Undressing Like Cross-Eyed Strangers (House/SGA, House/McKay)
Title: Undressing Like Cross-Eyed Strangers, Or It's Not Paranoia If The Universe Really Is Out To Get You
Fandom: House/Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: House/McKay
Rating: R
Word count: 4,647 words
Summary: In which there's a plague in Atlantis, connections are remade, and Rodney doesn't actually shoot House in the face.
Notes: Okay, this is the sequel to High School Is Not Another Name For Hell that I said that I'd make queenzulu write, but she agreed to write House/Watson for me instead (NO JUDGING), so I let her off the hook. Still, she and savemoony did an awesome job of helping me out along the way, betaing, giving awesome suggestions, and listening to me whine. There was a lot of whining. Apologies to Wilco for snagging the title from "I Am Trying To Break Your Heart".
When Rodney steps through the Gate, he's all nervous tension and sweaty palms. There's a crisis on Atlantis (when is there not?), and once again, it's up to him to save the day.
It's weird, to have two parts of his life collide in such a spectacular manner, but they have, they will, and there's nothing Rodney can do to prevent it. Part of him doesn't even want to try. On the platform, Carter greets him with a wan smile and a hospital address.
"You went to school with him," she says. It's not an accusation.
"Yeah," Rodney says. "I did." He manages to keep his hands from shaking as he holds onto the slip of paper she hands him.
She laughs. It sounds sort of strangled, and Rodney gets it, because she's worried too. He feels almost pathetically grateful for that. "Small world," she says.
"It really is," Rodney says, and doesn't elaborate.
---
When he steps into Princeton-Plainsboro, he feels crowded all of a sudden, too many people, too many sick people. Rodney has always hated hospitals, and now is no different.
When he finds House's office, he's almost surprised to find that it's all glass, easy to see through, because Rodney's never thought of House as the kind of person who liked to let people see him. He peeks through the door, catching sight of a familiar back, turned to face out the window. His hair is different, which shouldn't surprise Rodney at all (Rodney's own hair isn't what it used to be), but it does.
"Dr. House?" Rodney says as he pushes through the door, and House turns. His face is different, too, which is something Rodney knew from looking at the photographs, but it didn't quite prepare him to see the way time leaves traces behind. He's leaning on a cane, and yeah, Rodney read his file, but his body is bent forward, in a way that Rodney has never seen before.
"Yeah?" House says, and this is familiar again, something Rodney remembers. House's eyes widen slightly, then narrow again, sharp and suspicious. "Rodney," he continues, "it's been a while."
Rodney opens his mouth and feels the old banter coming back. "Yeah, yeah," he snaps. "I've been busy getting doctorates and joining top secret military projects. Now that we're done catching up, I need your help." He does. He really does. Because there's something that's killing Atlantis and Carson can't figure it out by himself, and Rodney's just really sick of dead people, of watching people die.
All of that must show on his face, because something on House's face softens just a hair, and even though he doesn't look the same as Rodney remembers, his face still moves the same. "What's going on?" House asks, and there are those eyes again, that Rodney might have had a bit of an obsession with way back when, blue and sharp and clear.
Rodney tells him.
---
House raises his eyebrow when Rodney says "U.S. Military", but he still signs the NDA without blinking, and only inserts about five snide comments into their resulting conversation about Atlantis ("Do you really expect me to believe this?", "A circular ring? That you walk through? Were warp drives too passè?", "Dying, huh? And you asked me why I didn't want to go into physics.", "Why yes, of course I can diagnose alien viruses, sounds like a breeze.", and "There haven't been any bug-like things bursting through necks, right?").
And Rodney only has to say, "Shut up. We don't have much time," once, after House starts asking detailed questions about the disease and what they know about it halfway through Rodney's explanation.
He can feel House measuring him up, turning him into one of the people he watches, and maybe at some point Rodney would have cared, but right now, he doesn't have the time to deal with it.
At the end, Rodney says, "So, are you coming?"
And House says, "Sure, why not?"
---
After that, it's all about the waiting, which has never been Rodney's strong suit, but there's not much he can do with it, so he knuckles down and deals.
On the Daedalus, they spend a lot of time together, mostly because House is Rodney's responsibility, and Rodney knows better than to let House near new toys (Rodney let him use his telescope once, and that was enough).
So House follows Rodney around during their days, eating meals, looking over his shoulder as Rodney helps recalibrate the transporters, sleeping in the same room. House is more obnoxious now, though, opting for condescending scorn instead of his usual simmering resentment. For the first week it's weird, but then Rodney gets used to it, and it's almost like it was before, side by side, them against the idiots.
Almost.
There are still things that Rodney doesn't get, like the quick glance away before House starts telling a story about a lawyer he once dated, the odd tilt of his head when he mentions his fellows (three of them, though Rodney doesn't get much in the way of details). The stories House tells are meaningless, only amusing because some moron did this or some moron did that. Nothing deeper than that.
House doesn't tell the story behind the leg. Rodney doesn't ask.
But it makes sense, because Rodney has his own scars that he can't tell House about, the one on his arm, still there, white and thin, the one on his chest from a musket ball on MKX-239 (Teyla had held his hand, telling him that it was okay, that it would be all right), the stripe across the back of his neck (just a lucky swipe of the sword, but it had bled and bled and bled). He can't tell House these things because House wasn't there. He doesn't (can't) know what it was like, what these things mean, and Rodney's not sure he could explain them properly.
It's in the third week that a transformer explodes, and House is there, in the thick of the infirmary, bitching at nurses, calling the other doctors incompetent, his eyes sharp and focused, the way they were in the middle of a meet, the way Rodney feels when Atlantis is going to fall apart all around him and it's up to him to pull the right answers out of his ass.
Afterward, House brushes all the "thank you"s and "I'm glad you were here"s off with a sneer, and Rodney just adds it to the list of things he doesn't get about him.
