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June 29, 2006 (S.E.C.)
… I really don’t know how else to describe him to you, Em. He’s a cocky flyboy who likes to pretend that he’s not as smart as he is. I can almost understand his need to play dumb where the military is concerned – after all he does need to fit in with his men (and women) – but it doesn’t mean that he has to keep pretending.
He puts on this front for everyone to see. This lazy, care-free, indifferent front that is supposed to make him more approachable I guess. But it’s just a mask he hides behind. He takes his responsibilities a little too seriously sometimes and has enough guilt bottled up inside to possibly drown all of Atlantis. Each time something goes wrong, it’s as though he takes it as his own personal failing. As though if he had just been faster, been there, been able to split himself in two!
But that’s Lt. Colonel John Sheppard for you. At least the little bit of his puzzle that I’ve been able to piece together.
I’m not even sure that I want to put together the rest of his puzzle. It’s not because I’m worried about what I might see in the end. But I think it might be because if I were to completely understand and know absolutely everything about John Sheppard, I’d have lost him.
And I have no idea why I’m telling you this. You aren’t even seven years old yet. You couldn’t understand what I’m talking about right now. But at the moment you are the only person I could ever tell this to. And by the time you get to this letter and the ones that will surely follow, you’ll be a lot older than seven. If you ever get them.
I told Sheppard about you. He’s the only one that I’ve said a word to about you and the fact that you exist. And don’t you
dare
think that it’s because I might be ashamed of you. I’m not. In fact, well, I’m proud of you. I might know nothing about the type of person you are, Em, but I’m damn proud that you’re my daughter – even if I’m never going to be able to tell you this myself…
The Daedalus had been gone for a little over a week when things began to settle back into their normal flow. The tension in the city dropped measurably. Work production nearly doubled and fewer tempers were lost. Major Lorne had actually laughed out loud – joyously – in the cafeteria at lunch. And when Major Lorne laughed like that again, it was as though it were permission for everyone else to start relaxing again. Because when the Daedalus was in orbit the Major’s odd sense of humour was the first casualty.
Actually, Rodney thought, Sheppard’s blood pressure was really the first casualty and usually received the first blow when the data bursts came. And if Atlantis had actually used real paper for their paper work, John Sheppard would be a walking, bleeding paper cut. Rodney couldn’t understand why he kept putting off the largest part of the necessary evil until the last minute. But then again, Rodney did the same thing when it came to his personnel reports and reviews. So he shouldn’t be throwing stones – not that he would ever admit to something like that aloud where Sheppard could hear him.
As it was, Rodney twisted the Colonel’s rubber arm into taking the evening off and watching a movie with him to relax before he threw himself back into Atlantis’ natural rhythm. He’d actually planned on finding out why Sheppard and Caldwell had been locked up together for hours at a time for unknown reasons – and hadn’t killed each other. Even the city’s gossip wells were bone dry on this one and it was frustrating Rodney. John Sheppard was not clever enough to keep Rodney from figuring out what the hell was going on.
When the door chimed, Rodney passed his hand over the sensor as he walked by, opening the door. He’d always meant to rig the locking system on the door to allow someone else aside from him to open it. But Atlantis’ security commands and programs were a little more complicated than he’d originally thought and much more of a mess too.
“I brought beer,” John said as he stepped in, letting the door shut behind him. He had a case of twelve hanging from one hand and two bags of potato chips in the other.
“Great, great,” Rodney answered a little distractedly, digging through a stack of DVDs sitting on one of the low shelves in his room.
He could hear Sheppard moving around in his room behind him setting things up to get comfortable to watch whatever movie they were going to watch. Rodney hadn’t actually told him what they were going to watch, mostly because it had been a spur of the moment decision. He’d gotten a few more DVDs when the Daedalus had arrived and he hadn’t really had time to go through them all.
“So what are we watching, McKay?” John asked.
Rodney grabbed the case closest to his hand and looked down at the title, wincing slightly. Well, it was better than nothing, he thought. Turning around he flashed the case in Sheppard’s general direction. “Ever seen Cube?” he asked in response.
Sheppard frowned from where he sat on the couch, beer in hand already. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Well, it’s not a bad movie,” Rodney told him, picking up the lap top off his desk. “Not the best mind you, but still not bad. The acting isn’t half bad, and the writer seemed to have a good idea when he started writing it. And it’s not god-awful science-fiction that has no base in reality whatsoever.”
