[SGA fic] The Best Things in Life Are Free (4/8)

[smittywing]

I'm tragically short on space since this part is HUGE but as always, immense gratitude to reccea for beta, cheerleading, and the drive back from DC.

Previous parts are available at the link below.

The Best Things in Life Are Free
High School AU
Rated: R (overall)
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay (eventually)


The Best Things in Life Are Free, Part Four

Part Three

"Maybe if you had the first clue what was going on around you -- !"

"You always blame me for things you don't want to take responsibility for!"

Rodney looked up as his parents' yelling turned louder and discernible and then muffled again. Jeannie was closing his door.

"You ever hear of knocking?" he asked, but he pushed his chemistry text further up on his pillow and sat up to make room for Jeannie at the end of the bed.

"You always lock the door when you jerk off," Jeannie said, but with only a shadow of her standard sneer.

"Way to be observant," Rodney muttered and didn't bother to ask how she knew about jerking off already. She might not be anywhere near his level of brilliance, but Jeannie McKay was no dummy. She still came from the same set of genes, after all. "So what are you doing here?"

"What do you think?" Jeannie cocked her head to the door. "Why don't they just get a divorce already? Michelle Butler's dad moved to California and she gets to fly out to Disneyland every other weekend and for two weeks in the summer."

"If you think Dad is going to move to Disneyland, you're delusional," Rodney told her.

"He doesn't have to go that far," she admitted. "Just away."

"You know, they're probably staying together for us," Rodney said, picking up his book and resting it on his knee. He put his socked foot flat on the bed -- his mother would kill him if he did that wearing shoes -- so Jeannie could lean against his knee. "So they don't warp us or something."

"That's not true," Jeannie said. "They hate us."

"They don't hate us." Rodney sighed. "They just blame us. They blame me. Because I built that thing and we had to move and Mom had to give up her job and -- " He shrugged. "They're just not happy. It's not that bad."

"Easy for you to say," Jeannie sniffed. "You're going away to college. You won't have to live with them anymore."

"Yeah, not if nowhere wants me," Rodney said bitterly. "Which is stupid, because they should all be knocking down the door to get to me first. And throwing money at me, too, because there's no way we can afford it without scholarships."

Jeannie made a little sighing noise and rested her head against his knee.

"You should read a book or something if you're going to stay in here," Rodney said.

To his surprise, she went to his bookshelf and found his beat-up old copy of The Hobbit, and curled up on the bed next to him to read it. He reached out and put his hand on her hair and left it there while he studied.

Rodney was doing physics homework and John was reading War and Peace with their feet on the coffee table when the front door opened and, "Hi, honey, I'm home!" echoed in the front hall.

"My dad is a dork," John explained, dropping his feet to the floor without taking his eyes off the book.

Rodney tensed beside him, scooting his feet off the table as well. "Is it okay that I'm here?" he asked.

"Of course it is," John said, turning the page. "In the TV room," he called over his shoulder.

"Because last time you said that you didn't have parties here because -- "

"Parties," John said in exasperation. "You know, eighty people I don't know, underage drinking, property damage?"

"Yeah, but," Rodney started and then stopped and hopped into a straighter position, his eyes over John's head.

"Hey," Colonel Sheppard said, ambling into the room.

"Hi, Dad," John said without looking up.

"Um, hi, I'm -- I'm -- " Rodney stumbled, jumping to his feet and holding out his hand.

"You're the McKays' kid, the oldest one, right?" Colonel Sheppard said, leaning forward to squeeze his hand briefly. "Will Sheppard, John's dad." He looked speculatively from Rodney to John and back. "You giving John a hand in physics?"

"Dad!" John groaned from his slouch.

"You need help in physics?" Rodney asked quickly, his eyes lighting up.

"He's my friend," John called with doom in his voice.

"Okay," Colonel Sheppard replied, offering Rodney a grin. "He could use some help in physics," he stage-whispered.

"Dad! My physics grade is fine!"

"If you want a hand in physics, it's my best subject," Rodney said, all anxiety over meeting the Colonel forgotten. "Which class are you in?"

"Rodney, shut up," John grumbled, closing the book. "Dad, he's a friend, cut it out."

"All right, all right," the Colonel said mildly. "Rodney, you like Mexican?"

"I'm not so much on the really spicy things, the peppers and such, but anything in a tortilla is pretty much gold -- " Rodney started.

"Great," the Colonel interrupted. "I'll call your parents."

"Huh?" Rodney blinked over the couch and John grinned, picking up War and Peace again.

"You just got invited to dinner," he said, kicking Rodney gently with the bottom of his sneaker.

"But -- "

"Air Force Colonel," John reminded Rodney.

"Huh." Rodney sounded thoughtful but when John looked up, he found that Rodney was studying him before hastily turning his attention back to physics.

Half an hour later, the Colonel yelled something unintelligible from the kitchen that John recognized as their version of the dinner bell.

"Coming?" he asked Rodney.

"That was dinner? I though maybe your dad was watching football or something," he said, but he jumped off the couch and actually preceded John into the kitchen as the aroma of spiced beef and melted cheese wafted through the rest of the house.

"Grab a plate and dig in," Colonel Sheppard said. The table was practically sagging under the weight of rice and beans and enchiladas, tamales and tostadas and a large quesadilla, sectioned into eighths.

"There's, uh, there's no lemon in any of this, right?" Rodney asked.

John glanced at him. "Rodney's allergic," he said.

"A single drop could kill me," Rodney volunteered, right on schedule.

"Not that it's even remotely cool to bring that up at every possible moment," John growled, raising his eyebrows at Rodney.

"John." His father's voice was a warning and he'd almost forgotten the Colonel was there. "No, Rodney, there shouldn't be any lemon. Your father didn't say anything about food allergies when I called...."

"He forgets," Rodney said. "And John's giving me um, cool lessons. In exchange for helping him with physics."

"He's not helping me with physics," John interrupted, trying to set things straight. His father's eyebrows went up. "I mean, okay, yeah, whatever. But we're -- y'know what? Never mind." He topped his entire plate with a spoonful of beans and a glob of sour cream and collapsed into his seat.

"John," the Colonel said conspiratorially to Rodney, "has never been good at accepting defeat when he's outnumbered."

Rodney grinned and glanced over at John, blue eyes bright and obviously pleased at being included in the jest. The expression made John feel like Rodney was trying to laugh with him instead of at him, so he smiled back, a little.

"So, Rodney," Colonel Sheppard said, loading his plate with enchiladas and a wedge of quesadilla. "Where are you applying? I assume you're looking at some big schools for next year."

