14 (12) Valentines 8: Same Old Dance
Title: Same Old Dance
Rating: R
Warnings: Partner betrayal
Summary: Well. And here he'd thought they were more than just a fling.
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
The link I'm asking you to click today: 14 Valentines: Peace Movement
Notes: This is a very belated Christmas present for smuffster, who asked for cheating!John and a happy ending. The first was easy, the latter gave me a headache. *g*
Beta-read by Denis (I think ^^;), broet-chan, and shepsangel. Thank you!
~~~
Cover by smuffster
Same Old Dance
Well. And here he'd thought they were more than just a fling.
It hadn't even been his idea, this thing they had; no, John had been the one to approach him after a mission gone horribly wrong, pressing him against the wall and kissing him with a desperate intensity that Rodney couldn't help but give in to. He would have been stupid to say no, and he would have been lying if he'd claimed not to want it, not to want John's body line up with his own, hold him down and kiss him and make him come.
But what he'd wanted even more, what he'd loved, were the moments of intimacy, the shared looks, the smiles, the quiet companionship. And the arguments, of course; how could you not love someone who gave as good as they took, who let you win with a smirk and made you lose with a smile to take away the sting? It had made him feel like he belonged, and for all he was usually bad with relating to others, he'd cherished that.
Obviously, John's… Sheppard's view of their relationship wasn't quite the same.
Rodney closed the door on Sheppard and the redhead, closed the door on naked, sweaty people who were so involved with what they were doing they hadn't even noticed him, and walked away.
~~~
He avoided Sheppard in the mess hall, which earned him a puzzled blink. He didn't want to go exploring the city in his free time, which earned him a frown. When he turned down the invitation for a team-night-for-two for the fourth time in a row, Sheppard got pissed.
He cornered Rodney in his lab, late at night, long after everyone else had left.
"What the hell is your problem, Rodney?"
Rodney didn't look at him, concentrating instead on the immensely important test program he had running on his screen.
"Nothing. What's yours?"
"Don't give me that shit. I want to know what's wrong."
"Yes, well, shame we don't always get what we want, right, Colonel?"
Sheppard's hand on his arm, turning him around, and Rodney clenched his own hands so hard his nails dug into his palm, just to keep himself from lashing out.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sheppard demanded, his whole stance one of righteous indignation.
"It means that whatever you thought was happening between us, won't happen anymore. It means I've decided not to waste my precious time on the likes of you, Sheppard; now, if you'll excuse me, the decent people among us have work to do," Rodney said, gritting his teeth. Sheppard stared at him, his face flushed with anger.
"Just who the fuck do you think you are, McKay?"
Rodney exploded, yanking his arm out of Sheppard's grasp.
"I'm the one who had his, his penis to the hilt up your ass, Colonel! I'm the one you begged to make you come!" Sheppard flinched at that, like someone might hear them, and Rodney sneered. "What I am not going to be is someone to be ashamed of. And that's what you are, so repressed that you have to excuse your, your despicable homosexual encounter by proving to yourself that you're still a stud, and ruining what could have been a good thing. What was a good thing," he added, suddenly tired.
"Rodney-"
"That's Dr. McKay to you, Colonel," Rodney interrupted him. "And now excuse me, I've got work to do."
He turned back to his program, back to things that were logical and predictable and safe. There was a moment of silence, then Sheppard let out a long, slow breath.
"You saw us."
"Yes. Yes, I saw you, and believe me when I say I hardly ever felt so foolish in my life. How many others, Colonel?" Rodney asked the screen. "How many times did you seek your physical gratification somewhere else while I was thinking we actually shared a connection?"
"It wasn't like that," Sheppard said quietly, "it didn't mean anything," and Rodney shook his head at the sheer stupidity of that statement.
"What, you think that makes it better, that it 'didn't mean anything' to you? There are no grey areas in cheating, Colonel. One either does it, or one doesn't. You did."
He listened to the soft sigh behind him, the quiet rustle of fabric as Sheppard moved. Then footsteps, moving away, doors closing behind them, and Rodney closed his eyes against the emptiness of his lab.
~~~
After that, Sheppard didn't try to talk to him again if it wasn't job-related. Rodney immersed himself in his work, and told himself he didn't miss anything.
Why would he, when there hadn't been anything to miss in the first place?
