squeezed his knees together. John bucked, and Jack bore down, and they hit a rhythm. For several fantastic moments they were animal bodies, outside of themselves, writhing with pure instinct.
Orgasm hit John like a tidal wave knocking him off his board and pulling him under, washing his mind clean for a few blissful minutes. When he came to, Jack was wrapping him in hungry kisses, deep and soft and uncontrolled.
They cleaned up, each taking their own time and space in the bathroom, which was spotless and had two brand-new toothbrushes in the holder by the sink. John smiled and shook his head. He came back to the bed and curled up next to Jack, which was strange, since John Sheppard didn’t cuddle.
He didn’t feel the least bit worried. He didn’t feel the least bit... anything. As he drifted off, he felt Jack place a kiss on his forehead.
~*~
Jack thought about waking John before he returned to Torchwood, but instead he let him sleep. The guy had it pretty rough, from the reports Jack had managed to hack into and read with Toshiko's help. He was going to have to ask the Doctor to take him to Atlantis, if he ever saw him again.
He left a note for John in the bathroom so he wouldn’t feel abandoned, along with the number for the taxi service. He took one last look at the man in his bed, knowing the next time he saw him, he’d be back in military mission gear, standing around Torchwood like an awkward kid at a grown-up’s party. John was great in the field, a real hero, apparently, but he wasn't much for diplomatic forays on behalf of the SGC. Jack couldn’t really blame him, he was an action man himself. Jack was diplomatic because he had to be, but it wasn’t natural.
Reaching Torchwood as dawn broke over the city felt like coming home again.
Jack’s thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Ianto asleep at his desk in reception. He checked his watch. 5 a.m.
“Ianto.” Ianto looked up at him with adorable sleepy puppy eyes and Jack felt a little dagger pierce his heart. “Time to go home, my friend, all quiet on the Western front,” Jack said.
“Jack,” Ianto mumbled. “Missed you. Coffee’s not ready.”
“It’s okay, Ianto, I’ve got it. We’ll talk later, okay?”
Jack bundled Ianto off into the dawn and made his way down to the hub.
There was another surprise waiting for him in the hub. Two people were making a lot of noise in the vicinity of Owen’s desk. He was having trouble believing what he was seeing, in fact, as much as what he was hearing.
Dr. McKay was fucking Owen over his own desk... and Owen seemed to be enjoying it. A lot.
Jack let himself get several good eyefuls, vowing to also get a copy of the surveillance video for his personal library, when his eye fell on the shattered alien device.
“Quarantine!” he yelled. “The hub is contaminated! Harper!”
He made a dive for the nearest door and shut it, hitting the alarm. The last thing he needed right now was to be impaired with lust for Owen and Stargate Command’s resident genius scientist. His dick would fall off at this rate.
~*~
“I’m not sure what to say,” Rodney said.
“Say nothing, do nothing, just get the fuck out,” Owen said.
“Clumsy oaf,” Rodney muttered as he packed up the last of his gear and cast a worried glance up at Captain Harkness’ office where John had been for the last fifteen minutes, getting briefed on the “quarantine situation.”
“Worst fuck I ever had,” Owen muttered back.
“Worst three fucks you mean.”
“Right. All three. Bad. Very bad. Horrible. Do you think you’ll be back next year for our annual SGC checkup?”
“Not if I’m very, very lucky,” Rodney replied.
“Yes. Well, here’s to better luck next time,” Owen said. They tentatively shook hands and then wiped them on their pants in mock distaste.
“I’ve never seen a more suited couple,” Toshiko said from her computer station.
“I am very pleased with the relations we have made on this journey,” Teyla added, surreptitiously stroking a strand of Toshiko's hair.
Ronon sat wearily in a nearby chair. Gwen was at home with her boyfriend, and Ronon looked a little worse for wear. “I can't wait to get home,” he said. “Nothing reminds me that home is a great place than traveling to other people's homes.”
Ronon and Teyla set off first, with a promise to “Bring the car around, as they say on earth.” Ronon’s attempt at a British accent was cringe-worthy.
John finally came downstairs and with a few last peremptory goodbyes, he and Rodney stepped on the rising square of pavement, because John thought it was fun.
“If we get eaten by a pterodactyl, I’m blaming you,” Rodney said. “There’s a perfectly good regular exit to the street.”