"Um, yeah," Rodney said, wiping his mouth quickly. "I mean -- with my grades and SAT scores, I figured there would be places knocking my door down, maybe sending attractive co-eds with incentives and scholarships, but I haven't heard back from a lot of places I requested application materials from and I think that's a little weird, but they all say that they sent them out so I guess it's just a matter of waiting for them to get here, but I'm in contact with MIT and CalTech and Northeastern, but I really like the program at the University of Colorado, Boulder campus. That's one of the ones I haven't heard from at all, though, so I don't know if I'm going to be able to get that one in for the first wave of early admission and I'd really like my application to be one of the first they look at for obvious reasons."

The kitchen fell oddly silent as Rodney paused to shovel food into his mouth. John smirked at his father, who obviously hadn't been expecting that sort of response to his question.

When dinner -- an uncharacteristically talkative dinner for the Sheppard household -- was over, Colonel Sheppard shooed Rodney and John off to do their homework elsewhere while he cleaned up the kitchen.

"No, really," Rodney said when they were back on the couch. "I can help you out with physics. I'm really good at it. I mean, I know I'm really good at everything, but physics is just, it's what I want to do. So, you know, if you need help, I don't mind."

"All right," John said, making his decision quickly, before he could think too much about it. "Let's do it."

"Really?" Rodney said, sounding surprised.

"Yeah," John said, jumping off the couch. "I need an A in the class. I need to know physics to fly a plane. Makes sense to know as much as possible before I go to the Academy, right?"

"Right, of course," Rodney said, scrambling up and following him. "Whose class are you in?"

"Simmons," John said, picking up his backpack and dropping it on his bed. He dug around until he found his book and saw Rodney staring at him. "What?"

"Simmons only teaches advanced, AP, and college-level physics," Rodney said, his mouth hanging open. "I'm in the college-level class because it's really just a sop to insanely advanced kids who are stuck in this town and so your school can put in for federal funding. Which class are you in?"

"AP," John said slowly.

Rodney's mouth fell open further. "And your grade is -- "

"A B-Minus right now," John said, tossing his book on the bed. "I understand the mathematical constructs behind Gauss's Law, but how it leads to Coulomb's Law is sort of -- " He paused and then said it anyway. If he couldn't say stupid things in front of Rodney, well, there wasn't any justice in the world. "I think it's a little over my head."

Rodney's eyes skimmed over the text and a smile broke out over his face. His eyes lit up and he said to John, "Oh, this is going to be so much fun."

"Have you asked Katie yet?" John asked Rodney at lunch.

"Have I asked her what?" Rodney stared blankly at John. He didn't remember needing to ask Katie anything.

"To go see Top Gun with us," John replied with a roll of his eyes. "You have to ask her today."

"Today?"

"It's Wednesday and we're going on Saturday," John reminded him. "Girls need advance notice for these things."

"Really?" Rodney asked, thinking that girls were infinitely more complex than he'd realized. "Why?"

John shrugged. "I don't know. To buy new clothes and convince their fathers not to kill us, I guess."

"Oh," Rodney said faintly. "Great." He looked around the cafeteria. Katie was sitting with a few other girls in the science club, eating a sandwich out of a brown paper sack. "Should I go ask her now?"

John glanced over to the table where Katie was sitting. "No, you don't want to ask her with all her friends there," he said. He glanced around the cafeteria. "C'mon." He stood up and slid his tray over. "Get that for me?" he asked, punching Ford in the shoulder.

"Yeah, sure!" Ford said even though it hadn't really been a question.

Rodney stuffed the last of his sandwich in his mouth, crumpled up his bag, and looked at the rest of the table. Ronon raised an eyebrow at him and ate half a hot dog in one bite.

"I'll just...take care of this," Rodney said, tripping over the legs of his chair as he got up. He dumped the bag in the trash and found John waiting for him in the hallway.

"Okay," John said, turning down a row of lockers, out of sight of the cafeteria, and pausing before a random one. "You want to catch her at her locker when her friends aren't around. Girls are weird around their friends. Now, you have to act really casual here." John looked as serious as he had when explaining football passes earlier that week, both hands held out in front of him. "Lean on the locker next to hers, and remember, you're really happy to see her. But not happy enough that you're speechless or anything." John rested one elbow at head-level on a locker and let his whole body tilt inward. He glanced back and said, "See, watch me," and Rodney did.

He watched the cant of John's hips and his legs, crossed at the ankle. The bulge of his bicep where he held the strap of his backpack at the shoulder, and the cord of muscle running up his neck.

Rodney swallowed hard and wondered how hanging out with John had actually pushed along his totally non-relationship with Katie Brown. Wasn't he supposed to be dating one of Teyla's friends by now?

" -- hoping you'd be able to come with me," John was saying when Rodney remembered to pay attention again. John looked earnest and sincere and Rodney was jealous of the air he was talking to. "All right, you try," John said, pushing away from the locker and uncrossing his legs just as casually.

"I -- what?" John didn't really expect him to --

"Practice makes perfect, McKay," John told him, dropping his backpack next to the wall and settling his hands on his hips, ready to critique Rodney's technique.

"Oh, my God," Rodney grumbled. "This is so ridiculous." He glared at the invisible Katie and took the required two steps to the locker next to her. He put his elbow on the locker and leaned in awkwardly.

"Yeah, and you just took someone out with your seven million books," John interrupted. "Either keep your bag on your outside shoulder like I keep telling you, or just carry the book you need for your next class."

Rodney scowled in John's direction and wrestled the backpack strap off his shoulder. He tried leaning in again and found himself wildly off-balance.

"Single book it is," John said, relieving Rodney of his load.

Rodney cleared his throat, leaned, and tried again. "Hi, Katie," he managed. "I'm going to the movies with um -- am I supposed to tell her who I'm going with?"

"You should at least tell her it's a double date," John said. "in case she thought she was getting the famous McKay charm all to herself."

"Hi, Katie, I'm going on a double date and -- " That sounded terrible. "Hi, Katie. John and I are going to see Top Gun -- "

"On Saturday," John prompted.

"We're going to see Top Gun on Saturday," Rodney amended. "And we're -- "

"I'm," John corrected.

"Since when you do you like Katie that much anyway?" Rodney asked, feeling slightly cross.

"Say I'm," John said, rolling his eyes. "You want her to think you really like her. You do really like her, right?"

"Yes, of course I do," Rodney lied.

"Okay, then." John gestured for Rodney to try again.

"Hi, Katie," Rodney got out before a deeper voice said from the mouth of the hall,

"What are you boys doing out here?"

Rodney spun around, knocking his elbow on the lockers and forgetting he had one foot crossed over the other.

"Hi, Mr. Landry," John was saying to the vice principal as Rodney crashed rather metallically.

