FIC: But Wait, There's More! 2/2 by lavvyan (McKay/Sheppard, R)
Fic header and additional information, see Part One.
~~~
"And that was 'McKay's Astonishingly Low-priced Products'. Thank you for tuning in, and remember: if it's not brilliant, it's not worth having."
"Whoever came up with that slogan should be shot," Rodney commented as the cameras rolled away from them, theme music already blaring.
"Ford?" John grinned, and Rodney rolled his eyes.
"I should have guessed."
"You should," John agreed solemnly, putting the ChemQuick back on the counter as the theme music died down. Rodney had been reminiscing about his college days and how his landlady had been in a constant state of paranoia, regularly dragging him into her kitchen and demanding to know if he could smell any gas. There had never been any leaks, but she'd usually cooked for him after he'd reassured her, so he hadn't complained. Much. So he'd invented an incredibly sensitive gas detector, to put it in layman's - John's - terms and had his sister advise him on how to make it look decorative, and just like that, PegasusTV had a new best-seller.
Rodney loved this job.
He left the studio together with John, both of them waving at Emmagan when they spotted her standing in front of the elevator. She smiled calmly as they approached.
"Teyla!" John greeted her, and the two of them exercised a complicated manoeuvre that wasn't quite a hug and obviously involved pressing their foreheads together. "How are my ratings?"
"Our ratings," Rodney corrected him sourly, belatedly adding, "Uh, hello."
Emmagan inclined her head at him, then turned back to John with an impish smile on her face. "I am on my way to see Elizabeth about your ratings. You are welcome to accompany me."
John raised his hands and took a hasty step back, nearly stepping on Rodney's foot. "Thanks, I think I'll pass. I just remembered something else. Maybe next time."
As a rule, Teyla Emmagan didn't grin, but she seemed to be almost willing to make an exception for John. "I understand, John. I wish you a nice evening, then. You as well, Dr. McKay," she added as the elevator dinged open.
"Say hi to Elizabeth for me," John told her as she stepped into the small cabin and favoured them with another calm smile. Rodney waved vaguely and her smile broadened before the elevator doors slid closed again.
"Guess we'll take the next one down," John commented, then his face brightened. "Hey, you wanna go see a movie?"
"What, now?" Rodney asked incredulously, taken completely by surprise. He'd been planning to drive straight home, have some macaroni and cheese, and perhaps read a little in the latest edition of Annalen der Physik.
"No, some time next month. Yes, Rodney, now."
"Uh. What movie?" John threw him a dirty look, and Rodney hurried to agree, "Okay, yes, fine." If John wanted another date, Rodney was just about the last person to stand in his way. Who knew: this time, with a little luck he might even get somewhere.
"Cool." John bounced on the balls of his feet, shooting Rodney a smile that made the last of his irritation evaporate immediately, "I'll meet you outside."
He had no defences against the man, did he?
Still, Rodney refused to let John drive again, so they drove to the movie theatre in Rodney's slightly run-down but still perfectly adequate LeSabre. After at least ten minutes of careful consideration - of which at least eight were for show and just to drive Rodney insane with impatience, he had no doubt - John picked a movie that was set somewhere around World War II, explaining at Rodney's doubtful glance that he loved watching those old planes. They each got a giant bowl of popcorn and enough candy to last them two hours - and water, not soda, because after an unfortunate surprise with a supposedly citrus-free soda Rodney wasn't about to bet his life on a label - and then John chose a seat for them in the back of the theatre.
Which wasn't a seat so much as a couch, with no armrest between them, and Rodney resigned himself to spending the next two hours in a constant state of distraction.
He was right. Despite all his efforts to concentrate, Rodney couldn't have said what the movie was about, and if his life depended on it. John was slouching next to him, legs splayed so that their thighs were touching, leaving Rodney with the certain knowledge that only two layers of fabric were separating them. Over the course of the movie, John kind of kept inching further into Rodney's personal space, seemingly unintentional, until they were pressed together from ankle to shoulder. Every now and then, he would shift a little to reach for his popcorn, pressing even closer to Rodney, and it was like a truly fucked up combination of heaven and hell. John seemed to radiate heat through his thin black shirt, making it impossible for Rodney to ignore their closeness as the entire right half of his body was warmed by John's proximity. He wanted to reach out and place his hand on John's thigh, or perhaps slide his arm casually onto the backrest behind John's shoulders, only he wasn't sure whether or not that would make John inch away again. On the other hand, what if John was waiting for Rodney to take some action? What if he wanted to make out? What if he didn't? Heaven and hell, and if Rodney had to surreptitiously adjust the seat of his pants every once in a while because his body was reacting to John with a constant low-level arousal, it was probably nothing less than he deserved.
