Day 14: Harlequin Week by Lenore (Part 2/2)
Title: 101 Ways To Get Lucky (In Love)
Fandom: SGA
Author: scribblinlenore
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 18,000-ish
101 Ways To Get Lucky (In Love), Part 2
by Lenore
#60: Giving up is a bachelor's strategy.
Rodney dedicated the remainder of the evening to putting the blot into blotto, thinking "John who?" before each glass of champagne. He wasn't entirely sure the next day, but he thought he might have insulted the former Miss California who was dating one of his board members by insisting that juggling wasn't an art and promised someone he'd buy them a pony for their next birthday. Thankfully, Cadman saved him from Simone Rivier, whispering into her ear that possibly Rodney wasn't as solvent as appearances would suggest, which promptly sent Simone scurrying. It was also Cadman who made sure he got home in one piece, enlisting help from the catering staff to haul him out to her car, and then somehow managing all by herself to wrangle him into his apartment and onto his bed.
"Do I get a raise for this, McKay?" She pressed a glass of water and some aspirin on him.
"Not fired," he mumbled and promptly passed out.
He woke up with a taste in his mouth like something had died in there, a pounding headache, and absolutely clarity that John Sheppard was completely full of shit. He downed a pot of coffee, showered, brushed his teeth at least a half dozen times, and found his way into some clothes. He drove through at the nearest McDonald's for round two of his morning coffee and a greasy hangover breakfast and ate it on the way to John's house.
At the back garden gate, he kept his finger on the bell until John's voice came over the intercom, muzzy and startled, "Hello?"
"Let me in," he demanded.
John met him in the hallway. "Rodney--"
"No, just shut up." He pulled John by the arm into his office and slammed the door. "I get to do the talking this time." He pointed a finger. "You're a fraud."
John shifted uneasily. "Look--"
Rodney jabbed at finger into his own chest. "Still talking! I don't know how you managed to turn yourself into a self-help guru, because you don't know anything about relationships. In fact, you wouldn't know a good thing if you fell over it."
"Hey, I just wanted to write something funny about pick up lines!" John shot back, defensively. "My publisher was the one who spun it into--"
"You're scared shitless of getting involved with anybody," Rodney insisted. "Just admit it."
John's eyes went bright with anger. "It's not that simple. I have a kid to think about. I can't just take up with someone who might not--"
Rodney pressed his fingers into John's jaw, not all that gently, and pulled him into a kiss. "I happen to like your kid, okay? And for the record, I've never said those words before in my life. Also? I like you, in case you hadn't noticed. And I'm pretty sure you like me too, despite the odds. And we have hot sex together. So--"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," John muttered, and then there was more kissing.
Much, much more of it.
"You're very persistent, aren't you?" John said, lips against Rodney's temple.
"People usually call it something else," Rodney mumbled into his shoulder, "but persistent is good." He tightened his hold on John. "I just want you to give me a chance."
"I'm really bad at this," John admitted, in a cracked voice. "You were right when you said I'm a fraud."
"So we'll be bad at it together." Rodney brushed another kiss onto John's mouth. "We can pretend we haven't already screwed up rule #12 by sleeping together before actually going on a date, and you and Sheppard Junior can come to dinner at my place this Friday."
The corner of John's mouth turned up. "Sheppard Junior?"
"Is that a yes?"
A loud throat-clearing noise came from the other side of the room, and John and Rodney both practically jumped out of their skin.
Sheppard Junior filled the doorway, looking impatient. "Are you guys done with the kissing yet? I want Rodney to come check my equations for my science fair project."
"We weren't--" John started to deny, but just as quickly gave it up. "Rodney invited us over for dinner on Friday."
Sheppard Junior broke into a smile. "Cool! Hey, can I tell Melinda Jefferson that I'm going to have two dads? She's one of those nutty Christians who think gay people are the devil, and it will totally blow her mind."
"No!" John went bright red in the face. "Rodney and I aren't-- not yet-- We just-- And what have I told you about saying things like 'nutty Christians'?
Sheppard Junior sighed. "Okay. I mean, I can be nice to her, if you want me to, even though she's all for oppressing you and Rodney." She went over to him and laid her head against his chest. "I just want you to be happy, Daddy."
John sighed heavily, but there really was no resisting it, and he brought his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.
"Charming her way out of trouble. I can't imagine where she gets it," Rodney said dryly.
Sheppard Junior grinned, gave her father a big hug, and then pulled Rodney by the arm toward the door. "Come on. My equations."
Rodney suspected that John's smile as Sheppard Junior hustled him from the room roughly translated, Hey, you signed on for this.
***
#37: It's all too easy to lose perspective about a first date. Some guys think they have to whisk that special someone off to Paris for a five-star meal at a restaurant whose name they can't even pronounce. Other guys are deluded enough to believe that the neighborhood hot dog stand has a lot of ambience. Somewhere between the Champs-Elysees and the Chili Dog Hut, that's where you'll find your successful first date.
Rodney approached the problem of what to serve John and Sheppard Junior with the same rigor he put into his company's research and development projects. He drew up a list of possible entrees and created a matrix of pros and cons and came up with a predictive algorithm to determine which meal was most likely to suit both Sheppards, and still ended up making three trips to the grocery store, second-guessing himself.
Friday night, the bell rang on the dot of seven, and Sheppard Junior came bounding inside, surprising him with a hug, which he returned a little stiffly, more pleased than he cared to admit. John strolled in smiling, holding out a brown paper bag, jaw-dropping in black pants and a black sweater. Rodney took a moment to stare.
"We brought ice cream," Sheppard Junior said and then lowered her voice confidentially, "It was my idea."
"Very thoughtful." Rodney waved them into the kitchen. "Let's get that in the freezer. Dinner should be ready soon."
Sheppard Junior craned her neck, checking out the pots on the stove. "I hope it's something age appropriate."
"Carly!" John shot Rodney a look of apology.
"I'm just saying," Sheppard Junior defended herself. "No kid likes olives and smoked oysters and all that weird stuff grownups eat."
"Does spaghetti and meatballs meet your exacting standards?"
She grinned. "I knew you were a keeper, Rodney."
Shroedinger poked his head around the corner, and Carly was off like a shot to pet him.
"Dad, Rodney has a cat. Why can't we have one?" She hugged Shroedinger to her chest, her expression wide and innocent, like something from a "Love is a warm kitty" poster.
"Because I know how good you are at helping take care of Fruit Loop?" They'd clearly had this conversation before.
She made big, pleading eyes. "I can reform."
"Why don’t we talk about this when we get home?"
She sighed heavily. "O-kay."
John turned back to Rodney. "So--"
Rodney shifted his weight. "So--"
"Hey, Rodney, what's your cat's name?" Sheppard Junior glanced up, and went still, her face lighting with comprehension. "Um...I'm just going to," she scrambled to her feet, "go look into drawers and closets and be nosy and stuff." She headed off down the hall, Shroedinger purring in her arms.
"Carly!" John started after her, but then looked longingly at Rodney, clearly conflicted.
"I keep everything dirty or dangerous under lock and key, I swear," Rodney assured him.
John smiled and came nearer, and there was a clumsy moment when neither of them seemed quite sure how to close to the deal, and then John pulled Rodney into his arms. "Hey."
Rodney smiled. "Hey."
They kissed hello, and Rodney slid his fingers into John's soft, soft hair, and that was it for nervousness.
"It's an irony, you know."
"What?" John rubbed a hand over his back.
"You look so incredibly good in those clothes all I can think about is getting you out of them."
John laughed, his breath hot against Rodney's neck. "We'll have to discuss that later."
A creaking floorboard made them pull away, and Carly came tiptoeing back down the hall. "Enough kissing time? 'Cause I'm all about doing my part for the two-dads plan, especially if I'm getting a father who's actually useful in the kitchen."
"Oh yeah?' John made a sneak attack, catching her before she could run, and tickled until she was red-faced and giggling.
Rodney watched with a mix of amazement and envy. Parents and children actually liking each other was new territory for him.
"Okay." He clapped his hands together. "Who's helping with dinner?"
Sheppard Junior's hand shot up, and she and John tag-teamed the salad. Rodney served up the pasta, and they sat down to eat.
"Mmm," Carly said around a mouth full of meatballs.
"Yeah, Rodney, I'm impressed."
Rodney snorted. "I never do anything I'm not good at."
John coughed, wine coming out his nose, and Rodney's face went hot thinking about the interpretation John must have given that statement. Sheppard Junior rolled her eyes at both of them.
"I didn't get any wine," she said innocently, and John pointed her back to her plate, and she sighed, "Yeah, yeah." She spooled a large wad of spaghetti around her fork. "Rodney, did you know my dad is going to give me flying lessons when I'm old enough? So I can be a pilot just like him."
"You like planes?" Then he frowned. "Wait. I thought you were going to be a physicist?"
She grinned, tomato sauce smeared across her teeth. "I can do both, don't worry. Last summer, we took a trip in dad's plane up to Canada, and it was so clear the whole way we could see everything, and then we went camping in Banff, and there was a wolf and an elk and a marmot.
"And a mountain goat," John added with a wave of his fork.
"Yeah!" Carly said excitedly. "And then we went to that place--" She looked to her father.
"Lake Louise."
Carly nodded. "And we went fishing and swimming and--"
"Canoeing," John finished the sentence with her. He smiled. "We had a lot of fun."
They told more stories, places they'd been, things they'd done, and Carly never passed over an opportunity to plug her father to Rodney: he's a really good skier and did you know my dad got a medal for being in the Gulf War? and even though he's no good in the kitchen, he can fix anything around the house.
John paid her back with embarrassing tales of her childhood. "I never did figure out why she thought it was a good idea to take my electric razor to her hair," John shook his head sadly, "but, boy, did she look funny."
"Dad!" she hissed at him.
Rodney couldn't help laughing. "Are there pictures?"
John smiled broadly. "Oh, yeah. Next time you're over at the house--"
"Moving on now," Sheppard Junior said breezily.
If Rodney hadn't already been a fool for their father-daughter act, dinner would have sealed the deal.
John and Carly helped him carry the dishes back into the kitchen, and they took their ice cream into the living room. Carly challenged Rodney to a Gran Turismo death match on the PlayStation.
"Bring it on," he told her.
"Watch out, Rodney. She's a shark," John warned.
Rodney made an "oh, please, she's eleven" face, but the moment the game started up, Sheppard Junior's expression turned deadly serious, her hand flying on the controller, and Rodney had to wonder where she'd learned to trash talk like that. He cast a baleful glance at John, who shrugged as if to say, "It's not like I have any control over the kid." Rodney buckled down, take no prisoners time, but Sheppard Junior was soon kicking his ass anyway. He shot John another look, this time accusing, because clearly his daughter was a ringer, and found John watching them, something warm and soft and fond in his eyes.