"John. Rodney?" Landry sounded perplexed. "What are the two of you doing out here?" Together, he didn't add. Rodney tried not to take offense. Before last week, he hadn't spoken five words to John.

"Roleplaying," John said easily. "For Spanish class."

"You know you should be in the cafeteria," Landry said.

"We know," John said with a dazzling grin. "But we want to get this right and senior year is really busy, what with practice and applications and college visits -- "

"Yes, well -- how are those applications coming, Rodney?" Landry asked, as if to confirm John's excuse.

Rodney flashed him a big smile and a double thumbs up.

Landry gave him a funny look but nodded.

"All right," he said. "Good luck."

"Thanks, sir!" John called after him.

Rodney just waved, then slumped against the lockers. "I'm so humiliated," he said. "The vice principal just watched me ask out an imaginary girl."

"Don't worry about it," John said. "He thinks you were practicing a skit for Spanish."

"I don't even take Spanish," Rodney shot back.

"Well, that explains why you were speaking in English," John said blithely. "C'mon, the bell's going to ring. Get rid of some of those books so you can ambush Katie."

John trailed Rodney to his locker and waited expectantly while Rodney pulled out his calculus book and his Trapper Keeper and wrestled his bookbag into the narrow space. Rodney was so pleased to have John nearby that it didn't hit him until after he'd closed his locker just why John was still there.

"You're not going to watch are you?" he asked in horror, clutching his books to his chest.

"For moral support!" John replied.

"It's voyeurism!" Rodney snapped. "Go to class. I'll tell you what happened when I get there."

"All right," John drawled, turning away. "If you're sure...."

"I'm very sure," Rodney said, mentally urging John on down the hall. "Go ahead. I'll be fine."

He waited until John was out of sight and then ventured down the biology hall, where Katie's locker was. He waited casually for Jeannette Simpson to leave Katie's side and then much less casually when she didn't show signs of going anywhere.

Rodney was ready to give up and go to study hall in defeat when salvation came down in the hall in the form of a 6'4" offensive center with a taste for girly drinks.

"Ah, Ronon, just the man I needed to see."

"McKay," Ronon acknowledged, moving past him.

"I need a favor," Rodney said, catching up to him.

Ronon turned and raised an eyebrow. "What kind of favor?"

"I want to talk to Katie and Jeannette won't leave," Rodney explained. "Can you, I don't know, flirt with her or something so I can ask Katie out?"

Ronon glanced across the hall and curled a lip. "She's kind of homely," he said.

"I have three words for you," Rodney said, losing patience along with time. "Dirty. Girl. Scout."

Ronon raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and crossed the hall.

Five seconds later, Jeannette was sufficiently distracted and Rodney was leaning awkwardly on the locker next to Katie's.

"Hi, Katie," he said with a smile that felt at least as fake as it looked.

"I don't ever want you to talk to me again," Katie said with a sniff.

Rodney froze. John hadn't coached him on this.

"Look, you can't blame me for that party," he said. "I had no idea it was going to be like that and John didn't tell me. I already yelled at him about that."

"You did?" Katie asked, sounding ever-so-slightly interested.

"Ye-yeah. Of course. And hey, we're going to see Top Gun on Saturday and I'd uh -- I'd really like if you came with us. John's bringing Teyla," Rodney finished, marveling at how easy it was after all that fuss. He just had to open his mouth and let it all come tumbling out.

"Oh. Well." Katie turned doe eyes on him. "I -- I suppose so."

"Great!" Rodney beamed at her as the bell rang. "Oh, crap. I'm -- I'm late for study hall. I gotta go." He waved vaguely behind him as he ran off for class.

"Ah, Mr. McKay," the teacher droned as he slipped through the door. "You think study hall isn't a real class so you can just blow off the bell?"

"Well, considering I have a 4.0 and the point of the class is to study? Yeah, pretty much," Rodney said, sliding into his seat. To his surprise, people in the back of the room laughed.

"Talking back is good for a detention," the teacher announced with a scowl.

Okay, that sucked, but it would give Rodney a chance to catch up on all the work he'd neglected over the weekend. He accepted the slip with a nod and opened his calculus book. The teacher settled in his own chair and the room fell silent.

Two minutes later, a tiny white paper airplane landed between the latching rings of Rodney's Trapper Keeper. It was intricately folded and designed for maximum operator control. Rodney unfolded it carefully, taking note of the folds, and looked at the scrawl inside.

Well?

He turned and looked over his shoulder for John, slouched in the back row. John lifted his eyebrows. Rodney flashed him the double thumbs up and grinned.

John nodded in return with a funny little smile twisting over his lips. It looked like approval.

The lights were off in the hall when John got home. He turned them on and checked the table for a note from his father. No note and the keys to the Nova were still missing. It wasn't unusual for the Colonel to stay late at the base after a trip -- covert ops generated just as much, if not more, paperwork as any other mission.

John scanned the kitchen for food and found leftover Mexican and a container of chili. He dumped the chili in a pan and turned on the burner. The phone rang and John scooped it up, expecting it to be Rodney having another crisis or maybe Mitch with a question about the practice he'd missed while suffering in his tutoring session.

"'Lo."

"This is Colonel Anders. Is Colonel Sheppard available?"

"Uh, no, sir," John replied, automatically improving his posture. "He's not home yet. May I take a message?"

"Tell him to call me regarding the Connors mess. ASAP."

"I'll do that, sir," John said, grabbing for a pen and a notepad.

John had barely hung up and written down the message when the phone rang again.

"Sheppard residence," he answered more formally. Something was going on and it stood to reason that Anders wouldn't be the last call.

"Will?"

"No, sir, this is his son, John," John replied dutifully.

"Oh, right. Son, this is General Ryklhoff. Have your old man call me at home."

"Will do, sir," John said, writing the message under the first one.

The next bout of peace lasted almost five minutes and then the doorbell rang.

John opened the door to find Danny Connors standing on the front porch. Danny was a short, compact guy with a bright red crew cut and blue eyes, a captain under his father's command. He flew Pave Lows and had been one of the guys to talk to John about the Academy and what John could expect there.

Right now, his fair, freckled face looked blotchy and his mouth was set in a crooked line. John remembered Colonel Anders's message about, 'the Connors mess' and realized why his father wasn't home yet.

"Hi, Captain Connors," he said, moving out of the doorway. "C'mon in. My dad isn't here right now, but he should be home soon."

"Thanks, John," Connors said, stepping into the front hall. "I'm sorry about just showing up without calling. This week's just been a -- a helluva mess."

"You can hang out in here," John offered, leading Connors to the living room. The phone rang again. "Sorry, I'll be right back." He caught the phone on the fourth ring. "Sheppard residence."

"This is General D'Angelo. Is this Colonel William T. Sheppard?"

