Fic: Thanks for the Memories (1/4)
Title: Thanks for the Memories
Author: skinscript
Rating: NC-17 (Slash)
Genre: Crossover (SGA/QAF)
Pairing: McKay/Kinney, McKay/Sheppard (preslash)
Wordcount: ~19K (complete)
Disclaimer: Seriously?
Posted at: mckay_sheppard
Spoilers (SGA): None
Spoilers (QAF): Season 5
A/N:I know the title's been used elsewhere, but it's just too right for me to not use. Sorry for any confusion in advance.
Summary: John sees a side of Rodney he had no idea existed, and Brian Kinney gets what he wants: Professor McKay.
Thanks for the Memories
John collapsed onto the double bed in Rodney's hotel room and tried to remember the last time he had been so bored. Not that he *minded* being back on Earth with Rodney, per se. More that he could live without the constant stream of irritated (and irritating) physicists, mathematicians, computer scientists, and other ists and ians who insisted on arguing theory with Rodney. After a long day of listening to Rodney talk and what felt like hundreds of other people argue, all he wanted was to rent some in room pay per view and go to bed. Unfortunately, he had to make sure Rodney was done for the night first. Given Rodney's usual sleep habits; he might never get to see his porn.
What he'd been thinking when he offered to watch Rodney's back at this conference, he would never know.
"I told you not to come." Rodney strolled back into the main room fresh from the shower, pointedly ignoring John's inelegant sprawl on top of the clothes John had come to think of as his 'academic costume'. He had one of the hotel's white bath sheets wrapped loosely around his waist, and was rubbing briskly at his torso with another. Water still dripped down both legs, rivulets turning the light hair dark. Rodney's eyelashes were spiky and wet, eyes gleaming blue through them. John looked away.
"I should have listened." John muttered. "Face it, Rodney. After the last couple of trips here there wasn't much question that you were going to be assigned protection for this trip. You should be glad it was me. What would you have to do otherwise? Except maybe actually die of boredom."
Rodney tossed the towel into the corner, rummaged in his duffle bag and pulled out a black silk t-shirt that John had never seen before. He blinked. Rodney and silk? "Seriously, Rodney? Silk?"
He ignored John again, pulling the shirt briskly over his head. The fabric clung tightly across his shoulders and chest, falling loosely around his lower ribs and stomach. He looked ... well. Hot. Stylish, even. "Actually, I have things to do here." Rodney grabbed some black jeans from his duffle and disappeared back into the bathroom. "Tonight, in fact."
John sat up.
"Tonight?"
"Yeah." Rodney emerged from the bathroom, paused briefly in front of the mirror on the pint-sized closet to run his hands over his hair. "I used to teach here. I have... friends. A friend. To see."
"Friends." John felt like a parrot.
"Yes." Impatient, now. "I don't get to Pittsburgh often, but when I'm here I visit. I promised to, and I do." He fastened his belt with quick fingers, leaned over to pull on his boots. John ignored the way he filled out the jeans.
"Then I'm coming with you."
Rodney turned to face him. The t-shirt showed off the muscle of his arms, too. "I don't need a keeper for this. In fact," he took a deep breath and visibly steeled himself. "For this, a keeper is exactly the last thing I need." His chin lifted in that stubborn gesture that John knew so well, eyes meeting his evenly. "I told you not to come, John."
John pursed his lips, nodded slowly. Rodney flashed him a quicksilver grin, stuffed his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans, and waved as he opened the door. "I'll meet you for breakfast." He left.
After what felt like a suitable interval, John followed.
***
The bass beat of Babylon's thumpa thumpa vibrated heavily through the soles of his boots and the metal of the walkway shivered under his arms as though giving him a gentle massage. Magic Fingers, for one whole hell of a lot more than twenty five cents. Lights flashed as brightly as the music beat loudly, and Brian closed his eyes against the momentary vertigo the strobe always gave him when he was up here.
The crowd throbbed and pulsed below him, the dancers moving with abandon. Friday night meant a full, full house. Good money to be made, of course, good times to be had. He shook himself a little, watched the flow of men below with a practiced eye. He saw the general push and pull of the music on the dancers, the ripples here and there as the men with darker drives moved through the crowd like smoothly hunting sharks. There were a couple of guys trolling tonight, but no one out there a threat to him. No one worth noticing.
After all, he was Brian fucking Kinney, and this was his home ground.
He laughed at himself and headed down to the bar.
Two fingers lifted got him a glass with a nice triple shot of whiskey. He knocked back half in a single gulp, blinking against the cold rush. Another gesture got him a water to go with it, and he nodded his thanks. The bartender grinned back, always happy to serve the boss, wishing that service meant more than Brian was willing for it to.
One thing he'd learned from Justin's brief dance career: Never fuck the staff. Not even when they wanted to.
Not even when they begged.
Brian sighed, leaned heavily against the bar rail, lowered his head for just a minute. God, he was so fucking tired. How many people did he have relying on him now? The staff of Kinnetic, the staff of Babylon. His friends, who still half the time cursed him with one breath and asked him for help or advice with the other. His son. Brian rubbed a hand over his chest, pressing hard against the ache that had taken up residence there and just never. fucking. quit.
Maybe it was time for a vacation. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt completely relaxed, completely still. Years, at least. Maybe not since...
A warm body slid into place against his, and he grinned, leaning into it. "Mikey." He lifted his head, nodded at Ben, dropped a kiss on Michael's head. "Where are the others?'
Michael nodded towards the floor full of gyrating dancers. "Already out there."
"Excellent." Brian shook his hair out of his eyes, grabbed Michael's hand and pulled. Since Ben had his arm over Michael's shoulder, he moved too. "Then we should join them!"
Surrounded by bodies and the smell of flesh and sweat, Brian closed his eyes and let the music take him away.
***
Brian knew the instant he walked into the room.
He was in the wrong place.
