TEAM PLAY: square peg, "Sunday Morning Coming Down"
Title: Sunday Morning Coming Down
Author: schmidttykr
Team: Play
Prompt: square peg
Pairing(s): McKay/Sheppard; McKay/Keller (established)
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Notes: I'm obviously grateful (in more ways than one) to my betas half_elf_lost and polly_b. I appreciate your help. Also thanks to my fellow Team Play members, shakespherical for the title, and the McShep Match organisers.
Author’s Notes: Title from the song Sunday Morning Coming Down by Kris Kristofferson. Heartfelt thanks to Team Play for all their support. Beta’d by the ever helpful djaddict.
Disclaimer: The characters and universe are the property MGM Television Entertainment, Stargate Productions, and NBC / Universal. This fic is meant solely for entertainment purposes and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Two years had passed since the expedition had been forced out of Atlantis, and most of her former citizens had started to move on and readapt to life on Earth, save John.
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John had always been an early riser, even during the lazy teenage years, and his two decades in the USAF left him with the habit of waking up at the slightest noise. This tendency of his had only gotten worse since returning to Earth. For one, the sounds were all wrong - the constant noise of trains and airplanes and traffic boxed him in, making sleep impossible. It got a little better after Teyla gave him a white noise machine with ocean settings, but then he noticed the smells. He lived near enough the ocean to catch hints of it on the breeze, but it was more often than not blocked by exhaust, hot pavement, the cigarette smoke that permeated his walls, and so many other smells that were completely alien. Even the air felt different, filmier maybe, thinner, toxic.
Two years had passed since the expedition had been forced out of Atlantis, and most of her former citizens had started to move on. Ronon lived near John, although his studio was much nicer, likely due to Amelia’s influence. Although Ronon worked with the SGC, he was on a sabbatical of sorts, and was currently attending Berkley (on the SGC dime, of course). Teyla had stayed on earth for a little while, but when she was offered a spot on the Daedalus’ final trip to Pegasus, she had jumped at the chance to go home. Rodney was sharing a fairly nice, albeit expensive apartment with Jennifer. They both worked at the SGC. Everyone suspected that their refusal to leave the bay area was a major factor in the SGC opening a satellite branch out of San Francisco, and John privately suspected that Rodney was directly responsible for John still having a place there, directly under General O’Neil. He had honestly expected redeployment after returning to Earth, so being invited on as a permanent member of the new base left him flummoxed and a little raw.
The first major adjustment that John had to make was being separated from Rodney, which had caught him off guard. Sure, they saw each other at work fairly often, but after spending so much time virtually in each other’s pockets it was odd to not have to fight him for coffee or pudding in the morning, or to be able to saunter into Rodney’s lab or quarters at all hours for a good wind-up. Rodney had become a constant, in a way, and his absence left John off kilter, especially at the strangest times - when making Jell-O, or when playing the guitar, late at night when he was alone but for his thoughts.
His apartment was small, and his lease was on a month-by-month basis. The kitchen was negligible and his air conditioning never worked, but he had a small balcony of his own that was pretty much perfect for watching the sunset with a beer and a book. He had very little in the way of furnishings - partly because he was usually at work, even if his relationship to the SGC was tempestuous at best - and partly because it felt off. He knew Atlantis was gone, and that he would likely never see it again, but... he had been happy there. Now it was gone, and things were back to how they were before, except they didn’t fit so well anymore. In Antarctica, the quiet and the solitude had been comfortable, and if he hadn’t been happy he had at least been content. He had spent the past two years trying to recapture that feeling.
Some days, it wasn’t so bad. John would wake up and go about his day. He’d go jogging with Ronon in the morning, bother Rodney periodically, miss Teyla like hell, and somehow do his job well enough so as to not get shitcanned. On the days when he didn’t make plans with Rodney to kick his ass at videogames or race their remote controlled cars, he’d go back to his apartment and read or play guitar - revisiting the sweet melodies he learned from his mother a lifetime ago, or plucking out the well loved tunes of Jennings, or Kristofferson, or Cash - biding his time until sleep, and start the cycle again the next day. On nice days, or on dreary days when John didn’t care if he got rained on or not, he’d sit on the cheap camping chair on his balcony and play for the birds. Sometimes he sang, even though he knew his voice was hardly something to write home about. ‘Reedy’ was the closest to a compliment he had ever been paid in that regard, but damn it, he was alone on his own goddamned balcony and he’d sing if he wanted to.
Other days were worse. Being separated from Atlantis always burned but on these days it was a physical pain, and by god he missed the hum in her walls and in his veins. He would run instead of jog, pushing himself as hard as he could. On these days, John still bothered Rodney - bothered him more than usual, to be honest - emailing stupid jokes or stories, or calling too often, or having marmalade delivered in bulk - until Rodney would call and tell him to stop being an asshole, thank you, and that some people have actual work to do, with bigger things on the line than whether General O’Neil gets his coffee or not, and even if Earth admittedly wasn’t great, it was still a bad idea to destroy it, at least while they were still living there.
To his credit, Rodney did try to be supportive, in his own way. When they were both free, John and Rodney had standing plans for what Rodney called very important intellectual pursuits, but what was in reality a marathon session of Left 4 Dead 2, pizza, and the best Canadian beer Rodney could find. By default they wound up at Rodney and Keller’s place due partly to McKay’s purported aversion to John’s apartment, but mostly because Rodney had splurged and bought a much nicer TV.
***
“Your ass is mine, Sheppard,” Rodney cackled. John didn’t answer, figuring that shooting McKay in the head was an elegant answer on its own. “Oh, very mature, Colonel. Really, you once again set my mind retroactively at ease by reminding me that you were once in charge of my safety. It’s a wonder you didn’t accidentally set fire to us the first day.” John figured he was excused in shooting Rodney again, gloating silently. Rodney glared more sharply, and opened his mouth to start complaining, which John took as another invitation to shoot. John thought he saw Rodney’s eye twitch, but it might have just been wishful thinking.
“Oops,” he said in is best attempt at sweetness as Rodney sputtered in indignation.
“You bastard! Cheater! Cheating bastard!”
“Rodney!” Jennifer admonished as she entered the room, removing her coat. “That’s no way to treat a guest. Hello, John, don’t mind me,” she said in greeting before heading down the hall to the bedroom. John nodded in return but didn’t quite meet Keller’s eyes. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Keller, he did. Jennifer made Rodney happy. And he wanted Rodney to be happy. He didn’t need to be a math savant to see the answer to that equation.