"No, sir," John replied. They hadn't had this much brass calling the house since the Marine barracks in Beirut had been bombed, three years before. "The Colonel isn't home yet. I can have him call you as soon as he gets in."

"You do that," General D'Angelo barked. "Tell him I expect and explanation for this horse shit memo on that Connors fag!"

"Right, sir," John said, taking care to write out and put quotes around 'horse shit.' "The second he walks in the door."

General D'Angelo hung up without saying thank you.

John got a bottle of beer and a can of soda out of the fridge and went back to the living room where Captain Connors had his head in his hands.

"You look like you could use this," John offered, setting the beer in front of him.

Connors looked up and for a moment, the visible panic in his blue eyes reminded John of Rodney. "We have MTV on here," John said, gesturing to the television, "and a VCR and Atari if you want to play Missile Command or something."

Connors had downed half his beer in one swallow and was looking a little calmer. "Yeah, sure," he said after a beat of obvious reluctance.

John set the television to accept input from the game device and plugged the cartridge into the center slot. He set the game for two players and handed Connors the primary joystick. They took turns defending their cities until the front door opened and what sounded like a duffle bag hit the floor.

Captain Connors was on his feet and at attention before Colonel Sheppard entered the room with the frustrated, exhausted look of a man who had spent the day battling a brick wall.

"Danny. C'mon, we'll talk in my office." Colonel Sheppard directed Captain Connors down the hall to where he and John had lugged the Colonel's father's desk and a set of bookshelves into the third bedroom to make it an office.

"Dad, there's three phone messages for you in the kitchen," John said, standing too, because it seemed like the right thing to do. "Colonel Anders, General Rhyklhoff, and General D'Angelo."

John's father looked at him with tired eyes. "Thanks, son. Do me a favor and order up some dinner for the three of us, all right? I'll invite Danny to stay."

"Okay," John said as his father went into the kitchen to get the messages.

"Horse shit memo?" he called out a moment later. He appeared in the doorway, John's note in his hand. "D'Angelo wouldn't know horse shit if he fell face-first into it. By the way, your chili's burning."

"Oh, shit!" John said, vaulting the back of the couch to get to the kitchen. The Colonel got out of his way and disappeared down the hall without saying a thing about a) John's language (it was the word of the day anyway) or b) his mistreatment of the furniture.

The chili wasn't on fire, but it was charred to the bottom of the pot. John scraped the undamaged portions back into the plastic container -- it was still enough for one. The smoking pot went in the sink with half a bottle of Palmolive and as much hot water as the pot would hold.

The kitchen was still a little hazy so John flipped on the fan and started leafing through the takeout menus. He wasn't quite sure what the deal was with using his dad's account at the pizza shop while his dad was home, so he went for Chinese instead. He didn't quite know how much food three people ate either, so he ordered chicken, beef, and pork, both white and fried rice, and egg rolls.

The phone rang again but cut off after one ring so John figured his father had picked it up in the office. He switched Missile Command to one player and played three rounds before his father and Danny reappeared, both looking worse for the wear.

"I ordered Chinese," John said as the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," Colonel Sheppard said, his hand already reaching for his wallet. John went into the kitchen to grab napkins and an armful of sodas and beer. "Good grief, John!" his father said when he returned. "Did you invite the entire Air Force?"

"I'm a growing boy," John replied.

"Well, you two dig in. I've got phone calls to return and then I'll be out," the Colonel instructed.

John and Danny opened the containers and started assembling plates of food. Forty minutes and half an episode of The Equalizer later, John's father reappeared and appropriated the moo-shu pork. They cheered for McCall as he kicked the snot out of a rapist and then Danny Connors stood up to leave.

"Thanks for everything you've done, Colonel," he said. "It's been an honor and a privilege flying for you." He looked over at John. "Your old man's a real class act, kid."

John didn't know how to respond as his father grabbed Danny's hand and clapped him on the shoulder.

"You're the best pilot I've ever had," he said. "I'm sorry it all fell out this way."

"I guess I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner, sir. Thank you for being so decent about it."

"You call me if you need anything," Colonel Sheppard ordered. "Here's a letter from me. Give it to anyone you want to fly with." He passed over an envelope as he walked Danny to the door. John trailed along, still curious but trying to play it cool. He waited for the door to close before he said, "So what was that all about?"

His father sighed. "Get me a beer, John, and I'll tell you."

John's father hadn't had him fetch things since he'd started high school, so John got a bottle of beer from the fridge without complaint, popped off the cap, and delivered it to his father who had his feet up on the coffee table.

"Thanks," Colonel Sheppard said, taking a long draught. "Sit down."

John sat down on the couch and waited.

"Danny Connors is getting kicked out of the Air Force," Colonel Sheppard finally said, "because he has a boyfriend he goes to see on the weekends instead of a girlfriend."

"Captain Connors is gay?" John asked. Never, in a million years, had he been expecting that, even with General D'Angelo's nasty comment. Disobeying a direct order maybe -- not one of his father's, obviously -- or maybe punching someone, or, well, anything else. John knew Danny Connors, talked to him on more than one occasion, and he never would have thought the man any different from his father or himself.

"Couldn't happen to a nicer guy," the Colonel said morosely. "Or a better pilot. Best damn pilot I had on my team and he's shitcanned because some mealy-balled, fuckhead colonel sees him walking around a fucking nursery -- a fucking place they sell fucking plants -- and without one word to me, opens an investigation. What the fuck is up with that?"

"What would you have done if he'd gone to you?" John asked. He knew perfectly well that the official policy was that homosexuality was incompatible with service in the Air Force. He also knew perfectly well that gay people served quietly with no more fanfare than many civilians.

"I would have told Colonel Anders that it was none of his goddamn business and that I'd take care of it."

"Would you?" John asked. "Take care of it, I mean."

"There's nothing to take care of," Colonel Sheppard said. "I don't care who Danny fucks. I don't give a shit about who he fucking buys begonias with. I care that he's in his 'copter, flying where I tell him to and when and not getting shot out of the sky and that is what he excels at." He rubbed a hand over his face. "One day you'll be in charge of men and you'll realize that there are things you just don't want to know about them -- things you don't need to know. And their sex lives are usually number one on that list. Don't ask questions, son, if you're not ready to hear the answers."

John picked up his soda and turned it in his hands. It was warm now, and probably flat. "Okay," he said, setting the can down. "I should do my physics homework." He knew that the mere mention of physics would be his ticket out of that awkward conversation.

"Yeah, you should," his dad agreed. "C'mere," he said, reaching an arm out. John leaned in awkwardly and let his father cuff him on the back of the neck. Will pulled him in and kissed him on the forehead. "You're a good kid, John," he said.