John, oblivious, spent the whole two hours sitting quietly beside him, a slight smile playing on his lips as he watched the old planes fly.
After the movie Rodney drove John back to PegasusTV where they loitered around in the parking lot between John's car and his own, talking and joking and grinning and somehow drifting closer and closer until Rodney couldn't take it any more. He grabbed John and stopped him mid-word by mashing their mouths together with admittedly little finesse, but he wasn't exactly thinking about technique right now. John made a small surprised oof against his mouth but returned Rodney's kiss eagerly enough, and they finally, finally started making out. By then it was somewhere around 11.30 p.m., between shifts, and the parking lot was empty, silent except for the soft sounds of their breathing, their kissing. After an entire evening of waiting, Rodney was hard almost immediately, pressing closer to John as the kisses grew more heated, his hands sliding down to cup John's ass. Except John pulled away, again, and Rodney blinked at him without comprehension.
"Still not one of those girls, McKay," John offered with a slight grin and a faintly apologetic shrug. He was panting, just a little, his lips a soft pink and his shirt slightly twisted, and Rodney had a hard time concentrating on his words instead of how badly he wanted to touch him, hold him, have him, right now.
"You're not a girl at all," he pointed out helpfully, leaning in for another kiss, but John stopped him with a hand on his chest. Rodney looked down, staring at the splayed fingers, feeling their warmth seep through the shirt and heat his skin, and John cleared his throat as he not quite yanked his hand away. Is it that repulsive to touch me?
"Look, Rodney-"
"Yes, I know," Rodney interrupted him, "it's not something you do." He took a step back and adjusted his pants, not even bothering to hide how achingly hard he was. John winced sympathetically, looking dishevelled but composed, and in that moment Rodney resented him. At least a little. "Do you think you could perhaps explain why it's not something you do? Because I'll have you know that usually, men aren't nearly this much work."
"It's just-" John shrugged helplessly, "I just need a little more time, okay?"
"Time," Rodney repeated stupidly, and John shrugged again, licking his lips.
"Yeah."
Rodney took a deep breath, willing his erection to go down and his brain to come back on-line in the face of John's nervousness. "All right," he said finally, letting out a small sigh when he saw John relax in obvious relief. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but wonder why John responded to his kisses so eagerly but pulled away as soon as it seemed that they might lead to something more.
"So, uh. See you tomorrow?" John wanted to know, unconsciously echoing Rodney's words from when their last date had ended in awkwardness. Rodney straightened, wondering when other people had started looking to him for emotional reassurance. Or perhaps that was just John.
"Yes. See you tomorrow."
~~~
Over the next two weeks, Rodney tried to give John the time he claimed to need, but his frustration kept building up. He wasn't the most patient of men even on his best days, and this waiting game John seemed to be playing - without any explanation beyond not being 'one of those girls, McKay,' - was driving him way past his endurance. He could respect John's strange hang-ups; really, he could… just, how long? And if John didn't want to be touched, then why kiss Rodney at all? Why not simply keep his distance and send a clear goddamn signal for once? All this hot-cold-yes-no-maybe-a-little had Rodney thoroughly confused, and he hated feeling that way.
"Do you think you'll be 'one of those girls' any time soon?" Rodney wanted to know after their latest telecast, when it didn't seem that he and John would ever progress beyond having dinner together. "Because while I hate to admit it, I'm not all that good at dealing with physical discomfort, and I'd like to know how much worse it's likely to become."
"Developing a mild case of blue balls, Rodney?" John grinned, reaching for him, and Rodney spluttered as he took a step to the side, purposely ignoring the way John's face fell.
"Excuse me? Do you think this is, what, funny? I'll grant you that a relationship based on more than mere physical attraction does have its merits, but how long are you going to keep me waiting before I'm finally allowed to touch you?"
Because that was simply cruel and unusual punishment, being so close to someone as hot as John, and not being allowed to do anything but look and sometimes kiss. Rodney was a lot of things; a masochist, however, he was not.
"Talking about your feelings, McKay?" John drawled, his expression unreadable. "Want me to paint your nails next?"
"Hey! May I remind you that you asked me for a date, not the other way around!?" Rodney snapped, thoroughly fed up with John and his diva performance. "You wanted this!"
"I didn't ask for your hand in marriage, Rodney."
"But-"
"Later, McKay." And just like that, John left him standing in the hall. Rodney clenched his hands into fists and jutted out his chin, nearly shaking with frustration.
What the hell was wrong with that man?