It didn't matter quite so much when his last car went up in flames.
He brought John more wine, and Carly more ice cream, and told some stories of his own, how he'd utterly eviscerated his thesis advisor's pet theory in the first paper he ever published because the guy was just so smug and not nearly smart enough to justify it, which made Carly snort in appreciation. He even admitted the time he'd blown a small crater in the floor of his high school chemistry lab because he'd misread some labels and accidentally added lead oxid to styphnic acid--just to see John grin. After a while, Sheppard Junior's head started to droop, and finally settled onto her father's shoulder, and despite her obvious, valiant efforts to stay awake, her eyes drifted closed.
John rubbed her arm. "You ready to go?"
She shook her head emphatically, but couldn't stifle a yawn, and John laughed. "Well, I'm not as young as I used to be, so --"
She yawned again. "Okay." She slowly got to her feet and stretched and then gave Rodney a sleepy hug, mumbling, "I'll go wait by the elevator, but if you keep dad in here too long, I'll have to come back and interrupt your boyfriend time, and that's just embarrassing for everyone."
"I'll be right there, honey," John told her.
The door snicked closed after her, and this time, they had the kissing thing down, major progress on the hugging front too, and Rodney wouldn't have let John go at all, except for the sleepy kid waiting out in the hall.
"I had a really good time," John said as Rodney walked him to the door. "Thanks for inviting Carly too. That means a lot to me." He emphasized it with a kiss. "How about you come over tomorrow night? Carly's staying with a friend. Like she said, I'm no cook, but I can order pizza and open a bottle of wine. We'd have all night--
Rodney met his eyes. "Are you asking me to--"
John grinned. "Yeah."
Rodney kissed the hell out of him. "Is it tomorrow yet?"
***
#55: Guys tend to freak out about the quiet moments. We're afraid someone's going to talk about a feeling, and civilization as we know it will collapse, and we really just want to turn on the TV. But the thing about those quiet moments is: that's when you realize what a good thing you've got.
The next night felt less like a second date and more like the beginning of the rest of Rodney's life.
"I can't believe you rented the entire trilogy." Rodney rolled his eyes as Marty and Doc Brown rigged up the oh-so-likely lightning-powered return to the future.
John lounged casually, feet up on the coffee table, his head on Rodney's shoulder. "Didn't. I own it."
Rodney sighed dramatically, and John laughed at him, and Rodney pressed a kiss into his hair, because he wanted to and he could and that was the very definition of "it doesn't get any better than this." He was pretty sure it would never matter again how dim-witted Hollywood science was; these air-headed movies were going to make him ridiculously happy for the rest of life, remembering pizza and wine with too much cork in it and John's dumb jokes about particle acceleration and getting to hold him through all three films. John reached for his glass, and ran his hand slowly down Rodney's thigh, as he had every time he'd leaned forward. Rodney had been half hard, in a pleasantly anticipatory way, since they'd finished dinner.
When Doc Brown was saved at last, John sighed and stretched and leaned in for a kiss, before getting up to carry their dishes to the kitchen. He came back, but didn't resume his sprawl on the couch. They hadn't bothered with the lights, and John's expression was obscured in shadows, but the way he stood there, one hand on his hip, was clearly a question mark. "Okay if we--?"
Rodney scrambled to his feet. It was much, much more than okay. He followed John down the hall. There was a lamp on the nightstand in the bedroom that John turned on, soft yellow light pooling on the fawn-colored walls. The first time had been heat of the moment, but this was deliberate, chosen, and they eyed each other speculatively. Rodney's throat tightened with want, and John laughed softly. "Come here."
John pulled him by the belt loops, and folding himself into John's embrace already felt like second nature. Rodney rubbed his nose against John's sweater and breathed in. John smelled good. They kissed, curious and unrushed.
"Mmm," Rodney murmured.
John kissed Rodney's neck and pulled away. Rodney shivered at the momentary loss of warmth, but then John stripped his shirt up over his head and dropped it on the floor, and the heat rushed back, a sudden swelter on Rodney's skin. The house was still and quiet, their harsh intake of air the only sound, physical and promising. Rodney touched John's chest in wonder, soft hair, warm skin. "You'd think it would be weirder, this being with a man thing." His voice sounded too close, echoing in his own ears.
"Yeah." John's belly dipped with his breath. He slipped a hand under Rodney's shirt, stroked his side. "Can I?"
Rodney nodded, and lifted his arms, and his shirt blotted out the light for a second, and there was a rush of cool air on his chest. John's hands settled on Rodney's hips, and he licked the hollow of his collarbone. Rodney's nipples tightened at the sensation, and John breathed a laugh against his skin, and bent his head to kiss them.
Rodney traced the outline of John's dick, obvious beneath his jeans, his fingers shaking. "Can I?"
John stroked the hair at the back of Rodney's neck and pulled him into a kiss, and Rodney took that for a yes. He shoved John's pants down his legs, and John's dick was hot against his palm, and it fit his hand perfectly. John moaned, and fumbled with Rodney's zipper. They kicked off the rest of their clothes, and stood there looking and touching each, all very arousing and junior-high-school-like in its trembling, sweet "will he like this or should I do it more like that?"
"Have you ever," Rodney asked, dry mouthed, "before? Besides the other night?"
John shook his head, but then thought twice about it, "Well, okay, a couple of times in combat, after missions when we hadn't been so sure we were going to make it back, and then we did, and there was all this adrenaline and nothing to do with it, but--"
"I'd say that qualifies as experience."
"Yeah, if you want the fastest handjob in human history, that we never talk about again, and we can't look each other in the eye for days afterwards, and end up picking up the clap while drunkenly trying to reestablish our heterosexual credentials with some twenty-dollar hookers."
"So…no, then."
John's eyes crinkled at the corners, and he took Rodney's hand. They'd already been naked in bed together, but not in John's bed, and Rodney could hear the rush of his own blood in his ears as John threw the covers back. John pushed Rodney onto his back and lay half draped over him and worried a spot on the underside of his jaw that was surprisingly sensitive. He'd been on top the other time too, and Rodney idly wondered if that was how John envisioned their relationship, with Rodney on his back. Then John started to kiss his way downward, and Rodney thought, It's a good vision. I like it.
John bent down and pressed a kiss to Rodney's cock, angled his head, first this way and then that, and went down. False start, and he tried again, and this time started to choke.
Rodney stroked his hair. "You don't have to."
"I want to." John hunkered down, hand splayed across Rodney's hip. "I just might, you know, need a minute."
Third time was the charm, though. John blew warm air on the head of Rodney's dick and wrapped his hand around the base and licked experimentally. He had an expression of consideration at the taste, and then nodded slightly, and started to suck.
"God," Rodney moaned, and slid his hand up John's shoulder, across his neck, into his hair.
Apparently, this was enough to encourage John to get fancy, and he started to trace patterns on the shaft with his tongue and move his hand and try to take more of it into his mouth. Rodney's fingers curled more tightly into his hair, even though he was trying not to be a jerk about it, and John didn't seem to mind. He sucked harder, and Rodney started to make urgent noises because as much as he'd like this to go on forever he was going to come very, very soon.
John played stubborn and wouldn't move away, and Rodney arched up and squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed at the sheets. John seemed to have found his equilibrium, and he swallowed what he could and pulled off and stroked Rodney with his hand through the rest of his orgasm.
Rodney was a little blurred around the edges there for a moment or two, or possibly three, but then he registered John kneeling over him, smiling like he was far too pleased with himself, and Rodney pulled him down into a kiss. There was the taste of his come in John's mouth, and he thought to ask, "It was okay?"
John nodded, and kissed him again. His hair was slightly damp around his face, as if he'd worked up a sweat sucking Rodney off. Rodney liked that, quite a lot actually, and he stroked a hand down John's belly and into the curly hair above his dick, scratching lightly. John made a frantic lunge with his hips, trying to get Rodney's hand where he wanted it, and Rodney could feel the taut flex of his muscles, the buzz of need.
He strung kisses along John's jaw and closed his palm around his cock. "Can I suck you?"
John shook his head, tendon standing out on the side of his neck. "Not going to last."
He thrust into Rodney's fist, and Rodney tightened his grip, and John made a thoroughly gratifying little whimper, not once, but repeatedly until he came. He flopped onto his back, and Rodney scooted closer. John curved an arm around his shoulders and tugged until Rodney's head was on his chest, and then he let out a big, breathy, "Mmm."
Rodney lazed against him, eyes closed. "I'd say we're getting pretty good at this gay sex thing."
"Mmm," John said again, and then after a moment, "Which is kind of a relief, since you only do things you're good at."
"You'll be the beneficiary of my type-A perfectionism," Rodney informed him loftily, "so I wouldn't complain, if I were you."
He didn't have to see John's smile to know it was one of the goofy ones. "Definitely not complaining here."
Rodney pressed closer and let out his breath. He didn't think he'd be up for a round two, the biological realities of the forty-year-old male body being what they were, but this was good. This was perfect. He really, really liked this. A lot.
Then a different kind of consideration made him crack an eye open. "Um, is it okay if-- Or should I--"
"Stay," John murmured sleepily into his hair. "Carly's supposed to call me tomorrow to go pick her up. We can have breakfast before."
"Mmm," was the last thing Rodney remembered saying before falling asleep.
He woke the next day when sunlight started spilling into the room, warm and comfortable and curved along John's back, his cock morning hard and happily pressed against John's ass. He yawned and kissed John's shoulder and tightened his arm around his waist. That's when something moved, and he looked, and sat bolt upright, yanking the blanket all the way up to his chin.
"What--?" John murmured.
Rodney poked him.
"Ow!"
This finally got him to open his eyes, and then he jolted up as well.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded of Carly. "I was supposed to come get you."
Carly nodded. "But Veronica came down with something, we're talking major barfing, and her mom dropped me home, so I wouldn't get sick, too." She broke into a huge grin. "Melinda Jefferson is going to have a seizure when I tell her about this."
John pointed to the door.
"Okay, okay, I'm going. Didn't mean to," she waved her hand, "interrupt or anything." She stopped in the doorway and smiled. "I'm going to like having two dads. Just so you know."
She left, and John chuffed out a heavy breath. "So--" His expression was a little apologetic and definitely freaked out.
"Waffles?" Rodney said, with an uncertain smile.
It took a moment, but then John was shaking with laughter and reached to kiss him. "As long as you're doing the cooking."
***
#21: Some people think about relationships as adding that last piece of the puzzle. Imagine their surprise when falling in love shakes up the entire jigsaw of their life and puts it all back together again in a completely different order. When you find someone you want to settle down with, your priorities change. You can try to fight it, but the odds are seriously against you.