---
It's like history is repeating itself when Rodney finds himself staring at House a lot during the fourth week, cataloging the physical differences that he didn't notice at first. The longer, more knobbly fingers, showing their age, the persistent stubble, lining his chin and cheeks, the grooves under his eyes, too little sleep, probably. Rodney can't help but think they look beautiful (and isn't that just the cheesiest way of describing it, ever) on him, like they fit.
Rodney wonders if this is just habit, getting adolescent crushes on House after prolonged exposure.
He kind of hopes it's not.
---
When they drop out of hyperspace and begin approaching Atlantis, the first thing House says is, "That's it?" His face is twisted into a mocking sneer, but there's something too exaggerated about it, too forced.
From the windows, they can see all of Atlantis in the late afternoon, golden light reflecting off of glass and metal. Rodney beams with pride (even though the nervous tension is back, settling down once again in the pit of his stomach). "Yeah," he says, "that's it."
---
They actually have a welcoming committee when they come aboard, which is probably customary for Elizabeth, and it makes sense to see Carson there, ready to ambush him, but that doesn't explain why Sheppard's tagging along.
"Welcome to Atlantis, Dr. House," Elizabeth says in her best diplomat-voice. "We were very glad to hear that you were coming."
House turns to Rodney and says, "Her tits aren't as nice as Cuddy's. It's a real shame."
Sheppard's eyebrows go up to his hairline, Carson's face starts flushing, and Elizabeth looks completely flabbergasted.
Rodney pulls House aside and hisses, "Did you really have to do that in front of my boss?" He's become more used to the inappropriate comments (especially since it was hilarious to see House trying to get a rise out of Hermiod), but even Rodney knows there are lines that one doesn't cross.
House smirks and says, "I do it in front of my boss, too."
---
After that, they don't see much of each other anymore. House gets abducted by the med staff, and Rodney has his own shit to deal with while so many people are in the infirmary.
They pass each other in the halls at times (because House's new quarters on Atlantis are only maybe three floors from the main science labs), the off-balance walk always catching the corner of Rodney's eye even when he's got his face shoved into a datapad, checking up on the latest power fluctuations, and sometimes pass each other in the mess, since Rodney doesn't actually have the time to sit down and eat a meal, and neither does House.
It's on the fourth day that Sheppard leans against the conduit Rodney's working on and says, "So, I heard you used to go to school with this Dr. House guy." His voice is casual, but Rodney can hear the question in his voice.
Rodney wonders if Sheppard knows exactly what he's asking. Probably not, or he wouldn't be asking it at all. "We were on the math team together," Rodney says, hoping Sheppard will take that and leave.
"Really?" he says, and Rodney can hear the skepticism in his voice.
"Yeah," Rodney says, "really. Now will you shut up? I'm trying to focus here."
It's just his luck that Sheppard is very good at ignoring people when he wants to. "Heard a rumor that you went to prom together."
Rodney grits his teeth. "True, as far as it goes." He thinks about the tangy juice-scent of the punch, the way he could smell it on House's breath when he leaned in too close (and afterward, he made House brush his teeth, rinse out his mouth with mouthwash, before he was willing to let House anywhere near his mouth). Remembering it feels like getting kicked in the stomach.
"Yeah?" Sheppard says, like he wants to hear more, but doesn't want to ask.
At this point, what little of Rodney's patience snaps. "Look, I'm actually trying to keep this city's power grid from frying. If you're just going do something besides ask annoying questions, you can hold these wires for me, otherwise, I'm sure Elizabeth or Lorne can give you something to do."
"Sure, McKay," is Sheppard's reply, all slouchy grin and shrug, and he shuts up and holds the wires without further comment.
---
There's news that they've managed to slow the progression of the disease in the infected patients, which buys them more time, and Rodney breathes a sigh of relief.
It's interesting to find out how much gossip has been spread about House in such a small amount of time, how much of that gossip somehow manages to trickle back to Rodney. The prom thing, yeah (it spread so fast it got all the way to Sheppard, who couldn't follow gossip if someone gave him Cliff Notes every week), and Rodney can see this House telling everyone about it just because he can.
By keeping his ears closer to the ground (and by "ground", he means "Zelenka", who knows everything about everyone, and Rodney doesn't let himself think about it long enough to let it get creepy), Rodney learns that there's a medical doctor House knows named Wilson who is simultaneously smarter and stupider than Carson, that House's boss has a really nice ass (and Rodney tries to repress the resulting jealousy, but it's hard), that House likes calling Biro, Wendall, and Panjabi "Cameron", "Chase", and "Foreman" for some reason and finds it absolutely hilarious.
Rodney also learns that it was a good idea to bring House, because he's actually competent, and even Carson admits that they wouldn't have gotten this far without him.
He feels somewhat justified because of that.
---
Rodney somehow manages to be there when House meets Teyla and Ronon for the first time. The team still eats together frequently, even though Elizabeth has put all offworld missions on hold until the matter of the contagion is solved. The quarantine seems to be working, and there have been no new cases, which is also a relief.
It was an average lunch, though Sheppard was off doing official military stuff, so it was just he and Ronon and Teyla. Rodney was rambling about his day (with Teyla looking interested and Ronon looking bored), when there's a cane tossed onto the table and a familiar face sliding into Sheppard's usual spot.
"So," House says. "You must be the token people of color. Gosh, I'm almost kind of sad that I left mine at home." He smiles, bright and mocking, and Rodney feels an intense urge to disappear until the table and never come out again. He now remembers why they never used to eat lunch with other people.
House points at Ronon. "You must be the big scary one that kills things and doesn't say much."
Ronon shrugs. "About right," he says.
And then House turns his attention to Teyla. "You must be the beautiful alien priestess who's just around to look hot. At least you're good at that." He leers in an overly blatant way, and Rodney rolls his eyes.
Teyla just smiles. "Not a priestess, no. But thank you for the compliment." Her expression doesn't waver from 'serene'.