~~~
In hindsight, Rodney should probably have felt at least a little suspicious when his phone rang displaying Genii Industries' number. As it was, though, he answered with a yawn and not the slightest inkling that his day was about to become very complicated.
"Dr. McKay," a rough voice greeted him, dripping joviality. Brian Cowen, Genii Industries' CEO. "I have to congratulate you on the success of your products, it seems."
"Yes," Rodney agreed coolly, sitting back down on his bed, "apparently, 'a man with no prior experience in the electronic retailing industry' can sell his inventions just fine."
"Ah, still smarting about that one, I see." Before Rodney could reply, Cowen went on, "I can admit when I was wrong, Dr. McKay. Perhaps we should talk about business one more time."
"I have a contract with AtlantisCorp." A contract he fully intended to keep, thank you. Weir and her PegasusTV had given him a chance when nobody else would, and Rodney wasn't about to forget that. People who called him an ungrateful bastard had simply never truly deserved his gratitude. In fact, Rodney prided himself on his loyalty.
"Oh, I'm aware of that. Whatever they pay you, Genii Industries offers you twice that amount. We'll also cover for a possible penalty."
Rodney blinked at the phone in his hand. Double the money, really? "I, uh… I'll have to think about that," he finally said hesitantly. Double the money. Huh.
"Of course," Cowen allowed graciously. "Just give me a call when you have reached your decision. Just remember, Dr. McKay: playing around with Atlantis might be fun, but Genii can make you rich."
With a click, Cowen was gone, and Rodney was left staring at his phone's mobile unit. Making him rich. That would… that would be really, really nice. The things he could do if he were rich… he could build his own research lab and fit it with only the latest equipment and the best and brightest minds his generation had to offer, like that Czech guy who recently seemed to be on to something if his articles were anything to go by. He could devote his entire time to research, thereby placing the Nobel Prize well within his reach. He could even make up his own prize: the McKay Prize for Outstanding Scientific Achievement! Rodney smiled dreamily as he imagined how incredibly cool that would be, then his face fell as the word 'cool' reminded him that he couldn't just up and leave. Because, well, there was still the whole gratitude and loyalty thing, yes, but also a significantly more private matter.
Never mind his ties to AtlantisCorp. and the Pegasus Home Shopping Network - what about John?
~~~
Looking down on his plate, Rodney used his fork to place yet another pea on top of Mashed Potato Hill and absent-mindedly watched it roll down to hit the gravy with a tiny splash. The gravy was good. For that matter, so were the peas and the mashed potatoes and the meatloaf. PegasusTV's kitchen had a policy of highest quality ingredients only, and it showed, while the menus were still perfectly affordable. He wondered how the food at Genii Industries would be. Probably overcooked.
"Rodney."
"Hmm?" He looked up to find John watching him with a small frown.
"You've been distracted all day. Something wrong?"
"What? Oh," Rodney waved his hand, trying to appear unperturbed. "No, it's, uh, everything's fine."
They'd just made up again, after a tense apology from Rodney that John had accepted with a jerky nod. Rodney wasn't entirely sure what he'd been apologising for, but the point was that they had started dating again, no expectations, and the last thing he wanted was for John to feel under pressure. Their relationship was strained enough as it was, so the best course of action was probably to keep quiet about Cowen's phone call, keep it a secret. He'd figure things out on his own, somehow.
John's frown had deepened. "Look, if you don't want to talk about it, okay, but don't-"
"Genii offered me double the money if I go to them," Rodney blurted, wincing a second later. Some secret-keeper he was. Thankfully, the small mess hall was mostly empty, so no one had heard him but John.
John, who seemed to have frozen on his chair. "The Genii guys are criminals," he said flatly.
"I know. Believe me, I'd have every contract vetted by a lawyer before I'd sign anything." I'm just really not sure if I should go, and you're not asking me to stay. Shouldn't you be asking me to stay?
"So what's the plan?" John asked instead, regarding him with a strangely closed-off expression.
"I don't know." Rodney raised his chin, hating the coarseness of his voice when he wanted to know, "Where are we standing, John?"
John just looked at him, his face betraying nothing of what he was thinking. Rodney waited, first for John to say something, then for any reaction at all as the seconds kept ticking by, the silence stretching between them until Rodney couldn't pretend any more.
"I see," he nodded, blinking rapidly as his voice cracked. He'd thought- Well, he didn't even know what he'd thought, what he could have possibly expected; he just knew that it hadn't been this. Trying to swallow his disappointment and nearly choking on it, he rose, not looking at John as he picked up his wallet and turned away. Why did you even ask me on a date if you don't care? he didn't ask. The question wasn't worth the effort it would take to meet John's eyes again, and honestly, Rodney didn't really want to know.
