Fic: Imperfect
Title: Imperfect
Author: SGAtlantisLight
Characters: McKay, Sheppard, Weir, Beckett, Heightmeyer, bits of others
Relationships: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Smut, angst, romance, and grrreen.
Spoilers: None
Summary: A sequel to Broken & Fractured. Part 3 of the Broken Series
Disclaimer: The characters, the setting, etc. are NOT mine, even if I wish they were.
Elizabeth drummed her fingers on the table. "Were either of them at breakfast?" she asked the others in the room.
"I'm afraid I came straight from the infirmary," Carson said.
Ronon Dex shrugged eloquently.
"Rodney was not in lab," Radek answered. "Could be in another section of city, though. Lost track of time."
"That does not explain Colonel Sheppard's absence," Teyla pointed out.
***
"Crap! John, get up," Rodney yelled, bolting out of Sheppard's bed. "We overslept. We're late!"
John shot into an upright position at once, any modicum of sleepiness instantly gone. "Shit!"
"We should have been there ten minutes ago. My shoes. What did I do with my shoes?"
"Rodney, we have to shower first," John said, watching Rodney paw through clothes, sorting his own out from John's. "We smell like sex."
"Oh, God," the scientist moaned, sinking back down onto the bed. "We are so outed."
"Well," Sheppard drawled in that accent that made Rodney think of rolling plains, "you didn't want to carry on in secret."
"Oh, yes. And showing up at a staff meeting and saying, 'So sorry we're late. We stayed up too late last night having sex,' is exactly the way I'd always planned to come out. There is such a thing as being discreet, you know."
John chuckled in spite of himself, then picked up his headset.
"What are you doing?" Rodney hissed.
"Calm down," John said, then clicked the comm on. "Dr. Weir, this is Sheppard."
"John," Weir's voice emerged, sounding both concerned and annoyed, "is Rodney with you? You were both expected at a meeting fifteen minutes ago."
"Sorry," John replied. "Rodney had some idea about improving the output of the desalinization tanks, which should have only taken a minute..."
Rodney stared at John in admiration, then grabbed his own set and clicked it on. "Which would have only taken a minute if the colonel here hadn't started poking things." He sounded annoyed as hell.
John grinned. "Unfortunately, we've got sludge all over everywhere..."
"So unless you want us slimy and smelling of rotten fish," Rodney picked up the story, "it's going to be a few minutes."
"Are either of you injured?" Carson asked over the radio.
"No," John answered, "just really, really rank."
"All right. Get here as soon as you can," Weir radioed. "Can you get someone to clean up the area?"
"I'll get someone on it," Rodney answered. They both clicked off. "God, John, I don't know whether to be amazed or frightened that you're such a good liar."
"You're not a bad actor yourself, Rodney."
"It comes from years of pretending to be straight for the Neanderthals," Rodney replied, surprised at how bitter that sounded.
Sheppard's grin faded. "Yeah, I know what you mean."
And there, once again, was the spectre of their dilemma hanging over them.
Rodney looked like he was going to be ill. John squeezed his hand. "We'll work it out. I swear to you."
"Well," Rodney answered, swallowing against the bile rising in his throat, "we need to hurry or it won't matter."
In other circumstances, showering with John Sheppard would be hot beyond words and certainly wouldn't have saved them any time. As it was, the fear twisting in his guts ruined the pleasure of having John wet, soapy, and quite naked in the shower with him. John kept casting concerned looks his way, but didn't say anything. They were silent as they dried off and started dressing, Rodney stuffing a powerbar down his throat as he pulled on his underwear and khakis.
John had to smile when he saw Rodney sniff the underarms of his shirt from last night, shrug, and pull it back on. "That is so totally geek, McKay," he teased.
"Well, it's not like I have time to go back to my quarters, you know. And I don't think anything that fits on your skinny-ass body will work for me."
"Hey, you didn't object to my body last night," John teased.
It should have been funny or sexy or silly, but instead all Rodney could think was that he was going to have to stop teasing John about his lack of weight, in case John forgot to be discreet. Alain had been long and lean, like John, all muscles and bones and hard angles and oh, God...
"Rodney? Hey, are you okay?"
What had made him think he could do this?
"Rodney?"
What had made him think they had any chance to make this work. John was military and he had seen what military people did to one of their own who strayed outside the lines of normalcy. Suddenly, it wasn't Alain's battered face, swathed in clinical white, with bright splashes of red that rose before him. It was John's face, pale and gaunt and... gone.
"Rodney!"
Ancient toilets were remarkably similar to the ones back home. Different material, of course. More decorative, though the bowl itself was still white. He wasn't sure why he was thinking about such things while vomiting. Perhaps it was to get his mind off the image of John in Alain's place. Ohgodohgodohgod. The powerbar he'd eaten had been strawberry. The red of the strawberry filling against the white made him think of bandages soaked with blood, red lips and pale skin.
"I'm sorry. He doesn't blame you, really," Alain's mother had said. "He's just very uncomfortable. He... he never knew about... you know..."
"And you?" he had asked.
She smiled a sad smile. "I saw the way he looked at you sometimes, when he didn't think anyone was looking. And the way you looked at him. I think that may be what gave him away, actually. Your eyes."
He had flinched as if hit. He had given Alain's secret away. Someone had figured it out. "So, you want me to go?"
"I know it's not fair. But, really, it's so hard on his father already without thinking about the two of you... you know..."