That makes House blink for a moment, clearly thrown off balance, and then he looks impressed. He looks at Rodney and winks. Rodney kind of wants to jump him then and there.
He doesn't.
---
One evening, at dusk, he finds House on the east pier, staring out at the horizon, his tall, lanky body hunched over the railing, his cane laid down at his feet.
"What are you doing out here?" Rodney asks. "Not that you can't be out here or anything like that. Just wondering why you, in particular, are out here right now."
"You actually talk more now, don't you?" House says.
"Yeah, bad habit that I never managed to shake, really," Rodney says. He nods toward the sun, where it's painting the sky pink and orange. "Never thought of you as a sunset kind of guy, though. Too overdone or something like that."
House glares, but doesn't say anything. Rodney leans on the railing next to him, so close their shoulders touch, and he feels House tense beside him. They stand like that for a while, quiet and close, and contrary to popular belief, Rodney can stay quiet when he needs to, when someone else needs him to.
"We lost Jenkins twenty minutes ago," House says, eventually. It comes out through gritted teeth, and Rodney thinks he can tell how much it took out of House to tell him that.
"Jenkins? Wait, he was in the second wave, wasn't he?" Rodney says. "I mean, they were infected at least a month ago, the first wave died in a week." Three weeks was a lot, especially on Atlantis, at least they'd managed to give Jenkins that much more time, at least they were buying everyone else more time, too. Rodney gets that it's hard to let people die on your watch (boy, does he know), but maybe it's just become too much a part of his life, because it doesn't hurt as much as it once did.
"Boring details," House says, with an edge. "Still died, and I still don't know what's wrong with them."
"So what are you even doing here, then?" Rodney snaps. "Why are you whining about it to me instead of out there working on figuring it out?" It's not the most tactful or nice he's ever been, and that makes him wince, but it actually gets House to look at him.
"You give the best pep talks, McKay," House says, sarcasm dripping from every syllable, but there's still some fondness underneath.
Their elbows brush again, but this time, House doesn't so much as blink.
---
People actually start treating Rodney nicer, oddly enough, at around the three week mark, and he guesses that it has something to do with his demotion from "biggest asshole on Atlantis" to "second biggest asshole on Atlantis". Rodney's not sure whether he should be pleased or insulted.
House seems to get crankier as the days drag on, and Rodney sees more of him, as their breakfast-lunch-dinner schedules beginning lining up better, and Rodney's pretty sure their arguing amuses the rest of the team (much to his annoyance), who smirk whenever House shows up with the familiar tap of his cane.
Rodney thinks he likes it, this new pattern. He could get used to it if he lets himself.
---
In the fourth week after House starts working on Atlantis, the disease gets tracked to some sort of Pegasus virus, though Rodney tunes out the explanation of the medical voodoo as Carson presents it during the senior staff meeting, and in the end, it's determined that House is taking the Daedalus back to Earth on the next supply run.
"Oh, good," House says. "Another month stuck inside a space ship. Sounds like a party."
Everyone at the table has learned to ignore House during his outbursts, so they do.
Afterward, Rodney considers asking House to stay. There's definitely not enough medical doctors on Atlantis, and while the "asshole" thing might be kind of a turnoff, no one's fired Rodney over it yet.
It's a possibility. It's there.
---
They spend more time together, waiting for House to leave again, and Rodney says things like "Zelenka is decent at handling the generators, but he occasionally flubs the math," and, "Sometimes I really regret not firing Hawkins years ago. Incompetent asshole," instead of things like, "You should stay, this time," or, "I think I still have a crush on you." He's pretty sure House doesn't notice.
House occasionally psychoanalyzes Carson's Freudian mother fixation, Sheppard's weird authority issues, and Ronon's penchant for long knives. He doesn't talk about going back to Earth, either.
It's a week before the Daedalus is due to show up when Rodney corners House in a hallway and kisses him, and it's nothing like their other first kiss, not hurried and desperate, all giddy adrenaline. It's almost gentle, slow and sweet with a hint of yearning. House's stubble scrapes his skin, rough and different, and he hisses when Rodney leans on him the wrong way. It shouldn't be the same, Rodney knows, because this is different, they're different, but it still catches him by surprise.
When they pull apart, House smirks and says, "Took you long enough."
And Rodney says, "You. What. Oh, come on. You have got to stop waiting for me to make the first move."
"Why? It's a lot more fun this way," House says.
"Hey!" Rodney says, and House snickers, but that's familiar enough. That hasn't changed.
---
They don't really talk about it much, House's impending departure, what exactly this is, between them. They argue and complain and snipe, and when Sheppard raises an eyebrow when House starts stealing food off Rodney's plate (Rodney draws the line at the blue jello and the pudding, but everything else is fine), it's not like they can't brush it off as an old school habit.
At night, they usually end up in House's quarters, because they're bigger and cleaner, impersonal enough that Rodney thinks that maybe it won't be so hard to let him go again.
He finds himself relearning House's body, the rougher texture of his skin, the wiry scrape of his hair, the vicious scar on his leg. When they have sex, it's less frenzied, less young, but they're that way, too. Older and probably wiser. Wearing their years on their bodies.
It's weird sharing a bed, though, something they never did before. Rodney learns that House likes his personal space but doesn't complain when Rodney ends up spooning against his back in the middle of the night (which, for House, is something of an accomplishment), that House steals blankets as he's sleeping, and that in the morning, he needs Vicodin the way Rodney needs coffee.
Rodney hoards these bits and pieces, these fragments of a relationship, keeps them close to himself because he knows it's all he'll ever get.
On the last night, House says, "If I let you in, will you still respect me in the morning?" when Rodney shows up at his door, and Rodney says, "Oh, please. That assumes that I even respected you in the first place."
House smiles, though. A real one that makes Rodney's heart twist in his chest, and when Rodney kisses him, he knows this is the last time.
He doesn't ask House to stay. They're stuck in a loop, doomed to repeat themselves.