By the six-month mark, Rodney and Shroedinger had more or less become residents of Pasadena, although Rodney still contended that it was ridiculously far away from the ocean, and while he would never believe that Kavanaugh was anything less than an idiot, he had begun to see the merits of having someone (two someones, in fact) to come home to at night.
Not everyone at the office could quite grasp that there was a new Rodney McKay in town. Witness his most recent staff briefing.
"I'm arranging town meetings across the country," Cadman announced. "Part promotion, part education. It'll be our chance to talk to people directly about the benefits of the new fuel. I'll need someone from the research team to answer questions at each one."
"You'll probably want to make those appearances personally, won't you, Dr. McKay?" ventured Theodore Beemish, the VP in charge of R&D, a graying mouse of a man who had never learned to call Rodney by his first name, no matter how many times he'd been invited to.
Rodney waved his hand. "I'm not really interested in making a lot of business trips right now. I'll do the first one, and, let's say, three more that are especially important."
"Houston, for instance," Cadman suggested.
He nodded. "Oil country. People probably hate our guts there. But otherwise, I leave it in your hands, Theodore. Go yourself or assign your people. It's up to you."
There was dead silence around the table, followed by a chain reaction of wary glances.
Bill Newmar, the Chief Financial Officer, spoke up, "Next Thursday, we have our first meeting with the government auditor. The numbers are all ready to go. I assume you'll want to head up the presentation?"
Rodney shook his head. "Regional science fair that day. Promised Sheppard Junior I'd be there. You can take the lead, Bill."
Nervous young Becky Windmiller raised her hand, which Rodney had asked her so many times not to do. "I should have the updated sales models for you by nine tonight, Dr. McKay."
"Make it first thing tomorrow morning," he said, pushing back from the table. "I'm fixing Mexican for dinner, and if I'm late, there won't be time for homemade tortillas. Are we done here?"
Each person looked to the next, and at last, they all hesitantly nodded.
Mildred walked with Rodney back to his office. "I'll get these meeting notes right out, Dr. McKay."
Rodney was frowning. "What was wrong with those imbeciles today? They stared at me like I had three heads every time I opened my mouth."
Mildred shrugged. "I guess they're just not used to you actually letting them do their jobs."
On Rodney's desk was the daily stack of press clippings, and he leafed through them, stopping only when he saw a familiar shock of unruly hair.
"Cadman!" he yelled, loud enough that she could hear him three offices over.
She sauntered in looking innocent.
He held up the article, from the society page of the Los Angeles Times, and read the headline, "Alternative Relationship for Alternate Fuel Pioneer and Love Doc." It was complete with a picture of John and Rodney, leaving Cana Rose, holding hands. "What the hell is this?"
She shrugged.
He glared.
"Hey," she reminded him, "it's what you pay me for."
He was too frantic to actually fire her, and just made shooing hands and yanked up the phone. "It's not my fault!" he babbled when John picked up. "I didn't know, and I would never have allowed it if I had. I swear, you have to believe me."
"Breathe, Rodney," John sounded amused. "Is this about today's paper?"
"I haven't fired Cadman yet, but only because I wanted to call and beg you not to hate me first."
"Rodney, I'm not upset. This was bound to happen sometime. We're both in the public eye, and I don't care who knows about us." His tone grew more teasing, "What? Were you worried I'd think the last six months were just some sort of very slow-motioned Machiavellian scheme to get your name in the paper? Not that I doubt your ability to plot and machinate when it comes to business, of course."
"Well...good." It wasn't often that Rodney was struck practically speechless.
John laughed. "Yeah. It is. So," his voice dropped into a more intimate octave, "see you at home tonight?"
Rodney checked the clock on his computer. For the first time in his life, the workday felt long.
***
#92: If you think true love means never having to say "I can't believe you did that," then you're in for a rude awakening. Meant to be doesn't mean problem free.
The 405 was a stubborn snarl. In the passenger seat, Carly was picking the sand out of her sneakers, grinding it into the floor mat, and when Rodney scowled, actually had the temerity to grin. "I guess maybe I should do that later, huh?"
He made an indignant face in reply, and she grinned harder.
"So, how was...volleyball?" He kept his voice as free from value judgment as he could manage.
John had had a talk with him in their first month together, reminding him that Carly was a kid and needed fun as much as intellectual stimulation, gently, kindly laying down the law that Rodney wasn't allowed to push her to spend all her time studying physics.
Carly shrugged. "I did pretty good. Busting the curve on the old height chart comes in handy occasionally."
"Oh, please. Being tall and gorgeous is going to work out as well for you as it has your father, trust me. You just have to wait for boys to stop being stupid."
Carly giggled. "You're a pal, Rodney. You know that?"
At home, she clamored up the stairs, headed to her room. "I've got to call Marcy. Her mom promised to drive us to the mall tonight."
"John?" Rodney called out.
There was no answer, and he went to check the office, but the door was open and the room empty. He happened to glance out the window, and standing in the back yard by the rose trellis was John, along with a woman Rodney didn't recognize. A beautiful woman, to be more precise, and she and John were standing very close together, matching expressions of intensity on their faces, deep in conversation. The shock of it was a punch to the gut, and Rodney turned on his heel and beat a retreat to the kitchen, where he tried to distract himself making coffee, not very successfully. Memories of his parents' marriage, their mutual infidelities, numerous and destructive, flashed back at him, and a resigned voice in his head wouldn't shut up, You always knew it was too good to last.
Whatever hope he'd clutched at, that he was wrong, wrong, all wrong, was promptly crushed when John finally came back inside, looking preoccupied and guilty as hell.
"Everything all right?" Rodney asked.
John nodded, not meeting his eye.
"What were you doing?" he tried to sound casual.
John shrugged. "Just getting some air."
It was worse that night when they went to bed. Rodney curled up against John's back, the way they always slept, but John tensed, and Rodney pulled away.
"Sorry," John mumbled. "I guess I'm just tired."
Carly was spending the next day at Veronica's, and the house was practically tomb-like without her. John and Rodney found maybe a handful of things to say to each other all afternoon, and by evening, Rodney had had as much as he could stand of dread and tension. He stomped into the office where John had been hiding out, ready to fling an outraged "this has to stop" at him.
But John beat him to it. "You saved me a trip to look for you. There's something I need to tell you."
All the air went out of Rodney now that the confrontation was actually underway, and he numbly sat down.
John couldn't even look at him, and he deliberated over every word, "Rodney, I've done something-- really bad. I've tried to keep it a secret but--"
The only thing worse than a confession of infidelity was one delivered in such excruciating slow motion, and Rodney cut to the chase, "Who is she? How long have you been seeing each other? Do you love her?"
John looked stunned. "I'm not cheating on you."
"I saw you two out in the garden! And you just said--"
"There are other kinds of bad secrets!" John took a breath, and then his eyes slid away from Rodney's again. "The woman you saw-- that was Linda. My wife. Ex wife.
Rodney sat there motionless. "But she's--" And then he got it. "Oh, God. That kind of bad secret."
"I couldn't tell you the truth before, because Carly doesn't-- I know you must think I'm a horrible person," John sounded desperate.
"I don't--"
"All I wanted was to protect my daughter, I swear to God."
"By lying to her?"
"You don't know what that woman's like, Rodney!" He made a visible effort to calm down. "Sorry. I didn't mean to--"
"Just tell me what happened."
John shook his head. "I don't even know sometimes how we ever ended up together. Because it was never right. She hated being a military wife, and I loved being a pilot, and...one day I came home, and she was just gone. And so was Carly."
"What?" Rodney was honestly shocked.
John's anger at the memory was clear. "You have to understand. She never wanted kids. Not even after Carly was born. But she took her, and you know why?"
Rodney shook his head. He couldn't imagine.
"Money. She refused to tell me where she had Carly until I paid her off. And when I finally had my kid back, I just wanted Linda to go the hell away and stay away, and she did." John let out his breath wearily. "Only I couldn't tell Carly that. Couldn't let her think-- Kids always assume it's their fault. It just seemed easier if Linda were--"
Rodney went to John and put his arms around him. He couldn't say he thought what John had done was right. He couldn't say he wouldn't have done exactly the same thing himself under the circumstances.
"It didn't take long to figure out how majorly I'd fucked up making up that stupid story, and I've tried to figure out some way to tell Carly the truth without having her hate me, but I never could bring myself to-- and now Linda's resurfaced."
"She's come to her senses. She wants you and Carly back." It came out remarkably matter-of-factly given that Rodney had never been so sick with fear in his life.
John's laugh was short and bitter. "She hasn't changed. She read in the paper that I have a rich boyfriend, and somehow she found out that I'd lied to Carly. She saw dollar signs."
Rodney stared. "She isn't going to--"
"Unless I pay her off. Which I'm not going to do. I know her. It would never end. I have to tell Carly the truth, deal with the consequences." He set his jaw grimly. "That's why I needed to tell you first, because things are going to be...bad for a while, and I just-- wanted you to be ready."
"Don't do anything," Rodney told him. "Let me handle it. I can make this go away."
John shook his head emphatically. "No, Rodney. I'm serious. Linda knows she has me by the balls, and no amount of money will ever be enough." He sighed heavily. "I made this mess. I have to fix it. I'm just afraid--"
"Hey," Rodney squeezed his shoulder, "it's going to be okay. Carly will--"
"What if she wants to meet her mother?" His expression was crazed with worry. "And what if Linda's...still Linda, and breaks her heart?"
Rodney's mouth pressed into a grim line. Like hell that was going to happen.
***
#9: If you have to fight off someone else to be with your special someone, a certain degree of unsportsmanlike conduct may be necessary.
Rodney couldn't help imagining (one might even say obsessing over) the woman who'd been lucky enough to get John and Sheppard Junior in the great lotto of life and walked away like they meant nothing. It was easy to build her up to be a monster, child abandonment and extortion were pretty good foundations for that, and Rodney stored up a supply of anticipatory adjectives: cold, calculating, vicious, narcissistic, pathological, stupid. What he hadn't been expecting was: glib.
Cadman gave him a list of out-of-the-way places good for discreet conversations, and she didn't even ask the usual million questions. That's how grave Rodney must have looked when he went to her for help. Linda had insisted she was only free late Saturday afternoon, putting Rodney in the awkward position of having to lie to John. She breezed into the bar nearly an hour late, throwing off her coat and taking a seat with a careless smile. "Never on time. That's me. Is that Scotch you've got there? I'm in the mood for something frivolous." She flagged down the waitress and ordered a champagne cocktail.
Linda had honey-colored hair, long and straight, brown eyes bright with amusement, and the kind of obvious prettiness that starred in beauty pageants at state fairs, as fresh-faced as a twenty-year-old, although she must have been in her late thirties by now.