The lecture hall was full of pale faces and skinny bodies, mostly dressed in button down shirts and loose jeans, even the women. There were T-shirts and unflattering baggy clothes, and an overwhelming sensation of caffeine-fuelled frenzy. All he could smell was hot skin and sweat. He was used to standing out in a crowd, but rarely was it because his carefully tailored pants and loose silk dress shirt just didn't fit in. As a marketing major, he doubted he'd even ever seen this many sun-deprived people in one room.
So totally, completely, utterly in the wrong place.
Then, *he* walked to the front of the class.
Snug jeans, snarky t-shirt loose over a tight belly and tight over broad shoulders. Sneaker-clad feet and a loose, comfortably heavy stride. Too-long hair curling slightly at the ends, fair skin over strong features. The kind of face that was pretty, handsome even now, but that would age into an entirely different kind of beauty. The man's lips were full, wide even seen from the side. He looked a few years older, mid-twenties maybe, possibly pushing thirty. Even from forty feet away, Brian felt the tension singing through the other man's frame, the sheer energy he exuded. The man spun on his heel and faced the class. Immediately the students hustled to their seats, almost pushing each other over in their haste. Brian grinned as the rushing bodies obscured his view. This guy must be something else.
When the aisle cleared, the man was looking directly at him. Slate blue eyes bored coldly into his, crossed arms and braced feet broadcasting irritated, arrogant disdain as clearly as a shout. The force of the man's glare slammed into him with an almost physical impact, and Brian found himself sinking into the nearest seat, fingers clenching into fists and shoulders straightening reflexively. When the man's eyes left him to sweep across the rest of the class with haughty contempt, he actually felt his muscles sag with relief. "Jesus," he muttered.
"No, actually," the man said, voice ringing firmly through the room. "Though you aren't the first to say so." His mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "My name is Doctor Rodney McKay. Welcome to Advanced Astrophysics." He leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. The class leaned back, matching his angle almost exactly. "Trust me, by the end of this course, you'll be calling me names from completely the *other* end of the spectrum."
Oh, yeah. He was in completely, utterly, totally, the right place.
****
At least Rodney had decided to walk.
John wasn't sure if he should be grateful or looking for the pod in the hotel. Rodney wasn't exactly known for his enjoyment of long strolls, but it certainly made following him a hell of a lot easier. John had been having images of having to yell "Follow that cab!" the whole trip down in the elevator. Instead, he was following Rodney on foot. The other man certainly looked as though he knew exactly where he was going, even at almost eleven o'clock at night. He moved confidently, head up, shoulders back. John had half-expected to find him set upon by muggers within a couple of blocks, but instead Rodney was giving off a definite 'don't fuck with me' vibe.
Maybe he should be looking for the pod after all.
Rodney swung left, then left again, crossing against the light at a half-jog. He turned right down an alley. John sidled up to the corner of the building, stuck his head around the corner to check just in case Rodney was on to him. He wasn't.
The alley was half-lit by a set of bright lights set into the side of the building, each loudly proclaiming the location as "Babylon". There was a line-up of men waiting to get in stretching more than half the block, and as John watched the muscle-bound man working the door opened it to let another lucky group in. Music throbbed out the open door, muted again as it swung shut. John blinked.
Rodney had come to a club. With music. And... and... dancing. Jesus wept. Rodney was a pod person! Had to be. Either that, or maybe he was tired enough to be hallucinating. Though, he hadn't realised he had that good an imagination. John shook his head hard to clear it, looked again.
Rodney walked straight up to the bouncer, bypassing the line-up and ignoring the sidelong looks of resentment. He paused at the door, showed the bouncer a card from his wallet. The bouncer immediately opened the door and gestured him inside with a deferential half-bow. John blinked again, followed his path in a trot. The bouncer placed one huge hand on his chest when he would have reached for the door.
"Members only."
John pulled out his wallet, flipped to the Military ID. "I'm on protection detail for the man you just let in," he said firmly. "I don't mind paying the cover, but I am going inside. Now."
The bouncer gave him a long, flat, unimpressed stare, raking him from head to foot. "You're with Doctor McKay?" He asked sceptically. Another shock. This guy knew Rodney by name?
"I'm *protecting* Rodney McKay," John clarified coldly. "And if something happens to him while you're holding me out here..."
The bouncer considered, then shrugged and smirked. "Go ahead." He laughed. "Not like you'd get away with anything in there anyway."
John glared and walked through the door.
****
The music just wasn't working its magic tonight.
Brian growled under his breath, forced a smile for Michael's benefit. Christ, if he thought Brian was having any kind of a mope he'd be dragging him home with them to make sure he had 'company', that he wasn't busily pining over Justin, safely away in New York making his fortune.
It had been three years, for fuck sake. He wasn't pining. He was having a great time. Here. In his club, in his city, damn it.
He rubbed his chest again and cursed. He hated this shit. This... this was why he didn't let himself get involved in the first place. He needed... He needed a good, hard fuck, that's what he needed. He needed... Christ. He needed something he didn't let himself get, at least, not any more.
The song changed.
The lights went down as the bass started to rumble through the floor. Brian grinned, letting his eyes flutter closed and the dark soothe his frustration. The beat started to pick up, driving up through his boots. Brian relaxed his body, tilted his head back, and started to move. The strobes flared to life as the synthesizer kicked in, and this time the vertigo made him feel almost like he was flying.
He felt the ripple through the crowd at his back, ignored it in favour of the stillness in his head.
"Oh, Fuck."
In the instant it took the sound of Michael's venomous curse to penetrate, there was a body sliding into place alongside his, a hand slipping into place against the back of his neck. The pressure had him turning involuntarily, fitting his body against the other's automatically. The touch was achingly familiar, one he hadn't felt in years. One that had his eyes springing open, his head turning to see even before his brain registered the sensation. A second hand cupped his jaw, strong fingers raking into the hair just under his ear, tilting his head just so. He caught a glimpse of amused blue eyes and a crooked grin before his mouth was caught in a kiss. A deep, dirty, wet kiss that had his eyes fluttering shut and his knees sagging.
Only one person could do this to him this fast.