“Oh hush now, lover boy,” John said, smirking.
“Oh God, oh God!” Rodney wailed. “Alien device! Not my fault!”
“It’s okay, buddy, no one cares.”
“I’m going to lose my job, aren’t I?”
“No, no one is going to lose their job. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine, fine. Just a little unnerved, naturally. And, I don’t remember much. What I do remember is bad enough. Oh God!”
“I, uh, didn’t know you batted for the other team,” John said.
“I don’t, I mean, not usually. Sometimes, if someone needs a pinch-hitter... oh God, what am I saying? Don’t get freaked out. I like women, mostly, I can be very hetero-normative. Really.”
“Rodney,” John said, letting his drawl linger over the vowels. “Where do you think I was last night?”
Rodney’s mind clicked over, putting the pieces of the puzzle together. He snapped his fingers. “No way.”
“Way. So now you know, and now I know, and now we will agree to keep this whole Torchwood experience off the books.”
“Deal, deal,” Rodney said quickly, and he looked over at John. He let his stare linger long enough so that John would know Rodney really meant it. John ducked his head a little and then looked back at Rodney. John was really a very attractive man. Of course Rodney knew that, everyone knew that, but he felt like he was looking at him with fresh eyes. “Huh,” Rodney said.
John smiled as they arrived on the street, and the rising sun bounced off the Millennium Centre into their eyes. He slipped on a pair of sunglasses. Ronon and Teyla pulled up in the loaned black SUV. Ronon was slumped in the passenger seat, and Teyla beamed beatifically from behind the wheel. She didn’t have a driver’s license, but she was a quick learner.
“Essentially Rodney, what happens in Torchwood, stays in Torchwood,” John said.
“That is the lamest thing I’ve ever heard,” Rodney said, but he was smiling too. “When can we come back?”
END
.
Author: Alizarin_NYC
Fandoms: SGA/Torchwood
Pairings: Jack/John, but also Tosh/Teyla, Owen/Rodney, Gwen/Ronon, hints of Rodney/John
Rating: NC-17
Beta: viciouswishes who tried to de-cliche me. All errors are mine.
Written for: My dear friend scribblinlenore because she lived to tell more tales. (Originally conceived for allvoodooanyway)
Warning: CRACK fic. Okay?
Summary: “You need this, John Sheppard, so tell me what you want. And then let me give it to you.”
“You lot are bloody stupid, aren’t you?” said Dr. Owen Harper.
“Excuse me?”
“Bloody. Stupid. As in, not even knowing your arse from your elbow.”
“I’ll have you know,” McKay said, standing up as he did so and brandishing a finger in the air,
“Nobel Prize winning physicist here. Well, if we could actually publish what we know. And besides, I live on an alien world, while you guys sit around here, picking through the garbage. In the arse - I mean ass-end of the world!”
“Shut it or I’ll rearrange your face,” Harper shouted.
“Boys,” Teyla said, looking up from where she sat with Toshiko Sato, at a computer with seven blue, blinking monitors. Teyla looked stern as did Sato.
“Who’re you calling boy?” Harper snarled. He drew up to his full height, which, John noticed, was all of not-very-tall.
McKay ignored him completely, moving forward with his data pad to continue scanning the alien artifacts that Capt. Jack Harkness had pulled from a vault for their review. The Captain - and a less military-looking Captain John had never seen - had then stomped up a set of metal stairs and closed himself in his office, further testament to his previous statements that he didn't approve of interference in his business.
John sighed and braced himself for another scene. In truth, he had had enough of McKay’s antics in the Torchwood labs, not all of them entirely his fault. Dr. Harper was at least as difficult, and a lot less intelligent. But John figured it was time to smooth things over with the Captain.
His light knock was answered immediately, and Captain Harkness loomed in the doorway. “Come in,” he said brusquely.
John sat down in an uncomfortable chair as Harkness settled into his leather one and pulled out a crystal decanter with amber liquid in it. He poured out two glasses and gave one to John.
“I’m on duty,” John said, eyeing the old fashioned glass and the other items in Harkness’ office that gave him away as a historian of some sort. Or a sentimentalist.
“Rude to decline, in this place,” Harkness said.