"So, I guess those gossipy articles were right. You and Johnny really are a couple," her eyes moved over him inquisitively, "or you wouldn't be here, would you?" She laughed. "My ladykiller of an ex-husband likes cock now. Imagine that."
Rodney smiled flatly. "I'm glad we entertain you."
"Oh, you'd laugh too if you'd known him back in the day. He'd come into the bar where all the pilots hung out, in his jeans and his black T-shirts, just running over with charm. There wasn't a woman he couldn't get." She made a wry face. "Problem was, he didn't know how to keep them. I'm living proof."
"Well," Rodney said curtly, "he manages just fine with men. I'm proof of that." He leaned forward. "Let's cut the bullshit."
She settled her elbows onto the table and rested her chin on her hands, her mirth not the least bit dimmed. "Will you want to lecture me first? Or should we just talk numbers? I do have to warn you that staying away from my own flesh and blood--" She bent her head in a mockery of sadness. "It's cost me over the years." She smiled sweetly. "So it won't come cheap to you."
"That's not the deal," Rodney informed her.
Finally, there was a chink in her blithe facade. "But you said--"
"Shut up. I'll do the talking. And let's be clear. This isn't a negotiation. This is a yes-or-no proposition. John is going to tell your daughter the truth, so there will be no blackmail. I am, however, prepared to offer you a job, let's call it. You'll receive a monthly salary." He wrote a figure on a cocktail napkin and shoved it at her. "I think you'll find it more than generous."
She raised an eyebrow. "Won't that scandalize your shareholders if they ever find out?"
"You'll be in my personal employ," he told her. "And your one and only responsibility is to give Carly whatever she wants. If she's happy with you staying as good as dead, then leave her alone. If she wants you in her life, you will call and send birthday cards and sit in the front row at her science fairs and clap and smile and tell her how proud you are. You'll be the most attentive mother on the planet. Got it?"
Linda tilted her head. "You really care about them, don't you?"
Rodney threw some money onto the table for their drinks and got to his feet. "You have until noon tomorrow to think it over." He started away, but then realized he'd forgotten something, and turned back. "Oh, and if you ever get the bright idea of telling Carly about our deal, for whatever reason, spite or greed or just because you can, let me assure you, that will be the end of the money. You can be set for life, or you can be a bitch, it's up to you."
He'd barely gotten out of the parking lot before his cell phone was ringing.
***
#73: So one day, everything seems clear, all smooth sailing, and the next, you're having these conversations that guys hate. Who are we as a couple? What does it mean for us to be together? How can we make this work for both of us? It may be hard to believe, but this actually means you're getting it right.
At home, Rodney found John waiting for him in their bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking tense.
"Work go okay?" he asked, something in his voice that was hard to decipher. "You get everything finished?"
Rodney had latched onto the first convenient excuse, an urgent project, stammering his way through reasons why he couldn't just work on his laptop at home, security issues and government clearance and...stuff.
"Fine, fine." He set his keys down on the dresser. "Everything's fine now."
"Really?" John's eyes were fastened on him. "Because I called you at the office, and you didn't pick up."
Rodney froze in the middle of dumping out his change onto his nightstand. "I was--" He waved his hand. "Ignoring the phone, so I could finish up, and get home. You always call me on my cell. If I'd known it was you--"
John crossed his arms over his chest. "I lied. I didn't call. I just wanted to see what you'd say."
"You know, you're supposed to be the un-Machiavellian one of us," Rodney muttered.
John got to his feet angrily. "Where the hell have you been?" He narrowed his eyes. "What did you do?"
No use denying anything now, and Rodney lifted his chin. "I couldn't just stand by and watch her hurt you and Carly."
"I told you to stay out of it!"
"Yes. Well. I didn't."
"You can't just-- She's not your daughter, Rodney!"
Rodney flinched as surely as if he'd been slapped, but that was followed quickly by anger. "No. That's right. She's not. She's yours. Why the hell do you think I love her so much?" His voice rose on each word.
"Rodney," John said more quietly. "I didn't mean-- I shouldn't have--"
"I thought we were going to be a family." He felt almost foolish saying it, like he was confessing something. "Families take care of each other, don't they? Or maybe I got that part wrong. Because, hey, my family was seriously fucked up. So it's not like I have any particularly useful firsthand knowledge of the subject."
"Come on. You have to realize-- I'm no good at saying...but. You know that we-- That I--"
John met his gaze helplessly, and Rodney didn't have to let him off the hook, the old Rodney certainly wouldn't have, but John looked so miserable and sorry and tongue-tied.
Rodney took a step toward him. "You were voted least likely to become a relationship coach in high school, weren't you?"
John met him the rest of the way. "Something like that." He wrapped his arms around Rodney. "I'm trying to say I love you here."
"Yeah," Rodney breathed the word against his neck. "I figured that out somehow. I love you too, by the way."
"So...are we okay? Because I really need us to be okay right now."
"We're okay." Rodney hugged him to emphasize it.
John hesitated, "What...kind of deal did you make with Linda?"
"Just-- not to break her daughter's heart."
John ducked his head, and made a sudden production of reaching out to straighten the bedspread, but there was no mistaking the emotion when he said, "Thanks, Rodney."
"Dad!" This was accompanied by the thump-thump of Carly's Reeboks on the steps, and a moment later, she popped into the room. "There you are. I wanted to ask if it was okay if--" She stopped suddenly, never one to miss tension in the air, and instantly went on the alert. "Is something wrong?"
"Honey, there's something I need--" John looked to Rodney and corrected himself. "We need to tell you."
Carly's face pinched with worry. "Are you breaking up?"
"No!" John rushed to reassure her. "It's nothing like that, nothing about me and Rodney."
Her shoulders dropped with relief. "Well, what then?"
"Carly, there's something I should have told you--"
"Your father was just trying to protect you," Rodney couldn't help interjecting.
"But I lied, and you know what I tell you. That's never okay. Especially about important things. And...I'm just going to say it." He looked her in the eye. "Your mother isn't dead. She left us when you were baby, but she's alive and well. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth sooner."
Carly looked decidedly underwhelmed. "That's the big news?"
John frowned. "That's not enough?"
"Dad," she said in a tone of do I have to explain everything to you. "I've known how to google since I was five, and you would never tell me anything, so I did my own research. I figured 'dead' was just a nice way of saying 'deadbeat'."
He stared at her incredulously. "And you never mentioned this?"
She shrugged. "I thought it would just make you feel bad. If I'd known you were having a heart attack about it, I would have told you a long time ago."
"A long time-- " John was beginning to sound exasperated. "How long have you known?"
Carly looked up at the ceiling, as if trying to recall. "Um, since I was-- seven, maybe?"
"God," John muttered.
Rodney was sure it was not the most appropriate reaction, but he couldn't help being a little proud of her precocious problem-solving skills.
"So, is that it?" she asked.
John shook his head. "There is one more thing. Your mother, she's-- back. In town. And if you want to meet her, we can make that happen. If you want to get to know her--"
"I like having two dads," Carly interrupted and moved closer to Rodney, as if to demonstrate where her loyalties lay.
Rodney put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey. Not going anywhere."
"The three of us will still be a family, no matter you decide." John directed a meaningful look at Rodney, as if to say, I hope you're listening, because I'm talking to you too.
Carly fiddled with the hem of her shirt. "I don't think-- I don't want to meet her. Not right now. Maybe when I'm older." Her expression turned anxious. "Is that bad?"
"No!" John and Rodney both said at the same time, and John assured her, "It's fine, honey. Whatever you want is fine, and you can change your mind at any time."
She thought that over. "Okay." Then she gave her father and Rodney a long, appraising look and came out with, "Are you going to get married? I mean, I know it's not legal and all yet, but people can't stay stupid forever." She hesitated. "Well, probably not."
John scowled at Rodney, not entirely jokingly. "I'm going to have to start calling her McKay Junior."
Rodney crossed his arms over his chest. "If she has a healthy skepticism about most people's intelligence, I say good for her."
John looked back to Carly, "Honey, Rodney and I haven't really talked about--"
"Okay, okay," she broke in. "You don't have to get all awkward and stuff. I'm not trying to rush you. I just wanted to say, count me out as flower girl, 'cause that's just lame anyway and I'm way too old for it. But I would like to do a reading, a poem or whatever. You guys get to choose, but I get to pick my dress. Deal?"
"Huh," Rodney said. "Cadman had the same condition."
John frowned at Rodney, who shrugged.
"Also," Carly continued, "and this is really important. If you get the impulse to write your own vows, please just...don't. 'Cause you're going to start talking about how you're the wind beneath each other's wings and stuff, and that's just embarrassing for everyone."
"Um," John looked like he couldn't quite keep up with her, "okay?"
"Good," Carly said with a satisfied nod. "I'm glad we got that settled."
"Is that all?" John asked, amused.
She shook her head. "Can I go to Jimmy Newly's birthday party next Saturday?"
"Will Jimmy's parents be there?" John asked.
"Jimmy Newly!" Rodney couldn't believe what he was hearing.
Carly ducked her head sheepishly. "I know, but…Tanya Miller heard from Cody Dean that Jimmy Newly likes me and…his floppy hair is kind of cute."
John sent her off with conditional permission pending a call to the Newlys and Rodney with the heartfelt plea that she not waste too much time on a boy who couldn't grasp even the most basic principles of covalent bonds.
That left them alone together, with the m-word still ringing in the air, and John said after a very long and awkward silence, "The thing is. I would like to, but the last time I was married it sucked, and I never want things to suck between us."
Rodney nodded. "Understandable, although having met your ex-wife, I can say without being the least bit immodest that you would have a lot more to work with this time around."
John broke into a grin. "Your modesty is one of the things I most love about you." He pulled Rodney into his arms.
"If we decide we want to," Rodney peppered little kisses to John's neck, "you know we can always go to Canada. I should get something for those outrageous taxes I pay."
John huffed a laugh against the side of his face. "Don't ever change, Rodney. I mean that." He fell quiet and then, "I think it's just-- a matter of when."
"Yeah." Rodney knew he must be smiling like an utter dork, but he just couldn't care. "I think so, too."
"Just promise me one thing."
"What?"
There was a glint in John's eye. "We at least tell Carly that we're writing our own vows."
"You are the butter on my bread," Rodney declared passionately. "The swizzle stick that stirs my cocktail."
"The hydrogen fuel of love that lights my life."
Rodney grinned. "You know, this marriage thing could be fun."
#101: Happily ever after is one of those deceptive phrases. It's not like you see it and automatically think, "Right, right, that means we'll have fights over who took out the trash the last time, and a night when our kid spikes a fever and scares us both senseless, and we'll never agree on a single movie, ever, in our entire lives." Happily ever after exists, make no mistake. You just have to remember this: It may be the way the story ends, but it's really only the beginning.