He could feel John's gaze on his back as he walked to the door. No matter how he let his hand linger on the handle, though, John didn't call him back.
Rodney walked out.
~~~
"So what do you think?" Rodney asked the cat, lightly stroking his thumb over the bridge of her nose, "Atlantis or Genii?"
In lieu of an answer, the cat butted her head against Rodney's hand with a demanding meep. He smiled briefly as he scratched her neck. "Of course, you don't care who pays for your food as long as it keeps coming, right?"
The cat meeped again and he petted her affectionately. At least she let herself be touched.
Perhaps he should make a spreadsheet to help him sort out the pros and cons in his head. Atlantis had friendly people who actually seemed to like him, and John, which were pros. They also had insane working hours and a rather dim-witted engineering staff and John, which were cons. Two pros, three cons. Genii, on the other hand, had money and no John, which were pros. They also had people he didn't like and no morals to speak of and no John, which were cons. Two pros, three cons.
Rodney groaned, mournfully shaking his head at the mess he'd somehow gotten himself into without even noticing.
Atlantis or Genii?
~~~
He was studying fluid dynamics with Radek in their dorm room, writing red equations on blue paper. Kavanagh glared with a pinched expression down at his pad of yellow legal paper and drew thick circles with a green crayon. Radek and Rodney grinned at each other, students from two different sides of the world united in contempt for a moron, except Jeannie opened her mouth and said, thump, thump, thump.
"Huh?" Rodney asked, gaping at her, and Jeannie rolled her eyes and repeated, thump, thump, thump, thump. "What?"
He looked at Radek but the Czech merely shrugged and flew out of the window, and then Rodney opened his eyes and blinked at the dark ceiling, a loud thudding sound still echoing through the house.
Someone was hammering against his front door.
Confused, Rodney turned his head toward the digital watch on his bedside table. 3:17 a.m., the slightly burred LCD informed him, and Rodney closed his eyes. That was far too early to get up and open the door for what would undoubtedly turn out to be a crazed junkie astrophysicist murderer anyway. He groaned as the hammering continued without giving the impression of stopping any time soon, first burying his head under his pillow, and when that didn't help, groggily getting to his feet.
"Pants... pants," he mumbled until he spotted a pair of black sweatpants hanging over the back of a chair, nearly hidden by a stack of physics journals. Pulling them on and marching to the door he grabbed a t-shirt, more as an afterthought and because the night air was cool on his sleep-warm skin than for matters of decency. If someone was insisting on dragging him out of bed at three in the morning, they had no claim on him following society's demands for decency.
The forceful knocking grew louder as Rodney padded through the house on bare feet, irritation growing until he finally reached the front door, yanking it open with a snarled, "What?!" that died in his throat when he saw who his nightly intruder was.
John, still wearing the same jeans and light blue shirt he'd had on the day before, was smelling faintly of beer. Fist still raised, he blinked at Rodney as if he had no idea what to do now the door was open. Rodney blinked back.
"John? What on Earth are you doing here?" Hadn't they just broken up a mere few hours ago?
That seemed to break John's spell of silence and he started to talk, faster than Rodney could remember ever hearing him talk before. "Look, I have no idea where we're standing, but God, Rodney…" he slurred, swaying slightly, "I mean, I'm terrible with this stuff and, you know. Sex. It's… It's just not… I don't like it all that much, okay, but I can… I just need to… and seriously, you won't be selling half as much without me so the Genii deal is just crap."
Of all the- "I know," Rodney said stupidly. "I, uh, already called Cowen to decline his offer."
"You have?"
Rodney snorted and felt his mouth twist into a sarcastic smile. "Yes. But it's nice to know you care." Which wasn't what he'd meant to say at all, except perhaps it was, a little. This constant up and down with John was exhausting, he was tired, and he just wanted to go back to bed and pull the blanket over his head and sleep until he felt awake enough again to understand what John was trying to tell him. "Listen-"
"No, I… Rodney." John took a deep breath and a step forward, his expression somewhere between scared and determined as he placed his hands on either side of Rodney's face and pulled him in. Rodney was too befuddled to do anything but obediently lean in, eyes fluttering closed as John kissed him. His mouth tasted vaguely of beer but still mostly familiar; like something Rodney would always want to come back to; like home. They both sighed and then groaned as the kiss grew firmer, more heated, sexual instead of sensual. Then somehow John's shirt had come off and Rodney's t-shirt was lying in an ochre puddle half on his left foot and John was fumbling with Rodney's sweatpants, and wait a minute.