Only one person could do this to him at all.
Holy shit. Fucking McKay.
****
The class had been interesting. Damned interesting and he didn't even bother with science. Advertising, that was where the money was. The money and the power. The reasons for Brian's entire existence, right there.
He avoided the class for a week, and then found himself back in his seat. When the professor's eyes raked over him he winced, but McKay didn't say anything, just went on with the lecture.
He was heading out when a strong hand clamped over his wrist. The fingers tightened, pressing flesh against bone in a grip that didn't hurt but would definitely bruise. He tried to jerk away, failed, turned on his captor angrily. The words stuck in his throat as he found himself staring into frozen blue eyes from only inches away. "You," McKay said evenly. "Come with me."
****
John couldn't believe his eyes.
The thud of the music had hit John like a fist in the chest as he walked through the door, just as the lights went down and the beat revved up. There had been just enough light for him to make his way into the main room and identify a staircase that he could use to look over the crowd. He had been three steps up when the lights began to strobe in time with the frantic beat and he got a good look at the dancers on the stages
The male dancers.
The mostly naked, ripped, hot male dancers.
Holy shit. Rodney had led him to a gay bar.
And based on the signage, it was Military Service night at Babylon. Some of the crowd, dressed - or rather, half-dressed - in fatigues, were already displaying some of the more creative interpretations of the phrase along with an impressive array of skin. John shook his head and was glad he left his BDUs at the hotel.
The dance floor had been absolutely packed with gyrating men. John had identified the bathrooms and the bar half-hidden under the stairs easily enough by the flow of men, but hadn’t found Rodney. He was about to head reluctantly for the backroom (god, please, no) when a small area of stillness on the dance floor caught his eye.
Rodney was approaching a small knot of dancers. The tallest of the group was lost in the music, face turned to the ceiling. John saw Rodney smile slightly then slide against the tall man's shoulder and side to turn him. The tall man's head had snapped down, eyes wide in shock, and Rodney had cupped his jaw in both hands, dragging him into a deep kiss.
John blinked hard, fought the desire to rub his eyes like a little kid trying to wake up.
The tall man's eyes closed and he swayed against Rodney, curling into him sensuously, almost sagging from Rodney's hands. Clenching his hands over the metal railing until his knuckles were white, John knew exactly how the guy felt. His own knees felt weak, his stomach tight with shock and other things he didn't even have names for.
Well. Now he knew why Rodney wouldn't have been bored. Jesus.
****
McKay held him firmly, deepening the kiss until it took up his whole world before slowly releasing him. "Hi, Brian," he said.
Brian dropped his head to McKay's shoulder, pressing against the firm silk-covered muscle. Something light expanded in his chest, pushing that damnable ache out of the way for the first time in a very, very long time. McKay was in town. Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah, this could be exactly what he needed. He lifted his head, knowing that the expression on his face would still be hot and needy and not caring at all.
"Jesus, McKay." He managed a smile, though he knew it wavered a little around the edges. "You're in Pittsburgh. You're here."
"I see you're as perceptive as always." McKay pulled back from him a little, ignoring the way Brian swayed as if to follow. The warmth in Brian's chest grew stronger.
"And I see you're looking a bit worse for wear," Michael interjected bitterly in his best bitch-voice.
McKay crossed his arms and lifted his chin, his whole body locking down into arrogant mode. "And yet, still utterly uninterested in you, Marvin."
Michael spluttered. Brian sighed, rubbed a hand over his eyes and snuck a sideways glance at Ben, who looked pretty taken aback at Michael's clear dislike of this stranger. Brian gave him an imploring look, and Ben smiled back in resignation. "Come on, Michael," he said, tugging on his husband's arm. "Ted's waving at us." Michael glared daggers at McKay but went where Ben directed.
Brian took a long assessing look as McKay watched Michael leave with amused irritation. Sure, McKay had put on some weight, particularly through the shoulders and chest, and his hair was a lot shorter than it had been. His face was also heavier, less purely pretty than it had been back at the university. More towards handsome than he had been. Like he'd seen things and done things that had aged him. Of course, the fact that university had been a full twelve years ago could have some effect too, he supposed, though the changes hadn't been nearly so pronounced four years ago; the last time he'd seen McKay.
Then the blue eyes turned back to him, and none of it mattered. He could be another fifty years older, with no hair and no teeth and he would still have Brian's stomach turning somersaults. This was McKay.
"So," Brian swept his eyes the length of McKay's body with slow appreciation. "Why are you here?"
"I told you I'd come if I was in town." He looked around, scanning the room restlessly. That alert tension was new, though the vibrating energy wasn't. Brian had the feeling it was an ingrained habit, learned while McKay was... where ever he had been. "I'm in town. So I'm here."
Brian pursed his lips, nodded. McKay met his gaze again, expressions flicking across his face faster than Brian could read. There was more to this than simply looking him up. Brian's eyes narrowed in thought. There was really only one reason McKay would be out finding him at this time of night, and it was a reason that Brian was all in favour of. Especially now, especially when he needed to just forget for a while. McKay could give him that; had come here to take it, but something was holding him back. It was like watching an actor working on a performance; the person underneath would peek through. The person Brian needed was there, just under the surface. Like a shark waiting for the perfect moment to show his teeth. Brian just needed to give him the right reason to show himself the rest of the way.
Well. That could be arranged.
Brian stepped close, moulding against McKay's side, nuzzling his nose into the hollow under McKay's ear. "I've missed you," he whispered, letting his breath fan over the sensitive skin, running his hand over McKay's shoulder and down his arm. McKay froze under the touch, his lashes sweeping down to hide his eyes. "It's been a really long time."
McKay nodded.
Brian edged closer still, sliding his fingers under McKay's wrist and nudging his hand to rest against Brian's waist. "I want it, McKay. I want what you do." He leaned against McKay's shoulder, making him angle to brace their combined weight. McKay's thigh bunched against Brian's, muscle flexing to hold them still. "What about you? Why did you come here now?"