It was just-he had thought - there had been...something between him and McKay. He was pretty sure of it. Of course, they were friends. He liked to think - good friends. And before they were friends, they respected each other, in their own way. Granted, their foundation for respect was built on shooting one another, impromptu competitions over Batman trivia, and snark. So. Friends. And he had thought maybe more. But then Jennifer came, and Rodney, well. Rodney wasn’t shy about his preference for blondes. And so, John did what he had always done when it came to these sorts of things. He pushed it aside, along with everything else it didn’t seem worthwhile to think about, and continued on doing what needed getting done. If he thought about Rodney more than was perhaps proper, if he still felt warm when Rodney paid him attention, well, that was no one’s business but his own. His relationship with Rodney went mostly unchanged, and he still had the team, which was a lot. More than John ever really expected to have.
To add to his discomfort, Rodney wasn’t the same when she was around. He was less.....Rodneyish. It was unsettling. He was nice, for one. Well, nice for Rodney, so while he was still at least a little acerbic, he rarely called people morons or idiots. Worse, he tried to avoid arguing, which John thought was just rude.
The night was still young, but experience had taught him that now was the time to leave. Being a third wheel was never a particularly enjoyable way to spend an evening, after all.
“So. I should probably get going.”
“What? Already? But….Hmph. Of course you’re leaving now, just as I’m about to turn this around and kick your ass.”
“Sure. Keep telling yourself that, McKay,” John drawled as he bent down to tie his boots. He kept his goodbyes brief, and started the walk home.
***
The next afternoon, John was virtually vibrating with self-satisfaction as he called Rodney at his office.
“Hey, Rodney, guess what?”
“I don’t know, Sheppard, you’re going to hang up so some of us can get back to important life saving research? What’s that - just a second, someone’s at my door.” John heard the sounds of Rodney complaining as he maneuvered through the various piles of whatever he was studying to answer the impatient knocks. He smirked as Rodney harangued the delivery man, and broke into a grin when Rodney came back on the line.
“Why do I suspect you have something to do with this, Sheppard? Aside from the fact that you seem to delight in sending me crap, which, fine, it’s your money, but marmalade? Really? I mean, that’s not even creative. And what is this - oh.”
“Got myself one, too.”
“Of course you did. And I bet you already started cheating.” John heard the sounds of packaging being removed, followed by the whirr of a remote controlled car.
“Wanna meet up and race ‘em tonight?”
“Are you kidding, I mean, look at what she can do. Who’s going to help me beat Sheppard into a pulpy weepy mess?” Rodney cooed - cooed. “Oh. But. I - Jennifer and I are going to...something or other. Tomorrow afternoon?”
“Can’t. I’m taking Ronon to see monster trucks. You free tomorrow night?”
“You two are children, I swear to god. And yes, I’m free.”
“Tomorrow night it is,” John drawled, as he hung up. He smiled to himself as he could feel Rodney, in his lab, derisively rolling his eyes. He spent the rest of the day making a plan to make sure his car blew Rodney’s right out of the water.
***
John’s steps echoed as he patrolled Atlantis. The stench of death was everywhere, and behind him, in the heart of the city, something banged. He tried to run, but he was so slow. The banging was louder, closer, and it was calling after him in an ungodly shriek, “John! JOOOOOOHN! Colonel Fucking Sheppard, answer your goddamn door before your neighbors, who, might I add, seem to be lacking in neighborly spirit, call the police.” John blinked as he realized that the ungodly shrieking was real, and very familiar. He shook away the dream as he grabbed his shirt and stumbled to the door.
“Rodney?” he asked, squinting at McKay as he braced himself against the doorframe. McKay pushed past him, into the apartment, as John shot apologetic looks to 4b and 4d. He turned back to look at McKay, taking in the rumpled clothing (same as from earlier, he noted), the more-agitated than usual air, and the subtle smell of alcohol. “What are you doing here? It’s -Jesus, it’s four in the morning. What happened?”
Rodney suddenly seemed very interested in a stray thread on his trousers. “I’m aware, as are you, no doubt, that you have a couch. A shitty, horrible couch, but a serviceable couch nonetheless. I was wondering if I could use it, or better, if you could use it and if I could take your bed, which I realize could be considered rude but I really do have a bad back and I am pretty sure your pile of upholstery and death would kill me and -“
“Rodney, slow down. Now, what’s going on?” John was tired, and confused, and a little offended on behalf of his couch. But Rodney was clearly upset so John thought he would go the true friend route. “Now, tell me why you’re trying to get into my bed?” Unfortunately, Rodney’s irritated glare only lasted a second before sinking back into gloom.
“Jennifer and I... We - that is, she and I decided that. Well. We broke up.” Rodney flashed a despondent look at John. “Jennifer and I broke up, and I needed a place to stay, so I came here. But, if it’s a problem, I could call Ronon ...”
“Not a problem. C’mon, let’s get you settled.” John put a tentative arm around Rodney’s shoulders as he guided him to the bedroom. “Did you bring anything? Want me to get anything from your car?”
“No. I. I’ll arrange to get everything tomorrow. Or, we’ll have to talk, I guess.” Rodney sighed. “I’ve never had... I mean, it’s new to me. I’ve never had to split up stuff before. Naturally, I’ll take what I paid for?” Rodney looked up, uncertain.
John shrugged. “Don’t ask me. When Nancy and I split, she took it all. Easier, that way. And I wasn’t around, so I didn’t have much use for it all, I guess.” He felt a little raw at that admission.
“Of course. You really never let a chance go by to sacrifice yourself, do you?” Rodney frowned. “I’ll need to find a new place.”
“Rodney....you can, you know. Stay here. As long as you need to. I have a couch that won’t sleep on itself.”
“Yes. Well. I still say you should take the couch.”
“Rodney.” John drawled irratably, although his tone was betrayed by the grin he couldn’t hide.
“Fine, Colonel. I suppose we can discuss the matter later. Although, I hope you know that this merits a pointed non-thanks in my Nobel acceptance speech.” Rodney smirked a little in response to John’s glare.
“C’mon, McKay. Let’s get you ready for bed.”
***
Falling asleep that night turned out to be easier said than done. John capitulated, as he knew he would, and let Rodney take the bed. It was for the best because his couch really did turn out to be terrible. He doubted he would ever have heard the end of it, had Rodney been forced to set up camp in the living room. He finally gave up the fight and turned on the television. The volume was low, but John had a suspicion that not even C4 detonating next to Rodney’s bed would wake the man. He surfed the channels, avoiding infomercials on principle, which actually cut out most of the viewing options. Eventually he settled on a sitcom from the 80s he vaguely remembered. He laughed a little as he recognized one of the actresses, who he assumed was supposed to be awkward and gawky, as the star from a popular show about three? - four? women living in New York or LA or something like that. He hadn’t paid that much attention - living in another galaxy really messed with his pop culture knowledge.
“Couldn’t sleep?” John looked over his shoulder at Rodney and gave a small shake of his head. “Yeah. Same here,” Rodney answered needlessly. He wandered over to the fridge and grabbed John’s leftover pizza from….sometime.