"You don't suck as a dad, either," John replied, feeling rather odd that they'd had such similar conversations twice in as many weeks. He retreated to his room and sprawled out on his bed to consider the things his dad had said.

It wasn't that it applied to him, so much. He liked girls. He'd been with Elizabeth for almost a year and she'd had some very deliberate plans regarding what she'd wanted on her prom night and what she'd wanted to experience before she went to college. Plus, things were finally starting to go right with Teyla. He'd gotten to second base the other night, licking sugar off her neck and letting her take shots off his chest.

But there were other things that had happened that day, too, things John had been trying his best not to think about.

That weird jerk-off session in the shower when his thoughts had shifted to Rodney right before he came. The hot flush and half-erection he'd gotten watching Rodney do the shot off Teyla. The way he'd lingered when Rodney was throwing up in the gutter. He'd nursed both Mitch and Ford through their first drunks and he hadn't wanted to touch them, run a hand up their backs or smooth down their hair.

There was really no point to thinking about them, he decided, rolling over and pushing his face into his pillow.

It was all academic, anyway.

"It is Friday night and we are here looking through a telescope," Radek said. "I cannot help but think that your plan is not working."

"Oh, will you give it a rest?" Rodney demanded. "It hasn't been two whole weeks. John is playing an away game tonight. And we're double dating with Teyla and Katie tomorrow."

"You sound like boyfriends already," Radek assured him. "Except that you do not even like Katie and you will have to spend all tomorrow night watching him make out with Teyla."

Rodney sighed and slumped against Radek's bed.

"Plus you have detention and you forget all your old friends."

"I'm here, aren't I?" Rodney asked in exasperation.

"Only because your new friends are off playing football somewhere," Radek reminded him.

"I give up," Rodney said, getting to his feet. "I'm going home. I have a ton of homework anyway."

Radek sighed. "Don't go," he said grudgingly. "My mother made those cookies you like and milk tea. I'll go get them and then we will talk."

Rodney watched Radek go and thought that yeah, maybe he had been a bit of a jerk to the other guy lately.

But Radek wasn't John Sheppard.

"No, you have to read the book before you can see the movie," Rodney insisted, waving his hands across John's space as they walked home.

"I thought you said that the movie was nothing like the book," John countered. He wasn't quite sure how he'd gotten himself stuck in this argument. All he'd said was that the base video store had finally gotten a copy of Dune and Rodney had turned red and started ranting on the relative merits of the book versus the movie.

Apparently the movie was lacking.

"Of course it's nothing like the book," Rodney said, clearly exasperated. "That's why you need to read the book, so you know what they got wrong."

"But if I do that, I'll hate the movie," John said, mostly to make Rodney sputter.

"Okay, look, I'll let you borrow my copy and then you can see the movie and you decide which is better. Let me run in and get it," Rodney said as their houses came into view, and then looked confused when John followed him. "Enter at your own risk," he warned. "You know what my family's like."

John just smiled and didn't say anything. He found Rodney's family weirdly interesting. At least they were never boring, even if he'd never want to spend extended time with them.

"Hi, Mom, you remember Eddie Haskell, I mean John, right?" Rodney said in a rush as they walked in the kitchen door. "I just need to grab a book." John waved a hello to Mrs. McKay, who was working on something at the kitchen table, as he followed.

Rodney's room was as random as he was, with posters of blonde models and actresses next to posters of Albert Einstein and St. Elmo's Fire on the walls, a real Commodore 64 on the desk, and assorted bits of metal and circuitry mixed in with the stacks of clothes and schoolbooks. It was messy, with a clearing that branched into separate paths to the bed and desk.

"Got enough stuff in here?" John asked as Rodney scrabbled through the books on the shelves.

"What I really need is my own lab," Rodney said. "Our house in Canada had a two-car garage and I was able to convert one side to -- it's not here. Mom!" he called, walking out of the room. John trailed after him and found himself back in the kitchen. "Where are all the books I packed away when we moved last time?" Rodney asked his mother.

"You have so many of them," Mrs. McKay said as she got up from the kitchen table. "They take up so much space. Let me see if we got rid of them."

Something flashed in Rodney's face -- hurt, John thought, suddenly angry -- and was gone almost before John had put a name to it.

"Yeah, well, that's exactly what I'm trying to do," he said. "Get rid of one of them."

Mrs. McKay and Rodney went down the basement and John, not invited to join them, loitered in the kitchen. He looked around at the cheerful yellow walls and checked curtains and the white Formica table with Mrs. McKay's papers spread over it. The whole room was squeaky-clean and shiny-bright and smelled like pine. Not one thing was out of place or showed a speck of dust or a single cookie crumb. Even his dad would be impressed.

Curious, he peered at whatever Mrs. McKay had left scattered over the kitchen table and was surprised to see mathematical equations. He leaned closer and realized that not only had she been doing math problems, she was doing math that John had never seen before. He tried to intuit some of her notes, but this was clearly material far, far, beyond his education.

"John!"

John straightened up hastily, embarrassed to be caught snooping. "Hey, Jeannie," he said, running a nervous hand through his hair. "What's up?"

"I was just wondering," she said, faux-casual and running her fingers along the shiny edge of the fanatically clean counter. "Why are you hanging out with my loser brother?"

John gave her his best charming grin. "Rodney's my friend," he said. "I hang out with him because he's fun to be around."

"Rodney's not fun to be around," Jeannie said. "He's loud and mean and he talks about boring stuff all the time."

John shrugged and was about to reply that he liked the "boring" stuff Rodney talked about, but the topic of conversation slammed out of the basement at just that moment, face stormy.

"I'm spending the night at John's house!" he yelled over his shoulder and he went right past John and out the kitchen door.

"See you later, kiddo," John said to Jeannie with a wink and a light tug on her ponytail.

Rodney was already halfway across the yard when John let himself out. He entertained the idea of letting Rodney cool his heels on the doorstep until he wandered over with the keys, but Rodney took the decision out of his hands by turning around suddenly and yelling, "Are you coming or not?"

John took his time walking up and said, "I'm right here."

Rodney had already spun back toward John's house and was walking more quickly than usual. "My mother," he said, when they were almost at John's door, "is such a loon."

"Y'know," John said, pulling out his keys and letting them into the house, "I wasn't trying to be nosy or anything, but I was looking at the papers she left on the table and she was doing some sort of math that I'd never seen before. I mean, I had no idea. That was like, really high level stuff."

"She used to be a math professor when we lived in Canada," Rodney said glumly. "She hates it here. When we were going to move to the States, Dad got a couple of job offers and picked this one. It really sucked for her because Dad's college doesn't have an open position for a math professor and there's not really anywhere else around."

"She must be really smart," John said, thinking of the neat rows of intricate equations.