Their missions weren't any fun anymore. Sheppard was silent, Rodney concentrated on his energy readings, and both of them pretended not to notice the worried looks that crossed between Teyla and Ronon. They didn't say anything, though, probably waiting for them to regain their footing, and Rodney didn't know how to tell them it wouldn't happen, that you couldn't get back to your feet if there was no ground to stand on.
Ironically, he'd just come up with that metaphor when they walked straight into an earthquake.
They had been exploring some tunnels, following what Rodney had thought were rather promising readings, and though he didn't think he'd ever run that fast in his life, it still wasn't fast enough. Around him, the world was shaking, a large boulder crashing down to block his path, and while he was still looking for a way around it, another rock smashed into the back of his knees. Rodney yelled as the sudden pain made his legs give out, then something hard hit his shoulders with enough force to send white-hot pain up his spine and into his skull, and then for a while, there was nothing.
He woke to darkness, dust, and voices in his ear, asking if he was all right, and Rodney let out a short, coughing laugh, because he very much wasn't. He was lying on his back somehow, rocks underneath and yet more piling up above him, pinning his legs, his arms, giving him barely enough room to breathe. The taste of blood filled his mouth; he'd probably bitten his tongue when he hit the ground, and now felt like a raw lump of swollen flesh trapped behind his teeth. His whole body was aching and something wet and warm was running down his right arm. He knew he'd been lucky not to be crushed to death, so he didn't feel much like complaining, although the way his arm kept bleeding couldn't be good.
He only wished the voices would go away. Partly because all they were reporting was a distinct lack of progress, but mostly because Sheppard kept talking whenever there wasn't something new about heavy machinery and Dr. Singh's geostatic prognosis of the hour.
Sheppard was babbling, actually, breathless whispers on what Rodney assumed was a private channel, "just hang in there, buddy, okay? We'll get you out, Singh's working on it, but you've got to hang in there. Beckett's not too happy with the readings he's getting from you."
And just what was Rodney supposed to do about that? All he could do was breathe, trapped underneath several tons of rock and debris in a very small space, and oh, oh god…
The world faded out into the rolling dizziness of claustrophobia. Rodney's chest ached as he started to hyperventilate, clinging to the small string of reality that was Sheppard's familiar voice in his ear, reminding him that they were looking for him, they were working on it, they were getting him out, out, out! His fingers clawed futilely at the stone around them, scraping fingernails breaking as they sought for a little bit of space, a little draft of air. Rodney's heart was pounding so hard that for one hysterical moment, he thought the Wraith could hear it several solar systems over - and then he bit down hard on his aching tongue. The pain made his eyes water, but it pulled him back into his own head, and after a few, deep breaths, Rodney had regained a shaky control over himself.
"-sorry, you hear me? I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you, just-" Sheppard was saying, voice cracking, and Rodney could barely hear it over the sounds of rocks being dragged away. The rescue team had to be close now. "Just hang in there, let me make it up to you, please. Rodney, please."
Breathing was becoming difficult. He didn't know if it was because he'd used up his oxygen or from the blood loss, but the world got fuzzy again. Then there was light, and yet more voices, and Sheppard's hands running over Rodney's body as if to make sure he was still there, and that hurt.
Rodney blinked up at him, into a face that was pale and dirt-streaked and worried, and realised he finally got to say what he'd wanted to say the whole time he'd been trapped under tons of rock and debris, Sheppard's voice in his ear.
Rodney, please.
"Fuck you," he rasped.
And passed out.
~~~
When Rodney woke up, it was to the cool cleanliness of the infirmary, and to Sheppard sitting on a chair next to him, staring into nothing.
"The thing is," he began without looking at Rodney, "I thought we were just casual. Convenient. I didn't… really think about it." He took a deep breath. "You're not the type for casual, I should have known that. But I blew it. I hurt you, and believe me, that was the last thing I ever wanted."
He met Rodney's eyes, and Rodney was amazed at the desolation in Sheppard's gaze.
"I miss you. Never thought I would, but I do. I know it's my fault." John paused. "I'm sorry."
Rodney said nothing, and John nodded. He stood up, opened his mouth like he wanted to say something else, but nothing came out. Instead, he gave another short nod, and turned. Rodney watched John leave, shoulders so straight it looked like he would break any moment, and it made him feel… hollow. Sick.
He didn't like that feeling.
"I want chocolate."
John stopped two steps from the infirmary doors, hands balled into fists, not turning around. Rodney could almost imagine his face: eyes closed, listening.
"And coffee, the good one," Rodney went on, "and your desserts for at least a year. Oh, and I really think you owe me that Tom Baker Doctor Who Set I know you've been hiding."