“Help yourself, Rodney,” John groused. Rodney either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore him as he plopped down on the couch next to John.
“So. The thing is, Jennifer and I broke up.” Rodney started.
“You mentioned that.”
“I mean, we broke up. I didn’t dump her, she didn’t dump me, not that it really makes it any better, mind you, but it was a mutual, relatively amicable decision, really.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Granted, she seemed unhappy with tonight. We had dinner with her parents, did I mention that? Well. Um. It didn’t go well. Her dad seems to hate me, really and truly, why, I have no idea. I might have accidentally implied that medicine wasn’t real science? But regardless of tonight, we were probably going to come to this eventually. I mean, she wants kids. Soon. I like Toren and Madison and everything, but part of the charm is that you get to give them back when they start crying, you know. And she wouldn’t go back. If another Atlantis expedition is cleared. I wouldn’t stay here, and she wouldn’t go back.” John hummed in sympathy and slapped Rodney on the back.
“M’sorry,” John murmured, more aware than ever how bad he was at these sorts of things, and trying to establish a psychic connection to Teyla through sheer force of will alone.
“Me too,” Rodney muttered sadly. “I thought - but, I guess it doesn’t matter now.” John bumped Rodney’s shoulder as he passed the extra Xbox remote. In his experience, there was nothing like decapitating a zombie to help stem the pain of a broken heart. Rodney huffed as he grabbed the controller. “Oh, you’re on. Prepare to taste sweet Canadian vengeance.”
***
The next morning, after a game and coffee marathon, Rodney drove back to the apartment he had shared with Jennifer to have the talk. John was officially on call should Rodney need help moving, with instructions to bring Ronon for backup. Ronon was only slightly disappointed by the change in plans. After all, he explained, what fun is watching people smash up cars when you could be doing the smashing yourself? Ronon had taken to Saints Row like a duck to water.
John remembered his discussions with Nancy, at the end, how they devolved into hours-long screaming matches. Therefore, when Rodney returned only a little over an hour later, John was surprised.
“Hey, buddy.”
“Hm? Oh, hi. Hello.” Rodney ran a hand through his hair and sat heavily on the sofa. “Well, that’s over,” he continued.
“You ok?”
Rodney looked over and chuckled forlornly.
“Jesus, Sheppard, you look like you’re gonna puke. I’m, well. Right now it sucks. A lot, but,” he shrugged, considering. “I’ll be ok.” Rodney smiled, small and tentative, but John felt an unclenching in his gut at its appearance.
“So, where’s your stuff?”
Rodney snorted. “Yes, because you have so much room in this charming cesspool. Jennifer agreed to let me store some stuff there until I find a place.” John looked up at Rodney through his eyelashes.
“You can stay here, you know.” John almost smiled at Rodney’s expression of horror mixed with disdain.
“Yes, because clearly a tiny mold-infested hovel is the best place to wallow in my misery. Honestly, Colonel, you had more space in Atlantis.” Rodney paused mid-rant, and John wondered if he was fighting a pang of sadness at her mention as well. “No,” he resumed, “I think I’ll find a place with , you know, an elevator, and air conditioning, and room for more than a peach crate and a bare light bulb. Where did you look for design tips, Crazy Recluse Quarterly? I’ve seen better furnished yurts.”
“When’ve you been looking at yurts?” John asked, busying himself with a stray thread on his shirt and fighting off the disappointment that burned his throat. The silence stretched uncomfortably, and John suspected that, should he look up from his task, he would see Rodney’s “deep thinking” look. Or, possibly, the “my god, you’re an idiot and why do I associate with you willingly?” look.
“Of course, you could always stay with me, after I find a place, Colonel. I’m sure I’ll find somewhere with more than forty square feet of room. And really, it would be a public service.” Rodney started pacing as he built up steam, hands gesturing. “I have no idea how you’ve stayed here for two years without suffering an “all work and no play make John a dull boy” psychotic break. And,” Rodney paused, and John could feel his stare on the side of his face. “Well. I’ve…missed you. At any rate, I’d save on my phone bill, and neither of us would have to travel for beer on the. Couch? Balcony? I mean, if you’re not interested that’s understandable, we’re both busy men in the prime of life, but if you wanted to, you know, think about it. Then, by all means do. Think about it, that is.”
John looked up at that, a little shell-shocked. Living with Rodney was an idea that probably should have given him pause. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what he was in for, unrequited crush aside. Rodney was loud, messy, often thoughtless, a coffee hog, and not above petty revenge for minor transgressions. But he was also the best friend John had ever had, and he got John, at least as much as John got him. And one look at the expression of nervousness and hope on Rodney’s face, and John realized that maybe Rodney missed having him around, too.
“Well, heck, McKay,” John said brightly. “I’d hate to let all that room go to waste.”
John could swear that Rodney’s answering grin outshone the sun.
***
John had let Rodney do most of the work in the apartment hunt. After all, he had spent two years in a glorified closet, and before that he had lived on base, for the most part, be it McMurdo, or Atlantis, or countless others. Rodney bitched and grumbled at John’s passive role, but John suspected it was mostly for show. It was when he actually tried to give his input about a place that Rodney’s insults gained actual vitriol. Eventually they settled on a decent sized two bedroom apartment not too far from John’s old place. John was able to bring most of his stuff over in one trip using Rodney’s car, although moving his books made him reconsider his aversion to the Kindle. Moving Rodney in was significantly more challenging - it wasn’t quite as bad as when he and Nancy moved into the house they bought shortly after they tied the knot, but he was still grateful for the assistance of Ronon and Rodney’s badgered minions.
After everyone had left, John started the process of unpacking - his bedroom was done almost pathetically quickly, but he took his time organizing his books on Rodney’s bookshelf. He dawdled a little bit while setting up the television and game consoles. They were just far too pretty to rush through. The bathroom was another quick job - really, what else was there to do aside from scrubbing it down and throwing up the shower curtain? The kitchen took the longest - he cleaned out the cupboards before starting the surprisingly difficult task of unpacking. Although there was far more space than in his old kitchen, Rodney had an amazing amount of cooking gadgetry. John had high hopes for the waffle iron, but thought that the two fondue sets seemed a little excessive.
“Ah. Well, it seems like you were productive,” Rodney said brightly as he exited the room he had claimed for his own.
“So nice of you to join me, McKay.”
“Yes, yes, it’s not like I wasn’t busy myself with setting up my computer and the wireless. I know how you get when you don’t have access to the latest football scores, Colonel, so a little thanks wouldn’t be out of line.” John rolled his eyes as he sat on his sofa - the only thing of his, furniture-wise, that Rodney hadn’t vetoed. And that was only because Rodney didn’t have a couch of his own. Rodney sat next to him and flipped on the TV, and John felt something deep inside of him relax for the first time in ages.