"She's brilliant," Rodney said. "She used to teach me stuff. I was always so far ahead of my math class that they just excused me after a while. No one made me take a math class until we moved here."

"So what's she do now?" John asked as they went into the kitchen and Rodney put the book on the kitchen table.

"She says she's staying home with me and Jeannie," Rodney said. "But she's really just slowly gassing herself to death on Windex and Comet cleanser."

"Nice," John said, frowning as he checked the fridge. "What do you want for dinner? I can heat up chili or I can make scrambled eggs or we can order pizza again."

"You can cook?" Rodney asked.

"I'm here by myself most of the time," John reminded him. "I can do eggs and I can heat things up."

"Didn't you like, set something on fire earlier this week?" Rodney asked. "I seem to remember walking in here and smelling the distinctive aroma of charred food."

"It only stuck to the bottom," John said, rolling his eyes. "Fine, we're having pizza."

He ordered a large with pepperoni and sausage, a combination Rodney never complained about, and said, "We've got half an hour before it gets here. We should probably get ready."

"Okay," Rodney agreed, and followed John back to his bedroom. He was already dressed, so he disappeared into the bathroom while John put on a nicer pair of jeans and a shirt that buttoned down over a fresh t-shirt. By the time he poked his head into the bathroom, Rodney was touching the ends of his hair carefully with his fingertips and frowning studiously into the mirror.

"Watch out, or your face will get stuck like that," John said, reaching out to tweak the front cowlick into place.

"You can't help yourself, can you?" Rodney said, crossing his eyes to glare at John's hand. "You just need to touch my hair at every opportunity."

"If you'd do it right the first time," John said mildly, "I wouldn't have to fix it later."

"The whole cool thing is just an act," Rodney grumbled. "Your secret identity is Pain in the Ass."

John grinned and chucked Rodney's chin with two knuckles. "The fireman poles that lead down to my secret lair are in the basement," he said as the doorbell rang. "That'll be the pizza."

All the pizza delivery guys knew that food delivered to the Sheppard address went on the Colonel's account and didn't expect to collect any money, but John always remembered to tip them.

"You want a beer?" he called to Rodney as he opened the fridge.

"No," Rodney said, wandering into the kitchen. "Soda's fine."

"Okay." John pulled out two sodas and sat them next to the pizza and paper plates.

Rodney slid into his usual seat, pulled two slices of pizza onto his plate, and popped open his soda can in silence. He was unusually quiet as John did the same, and by the time they'd gotten through their first slices, John couldn't take it anymore.

"Penny for your thoughts," he said.

"What's it like having sex?" Rodney asked.

John spit his soda across the table. "Geez," he said. "Rodney, what the hell?"

"Well, you dated Elizabeth Weir forever," Rodney said. "I figured you know what you're doing."

"That doesn't mean -- I mean yeah but -- " John winced and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I -- it's, it's nice, okay?"

"Nice? People start wars over that stuff and it's just nice?" Rodney demanded. "Come on. I might get to do it one day and I don't want to be taken by surprise."

"Not with Katie," John muttered under his breath, his brain going to that same place it had in the shower where he couldn't help but fail to imagine Katie engaging in sex at all. He looked up and found Rodney looking at him expectantly and couldn't tell if Rodney had overheard him or not. "Okay, first of all, the last time someone started a war over sex, it was the Greeks and the Trojans. Second, geez, Rodney, you can't just go around asking people that. I mean -- " John sighed. "Okay, what do you want to know?"

Rodney looked startled. "I -- um -- well, you have done it, right?"

"Yes," John said because that was a question he could answer.

"With Elizabeth?"

"Rodney," John warned, because...it was Elizabeth.

"Yeah?"

John shook his head. "It doesn't matter who," he said.

"It's doesn't?" Rodney asked.

There was something -- everything -- about Rodney, John reflected, that drove him right past crazy and into a state where the insane was pretty normal.

"Rodney," John said finally. "I'm not really the sharing type. If there's something you want to know, just ask the question."

Rodney was quiet and uneasy for a long moment. "I don't have enough data to form intelligent questions," he said.

"So for once in your life, ask a stupid question," John said. "You want to know something or you wouldn't have brought it up."

"How do you know when you're supposed to -- you know. Ask."

John blinked. "Ask if she wants to have sex?"

"Well, yeah." Rodney's face went red and John stood by for an incoming rant. "Okay, look, it wasn't like I had to worry about the possibility before and in the last two weeks, I've had two dates, one of which was entirely by accident, and I've been to two parties with outrageous amounts of illegal alcohol and seriously, I have been thinking about sex non-stop for the last week and with my brain, that's a lot of valuable resources devoted purely to the theoretical."

"Okay," John said, and felt like he'd already said that word at least a thousand times during that conversation. "On the list of things that I didn't need to know? That's pretty close to the top." He looked at his Coke can and turned it in a circle to avoid looking at Rodney. "So, you want to get laid?"

Rodney scowled. "That's not it," he said.

John leaned back in his chair and looked across the table at Rodney. The other boy's head was down and the gel in his hair had dried so his hair didn't look so dark. John bit his lower lip and took a breath.

"My first time was when we lived in Texas," he said. "Right before we moved here."

Rodney lifted his head and both eyebrows went up but he didn't say anything.

"There was this girl I used to see when I went out that summer. She was beautiful, dark hair, really...really exotic-looking, you know, and she was, well, okay, she was probably old enough to be there. Legally."

"Why does it not surprise me that your first sexual experience amounts to statutory rape?" Rodney asked with his mouth full.

John opened his mouth to point out that at least he was the victim and not the perpetrator, then thought better of it.

"I can't help it if I was irresistible at an early age," he said instead. "So do you want to hear this or not?"

"I'm riveted," Rodney assured him. He sounded more cheerful.

"Yeah, so, I used to see her around and this one night, I got up the courage to ask her to dance."

"You dance, too?" Rodney looked so stricken that John had to make a conscious effort not to laugh. "Oh, for the love of God, I'm never going to get any, am I?"

"So anyway," John said loudly. "I asked her to dance and -- "

"Wait," Rodney interrupted. "Before you came here -- You said the other night -- wait, how old were you?"

"It was a few months after my mom died, yeah," John said. He stood up and squeezed his soda can in his fist before tossing it in the trash. "We're going to be late." He closed the top on the pizza box and found a place in the fridge for it.

"Wait, what, why are you stopping? Was it something I said?" Rodney stood up, too, and stacked their paper plates together.

"We're going to be late," John said. "C'mon. I don't want to miss the beginning of the movie."

"Oh, my God," John said as they left the theater. "Did you see those maneuvers? Did you see how fast they were going? That was so cool!"