Instead, he starts counting the hours.
---
On the day House leaves, Rodney considers giving him a hug, but then decides against it, giving him an impersonal handshake and a "Thanks."
House, apparently even less concerned with social niceties now that he's older, grabs Rodney by the back of his head and sticks his tongue down Rodney's throat. Rodney's pretty sure at least one of the marines wolf-whistles. "Anytime, McKay," House says, afterward, with a leer.
Caldwell chooses that moment to beam him up (or maybe there were a few moments, and Rodney just doesn't remember them), leaving Rodney sputtering and blushing and having to deal with weeks' worth of fallout.
"Asshole," Rodney mutters, under his breath. That actually does make him feel a little better.
---
It's always the first few days that are the worst, that Rodney has the hardest time getting through. It's actually easier this time, since he's had practice before, and it's just the same thing all over again.
He tries for "subtle", but he's never been good at that, and it's the day after when Zelenka makes pointed comments about taking the day off so that he doesn't completely destroy the souls of his staff (though Rodney knows it's a complete fabrication, their souls should have been destroyed years ago).
Teyla tells him meditation is good for the soul, and that this might be a good time to start. She smiles benignly at him, her 'make sure Rodney doesn't do anything too rash' smile.
Elizabeth purses her mouth and says that while Dr. House's assistance was invaluable to the medical team, she was not sorry to see him go.
Ronon doesn't say anything about it at all, but he does imitate Sheppard's eyebrow-raising maneuver more than is strictly necessary.
Rodney brushes most of them off, because he doesn't want to talk about it at all, not to anyone, and especially not to anyone who wouldn't understand (which is everyone, come to think of it). The more he talks about it, the more he remembers, and that's the last thing he wants to do at this point. Crisis has been averted, Atlantis still up and operational, enough people still alive that they can call it a win. He just needs to put House away again, fold up the memories, store them in the back where Rodney can't see them anymore.
And if sometimes, there's a confession at the tip of his tongue, it's just because Rodney's still not as good as this as he should be.
---
It's not until two weeks after House leaves that Sheppard finally makes his own attempt to cheer Rodney up, and for some reason it involves the shooting range, a gun, and a paper target with a familiar face taped over its head.
"Is this a joke?" Rodney says. He eyes the gun in his hands warily. It's entirely possible that this is some sort of elaborate set up and not just the product of Sheppard's freakish, freakish brain.
Sheppard shrugs and slouches against the wall. "Not really."
Rodney's not sure what to make of this, so he says, "You honestly think making me shoot at my ex-boyfriend's face is actually going to make me feel better?" He'd already had his 'I don't think you're handling this as well as you should' meeting with Heightmeyer, and he was hoping that everyone had decided to drop the subject by now.
"He was kind of an asshole," Sheppard says.
"Well, duh," Rodney says, rolling his eyes. "I knew that. It was kind of the appeal." And it's not like Rodney can really throw stones about it, what with his own glass house and all.
Sheppard's face scrunches up. "Seriously?"
"Yeah, I mean, it's kind of nice to have someone around who understands you, you know? And..." Rodney cuts himself off as he realizes what Sheppard's up to. "Hey!"
Sheppard looks innocent. It is totally not fooling Rodney. "What?"
Rodney narrows his eyes. "You're trying to get me to talk about it!"
Sheppard shrugs. "I was mostly just trying to get you to shoot at the target, actually. But if you really want to talk about it..."
Rodney actually considers it for a moment, considers spilling the whole story from twenty years ago, about the Mathlympics, the prom, the time he and House cut English to make out in an empty Bio lab. The way House isn't who he used to be, because he's all grown up, and how it makes sense because Rodney isn't who he was either. The way House snores at night, not loud, but in the back of the throat. The way House tosses back pills like they're candy, because of his leg. The way Rodney wants to know the story behind it, but he never worked up the courage to ask. The way House looks like when he smiles, really smiles, soft and affectionate and fond. The reasons why Rodney can't do this right now, like this, because shooting House in the face (and knowing Rodney's aim, it would probably end up hitting the wall somewhere to the right of House's arm) isn't going to make him feel better. But it all catches behind his teeth, and instead, he puts the gun down on the bench, the gentle clack of metal on plastic filling the quiet room.
Sheppard seems to get what that means, so he shrugs and takes down the paper target and folds it up. Rodney thinks that maybe he can't tell Sheppard those things now (the things Rodney still can't stop thinking about, no matter how hard he tried), because the hurt is still too fresh and new. But maybe, one day, he will be able to. He finds himself almost looking forward to it.
"Hey," he says to Sheppard. "Thanks anyway. For doing all of this." He gestures to the paper target in Sheppard's hands. Okay, so maybe it was a little creepy, but it was a nice gesture, for the most part.
"These things?" Sheppard says. "Nah, it wasn't any trouble." He shrugs. "We've got dozens of them."
FIN.
Bonus deleted scene! I was originally playing around with POV when I was starting out, and I was very sad to lose this scene because it has one of my favorite lines.
After they're done, Rodney leaves without even so much as acknowledging Foreman's existence, and House seems thoughtful before he comes into the conference room. "Gotta go," he says. "You kids hold down the fort."
"That's it? You're leaving just like that?" Foreman says. It's kind of a surprise and kind of not. The Rodney guy did say that it was important, and House did do his weird impression of a pod person for a moment there.
"Yeah. Can't give you any details, but you all should really try not to kill anyone while I'm gone." House shrugs and gives his cane a twirl.
"Where?" Cameron asks. She looks interested and attentive. "So we can get in contact with you if we need to."
House rolls his eyes. "Still can't give you any details. You know how it is. Ex-boyfriend shows up at work, says he'll do anything to have you back, needs your help on some highly classified mission."
He grabs his coat and leaves without saying so much as a goodbye.
Foreman looks at Cameron, who shrugs. Cameron looks at Chase, who also shrugs. "Ex-boyfriend?" she says.