"Okay, stop." Rodney grabbed John's wrists to still the insistent hands. The man probably didn't even realise what he was doing, where this was leading, drunk as he was. "You don't have to. I already said I was staying."
John licked his lips and shrugged. "Yeah. I think I'm staying, too." He looked embarrassed and shy and stubborn, and Rodney's heart rate picked up the pace.
"Are you-"
"Yes, Rodney," John interrupted him, "I'm sure."
"But you're-"
"I'm not drunk." John picked that moment to sway on his feet, and he shook his head as if to clear it. "Okay, I'm drunk, but I know what I'm doing. What we... Rodney," he added in a helpless little voice, and Rodney just about melted on the spot.
"You're gorgeous," he mumbled, letting go of John's wrists to run his hand up and down John's warm back, feeling muscle play under skin when John shivered slightly. "How could anyone not want to touch you?"
"That… that wasn't really the issue," John muttered, and Rodney belatedly realised that the faint tremble just then hadn't been born from pleasure. In fact, John was tense in his arms, breath coming shallow and fast, and when Rodney slowly ran his hand down to cup John's groin, there was no sign of an erection.
Jesus. "What, now I'm supposed to rape you?" he demanded, nearly stumbling over his feet as he jerked away. "Are you insane?"
"Rodney-"
"No!" Rodney yelled, not caring if he woke the entire neighbourhood if he could just get some sense into John's head. What the hell did the man think he was doing? "What the hell do you think you're doing? For that matter, what the hell do you think I'm doing? You don't like sex and you're, you're," he gestured in the direction of John's groin, "you're not even hard, and what do you think you're doing?"
"I just-" John licked his lips. "Look, I, I care about... and I know you want to," a little swirl of his finger like that meant anything, "and I thought, how hard can it be, to, to-"
"-let yourself be raped?" Rodney finished flatly.
"Would you just stop with that word already?" John's voice was dripping with exasperation, and Rodney crossed his arms. "Look. I didn't ask you on a date to lead you on. I, uh, like you. Kind of a lot. It's just not-" John shrugged helplessly, "I really don't like being touched. People did that a lot when I was a kid, and I... don't like it."
"Then where do you think this is going?" Rodney wanted to know, arms falling to his sides as he sighed. He'd have to be spectacularly shallow to want John simply for his good looks, but at the same time, he just had to admit that he didn't have the patience for a platonic relationship. No matter how funny and sarcastic and dorky John might be or how well their personalities seemed to fit together, Rodney would always want to touch him.
"I like kissing you," John offered hesitantly, "We could work our way up from there?"
"I don't think that would be such a good idea." Rodney knew his luck. He'd end up traumatising John even more and then paying his therapy bills for the rest of their lives. But it was tempting. With John standing right there in front of him, looking dishevelled and hopeful, it was very, very tempting. Some part of Rodney would probably regret his altruism until he died or got Alzheimer's, but he was willing to act selflessly for once in his life. This wasn't about him. This was about John. "Perhaps we should-"
"Rodney," John interrupted him, perhaps sensing that Rodney was about to send him away. "I'm not some fragile flower. I'm not going to break. I just have some... issues, and I'm asking you to work them out with me."
"I'm no psychiatrist," Rodney replied, wavering. He wanted, oh, he wanted, but-
"But you're a genius," John said, flashing him his most winning TV smile. "And I trust you. We just need a little time."
The bastard knew exactly how to get to him. Rodney threw up his hands in defeat and John smirked at him, visibly relaxing as he stepped close enough again to pull Rodney into another kiss. This one was triumphant, claiming, anything but shy or hesitant in any way, and perhaps John was right. Perhaps this could really work.
Then John pulled back, rested his forehead against Rodney's and mumbled, "Let's go to bed," and Rodney knew that he was dealing with a madman, or at the very least an idiot, because that was obviously progressing much faster than John was fit to deal with. Again.
"John-"
"To sleep," John explained hastily, tripping over the words and smiling sheepishly. "You're tired, I'm drunk, and we both could use the break."
"So I'll call you a taxi," Rodney offered, mulishly raising his chin.
John sighed, putting his arms around Rodney's waist to hold him in a loose embrace. "I have to get used to touching you at some point," he muttered, kissing Rodney's cheek just underneath his eye, the bridge of his nose, his upper lip. "Let me handle this at my own pace, okay?"
Rodney shivered and took a deep breath, threatening somewhat shakily, "I swear to God, if you change your mind again I won't care how much Elizabeth likes you. I'm going to eviscerate you."
"I won't." John looked at him, hazel eyes dark and beseeching, leaving Rodney utterly defenceless. "Trust me, I won't."