Fandom: SGA
Author: scribblinlenore
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 18,000-ish
101 Ways To Get Lucky (In Love), Part 2
by Lenore
#60: Giving up is a bachelor's strategy.
Rodney dedicated the remainder of the evening to putting the blot into blotto, thinking "John who?" before each glass of champagne. He wasn't entirely sure the next day, but he thought he might have insulted the former Miss California who was dating one of his board members by insisting that juggling wasn't an art and promised someone he'd buy them a pony for their next birthday. Thankfully, Cadman saved him from Simone Rivier, whispering into her ear that possibly Rodney wasn't as solvent as appearances would suggest, which promptly sent Simone scurrying. It was also Cadman who made sure he got home in one piece, enlisting help from the catering staff to haul him out to her car, and then somehow managing all by herself to wrangle him into his apartment and onto his bed.
"Do I get a raise for this, McKay?" She pressed a glass of water and some aspirin on him.
"Not fired," he mumbled and promptly passed out.
He woke up with a taste in his mouth like something had died in there, a pounding headache, and absolutely clarity that John Sheppard was completely full of shit. He downed a pot of coffee, showered, brushed his teeth at least a half dozen times, and found his way into some clothes. He drove through at the nearest McDonald's for round two of his morning coffee and a greasy hangover breakfast and ate it on the way to John's house.
At the back garden gate, he kept his finger on the bell until John's voice came over the intercom, muzzy and startled, "Hello?"
"Let me in," he demanded.
John met him in the hallway. "Rodney--"
"No, just shut up." He pulled John by the arm into his office and slammed the door. "I get to do the talking this time." He pointed a finger. "You're a fraud."
John shifted uneasily. "Look--"
Rodney jabbed at finger into his own chest. "Still talking! I don't know how you managed to turn yourself into a self-help guru, because you don't know anything about relationships. In fact, you wouldn't know a good thing if you fell over it."
"Hey, I just wanted to write something funny about pick up lines!" John shot back, defensively. "My publisher was the one who spun it into--"
"You're scared shitless of getting involved with anybody," Rodney insisted. "Just admit it."
John's eyes went bright with anger. "It's not that simple. I have a kid to think about. I can't just take up with someone who might not--"
Rodney pressed his fingers into John's jaw, not all that gently, and pulled him into a kiss. "I happen to like your kid, okay? And for the record, I've never said those words before in my life. Also? I like you, in case you hadn't noticed. And I'm pretty sure you like me too, despite the odds. And we have hot sex together. So--"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," John muttered, and then there was more kissing.
Much, much more of it.
"You're very persistent, aren't you?" John said, lips against Rodney's temple.
"People usually call it something else," Rodney mumbled into his shoulder, "but persistent is good." He tightened his hold on John. "I just want you to give me a chance."
"I'm really bad at this," John admitted, in a cracked voice. "You were right when you said I'm a fraud."
"So we'll be bad at it together." Rodney brushed another kiss onto John's mouth. "We can pretend we haven't already screwed up rule #12 by sleeping together before actually going on a date, and you and Sheppard Junior can come to dinner at my place this Friday."
The corner of John's mouth turned up. "Sheppard Junior?"
"Is that a yes?"
A loud throat-clearing noise came from the other side of the room, and John and Rodney both practically jumped out of their skin.
Sheppard Junior filled the doorway, looking impatient. "Are you guys done with the kissing yet? I want Rodney to come check my equations for my science fair project."
"We weren't--" John started to deny, but just as quickly gave it up. "Rodney invited us over for dinner on Friday."
Sheppard Junior broke into a smile. "Cool! Hey, can I tell Melinda Jefferson that I'm going to have two dads? She's one of those nutty Christians who think gay people are the devil, and it will totally blow her mind."
"No!" John went bright red in the face. "Rodney and I aren't-- not yet-- We just-- And what have I told you about saying things like 'nutty Christians'?
Sheppard Junior sighed. "Okay. I mean, I can be nice to her, if you want me to, even though she's all for oppressing you and Rodney." She went over to him and laid her head against his chest. "I just want you to be happy, Daddy."
John sighed heavily, but there really was no resisting it, and he brought his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.
"Charming her way out of trouble. I can't imagine where she gets it," Rodney said dryly.
Sheppard Junior grinned, gave her father a big hug, and then pulled Rodney by the arm toward the door. "Come on. My equations."
Rodney suspected that John's smile as Sheppard Junior hustled him from the room roughly translated, Hey, you signed on for this.
***
#37: It's all too easy to lose perspective about a first date. Some guys think they have to whisk that special someone off to Paris for a five-star meal at a restaurant whose name they can't even pronounce. Other guys are deluded enough to believe that the neighborhood hot dog stand has a lot of ambience. Somewhere between the Champs-Elysees and the Chili Dog Hut, that's where you'll find your successful first date.
Rodney approached the problem of what to serve John and Sheppard Junior with the same rigor he put into his company's research and development projects. He drew up a list of possible entrees and created a matrix of pros and cons and came up with a predictive algorithm to determine which meal was most likely to suit both Sheppards, and still ended up making three trips to the grocery store, second-guessing himself.
Friday night, the bell rang on the dot of seven, and Sheppard Junior came bounding inside, surprising him with a hug, which he returned a little stiffly, more pleased than he cared to admit. John strolled in smiling, holding out a brown paper bag, jaw-dropping in black pants and a black sweater. Rodney took a moment to stare.
"We brought ice cream," Sheppard Junior said and then lowered her voice confidentially, "It was my idea."
"Very thoughtful." Rodney waved them into the kitchen. "Let's get that in the freezer. Dinner should be ready soon."
Sheppard Junior craned her neck, checking out the pots on the stove. "I hope it's something age appropriate."
"Carly!" John shot Rodney a look of apology.
"I'm just saying," Sheppard Junior defended herself. "No kid likes olives and smoked oysters and all that weird stuff grownups eat."
"Does spaghetti and meatballs meet your exacting standards?"
She grinned. "I knew you were a keeper, Rodney."
Shroedinger poked his head around the corner, and Carly was off like a shot to pet him.
"Dad, Rodney has a cat. Why can't we have one?" She hugged Shroedinger to her chest, her expression wide and innocent, like something from a "Love is a warm kitty" poster.
"Because I know how good you are at helping take care of Fruit Loop?" They'd clearly had this conversation before.
She made big, pleading eyes. "I can reform."
"Why don’t we talk about this when we get home?"
She sighed heavily. "O-kay."
John turned back to Rodney. "So--"
Rodney shifted his weight. "So--"
"Hey, Rodney, what's your cat's name?" Sheppard Junior glanced up, and went still, her face lighting with comprehension. "Um...I'm just going to," she scrambled to her feet, "go look into drawers and closets and be nosy and stuff." She headed off down the hall, Shroedinger purring in her arms.
"Carly!" John started after her, but then looked longingly at Rodney, clearly conflicted.
"I keep everything dirty or dangerous under lock and key, I swear," Rodney assured him.
John smiled and came nearer, and there was a clumsy moment when neither of them seemed quite sure how to close to the deal, and then John pulled Rodney into his arms. "Hey."
Rodney smiled. "Hey."
They kissed hello, and Rodney slid his fingers into John's soft, soft hair, and that was it for nervousness.
"It's an irony, you know."
"What?" John rubbed a hand over his back.
"You look so incredibly good in those clothes all I can think about is getting you out of them."
John laughed, his breath hot against Rodney's neck. "We'll have to discuss that later."
A creaking floorboard made them pull away, and Carly came tiptoeing back down the hall. "Enough kissing time? 'Cause I'm all about doing my part for the two-dads plan, especially if I'm getting a father who's actually useful in the kitchen."
"Oh yeah?' John made a sneak attack, catching her before she could run, and tickled until she was red-faced and giggling.
Rodney watched with a mix of amazement and envy. Parents and children actually liking each other was new territory for him.
"Okay." He clapped his hands together. "Who's helping with dinner?"
Sheppard Junior's hand shot up, and she and John tag-teamed the salad. Rodney served up the pasta, and they sat down to eat.
"Mmm," Carly said around a mouth full of meatballs.
"Yeah, Rodney, I'm impressed."
Rodney snorted. "I never do anything I'm not good at."
John coughed, wine coming out his nose, and Rodney's face went hot thinking about the interpretation John must have given that statement. Sheppard Junior rolled her eyes at both of them.
"I didn't get any wine," she said innocently, and John pointed her back to her plate, and she sighed, "Yeah, yeah." She spooled a large wad of spaghetti around her fork. "Rodney, did you know my dad is going to give me flying lessons when I'm old enough? So I can be a pilot just like him."
"You like planes?" Then he frowned. "Wait. I thought you were going to be a physicist?"
She grinned, tomato sauce smeared across her teeth. "I can do both, don't worry. Last summer, we took a trip in dad's plane up to Canada, and it was so clear the whole way we could see everything, and then we went camping in Banff, and there was a wolf and an elk and a marmot.
"And a mountain goat," John added with a wave of his fork.
"Yeah!" Carly said excitedly. "And then we went to that place--" She looked to her father.
"Lake Louise."
Carly nodded. "And we went fishing and swimming and--"
"Canoeing," John finished the sentence with her. He smiled. "We had a lot of fun."
They told more stories, places they'd been, things they'd done, and Carly never passed over an opportunity to plug her father to Rodney: he's a really good skier and did you know my dad got a medal for being in the Gulf War? and even though he's no good in the kitchen, he can fix anything around the house.
John paid her back with embarrassing tales of her childhood. "I never did figure out why she thought it was a good idea to take my electric razor to her hair," John shook his head sadly, "but, boy, did she look funny."
"Dad!" she hissed at him.
Rodney couldn't help laughing. "Are there pictures?"
John smiled broadly. "Oh, yeah. Next time you're over at the house--"
"Moving on now," Sheppard Junior said breezily.
If Rodney hadn't already been a fool for their father-daughter act, dinner would have sealed the deal.
John and Carly helped him carry the dishes back into the kitchen, and they took their ice cream into the living room. Carly challenged Rodney to a Gran Turismo death match on the PlayStation.
"Bring it on," he told her.
"Watch out, Rodney. She's a shark," John warned.
Rodney made an "oh, please, she's eleven" face, but the moment the game started up, Sheppard Junior's expression turned deadly serious, her hand flying on the controller, and Rodney had to wonder where she'd learned to trash talk like that. He cast a baleful glance at John, who shrugged as if to say, "It's not like I have any control over the kid." Rodney buckled down, take no prisoners time, but Sheppard Junior was soon kicking his ass anyway. He shot John another look, this time accusing, because clearly his daughter was a ringer, and found John watching them, something warm and soft and fond in his eyes.