John complied with the unspoken order and took a sip. “Strong stuff,” he said, trying not to grimace.
Harkness’ eyes never left his face. He was looking for something, some chink in John’s armor, and keeping his mask on was both John’s strong suit and his weakness. He liked to hide, and he didn’t like people looking for him. “This is awkward for me,” he admitted. “I’m not used to the IOA’s way of handling things. I’ve never been a big fan of their directives.”
“I can see that,” Harkness said. “I’m not a big fan of your SGC or whatever it’s called, either. And now that they’ve decided to poke their noses into our business regularly, I like them even less.”
“I get that,” John said, as amicably as possible. “We’ll try to be out of your hair as soon as we can.” He rubbed at his wristband, as he always did when he felt touchy. He noticed that Harkness had an even bigger wristband.
“Take your time,” Harkness said, eyes narrowing. “And then don’t come back anytime soon.”
“Right,” John said.
“You took a man from Torchwood a few years ago. Good guy. You never gave him back.”
“We did? I mean, we didn’t?”
“Peter Grodin. You know him? How’s he doing?”
John’s mouth suddenly went dry. “He’s dead.”
“Oh.” A shadow crossed the crag of Harkness’ forehead and then cleared quickly. “That’s a real shame.”
The door opened, and John breathed a sigh of relief. A neatly dressed young man with a colorful tie came in with a coffee tray. “Tea?” he asked, but it wasn’t a question so much as an announcement. He set a cup of coffee in front of Harkness, not tea. Harkness thanked him, taking the coffee and letting his hand linger on the young man’s hand. The man stared meaningfully into Harkness’ eyes before dragging his eyes away to look at John. He took John in, measuring him head to foot, as John accepted the cup of tea, afraid of being called rude again. Then the man turned on his heel and huffed out of the office.
“Everyone's making it pretty well known we’re not welcome,” John said.
“That just now is probably not what you think,” Harkness said. “He’s just a little jealous.”
“Of what?” John asked idly.
“Of you. He thinks you’re handsome enough for me to want to fuck. And you are; it’s true.”
“What?” He watched Harkness’ face for signs that he was joking, but he wasn’t. “You and him...?”
“Sometimes. After we killed his girlfriend - well, she wasn’t his girlfriend anymore, she was a Cyber - nevermind. Anyway. He needed the comfort.”
“Okay then.”
“You’re fucking your scientist,” Harkness said.
“What? No, no, I’m not, I’m not fucking anyone. They’re my teammates, I’m not…”
“This isn’t the American military, son,” Harkness said. “You’re pinging my radar. I know what it’s like being in the American military, to a certain extent.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” John said. He rose, leaving his tea and liquor on the desk.
“Sit down, sit down,” Harkness said and again John felt compelled to obey his orders. “I didn’t mean to out you on your first visit to Torchwood. Rather, I had hoped to make you more comfortable. And it would be good to know who’s fucking who or who hopes to fuck who, before making any moves myself.”
John’s head swam. Was he that obvious about Rodney? Surely, he’d been excruciatingly careful. Did Harkness have his eye on Rodney? That thought made John cringe. What would Rodney do if this strapping, handsome man hit on him? Would he make another scene? Would he sink to his knees? John shut his eyes compulsively at the thought. No, no. It didn’t matter; he shouldn’t care.
“Hey.” Harkness pushed the tea towards him. “You’ve got a bit of jet lag, don’t you? I know Cardiff isn’t much in the way of things to do and see, but would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”
“Oh.” John’s heart picked up speed. So, not Rodney then. “Sure, sure. The airplane food was disgusting. And I think we’re about done for the day.”
Harkness grinned, beautiful and feral at the same time, and John felt his heart drop into his groin. Damn. This was problematic, indeed.
~*~
“A human. From another galaxy,” Toshiko breathed, running her hands over Teyla’s biceps and down to her fingertips, which she ghosted lightly over, before pulling Teyla’s hand to her mouth and sucking in a finger. “You don’t taste any different.”
Teyla laughed. “I have never been taste-tested before.”
“Then you should let me,” Toshiko said, looking into Teyla’s eyes. “Right now, in fact. I’ve set the vault security cameras to play a very convincing loop.”