"Having sex," Rodney had said, watching her flinch, feeling the anger growing inside him. "Fucking. He doesn't want to think about his son and I fucking. That's what this is all about!"
"Rodney, dear, I--"
"Don't call me 'dear.' You don't deserve to call me that. I love him. I love him, goddammit, and all you can think about is that we actually express that love, as if sex were all this was about. You're a goddammed hypocrite! You say you love him, but you don't want him to have the comfort of my presence. I might be able to help him, reach him, but you won't let me. You're as bad as the men who put him in that room!"
A hand had landed on his shoulder and he had been spun around to face the angry hazel eyes of Alain's father, eyes the same colour as Alain's. "That's enough. Get out. If you ever set foot in here again, Alain won't be the only one in a coma."
"Fucking hypocrite!" Rodney had screamed.
Then his world had exploded in pain and red and a horrible cracking reverberation.
"Rodney?" It was Carson's voice. What was Carson doing here? He blinked up at the doctor, seeing John hovering behind him, face filled with concern.
"C-Carson?"
"We're going to take you to the infirmary now," Carson said evenly, calmly, as one might speak to a frightened child.
"The infirmary? I don't... I'm... I'm fine."
"You've been projectile vomiting for the last ten minutes, almost non-stop. That's not fine, Rodney."
"What about... what about the meeting?"
"Canceled," John answered. "Carson's putting us both in quarantine until he knows what brought this on."
"Quarantine? Why?"
"It's possible you were exposed to something in the desalinization tanks this morning," Carson explained.
Rodney groaned. This is why he hated lying. It was so much easier to be honest.
John cleared his throat. "Rodney?" The scientist met his eyes. There was a question in them. McKay nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Carson, there wasn't a desalinization tank accident this morning," John said evenly. "We lied."
"What?" Beckett asked, looking confused. "Why would you tell Dr. Weir--"
"We overslept. Both of us. Together."
"You overslept?"
"Together," John answered, his voice low.
Carson blinked, then nodded. "I see."
"So," Rodney said, running a shaking hand across his mouth, "there's no reason to take me to the infirmary, right?"
"Rodney, you still were vomiting, and that's still a concern. And, considering what you've just told me, it's still possible the colonel may have been exposed to a pathogen you're carrying. So, I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist."
While Rodney's stomach had stopped its mad attempt to turn his body inside out, he was exhausted, weak, and shaky. Carson had started by giving him a cup of juice. "Your blood sugar is low. I need you to drink this, slowly. Small sips. If you feel any nausea, stop. Hopefully, we won't have to use an IV. Now, I've got to take a blood sample to check for pathogens. Just a little stick now..."
Rodney was strangely subdued. He didn't even flinch at the needle.
Carson considered him for a moment, gave an encouraging smile, then turned to the man hovering over the scientist. "Colonel, I need to speak with you a moment."
"Sure, doc."
Carson led them into his office, shut the door, and shuttered the windows, then rounded on the military man, who was studying his boots. "What the hell do ya think you're doing, man?"
Sheppard blinked. "What?"
"You've done a lot of daft things, colonel, but this has got to be the bloody most idiotic thing you've ever done!"
"Are you talking about us lying to Weir or the reason why we were lying to Weir?" John asked.
"I'm talking about you entering into a sexual relationship with Rodney McKay. In case you hadn't noticed it, he has some issues to work out."
"I noticed it, doc. Believe me."
Carson had opened his mouth to continue his harangue, but stopped at that, his jaw snapping shut and his eyes narrowing. "What happened?"
"He cried. After we..." Sheppard waved his hands.
"Oh, good Lord!" Beckett fell silent for a moment, hands clenched in frustration, then took a step toward the silent man. "If you hurt him, in any way, I will make bloody well sure your military career is over and you never set foot in Atlantis again. Do you understand me?"
Sheppard's eyes widened in astonishment. "Dr. Beckett?"
"I mean it, colonel. You have no idea how much damage you could do to him."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know you had feelings for the man," John shot back.
"Are you daft? Of course I have feelings for the man. He's a good friend. And I'll not have you sullying that with your innuendo."
"Sorry, I didn't mean that," John said, his body sagging suddenly. He found a chair and slumped into it. "Can you tell me... tell me why he's so..." Sheppard waved his hands again, trying to convey meaning without using the words that came to his head-- broken, damaged, fragile.
The doctor sighed. "You know I can't break confidentiality. But his basic medical records are open to you as his team leader. Feel free to look."
Carson pulled up a file on his laptop. It was a list of major hospitalisations, dates, and treatments. John scooted his chair forward and scanned it. Broken jaw. Fractured radius and ulna. Multiple contusions. Concussion. Broken ribs. Dislocated shoulder. He checked the dates. "Oh, God."
He wondered once again why he had been so foolish as to get himself into this in the first place.
***
Rodney was giggling, grinning like an idiot, sitting on the floor of the small building, leaning against the wall. John was sure his own face contained an equally silly grin.
"Whoo!" Rodney said, his voice pitched a little too high and a little too loud. "I think there must be something more than alcohol in this stuff."
John had grinned. "Yeah. We should probababably warn Teyla and Rononon."
Rodney snorted, then broke down into giggles.
"Tey-la, hey la, my boyfriend's back..." John sing-songed.
"Oh, God. This is better than Rad- Radek's hooch," Rodney said, giggling again.
"Doctor Zel- Zelink... the Czech guy has hooch?"
Rodney waved his arms around, rolling his eyes in that 'Well, duh!' expression he did so well. "He's the chief engineer, sort of. Course he has. Terrible, horrible, awful, wonnerful stuff, too."