***
When John had imagined what living with Rodney would be like, he had been slightly worried that they would end up at each other’s throats more often than not - they were both stubborn bastards at the best of times, and he had lost more than one friendship after attempted cohabitation. To his relief, living with Rodney wasn’t much different from how it had been for them on Atlantis - they’d play games, and snap at each other, and bait each other, and occasionally hide before they tried to kill each other. John still woke up early for his morning run, and was usually at work before McKay dragged himself out of bed. At the end of the day, he would usually be home for at least a few hours before Rodney stumbled home. It was comfortable.
John was glad for Rodney’s company, but he was relieved that he those hours to himself. More often than not he would grab a beer and head onto the balcony - nicer than what he was used to by far - to strum on his Gibson and lose himself in thought. He had usually moved on to something else by the time Rodney returned, like rustling up dinner for them both (how could a grown man, a supposed genius, live off of cereal and hot pockets? John cooked for himself, and it wasn’t a hardship to make extra for Rodney. And even if it had been, Rodney’s stunned enthusiasm would have more than compensated) or looking up new delivery options.
For some reason, one night a few months after moving in with Rodney, John was more lost in thought than usual. He hadn’t noticed the time until -
“You’re good,” Rodney said softly from the balcony door. John’s ears burned as he turned to face Rodney, who had a strange soft look on his face. It was the same one he wore the first time John made dinner, or when he got rid of the old sofa and sprung for a new, more comfortable, reclining couch, and a dozen times besides.
“Thanks” he replied awkwardly.
“I didn’t... I always thought it was for show. I didn’t know you actually played.”
John shot Rodney his best stink-eye at that. Rodney smirked - smirked in response, looking far too amused for John’s comfort.
“What? I never heard you play. It was a reasonable assumption given your Kirkian ways!”
“Oh, for the love of - you really need to let that go, Rodney.”
“Really, I suppose I should be grateful that I haven’t been sleep deprived due to your assignations -“
“My what?”
“- although there is a decided lack of any ascended people here, so perhaps that explains it.”
“Ha ha, Rodney. How many times do I have to tell you, nothing happened between me and Chaya, aside from glowy mind stuff?”
“Like I’d believe that,” Rodney crowed. “And there’s still Teer!”
“Who wasn’t ascended,” John gritted out between his teeth as he glared at his guitar as if it had mortally offended him. The sheer amount of smug radiating off of Rodney could probably power a small city, he thought bitterly.
“Face it, John, you really do have the weirdest kink in the galaxy.” John glared harder, willing Rodney to shut up.
“What?”
“The ascended thing? Even you have to admit that’s-“
“No. You called me John.”
“Oh? Oh, I guess I did. Um. Sorry, Colonel?”
“No, I. It’s good.”
“Yes? I mean, of course. John.” The strange look crossed Rodney’s face again, before he started as if coming out of a daze. “So, dinner? Frankly I’m starving. Come on, come on, you can finish your beer inside just as easily.” John smiled as he was unceremoniously herded into the kitchen, leaning slightly into Rodney’s touch.
***
Things continued to run pretty smoothly until about three months after the first time Rodney heard John play his guitar. John was sitting awkwardly on the couch, waiting. He had been home for about an hour and really should have been more productive, but… Rodney’d be on his way home from work soon, and John wasn’t looking forward to the conversation they were about to have. He cringed inwardly as he heard the key turn in the door, and watched as Rodney swept in, already talking a mile a minute.
“Hey, what do you say we call out for pizza? Dr. Who’s on tonight, which in and of itself deserves a celebration...hey, you ok?”
“Rodney, I need to tell you something.” Rodney paled and sat heavily on the rocking chair Jeannie had sent as a housewarming gift.
“Oh, no. I...if it’s about - I mean, I can exp-”
“Rodney,” John said calmly, leaning forward to catch his eye, hands grasping McKay’s shoulders. “It’s. I heard from Cadman. Apparently Jennifer’s seeing someone.” Rodney blinked, then looked at John as if he had grown a second head.
“That’s it? Seriously? I mean, you almost gave me a heart attack, there. I thought one of us was dying, or, I don’t know, that you had decided to give up all of your worldly possessions and become an English teacher or writer or biologist.”
“So, you’re ok?” John said as he relaxed, although he still watched Rodney like he was a skittish deer.
“Yes! I’m...Jennifer and I broke up six months ago, and yeah, I mean, hearing about an ex’s new love life isn’t exactly on the top on my to-do list, but I’m not about to stand outside of her window with a boom box or anything.”
“Well, good. It’s just you never talked about it, so.”
“So of course you thought I was pining, tearing the hair from my head? I’m...It’s ok. Besides, I think. Well, I think I might be, well, interested in someone. So it’s not like she’s the only one who’s moved on.”
John froze as his stomach lurched, and by god he must be the stupidest person alive to have fallen in this trap again.
“Oh?” he asked in a hollow voice. Shit. Shit, shit shit. Rodney was looking at him in that way again, and was probably about to get all concerned, and John had to leave before he did something stupid. “Well. Good. I hope that works.” He stood and wiped his hands on his jeans. “I should,” he said, gesturing to the door with a thumb.
Rodney narrowed his eyes at the retreat.
“Hey! You don’t get to run away when...I mean, maybe you’re...but no. No, I have to do this. John, we’re friends, right? I mean, right, of course we’re friends, with the living together and the saving each other’s lives, even if we kind of fell out of that habit, what with the wraith being in Pegasus and all. But, I mean, we’re close, and I was. Well, I was wondering. If you’d ever maybe consider something else?” Rodney had started pacing during his speech, but paused and stuck out his chin in a painfully familiar manner. “Oh hell.” Before John was fully aware what was going on, Rodney had him crowded against the wall and was trailing his fingers against John’s cheeks. “Don’t tell me I’m alone here.” John shook his head. He wasn’t sure who closed the distance between them, but suddenly they were kissing, and it was too wet and desperate and a little awkward, but it was Rodney, who knew him better than anyone and stuck around anyway. It was seven years of history, of banter and racing and that stupid, stupid Sims game and yeah, it wasn’t perfect, but it was the best thing that happened to him since he set foot back on Earth.
Eventually they broke apart, both of them breathing heavily and staring at each other dopily. Rodney rested his forehead against John’s and huffed out a laugh.
“What?”
“I was right,” he gloated. “You really do have a kink for the ascended and almost ascended.”
John made a note to kick Rodney’s ass at Halo later in revenge. At that moment he was content where he was.
***
John was still an early riser, all things considered. However, sometimes, on the weekends, he would wake up warm and drowsy with Rodney wrapped around him, snuffling in his ear. Those days he would smile in the half light before burying his nose in thinning hair and let himself drift back into dreams about physicists, about oceans and guitars and home.