Chase looks at Foreman.
Foreman shrugs.
Fandom: House/Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: House/McKay
Rating: R
Word count: 4,647 words
Summary: In which there's a plague in Atlantis, connections are remade, and Rodney doesn't actually shoot House in the face.
Notes: Okay, this is the sequel to High School Is Not Another Name For Hell that I said that I'd make queenzulu write, but she agreed to write House/Watson for me instead (NO JUDGING), so I let her off the hook. Still, she and savemoony did an awesome job of helping me out along the way, betaing, giving awesome suggestions, and listening to me whine. There was a lot of whining. Apologies to Wilco for snagging the title from "I Am Trying To Break Your Heart".
When Rodney steps through the Gate, he's all nervous tension and sweaty palms. There's a crisis on Atlantis (when is there not?), and once again, it's up to him to save the day.
It's weird, to have two parts of his life collide in such a spectacular manner, but they have, they will, and there's nothing Rodney can do to prevent it. Part of him doesn't even want to try. On the platform, Carter greets him with a wan smile and a hospital address.
"You went to school with him," she says. It's not an accusation.
"Yeah," Rodney says. "I did." He manages to keep his hands from shaking as he holds onto the slip of paper she hands him.
She laughs. It sounds sort of strangled, and Rodney gets it, because she's worried too. He feels almost pathetically grateful for that. "Small world," she says.
"It really is," Rodney says, and doesn't elaborate.
---
When he steps into Princeton-Plainsboro, he feels crowded all of a sudden, too many people, too many sick people. Rodney has always hated hospitals, and now is no different.
When he finds House's office, he's almost surprised to find that it's all glass, easy to see through, because Rodney's never thought of House as the kind of person who liked to let people see him. He peeks through the door, catching sight of a familiar back, turned to face out the window. His hair is different, which shouldn't surprise Rodney at all (Rodney's own hair isn't what it used to be), but it does.
"Dr. House?" Rodney says as he pushes through the door, and House turns. His face is different, too, which is something Rodney knew from looking at the photographs, but it didn't quite prepare him to see the way time leaves traces behind. He's leaning on a cane, and yeah, Rodney read his file, but his body is bent forward, in a way that Rodney has never seen before.
"Yeah?" House says, and this is familiar again, something Rodney remembers. House's eyes widen slightly, then narrow again, sharp and suspicious. "Rodney," he continues, "it's been a while."
Rodney opens his mouth and feels the old banter coming back. "Yeah, yeah," he snaps. "I've been busy getting doctorates and joining top secret military projects. Now that we're done catching up, I need your help." He does. He really does. Because there's something that's killing Atlantis and Carson can't figure it out by himself, and Rodney's just really sick of dead people, of watching people die.
All of that must show on his face, because something on House's face softens just a hair, and even though he doesn't look the same as Rodney remembers, his face still moves the same. "What's going on?" House asks, and there are those eyes again, that Rodney might have had a bit of an obsession with way back when, blue and sharp and clear.
Rodney tells him.
---
House raises his eyebrow when Rodney says "U.S. Military", but he still signs the NDA without blinking, and only inserts about five snide comments into their resulting conversation about Atlantis ("Do you really expect me to believe this?", "A circular ring? That you walk through? Were warp drives too passè?", "Dying, huh? And you asked me why I didn't want to go into physics.", "Why yes, of course I can diagnose alien viruses, sounds like a breeze.", and "There haven't been any bug-like things bursting through necks, right?").
And Rodney only has to say, "Shut up. We don't have much time," once, after House starts asking detailed questions about the disease and what they know about it halfway through Rodney's explanation.
He can feel House measuring him up, turning him into one of the people he watches, and maybe at some point Rodney would have cared, but right now, he doesn't have the time to deal with it.
At the end, Rodney says, "So, are you coming?"
And House says, "Sure, why not?"
---
After that, it's all about the waiting, which has never been Rodney's strong suit, but there's not much he can do with it, so he knuckles down and deals.
On the Daedalus, they spend a lot of time together, mostly because House is Rodney's responsibility, and Rodney knows better than to let House near new toys (Rodney let him use his telescope once, and that was enough).
So House follows Rodney around during their days, eating meals, looking over his shoulder as Rodney helps recalibrate the transporters, sleeping in the same room. House is more obnoxious now, though, opting for condescending scorn instead of his usual simmering resentment. For the first week it's weird, but then Rodney gets used to it, and it's almost like it was before, side by side, them against the idiots.
Almost.
There are still things that Rodney doesn't get, like the quick glance away before House starts telling a story about a lawyer he once dated, the odd tilt of his head when he mentions his fellows (three of them, though Rodney doesn't get much in the way of details). The stories House tells are meaningless, only amusing because some moron did this or some moron did that. Nothing deeper than that.
House doesn't tell the story behind the leg. Rodney doesn't ask.
But it makes sense, because Rodney has his own scars that he can't tell House about, the one on his arm, still there, white and thin, the one on his chest from a musket ball on MKX-239 (Teyla had held his hand, telling him that it was okay, that it would be all right), the stripe across the back of his neck (just a lucky swipe of the sword, but it had bled and bled and bled). He can't tell House these things because House wasn't there. He doesn't (can't) know what it was like, what these things mean, and Rodney's not sure he could explain them properly.
It's in the third week that a transformer explodes, and House is there, in the thick of the infirmary, bitching at nurses, calling the other doctors incompetent, his eyes sharp and focused, the way they were in the middle of a meet, the way Rodney feels when Atlantis is going to fall apart all around him and it's up to him to pull the right answers out of his ass.
Afterward, House brushes all the "thank you"s and "I'm glad you were here"s off with a sneer, and Rodney just adds it to the list of things he doesn't get about him.