"There must be some law," John said.
They were silent for a moment, considering that statement, except for occasional bouts of giggles from Rodney, then, forehead wrinkled in concentration, Rodney asked, "Some law about what?"
"Wha'? Oh, some law that says the chief engineer's the one in charge of the still."
"Course. Zlinky's just like Scotty."
"How so?"
"He was in charge of the still, too."
John pondered this. "I don't remember that."
"He was the chief engineer, so, you know... duh!"
"Oh. Yeah." John tossed back another big gulp. "Should stop drinking this... what'd they call it?"
Rodney shrugged, then eyed the emerald liquid sloshing in his cup. "It's green." He giggled. "It's grrreen," he repeated, with a Scottish brogue.
Sheppard snorted. Rodney drained his cup, then unsteadily poured more, repeating, "It's grrreen," in his best Scottish accent.
"God, you're cute," John said, rolling his head back.
"Pfft! 'M drunk... high. Not stupid," Rodney said, swallowing more of the stuff.
"No, really. You're cute. 'Ve always thought so."
Rodney giggled. "Bet you say that to all the guys you get high with grrreen."
John looked despondently into his cup. "All gone. Gimme more."
"Last is in my cup an' 't's all mine!" Rodney drained his cup as John dove for it.
"Fuck!" John yelled. "I'm gettin some!" And with that, he covered Rodney's mouth with his, sliding his tongue inside after an elusive taste of the green liquid. Rodney complied, opening his mouth and allowing some of it to flow into John's, who swirled it back into Rodney's until at last they had swallowed it all.
"Somethin'... diff'rent here," Rodney said, trying to look at John with unfocused eyes.
"Mm. Got me some. Hot mouth. Sexy..." And John's mouth was on Rodney's again. His hands tangled in Rodney's hair, pulling him forward into the kiss.
"Ow!" Rodney said when, after a couple of minutes, John let go of his hair and his head crashed back against the hard wall.
John was snuggling into him. "Soft, warm, sexy Rodney..." he half-sung, half-sighed.
"Ow! Elbow!" Rodney complained. "Skinny-assed bas'ard."
"Geek!"
"Kirk!"
"G'night, Rod..." He didn't finish the name before he was passed out, snuggled in Rodney's arms.
"Grrreen..." Rodney giggled, then closed his eyes and surrendered to sleep.
***
"So, it's psychosomatic?" Weir asked, fixing Carson with a concerned gaze.
"It is, yes. Probably stress-related."
"But why now?"
Beckett shrugged. "Each person reacts differently to stress. It's hard to say. But, we seem to have it under control now, he's got an appointment with Heightmeyer and a new eating regimen. I'm prescribing a few days of rest. Hopefully, he'll be back to his old self in no time."
"Unfortunately," she said, smiling.
He smiled back. "Unfortunately."
She turned to leave, and then turned back. "Oh, any idea why he was throwing up in Colonel Sheppard's bathroom rather than his own?
Carson shrugged. "I didn't ask. Presumably, after showering he was checking by with the colonel while heading to the meeting."
She nodded. "Probably."
***
"He won't even let me go near the labs," Rodney ranted. "What am I supposed to do for three days or more without work?"
John smiled, his eyes flicking down Rodney's body and back up to his eyes. "I could suggest a few things."
"You do realise this is how this all got started in the first place?"
John's grin grew wider. "I thought this all started with grrreen..."
***
"Colonel Sheppard, are you all right?"
John moaned, curling into the... he supposed it was some sort of a chaise, strangely warm and... He opened one eye, grimacing at the lancing pain. Yeah. Definitely not a chaise. Well, at least he hadn't done anything too stupid-- they were both still fully-clothed. He sat up gingerly, Rodney's hands sliding off his back as he did, holding his head in both hands to keep it from exploding.
"Owowowow! I take it you didn't try the grrreen."
Teyla cocked an eyebrow at him. "The what?"
"The grrreen. You know, the... the... booze."
"Ronon and I both had the... brown," she responded. "It was quite excellent."
He wasn't really listening to her. He was trying to think what 'soft, warm, sexy Rodney' could mean other than the obvious. Because, for some reason, the phrase was repeating itself in his head, like a catchy song lyric.
He glanced at the object of the lyric to see that Rodney's face was scrunched in a rictus of pain. "Hey, Rodney, you awake?"
"Yes. Unfortunately." Rodney opened one eye, then shut it quickly. "Is that drool on my shirt?"
"Um. Probably."
'Soft, warm, sexy Rodney,' his brain repeated.
"Drugs," Rodney said. "Vest pocket, left side."
Sheppard felt through pockets on the vest Rodney had slipped off last night at some point during their drinking jag, then pulled out a plastic bottle which proclaimed itself to contain Flintstones Chewable Vitamins with Extra C. Rodney's eyes were open, though he was shading them with his hands. "There," he said. "That's them."
John quirked an eyebrow, grunted when he realised even that hurt, and opened the container. Inside, he could see two kinds of white pills, some sort of brown pill, little blue pills, and large-ish yellow and red caplets, plus a few in little foil packets and some sort of fruit-flavoured antacids. There were, so far as he could tell, no Freds, Wilmas, or Barneys to be found. "Should I even ask?"
"Probably not. Give me two of the yellow and red things."
"What are they?"
"Tylenol. Extra strength."
"And the others?"
"Aspirin, Aleve, Advil, Sudafed, Tums, and Immodium and Pepto in the foil packets."