"It was incredible!" Rodney agreed, giddy. "The Gs involved in those stunts! And wow, Kelly McGillis as an astrophysicist! I mean, let's not even talk about all the details they got wrong but -- "

"You know," John interrupted, "There are no MiG 28s. They only number them with odds."

"What were they using in the movie?" Rodney asked. "A-4s?"

"F-5s," John answered immediately.

"Is that what you wish to fly?" Teyla asked curiously.

Rodney had nearly forgotten about her and Katie, who was tagging along by Rodney's elbow.

"I'd rather fly the new F-16s," John said. "My dad says that by the time I'm in flight training, the Block 30s will be ready."

Rodney wasn't really up on his fighter variants so he made a note to do some research and glanced over at Katie. "How did you like it?" he asked her. He wanted her to have had a good time -- the movie was spectacular, Kelly McGillis and Tom Cruise were so hot, and the whole thing was just incredible.

"It was...nice," Katie said with a hopeful smile. "I mean, when they weren't cursing or -- or dying or anything."

Rodney faltered a little and turned his attention back to John, who was explaining to Teyla that all the missiles shown were dummies because the shells were blue.

"We should go to the Early Bird," John said as he unlocked the car. "Everyone else up for a snack?"

Rodney was always up for a snack and the girls agreed readily, so John drove them to the all-night diner that sat half a mile off the base and they all ordered fries or onion rings and Cokes.

"I enjoyed the volleyball game," Teyla said, grinning at Katie and nudging John with her elbow. John tickled her.

Rodney privately agreed but he wasn't about to say so.

Katie giggled and blushed. "I liked the singing," she said. "I thought that was sweet."

"And bad," Rodney added. "Those guys can't carry a tune in a bucket."

John chuckled. "How about that dive when they went below the hard deck and took Jester out?" he said. "That was a thing of beauty."

"Yeah, I didn't hear him call No Joy," Rodney said, slurping at his soda. "Did anyone else?"

"Nope," John said. He glanced at the girls, who shook their heads. "Hey, but how awesome were those cat launches? And the scene where they were chasing Viper around and got taken out by Jester?"

"Plus, seriously, could Kelly McGillis get any hotter?" Rodney asked excitedly. "I mean, oh my God, she obviously had no idea what she was talking about but wow, the leg and the hair and wow, I could listen to her say, 'you were in a 4-G inverted dive with a MiG-28?' all day long and -- why are you shaking your head at me?" he asked John, who appeared to have acquired a nervous tick.

John rolled his eyes.

Katie burst into tears, pushed away from the table, and ran for the back of the diner.

"What's the matter?" Rodney asked, thoroughly confused. "Why is she crying?"

"Because she likes you," Teyla said, throwing her napkin down on the table and pushing around John to follow Katie.

"What did I do?" Rodney asked, turning his attention to John.

John shook his head. "You don't talk about other women and how hot they are when you're out on a date," he hissed. "It's not -- it's not respectful."

"Oh." Well, that certainly made sense once he'd thought about it. "I guess that was kinda -- I just get all excited and forget to stop talking sometimes..." Rodney said miserably.

John's face relaxed into a faint smile. "No kidding," he said. "Look, apologize to her, but don't expect her to go out with you again." He crumpled up his napkin and glanced back over his shoulder toward the restrooms. "Don't worry about it," he said when Rodney sighed. "We'll find you someone else. Katie's nice and all, but there are other girls out there. You can have your pick."

Rodney snorted. "Right."

"Did I tell you I'd make you cool?" John asked, raising both eyebrows at Rodney.

"Yes," he admitted grudgingly.

"Then trust me." John checked over his shoulder again. He and Rodney sat in silence for a while, playing with the cold food and the increasingly shredded napkins. "Hey," John finally said, a smile creeping across his face. "Wasn't that something?"

Rodney grinned back. John's enthusiasm for the movie washed away the sour feeling from Katie's outburst. "That part?" he said, "when Tom Cruise just stopped the plane and let the guy fly by him? The engineering involved in making that plane not go crashing into the water is just -- just -- I mean, can you imagine? Can you imagine sitting there figuring that stuff out?"

"Can you imagine flying those planes?" John asked, just as starry-eyed as Rodney felt. "The rush when he cut the speed like that? I can't wait to be able to do that."

"You'll be amazing," Rodney said before he could stop himself, but John just looked pleased.

"You think so?" he said in something less than a question. He leaned back in his seat and sighed. "Sometimes it seems like it'll be forever, doesn't it?"

Rodney looked down at the ketchup patterns on his plate and the salt left from his fries. "Yeah," he said, knowing exactly what John meant.

"The girls are coming back," John said, checking over his shoulder. "We should, um, probably shut up about the movie."

Rodney nodded but the girls were within earshot so he didn't say anything.

"Hi," John said as they approached. "Everything okay?"

"I think we are ready to go," Teyla said. Her voice made it clear that neither of them were off the hook.

"Okay," John said easily. "I've got the check. Rodney, can you go start up the car?" He took the keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Rodney.

"Um, sure, but, let me give you some money," Rodney started but John waved him off.

"No, it's fine. Go ahead." At the last minute, he reached back and snagged Teyla's hand. "Hey, wait up a sec."

Rodney found himself alone with Katie. Her face was red and blotchy and her mouth was pinched.

"Look, um," he started. "I -- "

"I want to go home," Katie said.

"Okay," he said immediately. "So, um, John pointed out that what I said was, well, not untrue, but really, I shouldn't have said it, I mean, not while I was out with you and -- "

"John pointed out?" Katie asked, color rising high in her cheeks as she stopped and stamped her foot. "How about you? Don't you know what a jerk you are?"

"Well, yeah, but -- I mean -- "

"Maybe you should spend less time listening to John and more time listening to what comes out of your mouth," Katie said. She crossed her arms over her stomach and wouldn't say anything else as Rodney unlocked the Nova and started the engine.

John and Teyla showed up a long and awkward silence later and John drove Katie and Teyla home.

"She's really pissed at you, isn't she?" John said as he got back in the car and took it out of park.

"Teyla really slipped you some tongue there, too, didn't she?" Rodney responded bitterly, because John's mouth was still wet and kind of flushed.

John opened his mouth and touched the tip of his tongue to his upper lip, but didn't say anything for a long time. A long enough time that Rodney decided that yes, he was absolutely an asshole and almost apologized to John for being a dick.

"Look," John finally said before Rodney had to do anything drastic. "Were you really that into her? Because I kind of thought maybe you were just dating her because you knew her. If she means that much to you, we can -- we can figure out something."

"No," Rodney said, glad to finally just say what he meant. "She's nice and she likes me and when you said we could double date, I thought maybe it would be a good idea but wow was I wrong about that."