John let out a long shaky breath. With a few long strides, he was back at Rodney's bedside, where he hesitated, his face a mixture of pain and relief and gratitude as he plucked some invisible lint from Rodney's blanket, like he didn't dare touch yet.
"I got it for you," he said hoarsely, and Rodney shifted so his arm was nudging John's fingers. They were cold, and he wanted to warm them, but-
"If this happens ever again-"
"It won't," John interrupted him, and Rodney made a face.
"If it does-"
"Rodney." John picked up his hand and squeezed, hard. "It won't."
Rodney nodded, and John looked left and right before leaning down for a brief kiss.
He'd missed this, the touch of John's lips against his own. It was familiar and kind of soothing, warm, almost enough to make him forget the sight of John tangled up in alien sheets, fingers buried in silky red hair. Almost enough to make him close his eyes and trust this feeling he hadn't managed to get rid of, to trust John. Almost.
John straightened up again and gave him a small smile that looked impossibly sweet. "See you when you get out of here?"
Rodney swallowed around his sudden nausea. "Well, I can't see how we'd possibly avoid that, being on the same team and all, but yes. I'd like that," he allowed graciously. There was a lump in his throat belying his big words; it tightened when John squeezed his hand again.
"Just… go," he croaked, "before I embarrass myself."
John nodded, still smiling that sweet little smile that made Rodney's heart beat faster and looking at least five years younger.
"Yeah. Later, then."
"Yeah."
There was a slight bounce in John's step as he walked away this time, a sense of relaxation that hadn't been there for quite a while. It was kind of nice, to see it again. And still…
Rodney told himself he was being stupid. John had apologised. He had promised. And for John Sheppard, a promise was something nearly sacred, so Rodney should have been able to believe it. But he couldn't. There was a niggling doubt in the back of his mind, a small voice chanting, just a fling.
Perhaps John didn't know it, but he would be on trial for a long time yet. Possibly forever.
Rodney closed his eyes and sighed as he settled back against the pillows. Relationships were so exhausting, he honestly didn't know why he even bothered.
From one breath to the next, he was asleep.
~~~
Additional Notes: I know, it was supposed to have a happy ending. And this is happy. At least as happy as I could make it and still believe it's possible.
Rating: R
Warnings: Partner betrayal
Summary: Well. And here he'd thought they were more than just a fling.
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
The link I'm asking you to click today: 14 Valentines: Peace Movement
Notes: This is a very belated Christmas present for smuffster, who asked for cheating!John and a happy ending. The first was easy, the latter gave me a headache. *g*
Beta-read by Denis (I think ^^;), broet-chan, and shepsangel. Thank you!
~~~
Cover by smuffster
Same Old Dance
Well. And here he'd thought they were more than just a fling.
It hadn't even been his idea, this thing they had; no, John had been the one to approach him after a mission gone horribly wrong, pressing him against the wall and kissing him with a desperate intensity that Rodney couldn't help but give in to. He would have been stupid to say no, and he would have been lying if he'd claimed not to want it, not to want John's body line up with his own, hold him down and kiss him and make him come.
But what he'd wanted even more, what he'd loved, were the moments of intimacy, the shared looks, the smiles, the quiet companionship. And the arguments, of course; how could you not love someone who gave as good as they took, who let you win with a smirk and made you lose with a smile to take away the sting? It had made him feel like he belonged, and for all he was usually bad with relating to others, he'd cherished that.
Obviously, John's… Sheppard's view of their relationship wasn't quite the same.
Rodney closed the door on Sheppard and the redhead, closed the door on naked, sweaty people who were so involved with what they were doing they hadn't even noticed him, and walked away.
~~~
He avoided Sheppard in the mess hall, which earned him a puzzled blink. He didn't want to go exploring the city in his free time, which earned him a frown. When he turned down the invitation for a team-night-for-two for the fourth time in a row, Sheppard got pissed.
He cornered Rodney in his lab, late at night, long after everyone else had left.
"What the hell is your problem, Rodney?"
Rodney didn't look at him, concentrating instead on the immensely important test program he had running on his screen.
"Nothing. What's yours?"
"Don't give me that shit. I want to know what's wrong."
"Yes, well, shame we don't always get what we want, right, Colonel?"
Sheppard's hand on his arm, turning him around, and Rodney clenched his own hands so hard his nails dug into his palm, just to keep himself from lashing out.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sheppard demanded, his whole stance one of righteous indignation.