"Ah. Can I?"
"Help yourself."
John dug out his canteen full of water and handed Rodney it and his two yellow-and-red caplets. He watched Rodney's Adam's apple move as he swallowed, his brain repeating 'Soft, warm, sexy Rodney.' John picked out two white pills that said 'Bayer' on them. "Should you be keeping all these pills together like that?"
Rodney shrugged. "I know what they all are and their doses."
John grunted. Rodney handed him his canteen and John slipped the aspirin into his mouth and swallowed several times, willing the things to just go down, dammit. He'd always been bad at taking pills. They seemed to get stuck in his throat. He swallowed more water.
'Soft, warm, sexy Rodney,' his brain sang, and he remembered the taste of grrreen flowing over his tongue in Rodney's mouth. 'Hot mouth,' his brain supplied.
He noticed Rodney watching him with shaded eyes. How much did Rodney remember? How much had he forgotten?
***
It had been several days since the incident with the grrreen. Teyla and Ronon gave them a couple of amused glances during debriefing, but kept their silence.
Each morning, John would awake and groan, remembering some more tidbits of what he had done or said. He couldn't deny any of it. As he slipped into the mess hall each morning and took his place at the table with his team, he could see amusement, nervousness, and speculation in Rodney's eyes.
One evening, it became too much for him. He set down the guitar he'd been forgetfully strumming, picked up his earpiece and put it on. "McKay, this is Sheppard."
There was a slight pause, then he heard Rodney say, "McKay here. What did you need, colonel?"
"Rodney... I... we..." His voice died as his door slid open.
Rodney stood there, fear and desire warring in his eyes. "What did you need, John?"
His throat closed and he couldn't speak. They stood gazing at each other across the room. Rodney shuffled nervously and started to turn.
"Wait," John said, standing quickly and crossing the room before he could overthink this. He pulled Rodney into the room and shut the door, mentally setting the locks. They stood nervously for a moment, then as one slipped arms around each other, their lips meeting, tentative for just a moment, then surrendering to the desire they had felt for so long.
"Soft, warm, sexy Rodney," John said, pulling back from the kiss to slip the scientist's shirt over his head.
"Skinny-assed bastard," Rodney replied as he slipped John's shirt up his torso, hands sensuously sliding along his sides, sending a tingle of warmth and pleasure through his core.
"Geek!" he shot back, pulling Rodney's khakis open.
Rodney's hands worked the zipper of his fly, then continued sliding his hands down, under the waistband of John's boxers. He slid them over slender hips, his body sliding down against John's until he was kneeling in front of him. His eyes were dark with desire. "Kirk!" he said, then slipped his mouth around John's hardened cock.
"Hot mouth... sexy..." John moaned.
He whimpered as Rodney pulled away, but stilled as he stood back up, body sliding against him. Rodney leaned forward, his breath hot against John's ear. "Fuck," he whispered. "You're getting some."
John needed no further invitation. He kissed Rodney savagely, as he propelled the man backwards toward the bed.
"Lube?" Rodney asked, as John threw him down, his eyes ravaging the body before him.
"Hand lotion. Drawer to your left."
There was a small voice in the back of John's head telling him he shouldn't be doing this, that Rodney was a friend, that there was no turning back, but he ignored it as his fingers opened Rodney up, as Rodney slicked his cock with hand lotion, as he froze for just one moment to admire the scene of Rodney, his best friend, spread out before him, wanting him, wanting him more than anything.
***
Dr. Heightmeyer motioned them in. "Colonel, doctor. Come in. I promise not to bite."
The two settled nervously in chairs. She studied them while maintaining a pleasant and open expression. "Now, Dr. Beckett has informed me about your problem earlier this week, Dr. McKay. Rodney. But, I'm still a little in the dark about the colonel's presence here. Carson said it might be better if you explained it."
The two men looked at each other. The silence stretched. Rodney's eyes searched John's face, asking what he couldn't ask aloud, too frightened to think what he would do if John refused, too terrified of what might happen if John consented.
John nodded and reached out his hand to Rodney. There was a momentary look of surprise in Rodney's eyes, then it was replaced with something soft and warm that John wasn't sure he'd seen before. Rodney took his hand, fingers interlacing with his, turning a look of defiance to the psychologist.
"I understand you've done a lot of couple's counseling," John said. "We're here as a couple."
The look of surprise was short-lived, replaced by one of quiet compassion and... he wasn't sure, but it looked like joy. "Yes, I have some experience in that area," she answered. "Where would you like to start?"
Rodney met his eyes then spoke. "I have... We have issues. Things from the past. Problems with how to handle... this in our current environment. We're... not sure where to start."
She nodded. "It sounds like you've made a start already. The first step is understanding when you need help and seeking it out." She considered the two in front of her. "May I ask how long you've been together?"
"A lot longer than we realised," John admitted, squeezing Rodney's hand.
"And not nearly long enough," Rodney added.
"That's okay," she said, smiling at them. "You've got time now." She shifted slightly. "Now, first, I want you to understand that no relationship is perfect. No matter how wonderful the relationship is now, it can always be made better-- more understanding, more forgiving, more passionate-- but that requires some effort. Are you up for that?"
The look in their eyes as they glanced at each other was sufficient answer. Kate Heightmeyer was not military, but she was a fighter. She fought for the hearts, souls, minds, and relationships of the people under her care every day. This wouldn't be an easy fight. But for these two, whose personal histories she had wanted to weep over more times than she cared to count, she knew the fight would be worth it.