McKay's strong fingers clenched on his hip, his free hand flashing up to rake into Brian's hair, tightening to the point of pain. He turned just enough to take Brian's mouth in a hard kiss. "Because I wanted to." He shifted, pushed into Brian with his whole body, drove him back a step. "Let's get out of here. We can go to your place. I'd rather not go back to the hotel." That weird restraint flickered through his eyes again.
Brian took a shaky breath and let it out, nodding jerkily. "Anywhere," he said. "Anything you want."
****
The coffee smelled spectacular. McKay had his own office and his own coffeemaker. Brian wondered why he wasn't surprised.
"Have a seat," McKay gestured at the chair across from his desk. Brian took it gingerly, looking around. The office was surprisingly large, since he was only a visiting professor. Then again, Brian had a feeling that this man never defined himself as 'only' anything. Hell, he probably used the visiting professor bit to justify the bigger space. McKay leaned on the edge of the desk, crossing his arms across his chest and looking down his nose. "You aren't in my class."
Brian recognized the power play for what it was and refused to let it work. He leaned back in his chair, slinging an arm over the back and slouching, grinning up at McKay cockily. "Well, thank you, Professor. I'm flattered that you took the time to look me up."
McKay snorted. "I didn't." Brian felt the smirk waver, kept it on his face in sheer stubbornness. "You came back. No one who actually takes my class and leaves comes back."
Brian blinked. "Really? No one?"
McKay pursed his lips, stood to move to the coffee maker. "Absolutely not. I'd tear them apart." He poured a mug full, sipped. "While they may not be smart enough to actually zip their own pants, they do tend to have a remarkable survival instinct." Apparently the coffee was cool enough, because he tipped his head back to take a longer drink. "Either you have no sense of self-preservation, or you aren't in my class." Cold blue eyes raked him head to foot. "I'm betting Marketing major. Possibly Political Science."
Brian tilted his head, swung smoothly to his feet. He picked up a mug, checked to be sure it was clean, poured himself a cup of coffee. He made sure to lean into McKay's personal space, taking a deep breath of the other man's scent, not being subtle about it either. "You got me," he said. "Marketing it is." He let his eyes go slightly sleepy, lifted his hand to McKay's shoulder. "Now you know you wouldn't be sleeping with one of your students."
McKay shrugged off his hand, sat back on the edge of his desk. Brian sighed and returned to his chair. "Can't say that would stop me if I wanted to, but none of them interest me. You do." He surveyed Brian again in that way that made him feel like he was being dissected. "You're smart. Beautiful. Arrogant. Gay." He said each word as though reading a checklist, paused. "Aggressive. You like to be in control, but you don't really know what to do with it once you're there." He tsked.
"I know what to do with it." Brian interjected, stung.
McKay smirked that crooked grin that he was sure meant all sorts of things, none of which actually had anything to do with humour. "I've no doubt you've mastered the basic concepts, with plenty of practice, too. You're pretty enough, and confident enough, to have people lining up for you. But what about when they leave in the morning?" He shrugged. "I'd think you'd want to be more than just a fuck. I'd think you'd want to be ... memorable." His eyes narrowed.
"Come on." Brian shook his head, amused. "Who do you think you are, anyway?"
"Who am I?" He laughed. "I'm Dr. Rodney McKay, double Ph.D and the smartest guy you'll ever meet. I'm the guy who built an atomic bomb for my sixth grade science project. I'm the guy who makes your classmates cry." He leaned forward, pushing into Brian's space. "I'm the guy who knows more ways to make you come than you can count, and I'm the guy who's offering you the chance of a lifetime. Believe me, I already know who *I* am. I want to know who you are. So. Who are you? Are you the guy who wants that?" McKay's eyes bore into his, all the weight of that personality bearing down on him.
Brian's mouth went dry. His stomach fluttered, and he fought back an almost overwhelming desire to just agree, right there on the spot. He swallowed hard, pushed to get words out without giving away his reaction. "You have a finely honed sense of modesty, I see," Brian coughed to cover the hoarseness of his voice, shook his head in exaggerated disbelief.
McKay snorted. He stood and took Brian's face between his hands, sliding fingers along the curve of Brian's jaw to rest fingertips against his neck. He leaned over, and pressed his mouth to Brian's. It was a painfully gentle brush of soft lips against his, a tiny movement back and forth that had the hairs on his neck lifting. McKay's lips parted and his tongue flicked teasingly against the crease of Brian's mouth. His heart started to pound under the barely-there onslaught, and his eyes slid closed to concentrate better on the delicate sensations. He parted his lips, opening up to let that soft sweep of tongue taste more.
The instant he responded, McKay took total, ruthless control.
His fingers tightened on Brian's jaw, not enough to hurt but enough to hold him securely in place. His mouth pressed hard against Brian's, opening him up, taking possession. His tongue swept in, licking along the inside of his mouth, all slick heat and fiery taste. Brian's heart kicked into high gear, thundering in his ears. McKay took his lower lip between his teeth, nipping slightly before sucking on it hard, running the tip of his tongue back over it. He pushed Brian back in the seat, using his greater weight to pin him in place as he kissed him like he was going to eat him alive.
He'd had hot, he'd had hard, but Brian had never felt anything like this, this fierce possession; was so hard in his pants that he was half-afraid he was going to embarrass himself right here, right now, without even a touch. When McKay pulled back Brian chased his mouth, barely recognizing the needy moans in the air as his own. He was panting, struggling against the hands holding him still.
McKay released him. "It's not vanity if it's true," he said. In that moment, Brian believed him, absolutely. "Last chance. Are you the guy that wants that?"
Brian found himself nodding, his breath still heaving through his chest, pulse still throbbing through every extremity he had. McKay refused to let him off the hook. "Say it out loud, or the deal is off the table."
"Yes." Brian swallowed hard. "Yes, I'm the guy that wants that."
"Good." He smiled, the first genuine one Brian had seen on his face. He leaned back, and Brian suddenly felt that he could take a breath again. "Then as of now, I'm the guy who's in charge."