---
It's like history is repeating itself when Rodney finds himself staring at House a lot during the fourth week, cataloging the physical differences that he didn't notice at first. The longer, more knobbly fingers, showing their age, the persistent stubble, lining his chin and cheeks, the grooves under his eyes, too little sleep, probably. Rodney can't help but think they look beautiful (and isn't that just the cheesiest way of describing it, ever) on him, like they fit.
Rodney wonders if this is just habit, getting adolescent crushes on House after prolonged exposure.
He kind of hopes it's not.
---
When they drop out of hyperspace and begin approaching Atlantis, the first thing House says is, "That's it?" His face is twisted into a mocking sneer, but there's something too exaggerated about it, too forced.
From the windows, they can see all of Atlantis in the late afternoon, golden light reflecting off of glass and metal. Rodney beams with pride (even though the nervous tension is back, settling down once again in the pit of his stomach). "Yeah," he says, "that's it."
---
They actually have a welcoming committee when they come aboard, which is probably customary for Elizabeth, and it makes sense to see Carson there, ready to ambush him, but that doesn't explain why Sheppard's tagging along.
"Welcome to Atlantis, Dr. House," Elizabeth says in her best diplomat-voice. "We were very glad to hear that you were coming."
House turns to Rodney and says, "Her tits aren't as nice as Cuddy's. It's a real shame."
Sheppard's eyebrows go up to his hairline, Carson's face starts flushing, and Elizabeth looks completely flabbergasted.
Rodney pulls House aside and hisses, "Did you really have to do that in front of my boss?" He's become more used to the inappropriate comments (especially since it was hilarious to see House trying to get a rise out of Hermiod), but even Rodney knows there are lines that one doesn't cross.
House smirks and says, "I do it in front of my boss, too."
---
After that, they don't see much of each other anymore. House gets abducted by the med staff, and Rodney has his own shit to deal with while so many people are in the infirmary.
They pass each other in the halls at times (because House's new quarters on Atlantis are only maybe three floors from the main science labs), the off-balance walk always catching the corner of Rodney's eye even when he's got his face shoved into a datapad, checking up on the latest power fluctuations, and sometimes pass each other in the mess, since Rodney doesn't actually have the time to sit down and eat a meal, and neither does House.
It's on the fourth day that Sheppard leans against the conduit Rodney's working on and says, "So, I heard you used to go to school with this Dr. House guy." His voice is casual, but Rodney can hear the question in his voice.
Rodney wonders if Sheppard knows exactly what he's asking. Probably not, or he wouldn't be asking it at all. "We were on the math team together," Rodney says, hoping Sheppard will take that and leave.
"Really?" he says, and Rodney can hear the skepticism in his voice.
"Yeah," Rodney says, "really. Now will you shut up? I'm trying to focus here."
It's just his luck that Sheppard is very good at ignoring people when he wants to. "Heard a rumor that you went to prom together."
Rodney grits his teeth. "True, as far as it goes." He thinks about the tangy juice-scent of the punch, the way he could smell it on House's breath when he leaned in too close (and afterward, he made House brush his teeth, rinse out his mouth with mouthwash, before he was willing to let House anywhere near his mouth). Remembering it feels like getting kicked in the stomach.
"Yeah?" Sheppard says, like he wants to hear more, but doesn't want to ask.
At this point, what little of Rodney's patience snaps. "Look, I'm actually trying to keep this city's power grid from frying. If you're just going do something besides ask annoying questions, you can hold these wires for me, otherwise, I'm sure Elizabeth or Lorne can give you something to do."
"Sure, McKay," is Sheppard's reply, all slouchy grin and shrug, and he shuts up and holds the wires without further comment.
---
There's news that they've managed to slow the progression of the disease in the infected patients, which buys them more time, and Rodney breathes a sigh of relief.
It's interesting to find out how much gossip has been spread about House in such a small amount of time, how much of that gossip somehow manages to trickle back to Rodney. The prom thing, yeah (it spread so fast it got all the way to Sheppard, who couldn't follow gossip if someone gave him Cliff Notes every week), and Rodney can see this House telling everyone about it just because he can.
By keeping his ears closer to the ground (and by "ground", he means "Zelenka", who knows everything about everyone, and Rodney doesn't let himself think about it long enough to let it get creepy), Rodney learns that there's a medical doctor House knows named Wilson who is simultaneously smarter and stupider than Carson, that House's boss has a really nice ass (and Rodney tries to repress the resulting jealousy, but it's hard), that House likes calling Biro, Wendall, and Panjabi "Cameron", "Chase", and "Foreman" for some reason and finds it absolutely hilarious.
Rodney also learns that it was a good idea to bring House, because he's actually competent, and even Carson admits that they wouldn't have gotten this far without him.
He feels somewhat justified because of that.
---
Rodney somehow manages to be there when House meets Teyla and Ronon for the first time. The team still eats together frequently, even though Elizabeth has put all offworld missions on hold until the matter of the contagion is solved. The quarantine seems to be working, and there have been no new cases, which is also a relief.
It was an average lunch, though Sheppard was off doing official military stuff, so it was just he and Ronon and Teyla. Rodney was rambling about his day (with Teyla looking interested and Ronon looking bored), when there's a cane tossed onto the table and a familiar face sliding into Sheppard's usual spot.
"So," House says. "You must be the token people of color. Gosh, I'm almost kind of sad that I left mine at home." He smiles, bright and mocking, and Rodney feels an intense urge to disappear until the table and never come out again. He now remembers why they never used to eat lunch with other people.
House points at Ronon. "You must be the big scary one that kills things and doesn't say much."
Ronon shrugs. "About right," he says.
And then House turns his attention to Teyla. "You must be the beautiful alien priestess who's just around to look hot. At least you're good at that." He leers in an overly blatant way, and Rodney rolls his eyes.
Teyla just smiles. "Not a priestess, no. But thank you for the compliment." Her expression doesn't waver from 'serene'.
That makes House blink for a moment, clearly thrown off balance, and then he looks impressed. He looks at Rodney and winks. Rodney kind of wants to jump him then and there.