And with John lying next to him, body turned toward Rodney's without quite touching him, his breath warm on Rodney's shoulder, Rodney believed him. He closed his eyes, inching his hand closer to John's until their fingers were just brushing together, and fell asleep.
~~~
The next morning, Rodney awoke alone, the other side of the bed cold and empty. He pushed himself up on his elbows, searched the room for John's clothes and didn't find them, and let himself fall back into the pillow, closing his eyes. He couldn't even say he was surprised to find himself alone, but still he'd been hoping. Really, he should have known better.
It had been stupid, so stupid to give in to John. How many times had he heard, 'I'm not one of those girls, McKay'; how many times had John pulled away? But instead of remembering that, Rodney had taken advantage of John when the man had been intoxicated and in an obviously stressful situation, which was just depraved. Of course John would walk out, thoroughly disgusted and anxious to put as many miles as possible between himself and Rodney without leaving the general area.
Working together after this mess was going to be awkward, Rodney supposed. Perhaps he should hand in his notice and move away. There were still several offers in the private research sector that had arrived after the publishing of his latest article on Lorentzian wormholes. He could also accept the offer of the United States' government and move to Colorado, although he knew deep space telemetry to be painfully boring, but hey, that could be his punishment. Or he could withdraw from academia altogether and move to a desert island somewhere in the Caribbean, to be forgotten and eventually killed by a hurricane.
A wary voice from the kitchen interrupted his musings. "Ah, Rodney. Your coffee-maker has a tentacle wrapped around my wrist."
John.
John, who was in his kitchen, and not gone. Rodney blinked, and then his body relaxed all at once. John was still there, he though, smiling as he pulled the covers a little more tightly around his shoulders, suddenly ready to doze just a bit longer. John, sounding suspicious and a little tired and like he was smiling nevertheless, and wow, really? That was… remarkably nice, actually.
"Rodney, do you have- Shit, what the hell is that?"
Something crashed, the cat let out a high-pitched squeal, and seconds later darted into the bedroom and under the bed. From the kitchen, John could be heard cursing loudly.
Rodney's smile widened. When he'd walked away from - been kicked out of, whatever - his academic circles, he'd never thought he'd find himself in the electronic retailing business, or with the king of home shopping as his boyfriend. He'd never thought that he'd find himself in a situation where he'd think of himself as happy.
Yet here he was.
~~~
End.
Companion piece: Handmade
~~~
"And that was 'McKay's Astonishingly Low-priced Products'. Thank you for tuning in, and remember: if it's not brilliant, it's not worth having."
"Whoever came up with that slogan should be shot," Rodney commented as the cameras rolled away from them, theme music already blaring.
"Ford?" John grinned, and Rodney rolled his eyes.
"I should have guessed."
"You should," John agreed solemnly, putting the ChemQuick back on the counter as the theme music died down. Rodney had been reminiscing about his college days and how his landlady had been in a constant state of paranoia, regularly dragging him into her kitchen and demanding to know if he could smell any gas. There had never been any leaks, but she'd usually cooked for him after he'd reassured her, so he hadn't complained. Much. So he'd invented an incredibly sensitive gas detector, to put it in layman's - John's - terms and had his sister advise him on how to make it look decorative, and just like that, PegasusTV had a new best-seller.
Rodney loved this job.
He left the studio together with John, both of them waving at Emmagan when they spotted her standing in front of the elevator. She smiled calmly as they approached.
"Teyla!" John greeted her, and the two of them exercised a complicated manoeuvre that wasn't quite a hug and obviously involved pressing their foreheads together. "How are my ratings?"
"Our ratings," Rodney corrected him sourly, belatedly adding, "Uh, hello."
Emmagan inclined her head at him, then turned back to John with an impish smile on her face. "I am on my way to see Elizabeth about your ratings. You are welcome to accompany me."
John raised his hands and took a hasty step back, nearly stepping on Rodney's foot. "Thanks, I think I'll pass. I just remembered something else. Maybe next time."
As a rule, Teyla Emmagan didn't grin, but she seemed to be almost willing to make an exception for John. "I understand, John. I wish you a nice evening, then. You as well, Dr. McKay," she added as the elevator dinged open.
"Say hi to Elizabeth for me," John told her as she stepped into the small cabin and favoured them with another calm smile. Rodney waved vaguely and her smile broadened before the elevator doors slid closed again.
"Guess we'll take the next one down," John commented, then his face brightened. "Hey, you wanna go see a movie?"
"What, now?" Rodney asked incredulously, taken completely by surprise. He'd been planning to drive straight home, have some macaroni and cheese, and perhaps read a little in the latest edition of Annalen der Physik.