"It means that whatever you thought was happening between us, won't happen anymore. It means I've decided not to waste my precious time on the likes of you, Sheppard; now, if you'll excuse me, the decent people among us have work to do," Rodney said, gritting his teeth. Sheppard stared at him, his face flushed with anger.
"Just who the fuck do you think you are, McKay?"
Rodney exploded, yanking his arm out of Sheppard's grasp.
"I'm the one who had his, his penis to the hilt up your ass, Colonel! I'm the one you begged to make you come!" Sheppard flinched at that, like someone might hear them, and Rodney sneered. "What I am not going to be is someone to be ashamed of. And that's what you are, so repressed that you have to excuse your, your despicable homosexual encounter by proving to yourself that you're still a stud, and ruining what could have been a good thing. What was a good thing," he added, suddenly tired.
"Rodney-"
"That's Dr. McKay to you, Colonel," Rodney interrupted him. "And now excuse me, I've got work to do."
He turned back to his program, back to things that were logical and predictable and safe. There was a moment of silence, then Sheppard let out a long, slow breath.
"You saw us."
"Yes. Yes, I saw you, and believe me when I say I hardly ever felt so foolish in my life. How many others, Colonel?" Rodney asked the screen. "How many times did you seek your physical gratification somewhere else while I was thinking we actually shared a connection?"
"It wasn't like that," Sheppard said quietly, "it didn't mean anything," and Rodney shook his head at the sheer stupidity of that statement.
"What, you think that makes it better, that it 'didn't mean anything' to you? There are no grey areas in cheating, Colonel. One either does it, or one doesn't. You did."
He listened to the soft sigh behind him, the quiet rustle of fabric as Sheppard moved. Then footsteps, moving away, doors closing behind them, and Rodney closed his eyes against the emptiness of his lab.
~~~
After that, Sheppard didn't try to talk to him again if it wasn't job-related. Rodney immersed himself in his work, and told himself he didn't miss anything.
Why would he, when there hadn't been anything to miss in the first place?
Their missions weren't any fun anymore. Sheppard was silent, Rodney concentrated on his energy readings, and both of them pretended not to notice the worried looks that crossed between Teyla and Ronon. They didn't say anything, though, probably waiting for them to regain their footing, and Rodney didn't know how to tell them it wouldn't happen, that you couldn't get back to your feet if there was no ground to stand on.
Ironically, he'd just come up with that metaphor when they walked straight into an earthquake.
They had been exploring some tunnels, following what Rodney had thought were rather promising readings, and though he didn't think he'd ever run that fast in his life, it still wasn't fast enough. Around him, the world was shaking, a large boulder crashing down to block his path, and while he was still looking for a way around it, another rock smashed into the back of his knees. Rodney yelled as the sudden pain made his legs give out, then something hard hit his shoulders with enough force to send white-hot pain up his spine and into his skull, and then for a while, there was nothing.
He woke to darkness, dust, and voices in his ear, asking if he was all right, and Rodney let out a short, coughing laugh, because he very much wasn't. He was lying on his back somehow, rocks underneath and yet more piling up above him, pinning his legs, his arms, giving him barely enough room to breathe. The taste of blood filled his mouth; he'd probably bitten his tongue when he hit the ground, and now felt like a raw lump of swollen flesh trapped behind his teeth. His whole body was aching and something wet and warm was running down his right arm. He knew he'd been lucky not to be crushed to death, so he didn't feel much like complaining, although the way his arm kept bleeding couldn't be good.
He only wished the voices would go away. Partly because all they were reporting was a distinct lack of progress, but mostly because Sheppard kept talking whenever there wasn't something new about heavy machinery and Dr. Singh's geostatic prognosis of the hour.
Sheppard was babbling, actually, breathless whispers on what Rodney assumed was a private channel, "just hang in there, buddy, okay? We'll get you out, Singh's working on it, but you've got to hang in there. Beckett's not too happy with the readings he's getting from you."
And just what was Rodney supposed to do about that? All he could do was breathe, trapped underneath several tons of rock and debris in a very small space, and oh, oh god…
The world faded out into the rolling dizziness of claustrophobia. Rodney's chest ached as he started to hyperventilate, clinging to the small string of reality that was Sheppard's familiar voice in his ear, reminding him that they were looking for him, they were working on it, they were getting him out, out, out! His fingers clawed futilely at the stone around them, scraping fingernails breaking as they sought for a little bit of space, a little draft of air. Rodney's heart was pounding so hard that for one hysterical moment, he thought the Wraith could hear it several solar systems over - and then he bit down hard on his aching tongue. The pain made his eyes water, but it pulled him back into his own head, and after a few, deep breaths, Rodney had regained a shaky control over himself.