He doesn't.
---
One evening, at dusk, he finds House on the east pier, staring out at the horizon, his tall, lanky body hunched over the railing, his cane laid down at his feet.
"What are you doing out here?" Rodney asks. "Not that you can't be out here or anything like that. Just wondering why you, in particular, are out here right now."
"You actually talk more now, don't you?" House says.
"Yeah, bad habit that I never managed to shake, really," Rodney says. He nods toward the sun, where it's painting the sky pink and orange. "Never thought of you as a sunset kind of guy, though. Too overdone or something like that."
House glares, but doesn't say anything. Rodney leans on the railing next to him, so close their shoulders touch, and he feels House tense beside him. They stand like that for a while, quiet and close, and contrary to popular belief, Rodney can stay quiet when he needs to, when someone else needs him to.
"We lost Jenkins twenty minutes ago," House says, eventually. It comes out through gritted teeth, and Rodney thinks he can tell how much it took out of House to tell him that.
"Jenkins? Wait, he was in the second wave, wasn't he?" Rodney says. "I mean, they were infected at least a month ago, the first wave died in a week." Three weeks was a lot, especially on Atlantis, at least they'd managed to give Jenkins that much more time, at least they were buying everyone else more time, too. Rodney gets that it's hard to let people die on your watch (boy, does he know), but maybe it's just become too much a part of his life, because it doesn't hurt as much as it once did.
"Boring details," House says, with an edge. "Still died, and I still don't know what's wrong with them."
"So what are you even doing here, then?" Rodney snaps. "Why are you whining about it to me instead of out there working on figuring it out?" It's not the most tactful or nice he's ever been, and that makes him wince, but it actually gets House to look at him.
"You give the best pep talks, McKay," House says, sarcasm dripping from every syllable, but there's still some fondness underneath.
Their elbows brush again, but this time, House doesn't so much as blink.
---
People actually start treating Rodney nicer, oddly enough, at around the three week mark, and he guesses that it has something to do with his demotion from "biggest asshole on Atlantis" to "second biggest asshole on Atlantis". Rodney's not sure whether he should be pleased or insulted.
House seems to get crankier as the days drag on, and Rodney sees more of him, as their breakfast-lunch-dinner schedules beginning lining up better, and Rodney's pretty sure their arguing amuses the rest of the team (much to his annoyance), who smirk whenever House shows up with the familiar tap of his cane.
Rodney thinks he likes it, this new pattern. He could get used to it if he lets himself.
---
In the fourth week after House starts working on Atlantis, the disease gets tracked to some sort of Pegasus virus, though Rodney tunes out the explanation of the medical voodoo as Carson presents it during the senior staff meeting, and in the end, it's determined that House is taking the Daedalus back to Earth on the next supply run.
"Oh, good," House says. "Another month stuck inside a space ship. Sounds like a party."
Everyone at the table has learned to ignore House during his outbursts, so they do.
Afterward, Rodney considers asking House to stay. There's definitely not enough medical doctors on Atlantis, and while the "asshole" thing might be kind of a turnoff, no one's fired Rodney over it yet.
It's a possibility. It's there.
---
They spend more time together, waiting for House to leave again, and Rodney says things like "Zelenka is decent at handling the generators, but he occasionally flubs the math," and, "Sometimes I really regret not firing Hawkins years ago. Incompetent asshole," instead of things like, "You should stay, this time," or, "I think I still have a crush on you." He's pretty sure House doesn't notice.
House occasionally psychoanalyzes Carson's Freudian mother fixation, Sheppard's weird authority issues, and Ronon's penchant for long knives. He doesn't talk about going back to Earth, either.
It's a week before the Daedalus is due to show up when Rodney corners House in a hallway and kisses him, and it's nothing like their other first kiss, not hurried and desperate, all giddy adrenaline. It's almost gentle, slow and sweet with a hint of yearning. House's stubble scrapes his skin, rough and different, and he hisses when Rodney leans on him the wrong way. It shouldn't be the same, Rodney knows, because this is different, they're different, but it still catches him by surprise.
When they pull apart, House smirks and says, "Took you long enough."
And Rodney says, "You. What. Oh, come on. You have got to stop waiting for me to make the first move."
"Why? It's a lot more fun this way," House says.
"Hey!" Rodney says, and House snickers, but that's familiar enough. That hasn't changed.
---
They don't really talk about it much, House's impending departure, what exactly this is, between them. They argue and complain and snipe, and when Sheppard raises an eyebrow when House starts stealing food off Rodney's plate (Rodney draws the line at the blue jello and the pudding, but everything else is fine), it's not like they can't brush it off as an old school habit.
At night, they usually end up in House's quarters, because they're bigger and cleaner, impersonal enough that Rodney thinks that maybe it won't be so hard to let him go again.
He finds himself relearning House's body, the rougher texture of his skin, the wiry scrape of his hair, the vicious scar on his leg. When they have sex, it's less frenzied, less young, but they're that way, too. Older and probably wiser. Wearing their years on their bodies.
It's weird sharing a bed, though, something they never did before. Rodney learns that House likes his personal space but doesn't complain when Rodney ends up spooning against his back in the middle of the night (which, for House, is something of an accomplishment), that House steals blankets as he's sleeping, and that in the morning, he needs Vicodin the way Rodney needs coffee.
Rodney hoards these bits and pieces, these fragments of a relationship, keeps them close to himself because he knows it's all he'll ever get.
On the last night, House says, "If I let you in, will you still respect me in the morning?" when Rodney shows up at his door, and Rodney says, "Oh, please. That assumes that I even respected you in the first place."
House smiles, though. A real one that makes Rodney's heart twist in his chest, and when Rodney kisses him, he knows this is the last time.
He doesn't ask House to stay. They're stuck in a loop, doomed to repeat themselves.
Instead, he starts counting the hours.