It didn't matter quite so much when his last car went up in flames.
He brought John more wine, and Carly more ice cream, and told some stories of his own, how he'd utterly eviscerated his thesis advisor's pet theory in the first paper he ever published because the guy was just so smug and not nearly smart enough to justify it, which made Carly snort in appreciation. He even admitted the time he'd blown a small crater in the floor of his high school chemistry lab because he'd misread some labels and accidentally added lead oxid to styphnic acid--just to see John grin. After a while, Sheppard Junior's head started to droop, and finally settled onto her father's shoulder, and despite her obvious, valiant efforts to stay awake, her eyes drifted closed.
John rubbed her arm. "You ready to go?"
She shook her head emphatically, but couldn't stifle a yawn, and John laughed. "Well, I'm not as young as I used to be, so --"
She yawned again. "Okay." She slowly got to her feet and stretched and then gave Rodney a sleepy hug, mumbling, "I'll go wait by the elevator, but if you keep dad in here too long, I'll have to come back and interrupt your boyfriend time, and that's just embarrassing for everyone."
"I'll be right there, honey," John told her.
The door snicked closed after her, and this time, they had the kissing thing down, major progress on the hugging front too, and Rodney wouldn't have let John go at all, except for the sleepy kid waiting out in the hall.
"I had a really good time," John said as Rodney walked him to the door. "Thanks for inviting Carly too. That means a lot to me." He emphasized it with a kiss. "How about you come over tomorrow night? Carly's staying with a friend. Like she said, I'm no cook, but I can order pizza and open a bottle of wine. We'd have all night--
Rodney met his eyes. "Are you asking me to--"
John grinned. "Yeah."
Rodney kissed the hell out of him. "Is it tomorrow yet?"
***
#55: Guys tend to freak out about the quiet moments. We're afraid someone's going to talk about a feeling, and civilization as we know it will collapse, and we really just want to turn on the TV. But the thing about those quiet moments is: that's when you realize what a good thing you've got.
The next night felt less like a second date and more like the beginning of the rest of Rodney's life.
"I can't believe you rented the entire trilogy." Rodney rolled his eyes as Marty and Doc Brown rigged up the oh-so-likely lightning-powered return to the future.
John lounged casually, feet up on the coffee table, his head on Rodney's shoulder. "Didn't. I own it."
Rodney sighed dramatically, and John laughed at him, and Rodney pressed a kiss into his hair, because he wanted to and he could and that was the very definition of "it doesn't get any better than this." He was pretty sure it would never matter again how dim-witted Hollywood science was; these air-headed movies were going to make him ridiculously happy for the rest of life, remembering pizza and wine with too much cork in it and John's dumb jokes about particle acceleration and getting to hold him through all three films. John reached for his glass, and ran his hand slowly down Rodney's thigh, as he had every time he'd leaned forward. Rodney had been half hard, in a pleasantly anticipatory way, since they'd finished dinner.
When Doc Brown was saved at last, John sighed and stretched and leaned in for a kiss, before getting up to carry their dishes to the kitchen. He came back, but didn't resume his sprawl on the couch. They hadn't bothered with the lights, and John's expression was obscured in shadows, but the way he stood there, one hand on his hip, was clearly a question mark. "Okay if we--?"
Rodney scrambled to his feet. It was much, much more than okay. He followed John down the hall. There was a lamp on the nightstand in the bedroom that John turned on, soft yellow light pooling on the fawn-colored walls. The first time had been heat of the moment, but this was deliberate, chosen, and they eyed each other speculatively. Rodney's throat tightened with want, and John laughed softly. "Come here."
John pulled him by the belt loops, and folding himself into John's embrace already felt like second nature. Rodney rubbed his nose against John's sweater and breathed in. John smelled good. They kissed, curious and unrushed.
"Mmm," Rodney murmured.
John kissed Rodney's neck and pulled away. Rodney shivered at the momentary loss of warmth, but then John stripped his shirt up over his head and dropped it on the floor, and the heat rushed back, a sudden swelter on Rodney's skin. The house was still and quiet, their harsh intake of air the only sound, physical and promising. Rodney touched John's chest in wonder, soft hair, warm skin. "You'd think it would be weirder, this being with a man thing." His voice sounded too close, echoing in his own ears.
"Yeah." John's belly dipped with his breath. He slipped a hand under Rodney's shirt, stroked his side. "Can I?"
Rodney nodded, and lifted his arms, and his shirt blotted out the light for a second, and there was a rush of cool air on his chest. John's hands settled on Rodney's hips, and he licked the hollow of his collarbone. Rodney's nipples tightened at the sensation, and John breathed a laugh against his skin, and bent his head to kiss them.
Rodney traced the outline of John's dick, obvious beneath his jeans, his fingers shaking. "Can I?"
John stroked the hair at the back of Rodney's neck and pulled him into a kiss, and Rodney took that for a yes. He shoved John's pants down his legs, and John's dick was hot against his palm, and it fit his hand perfectly. John moaned, and fumbled with Rodney's zipper. They kicked off the rest of their clothes, and stood there looking and touching each, all very arousing and junior-high-school-like in its trembling, sweet "will he like this or should I do it more like that?"
"Have you ever," Rodney asked, dry mouthed, "before? Besides the other night?"
John shook his head, but then thought twice about it, "Well, okay, a couple of times in combat, after missions when we hadn't been so sure we were going to make it back, and then we did, and there was all this adrenaline and nothing to do with it, but--"
"I'd say that qualifies as experience."
"Yeah, if you want the fastest handjob in human history, that we never talk about again, and we can't look each other in the eye for days afterwards, and end up picking up the clap while drunkenly trying to reestablish our heterosexual credentials with some twenty-dollar hookers."
"So…no, then."
John's eyes crinkled at the corners, and he took Rodney's hand. They'd already been naked in bed together, but not in John's bed, and Rodney could hear the rush of his own blood in his ears as John threw the covers back. John pushed Rodney onto his back and lay half draped over him and worried a spot on the underside of his jaw that was surprisingly sensitive. He'd been on top the other time too, and Rodney idly wondered if that was how John envisioned their relationship, with Rodney on his back. Then John started to kiss his way downward, and Rodney thought, It's a good vision. I like it.
John bent down and pressed a kiss to Rodney's cock, angled his head, first this way and then that, and went down. False start, and he tried again, and this time started to choke.
Rodney stroked his hair. "You don't have to."
"I want to." John hunkered down, hand splayed across Rodney's hip. "I just might, you know, need a minute."
Third time was the charm, though. John blew warm air on the head of Rodney's dick and wrapped his hand around the base and licked experimentally. He had an expression of consideration at the taste, and then nodded slightly, and started to suck.
"God," Rodney moaned, and slid his hand up John's shoulder, across his neck, into his hair.
Apparently, this was enough to encourage John to get fancy, and he started to trace patterns on the shaft with his tongue and move his hand and try to take more of it into his mouth. Rodney's fingers curled more tightly into his hair, even though he was trying not to be a jerk about it, and John didn't seem to mind. He sucked harder, and Rodney started to make urgent noises because as much as he'd like this to go on forever he was going to come very, very soon.
John played stubborn and wouldn't move away, and Rodney arched up and squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed at the sheets. John seemed to have found his equilibrium, and he swallowed what he could and pulled off and stroked Rodney with his hand through the rest of his orgasm.
Rodney was a little blurred around the edges there for a moment or two, or possibly three, but then he registered John kneeling over him, smiling like he was far too pleased with himself, and Rodney pulled him down into a kiss. There was the taste of his come in John's mouth, and he thought to ask, "It was okay?"
John nodded, and kissed him again. His hair was slightly damp around his face, as if he'd worked up a sweat sucking Rodney off. Rodney liked that, quite a lot actually, and he stroked a hand down John's belly and into the curly hair above his dick, scratching lightly. John made a frantic lunge with his hips, trying to get Rodney's hand where he wanted it, and Rodney could feel the taut flex of his muscles, the buzz of need.
He strung kisses along John's jaw and closed his palm around his cock. "Can I suck you?"
John shook his head, tendon standing out on the side of his neck. "Not going to last."
He thrust into Rodney's fist, and Rodney tightened his grip, and John made a thoroughly gratifying little whimper, not once, but repeatedly until he came. He flopped onto his back, and Rodney scooted closer. John curved an arm around his shoulders and tugged until Rodney's head was on his chest, and then he let out a big, breathy, "Mmm."
Rodney lazed against him, eyes closed. "I'd say we're getting pretty good at this gay sex thing."
"Mmm," John said again, and then after a moment, "Which is kind of a relief, since you only do things you're good at."
"You'll be the beneficiary of my type-A perfectionism," Rodney informed him loftily, "so I wouldn't complain, if I were you."
He didn't have to see John's smile to know it was one of the goofy ones. "Definitely not complaining here."
Rodney pressed closer and let out his breath. He didn't think he'd be up for a round two, the biological realities of the forty-year-old male body being what they were, but this was good. This was perfect. He really, really liked this. A lot.
Then a different kind of consideration made him crack an eye open. "Um, is it okay if-- Or should I--"
"Stay," John murmured sleepily into his hair. "Carly's supposed to call me tomorrow to go pick her up. We can have breakfast before."
"Mmm," was the last thing Rodney remembered saying before falling asleep.
He woke the next day when sunlight started spilling into the room, warm and comfortable and curved along John's back, his cock morning hard and happily pressed against John's ass. He yawned and kissed John's shoulder and tightened his arm around his waist. That's when something moved, and he looked, and sat bolt upright, yanking the blanket all the way up to his chin.
"What--?" John murmured.
Rodney poked him.
"Ow!"
This finally got him to open his eyes, and then he jolted up as well.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded of Carly. "I was supposed to come get you."
Carly nodded. "But Veronica came down with something, we're talking major barfing, and her mom dropped me home, so I wouldn't get sick, too." She broke into a huge grin. "Melinda Jefferson is going to have a seizure when I tell her about this."
John pointed to the door.
"Okay, okay, I'm going. Didn't mean to," she waved her hand, "interrupt or anything." She stopped in the doorway and smiled. "I'm going to like having two dads. Just so you know."
She left, and John chuffed out a heavy breath. "So--" His expression was a little apologetic and definitely freaked out.
"Waffles?" Rodney said, with an uncertain smile.
It took a moment, but then John was shaking with laughter and reached to kiss him. "As long as you're doing the cooking."
***
#21: Some people think about relationships as adding that last piece of the puzzle. Imagine their surprise when falling in love shakes up the entire jigsaw of their life and puts it all back together again in a completely different order. When you find someone you want to settle down with, your priorities change. You can try to fight it, but the odds are seriously against you.