Her eyes were liquid black and new to Teyla. She’d seen Asian earthers before - Sergeant Hariko, for one, but no one quite as beautiful and intelligent as Toshiko. The pull of the new was as exciting to Teyla as it seemed to be to Toshiko.
“I am convinced,” Teyla replied. Before Toshiko could sink to her knees, she threaded her hands in Tosh’s soft, silky hair. She held Tosh there, looking into her face. First there was lust, and then uncertainty, and then a resigned patience, when she realized that Teyla only wanted to savor the moment, to look her fill, to hold her in place so the memory and the moment wouldn’t feel rushed.
~*~
John was aware that some people looked at him as some sort of wanton and debauched pretty boy. Or at least fantasized about him that way.
He was the opposite, actually, but a lot of people kept making the mistake of thinking he was what they wanted him to be. They thought that once they got him in bed, he’d be pliable; he’d be theirs, like a pet.
As he stood at Captain Harkness’ window, looking out from his apartment over a rainy Cardiff, he worried that this would be the same. He swirled his single malt in the glass, listening to the ice clink. Jack downed his whiskey in one and came over to where John stood. They’d split a bottle of wine over dinner, but Harkness was easily absorbing the liquor while John felt it going to his head.
“It’s not an ugly city,” Harkness commented.
“No, it’s not bad.”
“Not as pretty as where you live, I’d imagine.”
John grinned. “Not even close.”
It looked as if Harkness didn't spend much time in his own place. It was furnished much like his office: antique with strange modern touches in odd places. No pictures of family or friends, no art that represented the man, no way to tell, really, who Jack Harkness was.
“What's it like out there?” Harkness asked.
“You wouldn't believe it even if I had clearance to tell you.”
“You'd be surprised.”
“Probably. What about your team? You guys work well together?” John turned from the window and found Harkness standing much closer than he'd anticipated. “You slept with them all yet?”
Harkness smiled. He clearly had a fondness for his team. “Gwen is dead sexy. I'd have shagged her, but Owen beat me to it while I was shagging Ianto. Tosh doesn't like men. She loves them - as in, with all her heart. Owen broke it first. He'll sleep with anything that's human, gotta admire that about him. But not Tosh. Never could figure that one out. She loves women too. When she lost her mate, Mary - the girl was an alien, long story -- she blamed me. But I don't generally accept the mistakes of the heart as mine. Your emotions, your issue, you take the blame.” The smile on his face closed, and he raised his eyes to John's face.
“Not very understanding of you, is it?” John asked.
“Can leaders afford to be understanding?”
“Sometimes, they can't afford not to be,” John said, thinking of all the ways he forgave his team and they forgave him. Imagine if he'd laid all the blame for Doranda at Rodney's feet? Imagine if he'd failed to offer forgiveness? The team wouldn't have survived; he'd have lost his friend and the best asset to his team. “Some things aren’t completely out of our control, am I right?”
Harkness tensed visibly. “Some things,” he said. John turned away again and stared back out the window. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Harkness -- Jack - white shirt reflected in the window as he came up behind him. He saw his own reflection too, and thought briefly of himself as prey and Jack, smiling Jack, as predator.
Not tonight, he told himself. Losing control had to be out of the question. But that didn't mean denial had to be part of it.
Then Jack was reaching around him, setting their drinks down, turning John into his arms and leaning forward. The kiss was searing, Jack's lips hot and tasting of single malt whiskey, and he opened John's mouth with his tongue. He didn't bother to pull the curtains. Jack’s hands fell to the small of John's back, tongues making deep slow rolls against each other.
It was a first date kiss: part of the conversation, part of the getting-to-know-you. Jack's erection barely brushed against John's thigh, but it was enough to give John the idea of its size and thickness and heat. He suddenly wanted it on his tongue, wanted Jack's tongue on him, wanted to see him naked and hard and on his back. John suddenly wanted to move from first base to winning the World Series.
Just as John was busy realizing that hell yes, this is what I want in a throw-caution-to-the-wind sort of way, Jack broke off the kiss. But he kept his hand on John's face, cupping it firmly.
“What do you want, John Sheppard?”
“I can have whatever I want?” John asked, somewhat breathlessly. He wanted to rethink it, wanted to regain control. Instead, he settled on compromise. “Anything?”