Sheppard smirked around the top of his beer bottle. “Coming from you Rodney, that’s like a ringing endorsement.”
Rodney shrugged as he set the laptop down on the small table Sheppard had dragged over and put in the movie. “It was a low budget movie filmed in Canada,” Rodney replied. “And one of the actors, David Hewlett is really pretty good in this movie.”
“High praise,” Sheppard responded and handed Rodney a beer. “Cube it is then.”
They were hardly a half hour through the movie and Rodney was already regretting his choice. Cube was a horrible movie to be watching considering their own circumstances. Six people trapped in the middle of an ever shifting maze, unable to find their way out, slowly going crazy – it was too close to what had happened to them the first year in Atlantis. Too close to what was still happening to them even though they had regained contact with Earth. Because Earth was an unknown quantity now. It wasn’t home, it was just a place they had all come from, and no longer had to clear motives it once had, no longer held the same appeal as Atlantis did.
But they were all a little crazy – those that had come through the ‘gate and survived that first year alone. But that’s what happened to people when they had to adjust to survive in an unknown environment. And many of them had all gotten closer because of that time together, that build in trust and blood and sweat and fear.
Case in point was Lt. Colonel John Sheppard using Rodney for a pillow with his long body stretched out against his own. Who would have thought that Sheppard might be even the slightest bit interested in him? Rodney still had a difficult time grasping the fact that John, indeed, was. But the same events that had nearly driven them all nuts had also forged ties that almost nothing could break and had expressed themselves in intriguing ways.
Rodney ran his hand through Sheppard’s hair, marvelling a little jealously at the fullness and sipped at his beer. On the laptop, Worth was turning out to be the unlikely hero while Quentin turned out to be more of a threat than the cube itself as they raced through their shifting maze, trying to outrun the invisible ticking clock.
When the credits finally began to roll, they had gone through a bag and half of the chips and eight bottles of beer. It was enough to have left Rodney pleasantly buzzed, but not drunk. He closed his eyes and wished again that he had picked a different movie to watch tonight. Because anything would have let him lead into the topic he wanted better than this movie had. But John shifted against him, and cut Rodney’s train of thought short when he looked down.
They were sprawled out on the couch, John was lying mostly on top of him, head pillowed on his chest. Now his rather bony chin was digging into the softer tissue just under his ribs, but Rodney was caught in the curiously puzzled hazel eyes looking up at him.
“Would you leave Atlantis?” Sheppard asked in a soft voice.
Rodney hadn’t expected that question. And just where the hell had that come from anyway? Why would Sheppard be worried that he might leave Atlantis? “What kind of stupid question is that?” Rodney demanded. His hands left Sheppard’s neck and back and began to make fairly dramatic movements above them.
“No, I wouldn’t leave Atlantis. Where the hell would I go anyway? It’s not like there is another research base on Earth that could possibly keep my attention long enough to be even momentarily worth it. That and the fact that as soon as I left the city would probably end up back on the bottom of the damn ocean and in million pieces because someone had screwed up and no one knew how to fix the problem.” Rodney stopped there and turned his attention back to the man half enveloped in his arms.
“Where the hell did that question come from anyway? Do you want me off the team or something? And why the hell for? It’s not like-”
But Sheppard was shaking his head almost violently. “No, I don’t want you off the team, Rodney. That wasn’t what I was asking, or why.”
Rodney frowned at Sheppard, pushing himself up on his elbows and forcing Sheppard to sit up himself. “Then what, exactly, were you asking, Colonel?”
Sheppard winced at the use of his rank. He’d almost gotten Rodney to start using his first name, but Rodney often reverted back to the rank when he was upset or confused, or just plain pissed off with him. Rodney liked that little bit of distance. It meant that if he said something really stupid, he wouldn’t feel as hurt for hurting Sheppard’s feelings. Or at least that was what he was telling himself.
“Would you ever give up Atlantis and go back to Earth?” Sheppard tried again
Rodney wasn’t fooled by the carefully curious expression on Sheppard’s face. There was more going on here and Rodney didn’t have the slightest clue what. “No,” Rodney repeated firmly. “Not for any reason.”
Sheppard tilted his head slightly to one side, regarding him. Rodney felt something in his gut twist and catch at the look he saw on his friend’s – his almost lover’s – face. “Even if it meant that you could have Emily?” was the very delicately posed question.