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Author: skinscript
Rating: NC-17 (Slash)
Genre: Crossover (SGA/QAF)
Pairing: McKay/Kinney, McKay/Sheppard (preslash)
Wordcount: ~19K (complete)
Disclaimer: Seriously?
Posted at: mckay_sheppard
Spoilers (SGA): None
Spoilers (QAF): Season 5
A/N:I know the title's been used elsewhere, but it's just too right for me to not use. Sorry for any confusion in advance.
Summary: John sees a side of Rodney he had no idea existed, and Brian Kinney gets what he wants: Professor McKay.
Thanks for the Memories
John collapsed onto the double bed in Rodney's hotel room and tried to remember the last time he had been so bored. Not that he *minded* being back on Earth with Rodney, per se. More that he could live without the constant stream of irritated (and irritating) physicists, mathematicians, computer scientists, and other ists and ians who insisted on arguing theory with Rodney. After a long day of listening to Rodney talk and what felt like hundreds of other people argue, all he wanted was to rent some in room pay per view and go to bed. Unfortunately, he had to make sure Rodney was done for the night first. Given Rodney's usual sleep habits; he might never get to see his porn.
What he'd been thinking when he offered to watch Rodney's back at this conference, he would never know.
"I told you not to come." Rodney strolled back into the main room fresh from the shower, pointedly ignoring John's inelegant sprawl on top of the clothes John had come to think of as his 'academic costume'. He had one of the hotel's white bath sheets wrapped loosely around his waist, and was rubbing briskly at his torso with another. Water still dripped down both legs, rivulets turning the light hair dark. Rodney's eyelashes were spiky and wet, eyes gleaming blue through them. John looked away.
"I should have listened." John muttered. "Face it, Rodney. After the last couple of trips here there wasn't much question that you were going to be assigned protection for this trip. You should be glad it was me. What would you have to do otherwise? Except maybe actually die of boredom."
Rodney tossed the towel into the corner, rummaged in his duffle bag and pulled out a black silk t-shirt that John had never seen before. He blinked. Rodney and silk? "Seriously, Rodney? Silk?"
He ignored John again, pulling the shirt briskly over his head. The fabric clung tightly across his shoulders and chest, falling loosely around his lower ribs and stomach. He looked ... well. Hot. Stylish, even. "Actually, I have things to do here." Rodney grabbed some black jeans from his duffle and disappeared back into the bathroom. "Tonight, in fact."
John sat up.
"Tonight?"
"Yeah." Rodney emerged from the bathroom, paused briefly in front of the mirror on the pint-sized closet to run his hands over his hair. "I used to teach here. I have... friends. A friend. To see."
"Friends." John felt like a parrot.
"Yes." Impatient, now. "I don't get to Pittsburgh often, but when I'm here I visit. I promised to, and I do." He fastened his belt with quick fingers, leaned over to pull on his boots. John ignored the way he filled out the jeans.
"Then I'm coming with you."
Rodney turned to face him. The t-shirt showed off the muscle of his arms, too. "I don't need a keeper for this. In fact," he took a deep breath and visibly steeled himself. "For this, a keeper is exactly the last thing I need." His chin lifted in that stubborn gesture that John knew so well, eyes meeting his evenly. "I told you not to come, John."
John pursed his lips, nodded slowly. Rodney flashed him a quicksilver grin, stuffed his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans, and waved as he opened the door. "I'll meet you for breakfast." He left.
After what felt like a suitable interval, John followed.
***
The bass beat of Babylon's thumpa thumpa vibrated heavily through the soles of his boots and the metal of the walkway shivered under his arms as though giving him a gentle massage. Magic Fingers, for one whole hell of a lot more than twenty five cents. Lights flashed as brightly as the music beat loudly, and Brian closed his eyes against the momentary vertigo the strobe always gave him when he was up here.
The crowd throbbed and pulsed below him, the dancers moving with abandon. Friday night meant a full, full house. Good money to be made, of course, good times to be had. He shook himself a little, watched the flow of men below with a practiced eye. He saw the general push and pull of the music on the dancers, the ripples here and there as the men with darker drives moved through the crowd like smoothly hunting sharks. There were a couple of guys trolling tonight, but no one out there a threat to him. No one worth noticing.
After all, he was Brian fucking Kinney, and this was his home ground.
He laughed at himself and headed down to the bar.
Two fingers lifted got him a glass with a nice triple shot of whiskey. He knocked back half in a single gulp, blinking against the cold rush. Another gesture got him a water to go with it, and he nodded his thanks. The bartender grinned back, always happy to serve the boss, wishing that service meant more than Brian was willing for it to.
One thing he'd learned from Justin's brief dance career: Never fuck the staff. Not even when they wanted to.
Not even when they begged.
Brian sighed, leaned heavily against the bar rail, lowered his head for just a minute. God, he was so fucking tired. How many people did he have relying on him now? The staff of Kinnetic, the staff of Babylon. His friends, who still half the time cursed him with one breath and asked him for help or advice with the other. His son. Brian rubbed a hand over his chest, pressing hard against the ache that had taken up residence there and just never. fucking. quit.
Maybe it was time for a vacation. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt completely relaxed, completely still. Years, at least. Maybe not since...
A warm body slid into place against his, and he grinned, leaning into it. "Mikey." He lifted his head, nodded at Ben, dropped a kiss on Michael's head. "Where are the others?'
Michael nodded towards the floor full of gyrating dancers. "Already out there."
"Excellent." Brian shook his hair out of his eyes, grabbed Michael's hand and pulled. Since Ben had his arm over Michael's shoulder, he moved too. "Then we should join them!"
Surrounded by bodies and the smell of flesh and sweat, Brian closed his eyes and let the music take him away.
***
Brian knew the instant he walked into the room.
He was in the wrong place.