“I won't say no,” Jack said, “to anything, I think you know that. You need this, John, so tell me what you want. And then let me give it to you.” A car passed by outside and its headlights shone briefly in Jack's eyes, lighting up the blue in them. They glowed, almost alien, but then the car was gone and it was just a handsome face, eyes once again gray in the low light.
“Yes,” John said, as if in answer to a question. “You're right. I want this. I…” John paused. He was going to have to say it, and say it fast. “I want it all, sucking, fucking, I want you to fuck me, and I want you to ride me. Condoms, lube, and...” John waved his hand in the direction of the apartment. “I sleep here.” He took a deep breath as the flush rose up into his face. “Any questions?”
“Did you read my mind, John Sheppard?” Jack asked, pretending to be surprised.
“One more thing. We don't talk about this tomorrow, or ever. Your team is one thing; my team is another.”
“Prudes,” Jack snorted.
~*~
Rodney thumbed through the rough catalogue of artifacts, sighing with displeasure. “Don't you have this stuff on a computer somewhere?” he complained. “The dust's killing me! I'm highly allergic, I'll have you know.”
“Feel free to sod off and die then,” Dr. Harper replied. “Or go home. Everyone else has.”
Harper was right. Well, partially. There was that Yanni or Yanto guy still lurking around in crisp suit and tight tie, making Rodney coffee, which he so greatly appreciated. He thought briefly about recruiting Yanni for Atlantis. Someone to make him great coffee and bring it to him, every day... dressed like that... what a luxury.
Teyla was nowhere to be seen, and Ronon had snuck off to the pub with that Gwen girl to try the “local” brew. Damn Ronon and his undeniable sex appeal. Rodney could have spent some time with Gwen himself... but more than Gwen, he'd had eyes for...
“Where's Doctor Sato?”
“If I knew the answer to that, we'd be studying the computer specs like you wanted instead of Ianto's anal-retentive pencil scribblings. Tosh's password is hard to crack. Where the hell could she be?” Dr. Harper was getting seriously steamed. He'd been nothing but impolite to Rodney all day and if Rodney were a different kind of man, he'd have punched him instead of simply attempting to belittle him.
“She's your team member, Dr. Harper,” Rodney said irritably.
“And I suppose you know exactly where your team is at this very moment? Where is Kayla? I would like to get to know her better. How do you get any work done with her tits in your face all day?”
“Oh shut up, you Neanderthal. First of all, it's TEYla, and second, she'd kick your ass into next week if you even waggled your silly suggestive eyebrows at her.”
“My eyebrows are suggestive are they?” Harper countered.
“Hey, what's this?” Rodney asked, his attention back to the task at hand. “Hmm. Not really Ancient in design, but definitely not from earth.”
“Ghost machine,” Owen replied, off-hand. “Can see the past and the future based on emotional residue. Not recommended, I must tell you.”
“Interesting. What's this?” Rodney put down the Ghost Machine and pulled out what looked like a sleekly-designed perfume bottle.
“Now that,” Owen said, moving toward Rodney quickly - too quickly, it seemed - and his hand collided with Rodney's and the bottle was spinning in slow motion, Owen's hands, long-fingered, graceful, but suddenly clumsy, were fluttering and the bottle banged on the metal desk corner and fell to the floor, leaking fluid.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Owen screamed. “It's an alien sex spray. It's highly toxic! Quick!”
Rodney should have listened to his Inner Rodney and jumped away quickly at the word toxic, but instead, he knelt down, wanting to preserve the item, wanting somehow to save it, study it, and not let it be wasted all over the floor of this creepy lab.
Owen and Rodney bumped heads and gasped, inhaling the alien gas from the broken bottle and falling back on their respective asses.
Owen spoke first.
“I'm so having you,” he panted, lust covering his face like a mask.
“You're... what?” Rodney asked, just as he felt a jolt through his body that went straight to his groin. “Not if I have you first!”
~*~
“You’re a big one... for an alien,” Gwen said, listing slightly to one side from her pub stool.
“I’m not an alien,” Ronon replied.
“What are you then?”
“Satedan. Human.”
“But you’re from another galaxy.” Gwen’s beautiful mouth expressed some bewilderment at the prospect.
“So are you,” Ronon smiled and Gwen blushed.
“Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to be insensitive.”