Poll
Author: schmidttykr
Team: Play
Prompt: square peg
Pairing(s): McKay/Sheppard; McKay/Keller (established)
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Notes: I'm obviously grateful (in more ways than one) to my betas half_elf_lost and polly_b. I appreciate your help. Also thanks to my fellow Team Play members, shakespherical for the title, and the McShep Match organisers.
Author’s Notes: Title from the song Sunday Morning Coming Down by Kris Kristofferson. Heartfelt thanks to Team Play for all their support. Beta’d by the ever helpful djaddict.
Disclaimer: The characters and universe are the property MGM Television Entertainment, Stargate Productions, and NBC / Universal. This fic is meant solely for entertainment purposes and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Two years had passed since the expedition had been forced out of Atlantis, and most of her former citizens had started to move on and readapt to life on Earth, save John.
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John had always been an early riser, even during the lazy teenage years, and his two decades in the USAF left him with the habit of waking up at the slightest noise. This tendency of his had only gotten worse since returning to Earth. For one, the sounds were all wrong - the constant noise of trains and airplanes and traffic boxed him in, making sleep impossible. It got a little better after Teyla gave him a white noise machine with ocean settings, but then he noticed the smells. He lived near enough the ocean to catch hints of it on the breeze, but it was more often than not blocked by exhaust, hot pavement, the cigarette smoke that permeated his walls, and so many other smells that were completely alien. Even the air felt different, filmier maybe, thinner, toxic.
Two years had passed since the expedition had been forced out of Atlantis, and most of her former citizens had started to move on. Ronon lived near John, although his studio was much nicer, likely due to Amelia’s influence. Although Ronon worked with the SGC, he was on a sabbatical of sorts, and was currently attending Berkley (on the SGC dime, of course). Teyla had stayed on earth for a little while, but when she was offered a spot on the Daedalus’ final trip to Pegasus, she had jumped at the chance to go home. Rodney was sharing a fairly nice, albeit expensive apartment with Jennifer. They both worked at the SGC. Everyone suspected that their refusal to leave the bay area was a major factor in the SGC opening a satellite branch out of San Francisco, and John privately suspected that Rodney was directly responsible for John still having a place there, directly under General O’Neil. He had honestly expected redeployment after returning to Earth, so being invited on as a permanent member of the new base left him flummoxed and a little raw.
The first major adjustment that John had to make was being separated from Rodney, which had caught him off guard. Sure, they saw each other at work fairly often, but after spending so much time virtually in each other’s pockets it was odd to not have to fight him for coffee or pudding in the morning, or to be able to saunter into Rodney’s lab or quarters at all hours for a good wind-up. Rodney had become a constant, in a way, and his absence left John off kilter, especially at the strangest times - when making Jell-O, or when playing the guitar, late at night when he was alone but for his thoughts.
His apartment was small, and his lease was on a month-by-month basis. The kitchen was negligible and his air conditioning never worked, but he had a small balcony of his own that was pretty much perfect for watching the sunset with a beer and a book. He had very little in the way of furnishings - partly because he was usually at work, even if his relationship to the SGC was tempestuous at best - and partly because it felt off. He knew Atlantis was gone, and that he would likely never see it again, but... he had been happy there. Now it was gone, and things were back to how they were before, except they didn’t fit so well anymore. In Antarctica, the quiet and the solitude had been comfortable, and if he hadn’t been happy he had at least been content. He had spent the past two years trying to recapture that feeling.
Some days, it wasn’t so bad. John would wake up and go about his day. He’d go jogging with Ronon in the morning, bother Rodney periodically, miss Teyla like hell, and somehow do his job well enough so as to not get shitcanned. On the days when he didn’t make plans with Rodney to kick his ass at videogames or race their remote controlled cars, he’d go back to his apartment and read or play guitar - revisiting the sweet melodies he learned from his mother a lifetime ago, or plucking out the well loved tunes of Jennings, or Kristofferson, or Cash - biding his time until sleep, and start the cycle again the next day. On nice days, or on dreary days when John didn’t care if he got rained on or not, he’d sit on the cheap camping chair on his balcony and play for the birds. Sometimes he sang, even though he knew his voice was hardly something to write home about. ‘Reedy’ was the closest to a compliment he had ever been paid in that regard, but damn it, he was alone on his own goddamned balcony and he’d sing if he wanted to.
Other days were worse. Being separated from Atlantis always burned but on these days it was a physical pain, and by god he missed the hum in her walls and in his veins. He would run instead of jog, pushing himself as hard as he could. On these days, John still bothered Rodney - bothered him more than usual, to be honest - emailing stupid jokes or stories, or calling too often, or having marmalade delivered in bulk - until Rodney would call and tell him to stop being an asshole, thank you, and that some people have actual work to do, with bigger things on the line than whether General O’Neil gets his coffee or not, and even if Earth admittedly wasn’t great, it was still a bad idea to destroy it, at least while they were still living there.
To his credit, Rodney did try to be supportive, in his own way. When they were both free, John and Rodney had standing plans for what Rodney called very important intellectual pursuits, but what was in reality a marathon session of Left 4 Dead 2, pizza, and the best Canadian beer Rodney could find. By default they wound up at Rodney and Keller’s place due partly to McKay’s purported aversion to John’s apartment, but mostly because Rodney had splurged and bought a much nicer TV.
***
“Your ass is mine, Sheppard,” Rodney cackled. John didn’t answer, figuring that shooting McKay in the head was an elegant answer on its own. “Oh, very mature, Colonel. Really, you once again set my mind retroactively at ease by reminding me that you were once in charge of my safety. It’s a wonder you didn’t accidentally set fire to us the first day.” John figured he was excused in shooting Rodney again, gloating silently. Rodney glared more sharply, and opened his mouth to start complaining, which John took as another invitation to shoot. John thought he saw Rodney’s eye twitch, but it might have just been wishful thinking.
“Oops,” he said in is best attempt at sweetness as Rodney sputtered in indignation.
“You bastard! Cheater! Cheating bastard!”
“Rodney!” Jennifer admonished as she entered the room, removing her coat. “That’s no way to treat a guest. Hello, John, don’t mind me,” she said in greeting before heading down the hall to the bedroom. John nodded in return but didn’t quite meet Keller’s eyes. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Keller, he did. Jennifer made Rodney happy. And he wanted Rodney to be happy. He didn’t need to be a math savant to see the answer to that equation.