The lecture hall was full of pale faces and skinny bodies, mostly dressed in button down shirts and loose jeans, even the women. There were T-shirts and unflattering baggy clothes, and an overwhelming sensation of caffeine-fuelled frenzy. All he could smell was hot skin and sweat. He was used to standing out in a crowd, but rarely was it because his carefully tailored pants and loose silk dress shirt just didn't fit in. As a marketing major, he doubted he'd even ever seen this many sun-deprived people in one room.
So totally, completely, utterly in the wrong place.
Then, *he* walked to the front of the class.
Snug jeans, snarky t-shirt loose over a tight belly and tight over broad shoulders. Sneaker-clad feet and a loose, comfortably heavy stride. Too-long hair curling slightly at the ends, fair skin over strong features. The kind of face that was pretty, handsome even now, but that would age into an entirely different kind of beauty. The man's lips were full, wide even seen from the side. He looked a few years older, mid-twenties maybe, possibly pushing thirty. Even from forty feet away, Brian felt the tension singing through the other man's frame, the sheer energy he exuded. The man spun on his heel and faced the class. Immediately the students hustled to their seats, almost pushing each other over in their haste. Brian grinned as the rushing bodies obscured his view. This guy must be something else.
When the aisle cleared, the man was looking directly at him. Slate blue eyes bored coldly into his, crossed arms and braced feet broadcasting irritated, arrogant disdain as clearly as a shout. The force of the man's glare slammed into him with an almost physical impact, and Brian found himself sinking into the nearest seat, fingers clenching into fists and shoulders straightening reflexively. When the man's eyes left him to sweep across the rest of the class with haughty contempt, he actually felt his muscles sag with relief. "Jesus," he muttered.
"No, actually," the man said, voice ringing firmly through the room. "Though you aren't the first to say so." His mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "My name is Doctor Rodney McKay. Welcome to Advanced Astrophysics." He leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. The class leaned back, matching his angle almost exactly. "Trust me, by the end of this course, you'll be calling me names from completely the *other* end of the spectrum."
Oh, yeah. He was in completely, utterly, totally, the right place.
****
At least Rodney had decided to walk.
John wasn't sure if he should be grateful or looking for the pod in the hotel. Rodney wasn't exactly known for his enjoyment of long strolls, but it certainly made following him a hell of a lot easier. John had been having images of having to yell "Follow that cab!" the whole trip down in the elevator. Instead, he was following Rodney on foot. The other man certainly looked as though he knew exactly where he was going, even at almost eleven o'clock at night. He moved confidently, head up, shoulders back. John had half-expected to find him set upon by muggers within a couple of blocks, but instead Rodney was giving off a definite 'don't fuck with me' vibe.
Maybe he should be looking for the pod after all.
Rodney swung left, then left again, crossing against the light at a half-jog. He turned right down an alley. John sidled up to the corner of the building, stuck his head around the corner to check just in case Rodney was on to him. He wasn't.
The alley was half-lit by a set of bright lights set into the side of the building, each loudly proclaiming the location as "Babylon". There was a line-up of men waiting to get in stretching more than half the block, and as John watched the muscle-bound man working the door opened it to let another lucky group in. Music throbbed out the open door, muted again as it swung shut. John blinked.
Rodney had come to a club. With music. And... and... dancing. Jesus wept. Rodney was a pod person! Had to be. Either that, or maybe he was tired enough to be hallucinating. Though, he hadn't realised he had that good an imagination. John shook his head hard to clear it, looked again.
Rodney walked straight up to the bouncer, bypassing the line-up and ignoring the sidelong looks of resentment. He paused at the door, showed the bouncer a card from his wallet. The bouncer immediately opened the door and gestured him inside with a deferential half-bow. John blinked again, followed his path in a trot. The bouncer placed one huge hand on his chest when he would have reached for the door.
"Members only."
John pulled out his wallet, flipped to the Military ID. "I'm on protection detail for the man you just let in," he said firmly. "I don't mind paying the cover, but I am going inside. Now."
The bouncer gave him a long, flat, unimpressed stare, raking him from head to foot. "You're with Doctor McKay?" He asked sceptically. Another shock. This guy knew Rodney by name?
"I'm *protecting* Rodney McKay," John clarified coldly. "And if something happens to him while you're holding me out here..."
The bouncer considered, then shrugged and smirked. "Go ahead." He laughed. "Not like you'd get away with anything in there anyway."
John glared and walked through the door.
****
The music just wasn't working its magic tonight.
Brian growled under his breath, forced a smile for Michael's benefit. Christ, if he thought Brian was having any kind of a mope he'd be dragging him home with them to make sure he had 'company', that he wasn't busily pining over Justin, safely away in New York making his fortune.
It had been three years, for fuck sake. He wasn't pining. He was having a great time. Here. In his club, in his city, damn it.
He rubbed his chest again and cursed. He hated this shit. This... this was why he didn't let himself get involved in the first place. He needed... He needed a good, hard fuck, that's what he needed. He needed... Christ. He needed something he didn't let himself get, at least, not any more.
The song changed.
The lights went down as the bass started to rumble through the floor. Brian grinned, letting his eyes flutter closed and the dark soothe his frustration. The beat started to pick up, driving up through his boots. Brian relaxed his body, tilted his head back, and started to move. The strobes flared to life as the synthesizer kicked in, and this time the vertigo made him feel almost like he was flying.
He felt the ripple through the crowd at his back, ignored it in favour of the stillness in his head.
"Oh, Fuck."
In the instant it took the sound of Michael's venomous curse to penetrate, there was a body sliding into place alongside his, a hand slipping into place against the back of his neck. The pressure had him turning involuntarily, fitting his body against the other's automatically. The touch was achingly familiar, one he hadn't felt in years. One that had his eyes springing open, his head turning to see even before his brain registered the sensation. A second hand cupped his jaw, strong fingers raking into the hair just under his ear, tilting his head just so. He caught a glimpse of amused blue eyes and a crooked grin before his mouth was caught in a kiss. A deep, dirty, wet kiss that had his eyes fluttering shut and his knees sagging.
Only one person could do this to him this fast.
Only one person could do this to him at all.