Rodney felt that twist and catch turn into a painful knot. Because what would he give up for Emily? He’d give his right hand if she walked through the door to his room and asked for it. But would he – could he- give up Atlantis for her? Give up the people here that he had come to care about and respect? Could he give up Sheppard for a daughter he didn’t even know? Because that’s what it would mean. He would have to give them all up for a little girl who didn’t even know he existed and might hate him even if she did.
Would he do that?
“I – I don’t know,” Rodney answered finally, running his hands over his face.
July 14, 2006 (S.E.C.)
… This is something you should know before you get older. Love, any kind of love, makes you crazy.
Sometimes it’s a good crazy. And sometimes it’s a bad kind of crazy. But it’s still crazy.
Because love is so irrational and illogical. It’s an imbalance of chemicals in the brain; at least that is what lust and infatuation are. And love comes from those things sometimes.
And again I have no idea why I’m telling you this, other than the fact that I’d like to think that maybe, some day, if you ever get these letters, you might understand some of the choices that I have made. And I’m sure that you are being raised in the closed-minded American society that your mother so favoured and that you’ll probably think I’m crazy for ever having written these letters to you.
But, love makes you do crazy, silly things, Em. And this is one of them.
Another silly thing it does is make you worry yourself sick, and drive yourself up the walls with the endless possibilities of what could go wrong. And unfortunately something has gone wrong. Terribly wrong and now I’m left here in Atlantis to sit and wonder if I’m ever going to see him again. Left to wonder if he’s even alive at all.
And that’s a horrible thing to think I know, but by now you must have read the earlier letters explaining to you what we are facing out here in the Pegasus Galaxy, and so you might understand a little. We know he was culled, taken up by a Wraith Dart, but we have no idea where he is or if we can save him.
You are the first person I’m admitting this to, Em, but I think I might have fallen into that crazy pit again. Only this time, I haven’t fallen for a young, beautiful and relatively intelligent woman. But a cocky, flyboy-pilot, who’s hair seems to defy the laws of physics. And I want him back here so I can tell him that. Or maybe not tell him so much as show him.
I don’t know, Em. I just don’t know anymore…
They had been taken back to a cave. Not even a hive ship, but a cave, dark and dank. It was enough like a hive ship that John almost didn’t spot the difference, until his hand made contact with the slimy wall and felt the sharp jut of rock under his palm. It didn’t make any sense. Why would the Wraith take them back to a cave instead of taking them up to a hive ship and heading right for Atlantis or Earth, or their next culling?
There was one of his Lieutenants curled up in one corner of the room they’d been caged in. She was new to Atlantis. This was only her third trip through the Atlantis Stargate. Her name was Theresa Handelen, but almost everyone called her Sister or Sissy. John still hadn’t figured out why yet.
“Lieutenant,” Sheppard called in a soft voice, sliding over to the woman. “You awake?”
Kneeling next to his cellmate John heard the sharp intake of breath just before she spoke. “No, sir. I must be sleeping because I am clearly having a nightmare.” And there was another short, sharp intake of breath after that.
“Are you injured?” John asked with concern, his hands already moving to her face to turn it towards him. There wasn’t any blood on her face, or in her hair, and there was no bruising anywhere he could see. So probably no concussion.
“No,” she answered again. “No physically injuring that is too serious. Bruised ribs, scraps on my arm, both legs and back. Nothing deep or deadly.” But her eyes were rolling back in her head, and her flesh felt feverish and clammy.
“Like hell that’s the worst of it, Lieutenant,” John rasped. His fingers pressed into her throat to feel for her pulse. When he found it, John grew more concerned. She was either lying about her injuries, or there was something else seriously wrong with her, because her heartbeat was rapid and thready under his fingers.
She laughed without humour at his comment. But her laughter turned to a hacking cough that ended with thick, bloody bits coming up with every bone rattling contraction of her lungs. “You asked if I was injured, sir. Not what my current state of health was.” She closed her eyes and leaned heavily back against the wall. “I’m dying.”
John blinked and said nothing. He didn’t know this woman but she was still under his command. There was no way he was going to just let her die here on this rock. He’d opened his mouth to tell as much when she opened her eyes and looked at him again, silencing him with ordinary brown eyes in an pale but ordinary face. “Don’t, sir. With all due respect, there is nothing you can do to save me and you can’t order me to keep on living. It’s like a fast acting poison. It’s eating my lungs. Beware of the slim stuff, Colonel. And whatever you do don’t let it get into your system.”