"No, some time next month. Yes, Rodney, now."
"Uh. What movie?" John threw him a dirty look, and Rodney hurried to agree, "Okay, yes, fine." If John wanted another date, Rodney was just about the last person to stand in his way. Who knew: this time, with a little luck he might even get somewhere.
"Cool." John bounced on the balls of his feet, shooting Rodney a smile that made the last of his irritation evaporate immediately, "I'll meet you outside."
He had no defences against the man, did he?
Still, Rodney refused to let John drive again, so they drove to the movie theatre in Rodney's slightly run-down but still perfectly adequate LeSabre. After at least ten minutes of careful consideration - of which at least eight were for show and just to drive Rodney insane with impatience, he had no doubt - John picked a movie that was set somewhere around World War II, explaining at Rodney's doubtful glance that he loved watching those old planes. They each got a giant bowl of popcorn and enough candy to last them two hours - and water, not soda, because after an unfortunate surprise with a supposedly citrus-free soda Rodney wasn't about to bet his life on a label - and then John chose a seat for them in the back of the theatre.
Which wasn't a seat so much as a couch, with no armrest between them, and Rodney resigned himself to spending the next two hours in a constant state of distraction.
He was right. Despite all his efforts to concentrate, Rodney couldn't have said what the movie was about, and if his life depended on it. John was slouching next to him, legs splayed so that their thighs were touching, leaving Rodney with the certain knowledge that only two layers of fabric were separating them. Over the course of the movie, John kind of kept inching further into Rodney's personal space, seemingly unintentional, until they were pressed together from ankle to shoulder. Every now and then, he would shift a little to reach for his popcorn, pressing even closer to Rodney, and it was like a truly fucked up combination of heaven and hell. John seemed to radiate heat through his thin black shirt, making it impossible for Rodney to ignore their closeness as the entire right half of his body was warmed by John's proximity. He wanted to reach out and place his hand on John's thigh, or perhaps slide his arm casually onto the backrest behind John's shoulders, only he wasn't sure whether or not that would make John inch away again. On the other hand, what if John was waiting for Rodney to take some action? What if he wanted to make out? What if he didn't? Heaven and hell, and if Rodney had to surreptitiously adjust the seat of his pants every once in a while because his body was reacting to John with a constant low-level arousal, it was probably nothing less than he deserved.
John, oblivious, spent the whole two hours sitting quietly beside him, a slight smile playing on his lips as he watched the old planes fly.
After the movie Rodney drove John back to PegasusTV where they loitered around in the parking lot between John's car and his own, talking and joking and grinning and somehow drifting closer and closer until Rodney couldn't take it any more. He grabbed John and stopped him mid-word by mashing their mouths together with admittedly little finesse, but he wasn't exactly thinking about technique right now. John made a small surprised oof against his mouth but returned Rodney's kiss eagerly enough, and they finally, finally started making out. By then it was somewhere around 11.30 p.m., between shifts, and the parking lot was empty, silent except for the soft sounds of their breathing, their kissing. After an entire evening of waiting, Rodney was hard almost immediately, pressing closer to John as the kisses grew more heated, his hands sliding down to cup John's ass. Except John pulled away, again, and Rodney blinked at him without comprehension.
"Still not one of those girls, McKay," John offered with a slight grin and a faintly apologetic shrug. He was panting, just a little, his lips a soft pink and his shirt slightly twisted, and Rodney had a hard time concentrating on his words instead of how badly he wanted to touch him, hold him, have him, right now.
"You're not a girl at all," he pointed out helpfully, leaning in for another kiss, but John stopped him with a hand on his chest. Rodney looked down, staring at the splayed fingers, feeling their warmth seep through the shirt and heat his skin, and John cleared his throat as he not quite yanked his hand away. Is it that repulsive to touch me?
"Look, Rodney-"
"Yes, I know," Rodney interrupted him, "it's not something you do." He took a step back and adjusted his pants, not even bothering to hide how achingly hard he was. John winced sympathetically, looking dishevelled but composed, and in that moment Rodney resented him. At least a little. "Do you think you could perhaps explain why it's not something you do? Because I'll have you know that usually, men aren't nearly this much work."
"It's just-" John shrugged helplessly, "I just need a little more time, okay?"
"Time," Rodney repeated stupidly, and John shrugged again, licking his lips.
"Yeah."
Rodney took a deep breath, willing his erection to go down and his brain to come back on-line in the face of John's nervousness. "All right," he said finally, letting out a small sigh when he saw John relax in obvious relief. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but wonder why John responded to his kisses so eagerly but pulled away as soon as it seemed that they might lead to something more.