“You’re less so than a lot of people I’ve met from this planet.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I... oh, nevermind it,” Gwen had started to reach a hand toward Ronon, then stopped. She picked up her pint glass and drained the last of it. Ronon decided he liked the taste of beer. He'd also like to taste it from Gwen’s lips, but she had earlier been discussing her boyfriend, so that was clearly taboo.
“What?”
“Can I touch your necklace-thing... that thing around your neck?” She blushed.
Ronon assented to her request. Next, she inspected his tattoos, first his forearm, and then he let her fingers trail along the side of his neck, and when she rubbed the material of his clothing between her fingers, he gave in and kissed her. She kissed really well - tongue and teeth and plenty of enthusiasm.
“Let’s get out of here,” Ronon said.
They made it out the door and around the corner to a back alley where he pressed her up against a brick wall and covered her with his body. She gripped him fiercely and rubbed against him.
Ronon got her jeans unzipped and made her come with his fingers, knuckles brushing the damp outside of her panties before thumbing them aside. Gwen brought him around with her hand on his cock and her knee up between his legs urging him on, her tongue in his mouth doing all sorts of wonderful things.
“Alien ass,” Gwen muttered as they straightened up. “Now I see what Jack’s so worked up about.”
“Your first?” Ronon inquired.
“Um, actually, no. You’re not my first alien.”
Ronon lifted an eyebrow at her and smiled.
~*~
Jack kept kissing John as he walked him backwards into the bedroom. John saw cream-colored sheets and blankets tucked in with military precision over a wide antique four-poster bed that looked like it had never been slept in.
“Do you even live here?” John asked.
“Not really,” Jack said, between kisses. “It’s my place, but I live at Torchwood. I don’t need sleep.”
“You look pretty good for someone who doesn’t get any beauty rest.”
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Jack said with a wry smile. He stepped away to undress and John sat on the bed to remove his shoes. Jack was a true showman, and his striptease didn’t disappoint. He deftly removed cuff links from his French cuffs, and when he shrugged off his white shirt, and let it trail to the floor, it was the sexiest bit of disrobing John had ever seen. Jack was much faster than John at this sort of thing, so the minute John pulled off his t-shirt, Jack was right there, naked and helping John with his pants. Jack slid them off, stroking over and down John’s ass. They kissed again, politely not letting their cocks touch, entwining fingers together to see who was going to push whom down onto the bed.
John won. Jack probably let him.
He shoved Jack down and let him stretch out beneath his gaze. Yes, okay, Jack was gorgeous naked, his cock big and hard. Jack pulled John down too, grinning again. He pushed at John's chest and then twisted him around with his confident hands, so John ended up kneeling near Jack’s face, looking down the length of him.
John gasped at the feel of Jack’s head butting between his legs, his mouth on his balls and he was suddenly fully erect like he hadn’t been before -- but whatever, it didn’t matter, because now he was leaning forward and licking the tip of Jack’s cock.
Jack pulled John’s cock down into his mouth, and John’s concentration was shot. Jack sucked him all the way down, while John did his best to reciprocate, working his mouth around Jack’s length, not the easiest thing in the world. John figured that deep-throating was not going to be possible, much less recommended by the Surgeon General or the laws of physics - and that last one made him wonder what McKay would make of such a problem. Regardless, the issue kept him distracted enough not to shoot down Jack’s throat and end it all far too quickly. And Jack was making pleased sounds in the back of his throat that didn’t seem entirely for John’s benefit.
“Not yet,” John gasped. Jack stopped what he was doing and gracefully nuzzled John’s balls.
“Here,” he said, pushing something in John’s hands. Lube. Jack’s hands were slick already -- did he keep it under the pillow, or what? John popped the cap and spilled it over his fingers, staining the bedcover.
“Shit. Sorry.”
“It’s washable.” Jack’s voice came from between John’s thighs. “And cream-colored for a reason.”
“Smartass,” John said, right before gasping as Jack’s finger started probing him. “Dammit Jack!”
He was determined to give as good as he got, so he spread Jack’s legs and took his cock back into his mouth. He sucked as mindlessly as he could and pushed two fingers into Jack. Jack groaned and did the same to John, nosing John’s cock back into his mouth. John’s legs started to tremble.
The multitasking was killing him, John thought, as they worked on each other. His jaw was starting to complain so he pulled off and twisted his fingers inside Jack one more time.