By the six-month mark, Rodney and Shroedinger had more or less become residents of Pasadena, although Rodney still contended that it was ridiculously far away from the ocean, and while he would never believe that Kavanaugh was anything less than an idiot, he had begun to see the merits of having someone (two someones, in fact) to come home to at night.
Not everyone at the office could quite grasp that there was a new Rodney McKay in town. Witness his most recent staff briefing.
"I'm arranging town meetings across the country," Cadman announced. "Part promotion, part education. It'll be our chance to talk to people directly about the benefits of the new fuel. I'll need someone from the research team to answer questions at each one."
"You'll probably want to make those appearances personally, won't you, Dr. McKay?" ventured Theodore Beemish, the VP in charge of R&D, a graying mouse of a man who had never learned to call Rodney by his first name, no matter how many times he'd been invited to.
Rodney waved his hand. "I'm not really interested in making a lot of business trips right now. I'll do the first one, and, let's say, three more that are especially important."
"Houston, for instance," Cadman suggested.
He nodded. "Oil country. People probably hate our guts there. But otherwise, I leave it in your hands, Theodore. Go yourself or assign your people. It's up to you."
There was dead silence around the table, followed by a chain reaction of wary glances.
Bill Newmar, the Chief Financial Officer, spoke up, "Next Thursday, we have our first meeting with the government auditor. The numbers are all ready to go. I assume you'll want to head up the presentation?"
Rodney shook his head. "Regional science fair that day. Promised Sheppard Junior I'd be there. You can take the lead, Bill."
Nervous young Becky Windmiller raised her hand, which Rodney had asked her so many times not to do. "I should have the updated sales models for you by nine tonight, Dr. McKay."
"Make it first thing tomorrow morning," he said, pushing back from the table. "I'm fixing Mexican for dinner, and if I'm late, there won't be time for homemade tortillas. Are we done here?"
Each person looked to the next, and at last, they all hesitantly nodded.
Mildred walked with Rodney back to his office. "I'll get these meeting notes right out, Dr. McKay."
Rodney was frowning. "What was wrong with those imbeciles today? They stared at me like I had three heads every time I opened my mouth."
Mildred shrugged. "I guess they're just not used to you actually letting them do their jobs."
On Rodney's desk was the daily stack of press clippings, and he leafed through them, stopping only when he saw a familiar shock of unruly hair.
"Cadman!" he yelled, loud enough that she could hear him three offices over.
She sauntered in looking innocent.
He held up the article, from the society page of the Los Angeles Times, and read the headline, "Alternative Relationship for Alternate Fuel Pioneer and Love Doc." It was complete with a picture of John and Rodney, leaving Cana Rose, holding hands. "What the hell is this?"
She shrugged.
He glared.
"Hey," she reminded him, "it's what you pay me for."
He was too frantic to actually fire her, and just made shooing hands and yanked up the phone. "It's not my fault!" he babbled when John picked up. "I didn't know, and I would never have allowed it if I had. I swear, you have to believe me."
"Breathe, Rodney," John sounded amused. "Is this about today's paper?"
"I haven't fired Cadman yet, but only because I wanted to call and beg you not to hate me first."
"Rodney, I'm not upset. This was bound to happen sometime. We're both in the public eye, and I don't care who knows about us." His tone grew more teasing, "What? Were you worried I'd think the last six months were just some sort of very slow-motioned Machiavellian scheme to get your name in the paper? Not that I doubt your ability to plot and machinate when it comes to business, of course."
"Well...good." It wasn't often that Rodney was struck practically speechless.
John laughed. "Yeah. It is. So," his voice dropped into a more intimate octave, "see you at home tonight?"
Rodney checked the clock on his computer. For the first time in his life, the workday felt long.
***
#92: If you think true love means never having to say "I can't believe you did that," then you're in for a rude awakening. Meant to be doesn't mean problem free.
The 405 was a stubborn snarl. In the passenger seat, Carly was picking the sand out of her sneakers, grinding it into the floor mat, and when Rodney scowled, actually had the temerity to grin. "I guess maybe I should do that later, huh?"
He made an indignant face in reply, and she grinned harder.
"So, how was...volleyball?" He kept his voice as free from value judgment as he could manage.
John had had a talk with him in their first month together, reminding him that Carly was a kid and needed fun as much as intellectual stimulation, gently, kindly laying down the law that Rodney wasn't allowed to push her to spend all her time studying physics.
Carly shrugged. "I did pretty good. Busting the curve on the old height chart comes in handy occasionally."
"Oh, please. Being tall and gorgeous is going to work out as well for you as it has your father, trust me. You just have to wait for boys to stop being stupid."
Carly giggled. "You're a pal, Rodney. You know that?"
At home, she clamored up the stairs, headed to her room. "I've got to call Marcy. Her mom promised to drive us to the mall tonight."
"John?" Rodney called out.
There was no answer, and he went to check the office, but the door was open and the room empty. He happened to glance out the window, and standing in the back yard by the rose trellis was John, along with a woman Rodney didn't recognize. A beautiful woman, to be more precise, and she and John were standing very close together, matching expressions of intensity on their faces, deep in conversation. The shock of it was a punch to the gut, and Rodney turned on his heel and beat a retreat to the kitchen, where he tried to distract himself making coffee, not very successfully. Memories of his parents' marriage, their mutual infidelities, numerous and destructive, flashed back at him, and a resigned voice in his head wouldn't shut up, You always knew it was too good to last.
Whatever hope he'd clutched at, that he was wrong, wrong, all wrong, was promptly crushed when John finally came back inside, looking preoccupied and guilty as hell.
"Everything all right?" Rodney asked.
John nodded, not meeting his eye.
"What were you doing?" he tried to sound casual.
John shrugged. "Just getting some air."
It was worse that night when they went to bed. Rodney curled up against John's back, the way they always slept, but John tensed, and Rodney pulled away.
"Sorry," John mumbled. "I guess I'm just tired."
Carly was spending the next day at Veronica's, and the house was practically tomb-like without her. John and Rodney found maybe a handful of things to say to each other all afternoon, and by evening, Rodney had had as much as he could stand of dread and tension. He stomped into the office where John had been hiding out, ready to fling an outraged "this has to stop" at him.
But John beat him to it. "You saved me a trip to look for you. There's something I need to tell you."
All the air went out of Rodney now that the confrontation was actually underway, and he numbly sat down.
John couldn't even look at him, and he deliberated over every word, "Rodney, I've done something-- really bad. I've tried to keep it a secret but--"
The only thing worse than a confession of infidelity was one delivered in such excruciating slow motion, and Rodney cut to the chase, "Who is she? How long have you been seeing each other? Do you love her?"
John looked stunned. "I'm not cheating on you."
"I saw you two out in the garden! And you just said--"
"There are other kinds of bad secrets!" John took a breath, and then his eyes slid away from Rodney's again. "The woman you saw-- that was Linda. My wife. Ex wife.
Rodney sat there motionless. "But she's--" And then he got it. "Oh, God. That kind of bad secret."
"I couldn't tell you the truth before, because Carly doesn't-- I know you must think I'm a horrible person," John sounded desperate.
"I don't--"
"All I wanted was to protect my daughter, I swear to God."
"By lying to her?"
"You don't know what that woman's like, Rodney!" He made a visible effort to calm down. "Sorry. I didn't mean to--"
"Just tell me what happened."
John shook his head. "I don't even know sometimes how we ever ended up together. Because it was never right. She hated being a military wife, and I loved being a pilot, and...one day I came home, and she was just gone. And so was Carly."
"What?" Rodney was honestly shocked.
John's anger at the memory was clear. "You have to understand. She never wanted kids. Not even after Carly was born. But she took her, and you know why?"
Rodney shook his head. He couldn't imagine.
"Money. She refused to tell me where she had Carly until I paid her off. And when I finally had my kid back, I just wanted Linda to go the hell away and stay away, and she did." John let out his breath wearily. "Only I couldn't tell Carly that. Couldn't let her think-- Kids always assume it's their fault. It just seemed easier if Linda were--"
Rodney went to John and put his arms around him. He couldn't say he thought what John had done was right. He couldn't say he wouldn't have done exactly the same thing himself under the circumstances.
"It didn't take long to figure out how majorly I'd fucked up making up that stupid story, and I've tried to figure out some way to tell Carly the truth without having her hate me, but I never could bring myself to-- and now Linda's resurfaced."
"She's come to her senses. She wants you and Carly back." It came out remarkably matter-of-factly given that Rodney had never been so sick with fear in his life.
John's laugh was short and bitter. "She hasn't changed. She read in the paper that I have a rich boyfriend, and somehow she found out that I'd lied to Carly. She saw dollar signs."
Rodney stared. "She isn't going to--"
"Unless I pay her off. Which I'm not going to do. I know her. It would never end. I have to tell Carly the truth, deal with the consequences." He set his jaw grimly. "That's why I needed to tell you first, because things are going to be...bad for a while, and I just-- wanted you to be ready."
"Don't do anything," Rodney told him. "Let me handle it. I can make this go away."
John shook his head emphatically. "No, Rodney. I'm serious. Linda knows she has me by the balls, and no amount of money will ever be enough." He sighed heavily. "I made this mess. I have to fix it. I'm just afraid--"
"Hey," Rodney squeezed his shoulder, "it's going to be okay. Carly will--"
"What if she wants to meet her mother?" His expression was crazed with worry. "And what if Linda's...still Linda, and breaks her heart?"
Rodney's mouth pressed into a grim line. Like hell that was going to happen.
***
#9: If you have to fight off someone else to be with your special someone, a certain degree of unsportsmanlike conduct may be necessary.
Rodney couldn't help imagining (one might even say obsessing over) the woman who'd been lucky enough to get John and Sheppard Junior in the great lotto of life and walked away like they meant nothing. It was easy to build her up to be a monster, child abandonment and extortion were pretty good foundations for that, and Rodney stored up a supply of anticipatory adjectives: cold, calculating, vicious, narcissistic, pathological, stupid. What he hadn't been expecting was: glib.
Cadman gave him a list of out-of-the-way places good for discreet conversations, and she didn't even ask the usual million questions. That's how grave Rodney must have looked when he went to her for help. Linda had insisted she was only free late Saturday afternoon, putting Rodney in the awkward position of having to lie to John. She breezed into the bar nearly an hour late, throwing off her coat and taking a seat with a careless smile. "Never on time. That's me. Is that Scotch you've got there? I'm in the mood for something frivolous." She flagged down the waitress and ordered a champagne cocktail.
Linda had honey-colored hair, long and straight, brown eyes bright with amusement, and the kind of obvious prettiness that starred in beauty pageants at state fairs, as fresh-faced as a twenty-year-old, although she must have been in her late thirties by now.