It wasn’t too long after that that their captors came to them. John learned then what was so different about this capture. A young Wraith Queen was escorted into their caged room, cell. She went for the Lieutenant first. And when John tried to get in the way, he was detained by the Queen’s two escorts, forced to kneel and watch.
Handelen, even in her weakened state stared defiantly up at the Wraith and sneered. “Your defiance will only make my meal sweeter, human,” the Wraith Queen said.
Handelen laughed brokenly, her breath rattling through her melting lungs. “I don’t have any years to give you, daemon,” Handelen told her. A sick smile twisting her pale, blood smeared lips.
“We will see how many years you have to offer me,” the Queen answered and drew her feeding hand back before stabbing it into Handelen’s chest.
The Lieutenant’s scream was echoed by John’s as he struggled against the restraining arms that held him in his place. But Handelen’s scream died and a pain filled and raspy voice whispered a verse he hadn’t heard in years.
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.”
John both saw and felt a white light fill and surround him. And for a moment, his mind didn’t understand what was going on. He’d heard the Biblical verse Handelen had recited while the Wraith had fed on her, and for one flashing moment he remembered all the stories he’d heard about God and Light before it dawned on him that it was the Daedalus’ transport beam. And not some form of divine intervention.
They were on the bridge of the Daedalus and nothing seemed to really register. The Wraith had stopped feeding on Handelen to look about her. People were scampering for weapons, but not firing because a live Wraith Queen was a desirable commodity for Carson’s genetic research.
But Handelen had aged what looked like a hundred years. Her skin was thin and tight to the bond. Her ordinary brown eyes were milky and unseeing. And medium dark brown hair was white as fresh snow, but far more brittle. She was still looking up at the Wraith Queen, her spine still bowed. “And the light shineth in the darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not,” Handelen forced out. And then she died.
Ronon was the one who finally shot the confused Wraith Queen. John watched as the creature tumbled to the floor after three point blank shots from the pulse gun thing Ronon carried with him. John crawled over to Handelen, ignoring everyone else and did the one thing that he could do for the dead woman.
He understood now, why the others had often called her Sister or Sissy. Handelen had been deeply religious and spiritual. And she could apparently quote from the Bible at will. Though John didn’t learn until later, that Theresa ‘Sissy’ Handelen had actually had plans to become a nun before she joined the Marines, and had always planned to continue with that goal when she finally retired. Even if it killed her.
John’s hand reached out and shut those milky brown eyes, and laid her out neatly on the floor. Laying one hand on her temple, John made the sign of the cross on Handelen’s forehead and softly recited what he could remember of the Last Rites. He was surprised to note that a number of other voices joined his, filling in the blanks where his memory came up empty.
At least Carson would have a new subject to observe for a while.
John was lying on the bed in the infirmary when Rodney found him. He was asleep, but Rodney knew he would wake up easily and quickly, because Carson hadn’t given him any drugs. So he took a seat next to John’s bed and ran his fingers over the other man’s cheek.
Hazel eyes opened and focused on Rodney’s face and something passed between them. Some understanding that no one else would ever be able to comprehend. Because Rodney had learned to speak John’s silently language as fluently as John had learned to read his.
August 2, 2006 (S.E.C.)
…It’s really difficult to tell with him. But I think he thinks that he’s being really rather clever, Em. But I know that he’s up to something. I just don’t know what, yet anyway. It shouldn’t take too much to figure out. I mean, there is only so much that can really get by the major gossipmongers here in Atlantis. Eventually, everyone will know everything. It’s kind of sad how a small community can do that. Or it would be sad if it weren’t so useful.
But when the Daedalus brought us all back a few weeks ago after rescuing Sheppard and Handelen, Colonel Caldwell gave Sheppard a package, wrapped in shiny red tape. Whatever is going on right now must have to do with that package. And I think that if I don’t push too much, Sheppard might tell me what’s going on.
Well, I can always hope the stubborn fool will tell me anyway…
It had been another hellish week in Atlantis. Between the rolling black-outs, a rather severe thunder storm, random malfunctions with computers, and the communications system playing musical selections from the collective music database which was rather enjoyable until the entire city was forced to listen to the theme from Titanic for the seventeenth time in a row and Rodney, who’s patriotism didn’t extend quite that far, vowed to hunt down whichever tone deaf moron had brought that rubbish with them to Atlantis and cause them great pain – they needed this. They needed the stress relief, and mindlessness of it. God, they needed to be reminded that they were alive and human and made mistakes. That while they could feel exhaustion and pain, they could also fell the rush of pleasure and joy.