Holy shit. Fucking McKay.
****
The class had been interesting. Damned interesting and he didn't even bother with science. Advertising, that was where the money was. The money and the power. The reasons for Brian's entire existence, right there.
He avoided the class for a week, and then found himself back in his seat. When the professor's eyes raked over him he winced, but McKay didn't say anything, just went on with the lecture.
He was heading out when a strong hand clamped over his wrist. The fingers tightened, pressing flesh against bone in a grip that didn't hurt but would definitely bruise. He tried to jerk away, failed, turned on his captor angrily. The words stuck in his throat as he found himself staring into frozen blue eyes from only inches away. "You," McKay said evenly. "Come with me."
****
John couldn't believe his eyes.
The thud of the music had hit John like a fist in the chest as he walked through the door, just as the lights went down and the beat revved up. There had been just enough light for him to make his way into the main room and identify a staircase that he could use to look over the crowd. He had been three steps up when the lights began to strobe in time with the frantic beat and he got a good look at the dancers on the stages
The male dancers.
The mostly naked, ripped, hot male dancers.
Holy shit. Rodney had led him to a gay bar.
And based on the signage, it was Military Service night at Babylon. Some of the crowd, dressed - or rather, half-dressed - in fatigues, were already displaying some of the more creative interpretations of the phrase along with an impressive array of skin. John shook his head and was glad he left his BDUs at the hotel.
The dance floor had been absolutely packed with gyrating men. John had identified the bathrooms and the bar half-hidden under the stairs easily enough by the flow of men, but hadn’t found Rodney. He was about to head reluctantly for the backroom (god, please, no) when a small area of stillness on the dance floor caught his eye.
Rodney was approaching a small knot of dancers. The tallest of the group was lost in the music, face turned to the ceiling. John saw Rodney smile slightly then slide against the tall man's shoulder and side to turn him. The tall man's head had snapped down, eyes wide in shock, and Rodney had cupped his jaw in both hands, dragging him into a deep kiss.
John blinked hard, fought the desire to rub his eyes like a little kid trying to wake up.
The tall man's eyes closed and he swayed against Rodney, curling into him sensuously, almost sagging from Rodney's hands. Clenching his hands over the metal railing until his knuckles were white, John knew exactly how the guy felt. His own knees felt weak, his stomach tight with shock and other things he didn't even have names for.
Well. Now he knew why Rodney wouldn't have been bored. Jesus.
****
McKay held him firmly, deepening the kiss until it took up his whole world before slowly releasing him. "Hi, Brian," he said.
Brian dropped his head to McKay's shoulder, pressing against the firm silk-covered muscle. Something light expanded in his chest, pushing that damnable ache out of the way for the first time in a very, very long time. McKay was in town. Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah, this could be exactly what he needed. He lifted his head, knowing that the expression on his face would still be hot and needy and not caring at all.
"Jesus, McKay." He managed a smile, though he knew it wavered a little around the edges. "You're in Pittsburgh. You're here."
"I see you're as perceptive as always." McKay pulled back from him a little, ignoring the way Brian swayed as if to follow. The warmth in Brian's chest grew stronger.
"And I see you're looking a bit worse for wear," Michael interjected bitterly in his best bitch-voice.
McKay crossed his arms and lifted his chin, his whole body locking down into arrogant mode. "And yet, still utterly uninterested in you, Marvin."
Michael spluttered. Brian sighed, rubbed a hand over his eyes and snuck a sideways glance at Ben, who looked pretty taken aback at Michael's clear dislike of this stranger. Brian gave him an imploring look, and Ben smiled back in resignation. "Come on, Michael," he said, tugging on his husband's arm. "Ted's waving at us." Michael glared daggers at McKay but went where Ben directed.
Brian took a long assessing look as McKay watched Michael leave with amused irritation. Sure, McKay had put on some weight, particularly through the shoulders and chest, and his hair was a lot shorter than it had been. His face was also heavier, less purely pretty than it had been back at the university. More towards handsome than he had been. Like he'd seen things and done things that had aged him. Of course, the fact that university had been a full twelve years ago could have some effect too, he supposed, though the changes hadn't been nearly so pronounced four years ago; the last time he'd seen McKay.
Then the blue eyes turned back to him, and none of it mattered. He could be another fifty years older, with no hair and no teeth and he would still have Brian's stomach turning somersaults. This was McKay.
"So," Brian swept his eyes the length of McKay's body with slow appreciation. "Why are you here?"
"I told you I'd come if I was in town." He looked around, scanning the room restlessly. That alert tension was new, though the vibrating energy wasn't. Brian had the feeling it was an ingrained habit, learned while McKay was... where ever he had been. "I'm in town. So I'm here."
Brian pursed his lips, nodded. McKay met his gaze again, expressions flicking across his face faster than Brian could read. There was more to this than simply looking him up. Brian's eyes narrowed in thought. There was really only one reason McKay would be out finding him at this time of night, and it was a reason that Brian was all in favour of. Especially now, especially when he needed to just forget for a while. McKay could give him that; had come here to take it, but something was holding him back. It was like watching an actor working on a performance; the person underneath would peek through. The person Brian needed was there, just under the surface. Like a shark waiting for the perfect moment to show his teeth. Brian just needed to give him the right reason to show himself the rest of the way.
Well. That could be arranged.
Brian stepped close, moulding against McKay's side, nuzzling his nose into the hollow under McKay's ear. "I've missed you," he whispered, letting his breath fan over the sensitive skin, running his hand over McKay's shoulder and down his arm. McKay froze under the touch, his lashes sweeping down to hide his eyes. "It's been a really long time."
McKay nodded.
Brian edged closer still, sliding his fingers under McKay's wrist and nudging his hand to rest against Brian's waist. "I want it, McKay. I want what you do." He leaned against McKay's shoulder, making him angle to brace their combined weight. McKay's thigh bunched against Brian's, muscle flexing to hold them still. "What about you? Why did you come here now?"