"So, I guess those gossipy articles were right. You and Johnny really are a couple," her eyes moved over him inquisitively, "or you wouldn't be here, would you?" She laughed. "My ladykiller of an ex-husband likes cock now. Imagine that."
Rodney smiled flatly. "I'm glad we entertain you."
"Oh, you'd laugh too if you'd known him back in the day. He'd come into the bar where all the pilots hung out, in his jeans and his black T-shirts, just running over with charm. There wasn't a woman he couldn't get." She made a wry face. "Problem was, he didn't know how to keep them. I'm living proof."
"Well," Rodney said curtly, "he manages just fine with men. I'm proof of that." He leaned forward. "Let's cut the bullshit."
She settled her elbows onto the table and rested her chin on her hands, her mirth not the least bit dimmed. "Will you want to lecture me first? Or should we just talk numbers? I do have to warn you that staying away from my own flesh and blood--" She bent her head in a mockery of sadness. "It's cost me over the years." She smiled sweetly. "So it won't come cheap to you."
"That's not the deal," Rodney informed her.
Finally, there was a chink in her blithe facade. "But you said--"
"Shut up. I'll do the talking. And let's be clear. This isn't a negotiation. This is a yes-or-no proposition. John is going to tell your daughter the truth, so there will be no blackmail. I am, however, prepared to offer you a job, let's call it. You'll receive a monthly salary." He wrote a figure on a cocktail napkin and shoved it at her. "I think you'll find it more than generous."
She raised an eyebrow. "Won't that scandalize your shareholders if they ever find out?"
"You'll be in my personal employ," he told her. "And your one and only responsibility is to give Carly whatever she wants. If she's happy with you staying as good as dead, then leave her alone. If she wants you in her life, you will call and send birthday cards and sit in the front row at her science fairs and clap and smile and tell her how proud you are. You'll be the most attentive mother on the planet. Got it?"
Linda tilted her head. "You really care about them, don't you?"
Rodney threw some money onto the table for their drinks and got to his feet. "You have until noon tomorrow to think it over." He started away, but then realized he'd forgotten something, and turned back. "Oh, and if you ever get the bright idea of telling Carly about our deal, for whatever reason, spite or greed or just because you can, let me assure you, that will be the end of the money. You can be set for life, or you can be a bitch, it's up to you."
He'd barely gotten out of the parking lot before his cell phone was ringing.
***
#73: So one day, everything seems clear, all smooth sailing, and the next, you're having these conversations that guys hate. Who are we as a couple? What does it mean for us to be together? How can we make this work for both of us? It may be hard to believe, but this actually means you're getting it right.
At home, Rodney found John waiting for him in their bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking tense.
"Work go okay?" he asked, something in his voice that was hard to decipher. "You get everything finished?"
Rodney had latched onto the first convenient excuse, an urgent project, stammering his way through reasons why he couldn't just work on his laptop at home, security issues and government clearance and...stuff.
"Fine, fine." He set his keys down on the dresser. "Everything's fine now."
"Really?" John's eyes were fastened on him. "Because I called you at the office, and you didn't pick up."
Rodney froze in the middle of dumping out his change onto his nightstand. "I was--" He waved his hand. "Ignoring the phone, so I could finish up, and get home. You always call me on my cell. If I'd known it was you--"
John crossed his arms over his chest. "I lied. I didn't call. I just wanted to see what you'd say."
"You know, you're supposed to be the un-Machiavellian one of us," Rodney muttered.
John got to his feet angrily. "Where the hell have you been?" He narrowed his eyes. "What did you do?"
No use denying anything now, and Rodney lifted his chin. "I couldn't just stand by and watch her hurt you and Carly."
"I told you to stay out of it!"
"Yes. Well. I didn't."
"You can't just-- She's not your daughter, Rodney!"
Rodney flinched as surely as if he'd been slapped, but that was followed quickly by anger. "No. That's right. She's not. She's yours. Why the hell do you think I love her so much?" His voice rose on each word.
"Rodney," John said more quietly. "I didn't mean-- I shouldn't have--"
"I thought we were going to be a family." He felt almost foolish saying it, like he was confessing something. "Families take care of each other, don't they? Or maybe I got that part wrong. Because, hey, my family was seriously fucked up. So it's not like I have any particularly useful firsthand knowledge of the subject."
"Come on. You have to realize-- I'm no good at saying...but. You know that we-- That I--"
John met his gaze helplessly, and Rodney didn't have to let him off the hook, the old Rodney certainly wouldn't have, but John looked so miserable and sorry and tongue-tied.
Rodney took a step toward him. "You were voted least likely to become a relationship coach in high school, weren't you?"
John met him the rest of the way. "Something like that." He wrapped his arms around Rodney. "I'm trying to say I love you here."
"Yeah," Rodney breathed the word against his neck. "I figured that out somehow. I love you too, by the way."
"So...are we okay? Because I really need us to be okay right now."
"We're okay." Rodney hugged him to emphasize it.
John hesitated, "What...kind of deal did you make with Linda?"
"Just-- not to break her daughter's heart."
John ducked his head, and made a sudden production of reaching out to straighten the bedspread, but there was no mistaking the emotion when he said, "Thanks, Rodney."
"Dad!" This was accompanied by the thump-thump of Carly's Reeboks on the steps, and a moment later, she popped into the room. "There you are. I wanted to ask if it was okay if--" She stopped suddenly, never one to miss tension in the air, and instantly went on the alert. "Is something wrong?"
"Honey, there's something I need--" John looked to Rodney and corrected himself. "We need to tell you."
Carly's face pinched with worry. "Are you breaking up?"
"No!" John rushed to reassure her. "It's nothing like that, nothing about me and Rodney."
Her shoulders dropped with relief. "Well, what then?"
"Carly, there's something I should have told you--"
"Your father was just trying to protect you," Rodney couldn't help interjecting.
"But I lied, and you know what I tell you. That's never okay. Especially about important things. And...I'm just going to say it." He looked her in the eye. "Your mother isn't dead. She left us when you were baby, but she's alive and well. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth sooner."
Carly looked decidedly underwhelmed. "That's the big news?"
John frowned. "That's not enough?"
"Dad," she said in a tone of do I have to explain everything to you. "I've known how to google since I was five, and you would never tell me anything, so I did my own research. I figured 'dead' was just a nice way of saying 'deadbeat'."
He stared at her incredulously. "And you never mentioned this?"
She shrugged. "I thought it would just make you feel bad. If I'd known you were having a heart attack about it, I would have told you a long time ago."
"A long time-- " John was beginning to sound exasperated. "How long have you known?"
Carly looked up at the ceiling, as if trying to recall. "Um, since I was-- seven, maybe?"
"God," John muttered.
Rodney was sure it was not the most appropriate reaction, but he couldn't help being a little proud of her precocious problem-solving skills.
"So, is that it?" she asked.
John shook his head. "There is one more thing. Your mother, she's-- back. In town. And if you want to meet her, we can make that happen. If you want to get to know her--"
"I like having two dads," Carly interrupted and moved closer to Rodney, as if to demonstrate where her loyalties lay.
Rodney put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey. Not going anywhere."
"The three of us will still be a family, no matter you decide." John directed a meaningful look at Rodney, as if to say, I hope you're listening, because I'm talking to you too.
Carly fiddled with the hem of her shirt. "I don't think-- I don't want to meet her. Not right now. Maybe when I'm older." Her expression turned anxious. "Is that bad?"
"No!" John and Rodney both said at the same time, and John assured her, "It's fine, honey. Whatever you want is fine, and you can change your mind at any time."
She thought that over. "Okay." Then she gave her father and Rodney a long, appraising look and came out with, "Are you going to get married? I mean, I know it's not legal and all yet, but people can't stay stupid forever." She hesitated. "Well, probably not."
John scowled at Rodney, not entirely jokingly. "I'm going to have to start calling her McKay Junior."
Rodney crossed his arms over his chest. "If she has a healthy skepticism about most people's intelligence, I say good for her."
John looked back to Carly, "Honey, Rodney and I haven't really talked about--"
"Okay, okay," she broke in. "You don't have to get all awkward and stuff. I'm not trying to rush you. I just wanted to say, count me out as flower girl, 'cause that's just lame anyway and I'm way too old for it. But I would like to do a reading, a poem or whatever. You guys get to choose, but I get to pick my dress. Deal?"
"Huh," Rodney said. "Cadman had the same condition."
John frowned at Rodney, who shrugged.
"Also," Carly continued, "and this is really important. If you get the impulse to write your own vows, please just...don't. 'Cause you're going to start talking about how you're the wind beneath each other's wings and stuff, and that's just embarrassing for everyone."
"Um," John looked like he couldn't quite keep up with her, "okay?"
"Good," Carly said with a satisfied nod. "I'm glad we got that settled."
"Is that all?" John asked, amused.
She shook her head. "Can I go to Jimmy Newly's birthday party next Saturday?"
"Will Jimmy's parents be there?" John asked.
"Jimmy Newly!" Rodney couldn't believe what he was hearing.
Carly ducked her head sheepishly. "I know, but…Tanya Miller heard from Cody Dean that Jimmy Newly likes me and…his floppy hair is kind of cute."
John sent her off with conditional permission pending a call to the Newlys and Rodney with the heartfelt plea that she not waste too much time on a boy who couldn't grasp even the most basic principles of covalent bonds.
That left them alone together, with the m-word still ringing in the air, and John said after a very long and awkward silence, "The thing is. I would like to, but the last time I was married it sucked, and I never want things to suck between us."
Rodney nodded. "Understandable, although having met your ex-wife, I can say without being the least bit immodest that you would have a lot more to work with this time around."
John broke into a grin. "Your modesty is one of the things I most love about you." He pulled Rodney into his arms.
"If we decide we want to," Rodney peppered little kisses to John's neck, "you know we can always go to Canada. I should get something for those outrageous taxes I pay."
John huffed a laugh against the side of his face. "Don't ever change, Rodney. I mean that." He fell quiet and then, "I think it's just-- a matter of when."
"Yeah." Rodney knew he must be smiling like an utter dork, but he just couldn't care. "I think so, too."
"Just promise me one thing."
"What?"
There was a glint in John's eye. "We at least tell Carly that we're writing our own vows."
"You are the butter on my bread," Rodney declared passionately. "The swizzle stick that stirs my cocktail."
"The hydrogen fuel of love that lights my life."
Rodney grinned. "You know, this marriage thing could be fun."
#101: Happily ever after is one of those deceptive phrases. It's not like you see it and automatically think, "Right, right, that means we'll have fights over who took out the trash the last time, and a night when our kid spikes a fever and scares us both senseless, and we'll never agree on a single movie, ever, in our entire lives." Happily ever after exists, make no mistake. You just have to remember this: It may be the way the story ends, but it's really only the beginning.