John had pushed Rodney up against the wall as soon as the doors had closed behind them. The lights had brightened, but only slightly before they dimmed again. They didn’t need much light right now. Soft grey light infused John’s bedroom enough to see by. Enough to know where his hands were and where Rodney’s were and the expression on Rodney’s face.
And then the light was blanketed out again, when Rodney pulled John’s shirt up and over his head, tossing it away so his hands could press against hot skin. John gasped quietly at the feel of those callused, careful hands moving up his chest and down his arms. But Rodney swallowed the slight noise when his mouth came crashing back on John’s, tongue sweeping in and staking a claim. John tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss further as his hands worked under Rodney’s shirt and began to tug him forwards.
John managed to get Rodney free of his shirt half way to his bed and was able to feel Rodney’s skin against his own. Rodney groaned when John bit carefully at his shoulder, tongue moving out to sooth and entice. He’d planned on going down on Rodney, on backing him against a wall and dropping to his knees in front of him and swallowing him whole. John missed blow jobs, both the getting and the giving, and he’d wanted to feel Rodney’s cock pressed against his tongue, as it slid into his mouth to bump at the back of his throat. He’d wanted to see if he still had that zen-like ability to deep throat and not have to back off, just swallow around the intruding weight and suck.
But they’d gotten to his room and John realized he wanted something else, aside from blowing Rodney. He wanted Rodney to fuck him. He wanted the erection pressed against his thigh to push into his body, to stretch him and fill him. He wanted Rodney to fuck him, nice and hard and slow.
The backs of his legs hit the bed and John wrapped his arms around Rodney and fell back on to the softer surface. Rodney grunted above him and John sucked in a deep breath from the impact, but had already recovered enough to fish a hand between their bodies and unzip the fly on Rodney’s pants and slip his hand inside. Rodney moaned over him, his mouth seeking out and finding John’s when he pressed the heel of his hand against Rodney’s cock.
Rolling his hips forward the back of John’s hand pressed into his own erection pulling a startled soft hiss of breath. Closing his fingers around Rodney, John drew back from the kiss just enough to be able to speak and see his eyes. “I want you to fuck me Rodney,” John told him in a low, almost breathless voice. “I want you to fuck me slow and hard.”
Rodney’s impossibly blue eyes grew wide and seemed to grow darker with lust and arousal. When he leaned in to steal another kiss, John backed off slightly, the hand he had wrapped around Rodney’s dick, twisted slightly causing just enough friction to make his eye’s flutter half shut. “Do you want to, McKay?” John asked, leaning up a little more. His lips brushed Rodney’s when he posed his next question. “Do you want to fuck me, Rodney? Do you want to push your lube slick dick in to me, Rodney? Want to take me from behind?” Rodney had a slightly wild look in his eyes now, he’d even stopped breathing when John’s tongue came out and flicked Rodney’s lower lip. “Because I want you to.”
“Yes,” Rodney gasped and dove in for a hot, dirty kiss that made up for what it lacked in finesse with enthusiasm and need. And then it was like their clothing just melted away. Their boots came off, and John couldn’t remember how. Their pants were removed and John didn’t remember when.
All he could think about now was Rodney’s slick finger circling around the tight ring of muscles of his ass before carefully pushing in. His breath hitched when Rodney slowly rotated that finger, making fleeting contact with his prostate before withdrawing and coming back a moment later with more lube and a slightly firm pressure. It was like feeling a remembered pleasure in memory only, it was just a little more tangible, but not by much.
When Rodney pressed two fingers into him, John closed his eyes and sighed. Rodney groaned behind him, his forehead rolling on the small of his back. “Oh God, you’re so tight and so quiet.”
John laughed a little at that, but his laughter was cut short when Rodney curled his fingers inside of his body and made solid contact with his prostate. A small noise crawled out of his throat as his hands twisted in the bed sheets – something between a whimper and a moan. John wasn’t sure and didn’t care because Rodney curled his fingers again and pressed. John rocked his hips back, riding Rodney’s fingers while he clawed at the bed sheets under him. It was intense and pleasurable and made little white dots float in his vision when he opened his eyes.
“Fuck,” Rodney breathed out. “I wish you could see this. You look so fucking hot doing that.” Rodney leaned in again and ran his tongue up John’s spine.