It was just-he had thought - there had been...something between him and McKay. He was pretty sure of it. Of course, they were friends. He liked to think - good friends. And before they were friends, they respected each other, in their own way. Granted, their foundation for respect was built on shooting one another, impromptu competitions over Batman trivia, and snark. So. Friends. And he had thought maybe more. But then Jennifer came, and Rodney, well. Rodney wasn’t shy about his preference for blondes. And so, John did what he had always done when it came to these sorts of things. He pushed it aside, along with everything else it didn’t seem worthwhile to think about, and continued on doing what needed getting done. If he thought about Rodney more than was perhaps proper, if he still felt warm when Rodney paid him attention, well, that was no one’s business but his own. His relationship with Rodney went mostly unchanged, and he still had the team, which was a lot. More than John ever really expected to have.
To add to his discomfort, Rodney wasn’t the same when she was around. He was less.....Rodneyish. It was unsettling. He was nice, for one. Well, nice for Rodney, so while he was still at least a little acerbic, he rarely called people morons or idiots. Worse, he tried to avoid arguing, which John thought was just rude.
The night was still young, but experience had taught him that now was the time to leave. Being a third wheel was never a particularly enjoyable way to spend an evening, after all.
“So. I should probably get going.”
“What? Already? But….Hmph. Of course you’re leaving now, just as I’m about to turn this around and kick your ass.”
“Sure. Keep telling yourself that, McKay,” John drawled as he bent down to tie his boots. He kept his goodbyes brief, and started the walk home.
***
The next afternoon, John was virtually vibrating with self-satisfaction as he called Rodney at his office.
“Hey, Rodney, guess what?”
“I don’t know, Sheppard, you’re going to hang up so some of us can get back to important life saving research? What’s that - just a second, someone’s at my door.” John heard the sounds of Rodney complaining as he maneuvered through the various piles of whatever he was studying to answer the impatient knocks. He smirked as Rodney harangued the delivery man, and broke into a grin when Rodney came back on the line.
“Why do I suspect you have something to do with this, Sheppard? Aside from the fact that you seem to delight in sending me crap, which, fine, it’s your money, but marmalade? Really? I mean, that’s not even creative. And what is this - oh.”
“Got myself one, too.”
“Of course you did. And I bet you already started cheating.” John heard the sounds of packaging being removed, followed by the whirr of a remote controlled car.
“Wanna meet up and race ‘em tonight?”
“Are you kidding, I mean, look at what she can do. Who’s going to help me beat Sheppard into a pulpy weepy mess?” Rodney cooed - cooed. “Oh. But. I - Jennifer and I are going to...something or other. Tomorrow afternoon?”
“Can’t. I’m taking Ronon to see monster trucks. You free tomorrow night?”
“You two are children, I swear to god. And yes, I’m free.”
“Tomorrow night it is,” John drawled, as he hung up. He smiled to himself as he could feel Rodney, in his lab, derisively rolling his eyes. He spent the rest of the day making a plan to make sure his car blew Rodney’s right out of the water.
***
John’s steps echoed as he patrolled Atlantis. The stench of death was everywhere, and behind him, in the heart of the city, something banged. He tried to run, but he was so slow. The banging was louder, closer, and it was calling after him in an ungodly shriek, “John! JOOOOOOHN! Colonel Fucking Sheppard, answer your goddamn door before your neighbors, who, might I add, seem to be lacking in neighborly spirit, call the police.” John blinked as he realized that the ungodly shrieking was real, and very familiar. He shook away the dream as he grabbed his shirt and stumbled to the door.
“Rodney?” he asked, squinting at McKay as he braced himself against the doorframe. McKay pushed past him, into the apartment, as John shot apologetic looks to 4b and 4d. He turned back to look at McKay, taking in the rumpled clothing (same as from earlier, he noted), the more-agitated than usual air, and the subtle smell of alcohol. “What are you doing here? It’s -Jesus, it’s four in the morning. What happened?”
Rodney suddenly seemed very interested in a stray thread on his trousers. “I’m aware, as are you, no doubt, that you have a couch. A shitty, horrible couch, but a serviceable couch nonetheless. I was wondering if I could use it, or better, if you could use it and if I could take your bed, which I realize could be considered rude but I really do have a bad back and I am pretty sure your pile of upholstery and death would kill me and -“
“Rodney, slow down. Now, what’s going on?” John was tired, and confused, and a little offended on behalf of his couch. But Rodney was clearly upset so John thought he would go the true friend route. “Now, tell me why you’re trying to get into my bed?” Unfortunately, Rodney’s irritated glare only lasted a second before sinking back into gloom.
“Jennifer and I... We - that is, she and I decided that. Well. We broke up.” Rodney flashed a despondent look at John. “Jennifer and I broke up, and I needed a place to stay, so I came here. But, if it’s a problem, I could call Ronon ...”
“Not a problem. C’mon, let’s get you settled.” John put a tentative arm around Rodney’s shoulders as he guided him to the bedroom. “Did you bring anything? Want me to get anything from your car?”
“No. I. I’ll arrange to get everything tomorrow. Or, we’ll have to talk, I guess.” Rodney sighed. “I’ve never had... I mean, it’s new to me. I’ve never had to split up stuff before. Naturally, I’ll take what I paid for?” Rodney looked up, uncertain.
John shrugged. “Don’t ask me. When Nancy and I split, she took it all. Easier, that way. And I wasn’t around, so I didn’t have much use for it all, I guess.” He felt a little raw at that admission.
“Of course. You really never let a chance go by to sacrifice yourself, do you?” Rodney frowned. “I’ll need to find a new place.”
“Rodney....you can, you know. Stay here. As long as you need to. I have a couch that won’t sleep on itself.”
“Yes. Well. I still say you should take the couch.”
“Rodney.” John drawled irratably, although his tone was betrayed by the grin he couldn’t hide.
“Fine, Colonel. I suppose we can discuss the matter later. Although, I hope you know that this merits a pointed non-thanks in my Nobel acceptance speech.” Rodney smirked a little in response to John’s glare.
“C’mon, McKay. Let’s get you ready for bed.”
***
Falling asleep that night turned out to be easier said than done. John capitulated, as he knew he would, and let Rodney take the bed. It was for the best because his couch really did turn out to be terrible. He doubted he would ever have heard the end of it, had Rodney been forced to set up camp in the living room. He finally gave up the fight and turned on the television. The volume was low, but John had a suspicion that not even C4 detonating next to Rodney’s bed would wake the man. He surfed the channels, avoiding infomercials on principle, which actually cut out most of the viewing options. Eventually he settled on a sitcom from the 80s he vaguely remembered. He laughed a little as he recognized one of the actresses, who he assumed was supposed to be awkward and gawky, as the star from a popular show about three? - four? women living in New York or LA or something like that. He hadn’t paid that much attention - living in another galaxy really messed with his pop culture knowledge.
“Couldn’t sleep?” John looked over his shoulder at Rodney and gave a small shake of his head. “Yeah. Same here,” Rodney answered needlessly. He wandered over to the fridge and grabbed John’s leftover pizza from….sometime.