Author: SGAtlantisLight
Characters: McKay, Sheppard, Weir, Beckett, Heightmeyer, bits of others
Relationships: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Smut, angst, romance, and grrreen.
Spoilers: None
Summary: A sequel to Broken & Fractured. Part 3 of the Broken Series
Disclaimer: The characters, the setting, etc. are NOT mine, even if I wish they were.
Elizabeth drummed her fingers on the table. "Were either of them at breakfast?" she asked the others in the room.
"I'm afraid I came straight from the infirmary," Carson said.
Ronon Dex shrugged eloquently.
"Rodney was not in lab," Radek answered. "Could be in another section of city, though. Lost track of time."
"That does not explain Colonel Sheppard's absence," Teyla pointed out.
***
"Crap! John, get up," Rodney yelled, bolting out of Sheppard's bed. "We overslept. We're late!"
John shot into an upright position at once, any modicum of sleepiness instantly gone. "Shit!"
"We should have been there ten minutes ago. My shoes. What did I do with my shoes?"
"Rodney, we have to shower first," John said, watching Rodney paw through clothes, sorting his own out from John's. "We smell like sex."
"Oh, God," the scientist moaned, sinking back down onto the bed. "We are so outed."
"Well," Sheppard drawled in that accent that made Rodney think of rolling plains, "you didn't want to carry on in secret."
"Oh, yes. And showing up at a staff meeting and saying, 'So sorry we're late. We stayed up too late last night having sex,' is exactly the way I'd always planned to come out. There is such a thing as being discreet, you know."
John chuckled in spite of himself, then picked up his headset.
"What are you doing?" Rodney hissed.
"Calm down," John said, then clicked the comm on. "Dr. Weir, this is Sheppard."
"John," Weir's voice emerged, sounding both concerned and annoyed, "is Rodney with you? You were both expected at a meeting fifteen minutes ago."
"Sorry," John replied. "Rodney had some idea about improving the output of the desalinization tanks, which should have only taken a minute..."
Rodney stared at John in admiration, then grabbed his own set and clicked it on. "Which would have only taken a minute if the colonel here hadn't started poking things." He sounded annoyed as hell.
John grinned. "Unfortunately, we've got sludge all over everywhere..."
"So unless you want us slimy and smelling of rotten fish," Rodney picked up the story, "it's going to be a few minutes."
"Are either of you injured?" Carson asked over the radio.
"No," John answered, "just really, really rank."
"All right. Get here as soon as you can," Weir radioed. "Can you get someone to clean up the area?"
"I'll get someone on it," Rodney answered. They both clicked off. "God, John, I don't know whether to be amazed or frightened that you're such a good liar."
"You're not a bad actor yourself, Rodney."
"It comes from years of pretending to be straight for the Neanderthals," Rodney replied, surprised at how bitter that sounded.
Sheppard's grin faded. "Yeah, I know what you mean."
And there, once again, was the spectre of their dilemma hanging over them.
Rodney looked like he was going to be ill. John squeezed his hand. "We'll work it out. I swear to you."
"Well," Rodney answered, swallowing against the bile rising in his throat, "we need to hurry or it won't matter."
In other circumstances, showering with John Sheppard would be hot beyond words and certainly wouldn't have saved them any time. As it was, the fear twisting in his guts ruined the pleasure of having John wet, soapy, and quite naked in the shower with him. John kept casting concerned looks his way, but didn't say anything. They were silent as they dried off and started dressing, Rodney stuffing a powerbar down his throat as he pulled on his underwear and khakis.
John had to smile when he saw Rodney sniff the underarms of his shirt from last night, shrug, and pull it back on. "That is so totally geek, McKay," he teased.
"Well, it's not like I have time to go back to my quarters, you know. And I don't think anything that fits on your skinny-ass body will work for me."
"Hey, you didn't object to my body last night," John teased.
It should have been funny or sexy or silly, but instead all Rodney could think was that he was going to have to stop teasing John about his lack of weight, in case John forgot to be discreet. Alain had been long and lean, like John, all muscles and bones and hard angles and oh, God...
"Rodney? Hey, are you okay?"
What had made him think he could do this?
"Rodney?"
What had made him think they had any chance to make this work. John was military and he had seen what military people did to one of their own who strayed outside the lines of normalcy. Suddenly, it wasn't Alain's battered face, swathed in clinical white, with bright splashes of red that rose before him. It was John's face, pale and gaunt and... gone.
"Rodney!"
Ancient toilets were remarkably similar to the ones back home. Different material, of course. More decorative, though the bowl itself was still white. He wasn't sure why he was thinking about such things while vomiting. Perhaps it was to get his mind off the image of John in Alain's place. Ohgodohgodohgod. The powerbar he'd eaten had been strawberry. The red of the strawberry filling against the white made him think of bandages soaked with blood, red lips and pale skin.
"I'm sorry. He doesn't blame you, really," Alain's mother had said. "He's just very uncomfortable. He... he never knew about... you know..."
"And you?" he had asked.
She smiled a sad smile. "I saw the way he looked at you sometimes, when he didn't think anyone was looking. And the way you looked at him. I think that may be what gave him away, actually. Your eyes."
He had flinched as if hit. He had given Alain's secret away. Someone had figured it out. "So, you want me to go?"
"I know it's not fair. But, really, it's so hard on his father already without thinking about the two of you... you know..."
"Having sex," Rodney had said, watching her flinch, feeling the anger growing inside him. "Fucking. He doesn't want to think about his son and I fucking. That's what this is all about!"