When Rodney pulled his fingers out, John whimpered at the loss. His body was practically humming with the building orgasm, but he wasn’t left waiting very long because Rodney came back and carefully worked a third finger into the mix and held John still. He couldn’t take much more of this, he was going to come if Rodney kept this up and he didn’t want to. Not before Rodney at least started to fuck him with something other than his fingers.
Hips twitching a little under Rodney’s hand, John’s body tried to curl around the pleasure. He might be a nearly silent lover, but he was a physically responsive one. “Rodney,” John breathed. “Rodney, please…”
He felt Rodney’s shudder and then his fingers disappeared from his body. John looked back over his shoulder to watch. Rodney’s trembling hand poured more lube into his palm before he slicked himself up with quick movements. And some small part of John’s brain that was still working, filed away the sight and tacked a note to the memory to see if Rodney would jerk off for him at some point in the future.
And then Rodney was there, pressing into him and John was rolling his hips back to help the careful push along. Once Rodney had breached the tighter outer ring of muscle it got easier. And it felt great, exactly what John had wanted when the door had closed behind them who knew how long ago. But Rodney was being careful, and John didn’t want careful, so when Rodney made a gentle thrust forward, John rocked his hips back, and pushed himself up with his hands. Rodney caught him with an arm around his chest, pulling him back against his body.
The movement accomplished two of John’s goals, getting them into the position he wanted, and bringing his ass down to meet Rodney’s thighs. “Oh god,” Rodney moaned against the back of his neck, arms tightening around him. “Yes. So tight,” he muttered.
John’s head fell back and he lifted his hips just slightly, and sank back down again. “Rodney,” he breathed out again. “Move, please, god, move.”
And then he did. And it was slow and hard, and nearly fucking perfect. Rodney licked at the back of his neck, teeth scrapping over his shoulder. John shudder around him, eyes closed with a short, sharp intake of breath. Rodney had discovered that particular erogenous zone almost a month ago and John loved it form this position. Because when Rodney’s teeth bit his shoulder and he thrust into John hitting his prostate, John cried out sharply.
He was left clutching at the sheets still bunched in his hands, body trembling on the edge. Rodney seemed to realize and the fact that for this time, John wasn’t going to touch himself, because he wanted Rodney to bring him over that burning edge. One hand moved from his hip to wrap around his throbbing cock in a tight but slick fist. Rodney did nothing more than hold him and let his thrust pump John’s cock through that grip, his teeth taking a firmer hold on his shoulder.
The orgasm was sudden and nearly blinding. The little white dots that had spotted his vision swallowed it now, and John felt his body tighten around Rodney’s dick as he came into his hand. He thought he felt Rodney try to mouth the work fuck before he stopped with the slow and hard and just went with hard, thrusting a half dozen more times before he came in a near burning wave.
They’d rearranged themselves on the bed and cleaned up a little when they could move. According to the clock they had dozed for almost two hours when John woke up, his limbs tangled with Rodney’s. John shifted a little, groaning softly when the movement made him aware of a few aches and pains.
His knees hurt from the position they had been in when they had sex. His ass ached pleasantly, a reminder of what they had done. And John doubted that he would be able to walk properly for another day or so. And then there was the near perfect imprint of Rodney’s teeth on his shoulder. While he wouldn’t miss the pain in his knees, he was going to thoroughly enjoy the other two for as long as they lasted.
“Go back to sleep,” Rodney muttered against his chest, nuzzling a little closer.
John smiled and rubbed his chin against the soft hair on Rodney’s head. He closed his eyes again, enjoying the feel of Rodney against him. He’d waited for this, been careful to take his time with the other man. John had wanted to make sure that Rodney knew he was in this for the long haul. And he was fairly certain that he had succeeded on that point. John wasn’t going anywhere, and while it scared the shit out of him sometimes, he knew that somewhere along the way, he’d fallen for the arrogant scientist. And while it was news he wanted to share with said arrogant scientist, he didn’t think he could, at least not in words and not easily.
But there was other news to tell. Something he’d meant to tell Rodney after he’d given him the blow-job that had been in the original plan, but could be given now. “Rodney?”
“What?” was his slightly irritated reply.
“I think I found her.”
Rodney sighed and rolled his head back to look blearily up at John. “Found who?”
But John could see Rodney was waking up a little with curiosity and he fought back the smile that wanted to surface. Because now would not be a good time for McKay to think he was pulling his chain.
Pressing his forehead to Rodney’s he answered in the same soft voice he had used before. “Emily.”
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The End