John shrugged. "It happens," he said.

"At least the movie was amazing," Rodney said. "Even if they did get almost everything wrong. It's like -- it's like I always thought sex must feel like." The words were all the way out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying and he glanced over at John carefully, remembering the spit-take from earlier that evening.

Instead, John smiled a little. "That part where Wolfman says he's getting a hard-on watching the ACM film?" he said. "I knew exactly how he felt."

"Last game," John said as Rodney restarted Impossible Mission. "Simmons is testing us on electron fields on Tuesday and I want to go over the stuff from last week one more time."

"You know it all already," Rodney said, jumping his pixilated avatar into the elevator. "But I can give you some practice problems if you want. We're learning the same thing, just on a much more advanced level."

"Yeah, that'd be great," John said. He'd never admit it but he liked Rodney's tutoring sessions. Rodney had a knack for making complicated concepts seem moronically simple.

Rodney beat him again, but considering he'd been playing less than a week, he was fairly pleased with his time.

"Here's my problem set from last week," Rodney said, fishing a sheet of paper out of his Trapper Keeper. "Ignore the answers, they aren't right anyway."

John looked at the page and the problems printed on it and the number "42" written neatly underneath every question.

"Forty-two?" he asked.

"It's the answer to life, the universe, and everything," Rodney said. He looked at John expectantly and heaved a beleaguered sigh when John shrugged. "I'll let you borrow that book when you're done with Dune. Anyway, Simmons wasn't impressed but I showed my work on another paper, so just do it and I'll check it against mine."

"Okay," John agreed, and sprawled on Rodney's bed to work the problems.

They were harder than the ones he'd done for homework, but not by much, and the added complications were sort of intuitive, mostly.

"You want to watch the numbers in that one," Rodney said suddenly in his ear. "Simmons tried to trip us up by stating diameter instead of radius. And don't forget that squares make R absolute."

"Thanks," John murmured, oddly aware of Rodney's presence. He was leaning over John's shoulder, way inside his personal space.

"You forgot to account for the magnetic flux density in this one, too," Rodney said, reaching across to point at a previous problem.

"I didn't know where it went in," John said. He tried to straighten up a little -- sprawling on his stomach had cramped his diaphragm or something and he didn't seem to be getting enough air.

"Yeah, it probably won't be on your exam but if you want, I can -- " Rodney cut himself off and took John's pencil away to scribble an equation in the corner. "You can use that, but you won't have to. It's a special case for absence of magnetic monopoles."

"Thanks," John said, taking his pencil back from Rodney's fingers.

"Don't forget to account for -- " Rodney started as the door rattled. "Hold on a sec!" he yelled.

"Oh, my Gawd!" Jeannie's voice shrieked from the other side of the door. "You're jerking off in there! Is John jerking off, too?"

John blinked. Jeannie was...twelve? Where on Earth had she heard about --

Rodney leapt for the door, fumbling with the lock and jerking it open.

"Are you and John having sex?" Jeannie yelled before realizing that the door was open. "I knew you were gay, I told you! The door was locked!"

"Shut up!" Rodney said furiously as Jeannie launched herself into the room. "Stop it!" He caught her arm and tried to wrestle her back into the hall, but despite his advantage in both weight and height, she managed to hold her ground.

"Oh, wow, I am so telling Mom and Dad," she crowed, bouncing up and down as Rodney shuffled her out.

"There's nothing to tell," Rodney snapped. "Nothing's going on here, so shut up and go back to whatever you were doing before you decided to come bother us. We're doing homework and that's it." He knocked her out of the room with one last shoulder check and slammed the door loudly.

"Wow," John said after a moment. His shock was slowly giving way to amusement -- a familiar feelings he'd come to associate with all things McKay. "Your sister has a real potty mouth on her."

Rodney didn't answer, which was unusual enough, and his color hadn't gone down either. John immediately reviewed Jeannie's words, his brain recalling them perfectly.

...you're jerking off in there...is John jerking off, too?...are you and John having sex?...I knew you were gay...I told you...the door was locked....

I knew you were gay.

I told you.

John never locked his own door but his father never failed to knock, either. Jeannie wasn't given to such courtesies and he doubted Rodney's parents were much better. Suddenly, a lot of things seemed clear now.

John looked at Rodney's red face and hunched shoulders and, in complete disregard of his father's admonishment, asked, "Rodney, are you gay?"

"No, of course not," Rodney snapped instantly. "Jeannie is always saying things and -- she's just a kid, she doesn't know anything."

"Rodney," John said, watching Rodney's blush approach critical. "It's okay."

"I -- it is?" Rodney's expression improved slightly from suicidal to just dismayed.

"You're not the first gay guy I've ever met," John said, conveniently leaving out that Danny Connors was the first. "I mean, it's not my thing but I don't care who you like. I mean, it's not like it's any of my business. I just thought you liked girls, I mean with the Kelly McGillis thing and all that, but that makes sense now with the not wanting to date Katie and all."

"I don't want to date Katie because she's boring," Rodney said disdainfully. "I would still do Kelly McGillis."

John laughed a little. "You gotta choose one, Rodney."

"Why?"

John raised his eyebrows. It wasn't often he saw Rodney clearly puzzled, but the look on his face was honestly questioning. "Well. You're either gay or you're not. Right?"

Rodney heaved a long-suffering sigh and John was suddenly relieved to see the familiar expression of, You're SO stupid, on his face.

"As my father, the soft scientist, would love to tell you," Rodney said, with a roll of his eyes, "Alfred Kinsey created a scale to identify levels of sexual orientation. It's, okay, it's like defining something by its negative. We all have some level of attraction to the same gender, or else we wouldn't be able to find ourselves attractive enough to have sex with the opposite gender. And yes, don't give me that look, even you. But there's this whole range of degrees and I'm like, somewhere in the middle." He seemed to run out of steam and finally dared to look John in the face. "Sometimes I like girls and sometimes I like guys. That's it, okay?"

"Okay," John said. His stomach felt funny and that made him mad. He wasn't going to be the asshole who got all squeamish just because his best friend was -- liking men. "So what was I suppose to account for?"

"Huh?" Rodney's eyes looked bruised and hollow. He looked like Danny Connors had, standing on the Sheppards's front porch.

"The problem, genius," John said, tapping the page with the pencil Rodney had so confidently snatched away only minutes before. "What was I suppose to account for? Or is that another of those things my class is too stupid to worry about?"

Rodney's mouth opened and closed. Then he smiled, a careful little tilt of one side of his mouth and John forced himself to buckle down on the problem set. Rodney was his friend and the hot rush of anger that slid through him was definitely because of the red face and embarrassed way Rodney had shied away.

Definitely.

Part Five-A