"Rodney, dear, I--"
"Don't call me 'dear.' You don't deserve to call me that. I love him. I love him, goddammit, and all you can think about is that we actually express that love, as if sex were all this was about. You're a goddammed hypocrite! You say you love him, but you don't want him to have the comfort of my presence. I might be able to help him, reach him, but you won't let me. You're as bad as the men who put him in that room!"
A hand had landed on his shoulder and he had been spun around to face the angry hazel eyes of Alain's father, eyes the same colour as Alain's. "That's enough. Get out. If you ever set foot in here again, Alain won't be the only one in a coma."
"Fucking hypocrite!" Rodney had screamed.
Then his world had exploded in pain and red and a horrible cracking reverberation.
"Rodney?" It was Carson's voice. What was Carson doing here? He blinked up at the doctor, seeing John hovering behind him, face filled with concern.
"C-Carson?"
"We're going to take you to the infirmary now," Carson said evenly, calmly, as one might speak to a frightened child.
"The infirmary? I don't... I'm... I'm fine."
"You've been projectile vomiting for the last ten minutes, almost non-stop. That's not fine, Rodney."
"What about... what about the meeting?"
"Canceled," John answered. "Carson's putting us both in quarantine until he knows what brought this on."
"Quarantine? Why?"
"It's possible you were exposed to something in the desalinization tanks this morning," Carson explained.
Rodney groaned. This is why he hated lying. It was so much easier to be honest.
John cleared his throat. "Rodney?" The scientist met his eyes. There was a question in them. McKay nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Carson, there wasn't a desalinization tank accident this morning," John said evenly. "We lied."
"What?" Beckett asked, looking confused. "Why would you tell Dr. Weir--"
"We overslept. Both of us. Together."
"You overslept?"
"Together," John answered, his voice low.
Carson blinked, then nodded. "I see."
"So," Rodney said, running a shaking hand across his mouth, "there's no reason to take me to the infirmary, right?"
"Rodney, you still were vomiting, and that's still a concern. And, considering what you've just told me, it's still possible the colonel may have been exposed to a pathogen you're carrying. So, I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist."
While Rodney's stomach had stopped its mad attempt to turn his body inside out, he was exhausted, weak, and shaky. Carson had started by giving him a cup of juice. "Your blood sugar is low. I need you to drink this, slowly. Small sips. If you feel any nausea, stop. Hopefully, we won't have to use an IV. Now, I've got to take a blood sample to check for pathogens. Just a little stick now..."
Rodney was strangely subdued. He didn't even flinch at the needle.
Carson considered him for a moment, gave an encouraging smile, then turned to the man hovering over the scientist. "Colonel, I need to speak with you a moment."
"Sure, doc."
Carson led them into his office, shut the door, and shuttered the windows, then rounded on the military man, who was studying his boots. "What the hell do ya think you're doing, man?"
Sheppard blinked. "What?"
"You've done a lot of daft things, colonel, but this has got to be the bloody most idiotic thing you've ever done!"
"Are you talking about us lying to Weir or the reason why we were lying to Weir?" John asked.
"I'm talking about you entering into a sexual relationship with Rodney McKay. In case you hadn't noticed it, he has some issues to work out."
"I noticed it, doc. Believe me."
Carson had opened his mouth to continue his harangue, but stopped at that, his jaw snapping shut and his eyes narrowing. "What happened?"
"He cried. After we..." Sheppard waved his hands.
"Oh, good Lord!" Beckett fell silent for a moment, hands clenched in frustration, then took a step toward the silent man. "If you hurt him, in any way, I will make bloody well sure your military career is over and you never set foot in Atlantis again. Do you understand me?"
Sheppard's eyes widened in astonishment. "Dr. Beckett?"
"I mean it, colonel. You have no idea how much damage you could do to him."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know you had feelings for the man," John shot back.
"Are you daft? Of course I have feelings for the man. He's a good friend. And I'll not have you sullying that with your innuendo."
"Sorry, I didn't mean that," John said, his body sagging suddenly. He found a chair and slumped into it. "Can you tell me... tell me why he's so..." Sheppard waved his hands again, trying to convey meaning without using the words that came to his head-- broken, damaged, fragile.
The doctor sighed. "You know I can't break confidentiality. But his basic medical records are open to you as his team leader. Feel free to look."
Carson pulled up a file on his laptop. It was a list of major hospitalisations, dates, and treatments. John scooted his chair forward and scanned it. Broken jaw. Fractured radius and ulna. Multiple contusions. Concussion. Broken ribs. Dislocated shoulder. He checked the dates. "Oh, God."
He wondered once again why he had been so foolish as to get himself into this in the first place.
***
Rodney was giggling, grinning like an idiot, sitting on the floor of the small building, leaning against the wall. John was sure his own face contained an equally silly grin.
"Whoo!" Rodney said, his voice pitched a little too high and a little too loud. "I think there must be something more than alcohol in this stuff."
John had grinned. "Yeah. We should probababably warn Teyla and Rononon."
Rodney snorted, then broke down into giggles.
"Tey-la, hey la, my boyfriend's back..." John sing-songed.
"Oh, God. This is better than Rad- Radek's hooch," Rodney said, giggling again.
"Doctor Zel- Zelink... the Czech guy has hooch?"
Rodney waved his arms around, rolling his eyes in that 'Well, duh!' expression he did so well. "He's the chief engineer, sort of. Course he has. Terrible, horrible, awful, wonnerful stuff, too."