“Help yourself, Rodney,” John groused. Rodney either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore him as he plopped down on the couch next to John.
“So. The thing is, Jennifer and I broke up.” Rodney started.
“You mentioned that.”
“I mean, we broke up. I didn’t dump her, she didn’t dump me, not that it really makes it any better, mind you, but it was a mutual, relatively amicable decision, really.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Granted, she seemed unhappy with tonight. We had dinner with her parents, did I mention that? Well. Um. It didn’t go well. Her dad seems to hate me, really and truly, why, I have no idea. I might have accidentally implied that medicine wasn’t real science? But regardless of tonight, we were probably going to come to this eventually. I mean, she wants kids. Soon. I like Toren and Madison and everything, but part of the charm is that you get to give them back when they start crying, you know. And she wouldn’t go back. If another Atlantis expedition is cleared. I wouldn’t stay here, and she wouldn’t go back.” John hummed in sympathy and slapped Rodney on the back.
“M’sorry,” John murmured, more aware than ever how bad he was at these sorts of things, and trying to establish a psychic connection to Teyla through sheer force of will alone.
“Me too,” Rodney muttered sadly. “I thought - but, I guess it doesn’t matter now.” John bumped Rodney’s shoulder as he passed the extra Xbox remote. In his experience, there was nothing like decapitating a zombie to help stem the pain of a broken heart. Rodney huffed as he grabbed the controller. “Oh, you’re on. Prepare to taste sweet Canadian vengeance.”
***
The next morning, after a game and coffee marathon, Rodney drove back to the apartment he had shared with Jennifer to have the talk. John was officially on call should Rodney need help moving, with instructions to bring Ronon for backup. Ronon was only slightly disappointed by the change in plans. After all, he explained, what fun is watching people smash up cars when you could be doing the smashing yourself? Ronon had taken to Saints Row like a duck to water.
John remembered his discussions with Nancy, at the end, how they devolved into hours-long screaming matches. Therefore, when Rodney returned only a little over an hour later, John was surprised.
“Hey, buddy.”
“Hm? Oh, hi. Hello.” Rodney ran a hand through his hair and sat heavily on the sofa. “Well, that’s over,” he continued.
“You ok?”
Rodney looked over and chuckled forlornly.
“Jesus, Sheppard, you look like you’re gonna puke. I’m, well. Right now it sucks. A lot, but,” he shrugged, considering. “I’ll be ok.” Rodney smiled, small and tentative, but John felt an unclenching in his gut at its appearance.
“So, where’s your stuff?”
Rodney snorted. “Yes, because you have so much room in this charming cesspool. Jennifer agreed to let me store some stuff there until I find a place.” John looked up at Rodney through his eyelashes.
“You can stay here, you know.” John almost smiled at Rodney’s expression of horror mixed with disdain.
“Yes, because clearly a tiny mold-infested hovel is the best place to wallow in my misery. Honestly, Colonel, you had more space in Atlantis.” Rodney paused mid-rant, and John wondered if he was fighting a pang of sadness at her mention as well. “No,” he resumed, “I think I’ll find a place with , you know, an elevator, and air conditioning, and room for more than a peach crate and a bare light bulb. Where did you look for design tips, Crazy Recluse Quarterly? I’ve seen better furnished yurts.”
“When’ve you been looking at yurts?” John asked, busying himself with a stray thread on his shirt and fighting off the disappointment that burned his throat. The silence stretched uncomfortably, and John suspected that, should he look up from his task, he would see Rodney’s “deep thinking” look. Or, possibly, the “my god, you’re an idiot and why do I associate with you willingly?” look.
“Of course, you could always stay with me, after I find a place, Colonel. I’m sure I’ll find somewhere with more than forty square feet of room. And really, it would be a public service.” Rodney started pacing as he built up steam, hands gesturing. “I have no idea how you’ve stayed here for two years without suffering an “all work and no play make John a dull boy” psychotic break. And,” Rodney paused, and John could feel his stare on the side of his face. “Well. I’ve…missed you. At any rate, I’d save on my phone bill, and neither of us would have to travel for beer on the. Couch? Balcony? I mean, if you’re not interested that’s understandable, we’re both busy men in the prime of life, but if you wanted to, you know, think about it. Then, by all means do. Think about it, that is.”
John looked up at that, a little shell-shocked. Living with Rodney was an idea that probably should have given him pause. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what he was in for, unrequited crush aside. Rodney was loud, messy, often thoughtless, a coffee hog, and not above petty revenge for minor transgressions. But he was also the best friend John had ever had, and he got John, at least as much as John got him. And one look at the expression of nervousness and hope on Rodney’s face, and John realized that maybe Rodney missed having him around, too.
“Well, heck, McKay,” John said brightly. “I’d hate to let all that room go to waste.”
John could swear that Rodney’s answering grin outshone the sun.
***
John had let Rodney do most of the work in the apartment hunt. After all, he had spent two years in a glorified closet, and before that he had lived on base, for the most part, be it McMurdo, or Atlantis, or countless others. Rodney bitched and grumbled at John’s passive role, but John suspected it was mostly for show. It was when he actually tried to give his input about a place that Rodney’s insults gained actual vitriol. Eventually they settled on a decent sized two bedroom apartment not too far from John’s old place. John was able to bring most of his stuff over in one trip using Rodney’s car, although moving his books made him reconsider his aversion to the Kindle. Moving Rodney in was significantly more challenging - it wasn’t quite as bad as when he and Nancy moved into the house they bought shortly after they tied the knot, but he was still grateful for the assistance of Ronon and Rodney’s badgered minions.
After everyone had left, John started the process of unpacking - his bedroom was done almost pathetically quickly, but he took his time organizing his books on Rodney’s bookshelf. He dawdled a little bit while setting up the television and game consoles. They were just far too pretty to rush through. The bathroom was another quick job - really, what else was there to do aside from scrubbing it down and throwing up the shower curtain? The kitchen took the longest - he cleaned out the cupboards before starting the surprisingly difficult task of unpacking. Although there was far more space than in his old kitchen, Rodney had an amazing amount of cooking gadgetry. John had high hopes for the waffle iron, but thought that the two fondue sets seemed a little excessive.
“Ah. Well, it seems like you were productive,” Rodney said brightly as he exited the room he had claimed for his own.
“So nice of you to join me, McKay.”
“Yes, yes, it’s not like I wasn’t busy myself with setting up my computer and the wireless. I know how you get when you don’t have access to the latest football scores, Colonel, so a little thanks wouldn’t be out of line.” John rolled his eyes as he sat on his sofa - the only thing of his, furniture-wise, that Rodney hadn’t vetoed. And that was only because Rodney didn’t have a couch of his own. Rodney sat next to him and flipped on the TV, and John felt something deep inside of him relax for the first time in ages.