“Fuck me, Jack,” he said, his voice not entirely even.
Jack released him carefully and sat up. “Sure?”
“Sure.” John turned around and scooted up to grab the headboard of the four-poster, his fingers finding the smooth wood perfect for gripping, and he briefly wondered about the number of fingerprints left there over the years by other lovers.
Jack rolled on a condom and tossed the wrapper and lube to the floor. “Hard,” John said. If he was going to do this, he was going to go fast and not leave any room for anything else, especially not for thinking.
Jack didn’t oblige him on that one. He rubbed John’s ass, digging in softly with his fingertips before pressing just the head of his cock in. He slowly pushed in, hands still poised on John’s ass.
“Oh God,” John said. Jack felt even bigger than he looked.
“Only halfway,” Jack said apologetically. John wanted Jack's cock all the way in, so he pushed back. The friction and burn alone would have made him come if he hadn’t taken the lead. He felt Jack up against him, finally, and Jack eased him back up toward the headboard, fingers running up and down John’s spine. “You’re so gorgeous John, so fucking amazing. So tight, so hot, God, let me fuck you,” Jack said.
John nodded his assent, and Jack pulled back and slammed forward. John’s arms faltered, and he nearly crashed headfirst into the headboard.
“Easy,” Jack said. His next thrust was gentler, and he pumped into John, crescendoing, his voice rising as he came, shuddering and still gripping John’s hips. A few sharp breaths later, he disentangled himself slowly.
John didn’t waste any time. He released the headboard and flipped onto his back. He grabbed Jack by the wrists and pulled Jack over him.
“Hey, hey, one second, let me get a condom, cowboy,” Jack said, twisting out of John’s grip and reaching for the nightstand. John grabbed the condom and ripped it open.
“Okay. Ride me. Now.”
Jack chuckled and kneeled up over John. He pulled the condom off his own soft cock and slid down without complaint. John surged up inside him. His fingers had opened Jack up earlier, but his orgasm had tightened him up again, and John felt the hot clench as Jack struggled to adjust. John thrust up into him anyway, loving the look of pleasure that crossed Jack’s beautiful face.
John dug his fingers into Jack’s biceps and pulled him down, straining up, wanting to fuck him deep, break him, even though he seemed unbreakable. Jack breathed out and placed a hand on John’s chest as he began to ride him. He slid up and down John’s cock and squeezed his knees together. John bucked, and Jack bore down, and they hit a rhythm. For several fantastic moments they were animal bodies, outside of themselves, writhing with pure instinct.
Orgasm hit John like a tidal wave knocking him off his board and pulling him under, washing his mind clean for a few blissful minutes. When he came to, Jack was wrapping him in hungry kisses, deep and soft and uncontrolled.
They cleaned up, each taking their own time and space in the bathroom, which was spotless and had two brand-new toothbrushes in the holder by the sink. John smiled and shook his head. He came back to the bed and curled up next to Jack, which was strange, since John Sheppard didn’t cuddle.
He didn’t feel the least bit worried. He didn’t feel the least bit... anything. As he drifted off, he felt Jack place a kiss on his forehead.
~*~
Jack thought about waking John before he returned to Torchwood, but instead he let him sleep. The guy had it pretty rough, from the reports Jack had managed to hack into and read with Toshiko's help. He was going to have to ask the Doctor to take him to Atlantis, if he ever saw him again.
He left a note for John in the bathroom so he wouldn’t feel abandoned, along with the number for the taxi service. He took one last look at the man in his bed, knowing the next time he saw him, he’d be back in military mission gear, standing around Torchwood like an awkward kid at a grown-up’s party. John was great in the field, a real hero, apparently, but he wasn't much for diplomatic forays on behalf of the SGC. Jack couldn’t really blame him, he was an action man himself. Jack was diplomatic because he had to be, but it wasn’t natural.
Reaching Torchwood as dawn broke over the city felt like coming home again.
Jack’s thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Ianto asleep at his desk in reception. He checked his watch. 5 a.m.
“Ianto.” Ianto looked up at him with adorable sleepy puppy eyes and Jack felt a little dagger pierce his heart. “Time to go home, my friend, all quiet on the Western front,” Jack said.