"There must be some law," John said.
They were silent for a moment, considering that statement, except for occasional bouts of giggles from Rodney, then, forehead wrinkled in concentration, Rodney asked, "Some law about what?"
"Wha'? Oh, some law that says the chief engineer's the one in charge of the still."
"Course. Zlinky's just like Scotty."
"How so?"
"He was in charge of the still, too."
John pondered this. "I don't remember that."
"He was the chief engineer, so, you know... duh!"
"Oh. Yeah." John tossed back another big gulp. "Should stop drinking this... what'd they call it?"
Rodney shrugged, then eyed the emerald liquid sloshing in his cup. "It's green." He giggled. "It's grrreen," he repeated, with a Scottish brogue.
Sheppard snorted. Rodney drained his cup, then unsteadily poured more, repeating, "It's grrreen," in his best Scottish accent.
"God, you're cute," John said, rolling his head back.
"Pfft! 'M drunk... high. Not stupid," Rodney said, swallowing more of the stuff.
"No, really. You're cute. 'Ve always thought so."
Rodney giggled. "Bet you say that to all the guys you get high with grrreen."
John looked despondently into his cup. "All gone. Gimme more."
"Last is in my cup an' 't's all mine!" Rodney drained his cup as John dove for it.
"Fuck!" John yelled. "I'm gettin some!" And with that, he covered Rodney's mouth with his, sliding his tongue inside after an elusive taste of the green liquid. Rodney complied, opening his mouth and allowing some of it to flow into John's, who swirled it back into Rodney's until at last they had swallowed it all.
"Somethin'... diff'rent here," Rodney said, trying to look at John with unfocused eyes.
"Mm. Got me some. Hot mouth. Sexy..." And John's mouth was on Rodney's again. His hands tangled in Rodney's hair, pulling him forward into the kiss.
"Ow!" Rodney said when, after a couple of minutes, John let go of his hair and his head crashed back against the hard wall.
John was snuggling into him. "Soft, warm, sexy Rodney..." he half-sung, half-sighed.
"Ow! Elbow!" Rodney complained. "Skinny-assed bas'ard."
"Geek!"
"Kirk!"
"G'night, Rod..." He didn't finish the name before he was passed out, snuggled in Rodney's arms.
"Grrreen..." Rodney giggled, then closed his eyes and surrendered to sleep.
***
"So, it's psychosomatic?" Weir asked, fixing Carson with a concerned gaze.
"It is, yes. Probably stress-related."
"But why now?"
Beckett shrugged. "Each person reacts differently to stress. It's hard to say. But, we seem to have it under control now, he's got an appointment with Heightmeyer and a new eating regimen. I'm prescribing a few days of rest. Hopefully, he'll be back to his old self in no time."
"Unfortunately," she said, smiling.
He smiled back. "Unfortunately."
She turned to leave, and then turned back. "Oh, any idea why he was throwing up in Colonel Sheppard's bathroom rather than his own?
Carson shrugged. "I didn't ask. Presumably, after showering he was checking by with the colonel while heading to the meeting."
She nodded. "Probably."
***
"He won't even let me go near the labs," Rodney ranted. "What am I supposed to do for three days or more without work?"
John smiled, his eyes flicking down Rodney's body and back up to his eyes. "I could suggest a few things."
"You do realise this is how this all got started in the first place?"
John's grin grew wider. "I thought this all started with grrreen..."
***
"Colonel Sheppard, are you all right?"
John moaned, curling into the... he supposed it was some sort of a chaise, strangely warm and... He opened one eye, grimacing at the lancing pain. Yeah. Definitely not a chaise. Well, at least he hadn't done anything too stupid-- they were both still fully-clothed. He sat up gingerly, Rodney's hands sliding off his back as he did, holding his head in both hands to keep it from exploding.
"Owowowow! I take it you didn't try the grrreen."
Teyla cocked an eyebrow at him. "The what?"
"The grrreen. You know, the... the... booze."
"Ronon and I both had the... brown," she responded. "It was quite excellent."
He wasn't really listening to her. He was trying to think what 'soft, warm, sexy Rodney' could mean other than the obvious. Because, for some reason, the phrase was repeating itself in his head, like a catchy song lyric.
He glanced at the object of the lyric to see that Rodney's face was scrunched in a rictus of pain. "Hey, Rodney, you awake?"
"Yes. Unfortunately." Rodney opened one eye, then shut it quickly. "Is that drool on my shirt?"
"Um. Probably."
'Soft, warm, sexy Rodney,' his brain repeated.
"Drugs," Rodney said. "Vest pocket, left side."
Sheppard felt through pockets on the vest Rodney had slipped off last night at some point during their drinking jag, then pulled out a plastic bottle which proclaimed itself to contain Flintstones Chewable Vitamins with Extra C. Rodney's eyes were open, though he was shading them with his hands. "There," he said. "That's them."
John quirked an eyebrow, grunted when he realised even that hurt, and opened the container. Inside, he could see two kinds of white pills, some sort of brown pill, little blue pills, and large-ish yellow and red caplets, plus a few in little foil packets and some sort of fruit-flavoured antacids. There were, so far as he could tell, no Freds, Wilmas, or Barneys to be found. "Should I even ask?"
"Probably not. Give me two of the yellow and red things."
"What are they?"
"Tylenol. Extra strength."
"And the others?"
"Aspirin, Aleve, Advil, Sudafed, Tums, and Immodium and Pepto in the foil packets."