McKay's strong fingers clenched on his hip, his free hand flashing up to rake into Brian's hair, tightening to the point of pain. He turned just enough to take Brian's mouth in a hard kiss. "Because I wanted to." He shifted, pushed into Brian with his whole body, drove him back a step. "Let's get out of here. We can go to your place. I'd rather not go back to the hotel." That weird restraint flickered through his eyes again.
Brian took a shaky breath and let it out, nodding jerkily. "Anywhere," he said. "Anything you want."
****
The coffee smelled spectacular. McKay had his own office and his own coffeemaker. Brian wondered why he wasn't surprised.
"Have a seat," McKay gestured at the chair across from his desk. Brian took it gingerly, looking around. The office was surprisingly large, since he was only a visiting professor. Then again, Brian had a feeling that this man never defined himself as 'only' anything. Hell, he probably used the visiting professor bit to justify the bigger space. McKay leaned on the edge of the desk, crossing his arms across his chest and looking down his nose. "You aren't in my class."
Brian recognized the power play for what it was and refused to let it work. He leaned back in his chair, slinging an arm over the back and slouching, grinning up at McKay cockily. "Well, thank you, Professor. I'm flattered that you took the time to look me up."
McKay snorted. "I didn't." Brian felt the smirk waver, kept it on his face in sheer stubbornness. "You came back. No one who actually takes my class and leaves comes back."
Brian blinked. "Really? No one?"
McKay pursed his lips, stood to move to the coffee maker. "Absolutely not. I'd tear them apart." He poured a mug full, sipped. "While they may not be smart enough to actually zip their own pants, they do tend to have a remarkable survival instinct." Apparently the coffee was cool enough, because he tipped his head back to take a longer drink. "Either you have no sense of self-preservation, or you aren't in my class." Cold blue eyes raked him head to foot. "I'm betting Marketing major. Possibly Political Science."
Brian tilted his head, swung smoothly to his feet. He picked up a mug, checked to be sure it was clean, poured himself a cup of coffee. He made sure to lean into McKay's personal space, taking a deep breath of the other man's scent, not being subtle about it either. "You got me," he said. "Marketing it is." He let his eyes go slightly sleepy, lifted his hand to McKay's shoulder. "Now you know you wouldn't be sleeping with one of your students."
McKay shrugged off his hand, sat back on the edge of his desk. Brian sighed and returned to his chair. "Can't say that would stop me if I wanted to, but none of them interest me. You do." He surveyed Brian again in that way that made him feel like he was being dissected. "You're smart. Beautiful. Arrogant. Gay." He said each word as though reading a checklist, paused. "Aggressive. You like to be in control, but you don't really know what to do with it once you're there." He tsked.
"I know what to do with it." Brian interjected, stung.
McKay smirked that crooked grin that he was sure meant all sorts of things, none of which actually had anything to do with humour. "I've no doubt you've mastered the basic concepts, with plenty of practice, too. You're pretty enough, and confident enough, to have people lining up for you. But what about when they leave in the morning?" He shrugged. "I'd think you'd want to be more than just a fuck. I'd think you'd want to be ... memorable." His eyes narrowed.
"Come on." Brian shook his head, amused. "Who do you think you are, anyway?"
"Who am I?" He laughed. "I'm Dr. Rodney McKay, double Ph.D and the smartest guy you'll ever meet. I'm the guy who built an atomic bomb for my sixth grade science project. I'm the guy who makes your classmates cry." He leaned forward, pushing into Brian's space. "I'm the guy who knows more ways to make you come than you can count, and I'm the guy who's offering you the chance of a lifetime. Believe me, I already know who *I* am. I want to know who you are. So. Who are you? Are you the guy who wants that?" McKay's eyes bore into his, all the weight of that personality bearing down on him.
Brian's mouth went dry. His stomach fluttered, and he fought back an almost overwhelming desire to just agree, right there on the spot. He swallowed hard, pushed to get words out without giving away his reaction. "You have a finely honed sense of modesty, I see," Brian coughed to cover the hoarseness of his voice, shook his head in exaggerated disbelief.
McKay snorted. He stood and took Brian's face between his hands, sliding fingers along the curve of Brian's jaw to rest fingertips against his neck. He leaned over, and pressed his mouth to Brian's. It was a painfully gentle brush of soft lips against his, a tiny movement back and forth that had the hairs on his neck lifting. McKay's lips parted and his tongue flicked teasingly against the crease of Brian's mouth. His heart started to pound under the barely-there onslaught, and his eyes slid closed to concentrate better on the delicate sensations. He parted his lips, opening up to let that soft sweep of tongue taste more.
The instant he responded, McKay took total, ruthless control.
His fingers tightened on Brian's jaw, not enough to hurt but enough to hold him securely in place. His mouth pressed hard against Brian's, opening him up, taking possession. His tongue swept in, licking along the inside of his mouth, all slick heat and fiery taste. Brian's heart kicked into high gear, thundering in his ears. McKay took his lower lip between his teeth, nipping slightly before sucking on it hard, running the tip of his tongue back over it. He pushed Brian back in the seat, using his greater weight to pin him in place as he kissed him like he was going to eat him alive.
He'd had hot, he'd had hard, but Brian had never felt anything like this, this fierce possession; was so hard in his pants that he was half-afraid he was going to embarrass himself right here, right now, without even a touch. When McKay pulled back Brian chased his mouth, barely recognizing the needy moans in the air as his own. He was panting, struggling against the hands holding him still.
McKay released him. "It's not vanity if it's true," he said. In that moment, Brian believed him, absolutely. "Last chance. Are you the guy that wants that?"
Brian found himself nodding, his breath still heaving through his chest, pulse still throbbing through every extremity he had. McKay refused to let him off the hook. "Say it out loud, or the deal is off the table."
"Yes." Brian swallowed hard. "Yes, I'm the guy that wants that."
"Good." He smiled, the first genuine one Brian had seen on his face. He leaned back, and Brian suddenly felt that he could take a breath again. "Then as of now, I'm the guy who's in charge."
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four