***
When John had imagined what living with Rodney would be like, he had been slightly worried that they would end up at each other’s throats more often than not - they were both stubborn bastards at the best of times, and he had lost more than one friendship after attempted cohabitation. To his relief, living with Rodney wasn’t much different from how it had been for them on Atlantis - they’d play games, and snap at each other, and bait each other, and occasionally hide before they tried to kill each other. John still woke up early for his morning run, and was usually at work before McKay dragged himself out of bed. At the end of the day, he would usually be home for at least a few hours before Rodney stumbled home. It was comfortable.
John was glad for Rodney’s company, but he was relieved that he those hours to himself. More often than not he would grab a beer and head onto the balcony - nicer than what he was used to by far - to strum on his Gibson and lose himself in thought. He had usually moved on to something else by the time Rodney returned, like rustling up dinner for them both (how could a grown man, a supposed genius, live off of cereal and hot pockets? John cooked for himself, and it wasn’t a hardship to make extra for Rodney. And even if it had been, Rodney’s stunned enthusiasm would have more than compensated) or looking up new delivery options.
For some reason, one night a few months after moving in with Rodney, John was more lost in thought than usual. He hadn’t noticed the time until -
“You’re good,” Rodney said softly from the balcony door. John’s ears burned as he turned to face Rodney, who had a strange soft look on his face. It was the same one he wore the first time John made dinner, or when he got rid of the old sofa and sprung for a new, more comfortable, reclining couch, and a dozen times besides.
“Thanks” he replied awkwardly.
“I didn’t... I always thought it was for show. I didn’t know you actually played.”
John shot Rodney his best stink-eye at that. Rodney smirked - smirked in response, looking far too amused for John’s comfort.
“What? I never heard you play. It was a reasonable assumption given your Kirkian ways!”
“Oh, for the love of - you really need to let that go, Rodney.”
“Really, I suppose I should be grateful that I haven’t been sleep deprived due to your assignations -“
“My what?”
“- although there is a decided lack of any ascended people here, so perhaps that explains it.”
“Ha ha, Rodney. How many times do I have to tell you, nothing happened between me and Chaya, aside from glowy mind stuff?”
“Like I’d believe that,” Rodney crowed. “And there’s still Teer!”
“Who wasn’t ascended,” John gritted out between his teeth as he glared at his guitar as if it had mortally offended him. The sheer amount of smug radiating off of Rodney could probably power a small city, he thought bitterly.
“Face it, John, you really do have the weirdest kink in the galaxy.” John glared harder, willing Rodney to shut up.
“What?”
“The ascended thing? Even you have to admit that’s-“
“No. You called me John.”
“Oh? Oh, I guess I did. Um. Sorry, Colonel?”
“No, I. It’s good.”
“Yes? I mean, of course. John.” The strange look crossed Rodney’s face again, before he started as if coming out of a daze. “So, dinner? Frankly I’m starving. Come on, come on, you can finish your beer inside just as easily.” John smiled as he was unceremoniously herded into the kitchen, leaning slightly into Rodney’s touch.
***
Things continued to run pretty smoothly until about three months after the first time Rodney heard John play his guitar. John was sitting awkwardly on the couch, waiting. He had been home for about an hour and really should have been more productive, but… Rodney’d be on his way home from work soon, and John wasn’t looking forward to the conversation they were about to have. He cringed inwardly as he heard the key turn in the door, and watched as Rodney swept in, already talking a mile a minute.
“Hey, what do you say we call out for pizza? Dr. Who’s on tonight, which in and of itself deserves a celebration...hey, you ok?”
“Rodney, I need to tell you something.” Rodney paled and sat heavily on the rocking chair Jeannie had sent as a housewarming gift.
“Oh, no. I...if it’s about - I mean, I can exp-”
“Rodney,” John said calmly, leaning forward to catch his eye, hands grasping McKay’s shoulders. “It’s. I heard from Cadman. Apparently Jennifer’s seeing someone.” Rodney blinked, then looked at John as if he had grown a second head.
“That’s it? Seriously? I mean, you almost gave me a heart attack, there. I thought one of us was dying, or, I don’t know, that you had decided to give up all of your worldly possessions and become an English teacher or writer or biologist.”
“So, you’re ok?” John said as he relaxed, although he still watched Rodney like he was a skittish deer.
“Yes! I’m...Jennifer and I broke up six months ago, and yeah, I mean, hearing about an ex’s new love life isn’t exactly on the top on my to-do list, but I’m not about to stand outside of her window with a boom box or anything.”
“Well, good. It’s just you never talked about it, so.”
“So of course you thought I was pining, tearing the hair from my head? I’m...It’s ok. Besides, I think. Well, I think I might be, well, interested in someone. So it’s not like she’s the only one who’s moved on.”
John froze as his stomach lurched, and by god he must be the stupidest person alive to have fallen in this trap again.
“Oh?” he asked in a hollow voice. Shit. Shit, shit shit. Rodney was looking at him in that way again, and was probably about to get all concerned, and John had to leave before he did something stupid. “Well. Good. I hope that works.” He stood and wiped his hands on his jeans. “I should,” he said, gesturing to the door with a thumb.
Rodney narrowed his eyes at the retreat.
“Hey! You don’t get to run away when...I mean, maybe you’re...but no. No, I have to do this. John, we’re friends, right? I mean, right, of course we’re friends, with the living together and the saving each other’s lives, even if we kind of fell out of that habit, what with the wraith being in Pegasus and all. But, I mean, we’re close, and I was. Well, I was wondering. If you’d ever maybe consider something else?” Rodney had started pacing during his speech, but paused and stuck out his chin in a painfully familiar manner. “Oh hell.” Before John was fully aware what was going on, Rodney had him crowded against the wall and was trailing his fingers against John’s cheeks. “Don’t tell me I’m alone here.” John shook his head. He wasn’t sure who closed the distance between them, but suddenly they were kissing, and it was too wet and desperate and a little awkward, but it was Rodney, who knew him better than anyone and stuck around anyway. It was seven years of history, of banter and racing and that stupid, stupid Sims game and yeah, it wasn’t perfect, but it was the best thing that happened to him since he set foot back on Earth.
Eventually they broke apart, both of them breathing heavily and staring at each other dopily. Rodney rested his forehead against John’s and huffed out a laugh.
“What?”
“I was right,” he gloated. “You really do have a kink for the ascended and almost ascended.”
John made a note to kick Rodney’s ass at Halo later in revenge. At that moment he was content where he was.
***
John was still an early riser, all things considered. However, sometimes, on the weekends, he would wake up warm and drowsy with Rodney wrapped around him, snuffling in his ear. Those days he would smile in the half light before burying his nose in thinning hair and let himself drift back into dreams about physicists, about oceans and guitars and home.
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