"Ah. Can I?"
"Help yourself."
John dug out his canteen full of water and handed Rodney it and his two yellow-and-red caplets. He watched Rodney's Adam's apple move as he swallowed, his brain repeating 'Soft, warm, sexy Rodney.' John picked out two white pills that said 'Bayer' on them. "Should you be keeping all these pills together like that?"
Rodney shrugged. "I know what they all are and their doses."
John grunted. Rodney handed him his canteen and John slipped the aspirin into his mouth and swallowed several times, willing the things to just go down, dammit. He'd always been bad at taking pills. They seemed to get stuck in his throat. He swallowed more water.
'Soft, warm, sexy Rodney,' his brain sang, and he remembered the taste of grrreen flowing over his tongue in Rodney's mouth. 'Hot mouth,' his brain supplied.
He noticed Rodney watching him with shaded eyes. How much did Rodney remember? How much had he forgotten?
***
It had been several days since the incident with the grrreen. Teyla and Ronon gave them a couple of amused glances during debriefing, but kept their silence.
Each morning, John would awake and groan, remembering some more tidbits of what he had done or said. He couldn't deny any of it. As he slipped into the mess hall each morning and took his place at the table with his team, he could see amusement, nervousness, and speculation in Rodney's eyes.
One evening, it became too much for him. He set down the guitar he'd been forgetfully strumming, picked up his earpiece and put it on. "McKay, this is Sheppard."
There was a slight pause, then he heard Rodney say, "McKay here. What did you need, colonel?"
"Rodney... I... we..." His voice died as his door slid open.
Rodney stood there, fear and desire warring in his eyes. "What did you need, John?"
His throat closed and he couldn't speak. They stood gazing at each other across the room. Rodney shuffled nervously and started to turn.
"Wait," John said, standing quickly and crossing the room before he could overthink this. He pulled Rodney into the room and shut the door, mentally setting the locks. They stood nervously for a moment, then as one slipped arms around each other, their lips meeting, tentative for just a moment, then surrendering to the desire they had felt for so long.
"Soft, warm, sexy Rodney," John said, pulling back from the kiss to slip the scientist's shirt over his head.
"Skinny-assed bastard," Rodney replied as he slipped John's shirt up his torso, hands sensuously sliding along his sides, sending a tingle of warmth and pleasure through his core.
"Geek!" he shot back, pulling Rodney's khakis open.
Rodney's hands worked the zipper of his fly, then continued sliding his hands down, under the waistband of John's boxers. He slid them over slender hips, his body sliding down against John's until he was kneeling in front of him. His eyes were dark with desire. "Kirk!" he said, then slipped his mouth around John's hardened cock.
"Hot mouth... sexy..." John moaned.
He whimpered as Rodney pulled away, but stilled as he stood back up, body sliding against him. Rodney leaned forward, his breath hot against John's ear. "Fuck," he whispered. "You're getting some."
John needed no further invitation. He kissed Rodney savagely, as he propelled the man backwards toward the bed.
"Lube?" Rodney asked, as John threw him down, his eyes ravaging the body before him.
"Hand lotion. Drawer to your left."
There was a small voice in the back of John's head telling him he shouldn't be doing this, that Rodney was a friend, that there was no turning back, but he ignored it as his fingers opened Rodney up, as Rodney slicked his cock with hand lotion, as he froze for just one moment to admire the scene of Rodney, his best friend, spread out before him, wanting him, wanting him more than anything.
***
Dr. Heightmeyer motioned them in. "Colonel, doctor. Come in. I promise not to bite."
The two settled nervously in chairs. She studied them while maintaining a pleasant and open expression. "Now, Dr. Beckett has informed me about your problem earlier this week, Dr. McKay. Rodney. But, I'm still a little in the dark about the colonel's presence here. Carson said it might be better if you explained it."
The two men looked at each other. The silence stretched. Rodney's eyes searched John's face, asking what he couldn't ask aloud, too frightened to think what he would do if John refused, too terrified of what might happen if John consented.
John nodded and reached out his hand to Rodney. There was a momentary look of surprise in Rodney's eyes, then it was replaced with something soft and warm that John wasn't sure he'd seen before. Rodney took his hand, fingers interlacing with his, turning a look of defiance to the psychologist.
"I understand you've done a lot of couple's counseling," John said. "We're here as a couple."
The look of surprise was short-lived, replaced by one of quiet compassion and... he wasn't sure, but it looked like joy. "Yes, I have some experience in that area," she answered. "Where would you like to start?"
Rodney met his eyes then spoke. "I have... We have issues. Things from the past. Problems with how to handle... this in our current environment. We're... not sure where to start."
She nodded. "It sounds like you've made a start already. The first step is understanding when you need help and seeking it out." She considered the two in front of her. "May I ask how long you've been together?"
"A lot longer than we realised," John admitted, squeezing Rodney's hand.
"And not nearly long enough," Rodney added.
"That's okay," she said, smiling at them. "You've got time now." She shifted slightly. "Now, first, I want you to understand that no relationship is perfect. No matter how wonderful the relationship is now, it can always be made better-- more understanding, more forgiving, more passionate-- but that requires some effort. Are you up for that?"
The look in their eyes as they glanced at each other was sufficient answer. Kate Heightmeyer was not military, but she was a fighter. She fought for the hearts, souls, minds, and relationships of the people under her care every day. This wouldn't be an easy fight. But for these two, whose personal histories she had wanted to weep over more times than she cared to count, she knew the fight would be worth it.