"-sorry, you hear me? I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you, just-" Sheppard was saying, voice cracking, and Rodney could barely hear it over the sounds of rocks being dragged away. The rescue team had to be close now. "Just hang in there, let me make it up to you, please. Rodney, please."
Breathing was becoming difficult. He didn't know if it was because he'd used up his oxygen or from the blood loss, but the world got fuzzy again. Then there was light, and yet more voices, and Sheppard's hands running over Rodney's body as if to make sure he was still there, and that hurt.
Rodney blinked up at him, into a face that was pale and dirt-streaked and worried, and realised he finally got to say what he'd wanted to say the whole time he'd been trapped under tons of rock and debris, Sheppard's voice in his ear.
Rodney, please.
"Fuck you," he rasped.
And passed out.
~~~
When Rodney woke up, it was to the cool cleanliness of the infirmary, and to Sheppard sitting on a chair next to him, staring into nothing.
"The thing is," he began without looking at Rodney, "I thought we were just casual. Convenient. I didn't… really think about it." He took a deep breath. "You're not the type for casual, I should have known that. But I blew it. I hurt you, and believe me, that was the last thing I ever wanted."
He met Rodney's eyes, and Rodney was amazed at the desolation in Sheppard's gaze.
"I miss you. Never thought I would, but I do. I know it's my fault." John paused. "I'm sorry."
Rodney said nothing, and John nodded. He stood up, opened his mouth like he wanted to say something else, but nothing came out. Instead, he gave another short nod, and turned. Rodney watched John leave, shoulders so straight it looked like he would break any moment, and it made him feel… hollow. Sick.
He didn't like that feeling.
"I want chocolate."
John stopped two steps from the infirmary doors, hands balled into fists, not turning around. Rodney could almost imagine his face: eyes closed, listening.
"And coffee, the good one," Rodney went on, "and your desserts for at least a year. Oh, and I really think you owe me that Tom Baker Doctor Who Set I know you've been hiding."
John let out a long shaky breath. With a few long strides, he was back at Rodney's bedside, where he hesitated, his face a mixture of pain and relief and gratitude as he plucked some invisible lint from Rodney's blanket, like he didn't dare touch yet.
"I got it for you," he said hoarsely, and Rodney shifted so his arm was nudging John's fingers. They were cold, and he wanted to warm them, but-
"If this happens ever again-"
"It won't," John interrupted him, and Rodney made a face.
"If it does-"
"Rodney." John picked up his hand and squeezed, hard. "It won't."
Rodney nodded, and John looked left and right before leaning down for a brief kiss.
He'd missed this, the touch of John's lips against his own. It was familiar and kind of soothing, warm, almost enough to make him forget the sight of John tangled up in alien sheets, fingers buried in silky red hair. Almost enough to make him close his eyes and trust this feeling he hadn't managed to get rid of, to trust John. Almost.
John straightened up again and gave him a small smile that looked impossibly sweet. "See you when you get out of here?"
Rodney swallowed around his sudden nausea. "Well, I can't see how we'd possibly avoid that, being on the same team and all, but yes. I'd like that," he allowed graciously. There was a lump in his throat belying his big words; it tightened when John squeezed his hand again.
"Just… go," he croaked, "before I embarrass myself."
John nodded, still smiling that sweet little smile that made Rodney's heart beat faster and looking at least five years younger.
"Yeah. Later, then."
"Yeah."
There was a slight bounce in John's step as he walked away this time, a sense of relaxation that hadn't been there for quite a while. It was kind of nice, to see it again. And still…
Rodney told himself he was being stupid. John had apologised. He had promised. And for John Sheppard, a promise was something nearly sacred, so Rodney should have been able to believe it. But he couldn't. There was a niggling doubt in the back of his mind, a small voice chanting, just a fling.
Perhaps John didn't know it, but he would be on trial for a long time yet. Possibly forever.
Rodney closed his eyes and sighed as he settled back against the pillows. Relationships were so exhausting, he honestly didn't know why he even bothered.
From one breath to the next, he was asleep.
~~~
Additional Notes: I know, it was supposed to have a happy ending. And this is happy. At least as happy as I could make it and still believe it's possible.