---
On the day House leaves, Rodney considers giving him a hug, but then decides against it, giving him an impersonal handshake and a "Thanks."
House, apparently even less concerned with social niceties now that he's older, grabs Rodney by the back of his head and sticks his tongue down Rodney's throat. Rodney's pretty sure at least one of the marines wolf-whistles. "Anytime, McKay," House says, afterward, with a leer.
Caldwell chooses that moment to beam him up (or maybe there were a few moments, and Rodney just doesn't remember them), leaving Rodney sputtering and blushing and having to deal with weeks' worth of fallout.
"Asshole," Rodney mutters, under his breath. That actually does make him feel a little better.
---
It's always the first few days that are the worst, that Rodney has the hardest time getting through. It's actually easier this time, since he's had practice before, and it's just the same thing all over again.
He tries for "subtle", but he's never been good at that, and it's the day after when Zelenka makes pointed comments about taking the day off so that he doesn't completely destroy the souls of his staff (though Rodney knows it's a complete fabrication, their souls should have been destroyed years ago).
Teyla tells him meditation is good for the soul, and that this might be a good time to start. She smiles benignly at him, her 'make sure Rodney doesn't do anything too rash' smile.
Elizabeth purses her mouth and says that while Dr. House's assistance was invaluable to the medical team, she was not sorry to see him go.
Ronon doesn't say anything about it at all, but he does imitate Sheppard's eyebrow-raising maneuver more than is strictly necessary.
Rodney brushes most of them off, because he doesn't want to talk about it at all, not to anyone, and especially not to anyone who wouldn't understand (which is everyone, come to think of it). The more he talks about it, the more he remembers, and that's the last thing he wants to do at this point. Crisis has been averted, Atlantis still up and operational, enough people still alive that they can call it a win. He just needs to put House away again, fold up the memories, store them in the back where Rodney can't see them anymore.
And if sometimes, there's a confession at the tip of his tongue, it's just because Rodney's still not as good as this as he should be.
---
It's not until two weeks after House leaves that Sheppard finally makes his own attempt to cheer Rodney up, and for some reason it involves the shooting range, a gun, and a paper target with a familiar face taped over its head.
"Is this a joke?" Rodney says. He eyes the gun in his hands warily. It's entirely possible that this is some sort of elaborate set up and not just the product of Sheppard's freakish, freakish brain.
Sheppard shrugs and slouches against the wall. "Not really."
Rodney's not sure what to make of this, so he says, "You honestly think making me shoot at my ex-boyfriend's face is actually going to make me feel better?" He'd already had his 'I don't think you're handling this as well as you should' meeting with Heightmeyer, and he was hoping that everyone had decided to drop the subject by now.
"He was kind of an asshole," Sheppard says.
"Well, duh," Rodney says, rolling his eyes. "I knew that. It was kind of the appeal." And it's not like Rodney can really throw stones about it, what with his own glass house and all.
Sheppard's face scrunches up. "Seriously?"
"Yeah, I mean, it's kind of nice to have someone around who understands you, you know? And..." Rodney cuts himself off as he realizes what Sheppard's up to. "Hey!"
Sheppard looks innocent. It is totally not fooling Rodney. "What?"
Rodney narrows his eyes. "You're trying to get me to talk about it!"
Sheppard shrugs. "I was mostly just trying to get you to shoot at the target, actually. But if you really want to talk about it..."
Rodney actually considers it for a moment, considers spilling the whole story from twenty years ago, about the Mathlympics, the prom, the time he and House cut English to make out in an empty Bio lab. The way House isn't who he used to be, because he's all grown up, and how it makes sense because Rodney isn't who he was either. The way House snores at night, not loud, but in the back of the throat. The way House tosses back pills like they're candy, because of his leg. The way Rodney wants to know the story behind it, but he never worked up the courage to ask. The way House looks like when he smiles, really smiles, soft and affectionate and fond. The reasons why Rodney can't do this right now, like this, because shooting House in the face (and knowing Rodney's aim, it would probably end up hitting the wall somewhere to the right of House's arm) isn't going to make him feel better. But it all catches behind his teeth, and instead, he puts the gun down on the bench, the gentle clack of metal on plastic filling the quiet room.
Sheppard seems to get what that means, so he shrugs and takes down the paper target and folds it up. Rodney thinks that maybe he can't tell Sheppard those things now (the things Rodney still can't stop thinking about, no matter how hard he tried), because the hurt is still too fresh and new. But maybe, one day, he will be able to. He finds himself almost looking forward to it.
"Hey," he says to Sheppard. "Thanks anyway. For doing all of this." He gestures to the paper target in Sheppard's hands. Okay, so maybe it was a little creepy, but it was a nice gesture, for the most part.
"These things?" Sheppard says. "Nah, it wasn't any trouble." He shrugs. "We've got dozens of them."
FIN.
Bonus deleted scene! I was originally playing around with POV when I was starting out, and I was very sad to lose this scene because it has one of my favorite lines.
After they're done, Rodney leaves without even so much as acknowledging Foreman's existence, and House seems thoughtful before he comes into the conference room. "Gotta go," he says. "You kids hold down the fort."
"That's it? You're leaving just like that?" Foreman says. It's kind of a surprise and kind of not. The Rodney guy did say that it was important, and House did do his weird impression of a pod person for a moment there.
"Yeah. Can't give you any details, but you all should really try not to kill anyone while I'm gone." House shrugs and gives his cane a twirl.
"Where?" Cameron asks. She looks interested and attentive. "So we can get in contact with you if we need to."
House rolls his eyes. "Still can't give you any details. You know how it is. Ex-boyfriend shows up at work, says he'll do anything to have you back, needs your help on some highly classified mission."
He grabs his coat and leaves without saying so much as a goodbye.
Foreman looks at Cameron, who shrugs. Cameron looks at Chase, who also shrugs. "Ex-boyfriend?" she says.
Chase looks at Foreman.
Foreman shrugs.