“Jack,” Ianto mumbled. “Missed you. Coffee’s not ready.”
“It’s okay, Ianto, I’ve got it. We’ll talk later, okay?”
Jack bundled Ianto off into the dawn and made his way down to the hub.
There was another surprise waiting for him in the hub. Two people were making a lot of noise in the vicinity of Owen’s desk. He was having trouble believing what he was seeing, in fact, as much as what he was hearing.
Dr. McKay was fucking Owen over his own desk... and Owen seemed to be enjoying it. A lot.
Jack let himself get several good eyefuls, vowing to also get a copy of the surveillance video for his personal library, when his eye fell on the shattered alien device.
“Quarantine!” he yelled. “The hub is contaminated! Harper!”
He made a dive for the nearest door and shut it, hitting the alarm. The last thing he needed right now was to be impaired with lust for Owen and Stargate Command’s resident genius scientist. His dick would fall off at this rate.
~*~
“I’m not sure what to say,” Rodney said.
“Say nothing, do nothing, just get the fuck out,” Owen said.
“Clumsy oaf,” Rodney muttered as he packed up the last of his gear and cast a worried glance up at Captain Harkness’ office where John had been for the last fifteen minutes, getting briefed on the “quarantine situation.”
“Worst fuck I ever had,” Owen muttered back.
“Worst three fucks you mean.”
“Right. All three. Bad. Very bad. Horrible. Do you think you’ll be back next year for our annual SGC checkup?”
“Not if I’m very, very lucky,” Rodney replied.
“Yes. Well, here’s to better luck next time,” Owen said. They tentatively shook hands and then wiped them on their pants in mock distaste.
“I’ve never seen a more suited couple,” Toshiko said from her computer station.
“I am very pleased with the relations we have made on this journey,” Teyla added, surreptitiously stroking a strand of Toshiko's hair.
Ronon sat wearily in a nearby chair. Gwen was at home with her boyfriend, and Ronon looked a little worse for wear. “I can't wait to get home,” he said. “Nothing reminds me that home is a great place than traveling to other people's homes.”
Ronon and Teyla set off first, with a promise to “Bring the car around, as they say on earth.” Ronon’s attempt at a British accent was cringe-worthy.
John finally came downstairs and with a few last peremptory goodbyes, he and Rodney stepped on the rising square of pavement, because John thought it was fun.
“If we get eaten by a pterodactyl, I’m blaming you,” Rodney said. “There’s a perfectly good regular exit to the street.”
“Oh hush now, lover boy,” John said, smirking.
“Oh God, oh God!” Rodney wailed. “Alien device! Not my fault!”
“It’s okay, buddy, no one cares.”
“I’m going to lose my job, aren’t I?”
“No, no one is going to lose their job. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine, fine. Just a little unnerved, naturally. And, I don’t remember much. What I do remember is bad enough. Oh God!”
“I, uh, didn’t know you batted for the other team,” John said.
“I don’t, I mean, not usually. Sometimes, if someone needs a pinch-hitter... oh God, what am I saying? Don’t get freaked out. I like women, mostly, I can be very hetero-normative. Really.”
“Rodney,” John said, letting his drawl linger over the vowels. “Where do you think I was last night?”
Rodney’s mind clicked over, putting the pieces of the puzzle together. He snapped his fingers. “No way.”
“Way. So now you know, and now I know, and now we will agree to keep this whole Torchwood experience off the books.”
“Deal, deal,” Rodney said quickly, and he looked over at John. He let his stare linger long enough so that John would know Rodney really meant it. John ducked his head a little and then looked back at Rodney. John was really a very attractive man. Of course Rodney knew that, everyone knew that, but he felt like he was looking at him with fresh eyes. “Huh,” Rodney said.
John smiled as they arrived on the street, and the rising sun bounced off the Millennium Centre into their eyes. He slipped on a pair of sunglasses. Ronon and Teyla pulled up in the loaned black SUV. Ronon was slumped in the passenger seat, and Teyla beamed beatifically from behind the wheel. She didn’t have a driver’s license, but she was a quick learner.
“Essentially Rodney, what happens in Torchwood, stays in Torchwood,” John said.
“That is the lamest thing I’ve ever heard,” Rodney said, but he was smiling too. “When can we come back?”
END
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