"So, uh. See you tomorrow?" John wanted to know, unconsciously echoing Rodney's words from when their last date had ended in awkwardness. Rodney straightened, wondering when other people had started looking to him for emotional reassurance. Or perhaps that was just John.
"Yes. See you tomorrow."
~~~
Over the next two weeks, Rodney tried to give John the time he claimed to need, but his frustration kept building up. He wasn't the most patient of men even on his best days, and this waiting game John seemed to be playing - without any explanation beyond not being 'one of those girls, McKay,' - was driving him way past his endurance. He could respect John's strange hang-ups; really, he could… just, how long? And if John didn't want to be touched, then why kiss Rodney at all? Why not simply keep his distance and send a clear goddamn signal for once? All this hot-cold-yes-no-maybe-a-little had Rodney thoroughly confused, and he hated feeling that way.
"Do you think you'll be 'one of those girls' any time soon?" Rodney wanted to know after their latest telecast, when it didn't seem that he and John would ever progress beyond having dinner together. "Because while I hate to admit it, I'm not all that good at dealing with physical discomfort, and I'd like to know how much worse it's likely to become."
"Developing a mild case of blue balls, Rodney?" John grinned, reaching for him, and Rodney spluttered as he took a step to the side, purposely ignoring the way John's face fell.
"Excuse me? Do you think this is, what, funny? I'll grant you that a relationship based on more than mere physical attraction does have its merits, but how long are you going to keep me waiting before I'm finally allowed to touch you?"
Because that was simply cruel and unusual punishment, being so close to someone as hot as John, and not being allowed to do anything but look and sometimes kiss. Rodney was a lot of things; a masochist, however, he was not.
"Talking about your feelings, McKay?" John drawled, his expression unreadable. "Want me to paint your nails next?"
"Hey! May I remind you that you asked me for a date, not the other way around!?" Rodney snapped, thoroughly fed up with John and his diva performance. "You wanted this!"
"I didn't ask for your hand in marriage, Rodney."
"But-"
"Later, McKay." And just like that, John left him standing in the hall. Rodney clenched his hands into fists and jutted out his chin, nearly shaking with frustration.
What the hell was wrong with that man?
~~~
In hindsight, Rodney should probably have felt at least a little suspicious when his phone rang displaying Genii Industries' number. As it was, though, he answered with a yawn and not the slightest inkling that his day was about to become very complicated.
"Dr. McKay," a rough voice greeted him, dripping joviality. Brian Cowen, Genii Industries' CEO. "I have to congratulate you on the success of your products, it seems."
"Yes," Rodney agreed coolly, sitting back down on his bed, "apparently, 'a man with no prior experience in the electronic retailing industry' can sell his inventions just fine."
"Ah, still smarting about that one, I see." Before Rodney could reply, Cowen went on, "I can admit when I was wrong, Dr. McKay. Perhaps we should talk about business one more time."
"I have a contract with AtlantisCorp." A contract he fully intended to keep, thank you. Weir and her PegasusTV had given him a chance when nobody else would, and Rodney wasn't about to forget that. People who called him an ungrateful bastard had simply never truly deserved his gratitude. In fact, Rodney prided himself on his loyalty.
"Oh, I'm aware of that. Whatever they pay you, Genii Industries offers you twice that amount. We'll also cover for a possible penalty."
Rodney blinked at the phone in his hand. Double the money, really? "I, uh… I'll have to think about that," he finally said hesitantly. Double the money. Huh.
"Of course," Cowen allowed graciously. "Just give me a call when you have reached your decision. Just remember, Dr. McKay: playing around with Atlantis might be fun, but Genii can make you rich."
With a click, Cowen was gone, and Rodney was left staring at his phone's mobile unit. Making him rich. That would… that would be really, really nice. The things he could do if he were rich… he could build his own research lab and fit it with only the latest equipment and the best and brightest minds his generation had to offer, like that Czech guy who recently seemed to be on to something if his articles were anything to go by. He could devote his entire time to research, thereby placing the Nobel Prize well within his reach. He could even make up his own prize: the McKay Prize for Outstanding Scientific Achievement! Rodney smiled dreamily as he imagined how incredibly cool that would be, then his face fell as the word 'cool' reminded him that he couldn't just up and leave. Because, well, there was still the whole gratitude and loyalty thing, yes, but also a significantly more private matter.
Never mind his ties to AtlantisCorp. and the Pegasus Home Shopping Network - what about John?
~~~
Looking down on his plate, Rodney used his fork to place yet another pea on top of Mashed Potato Hill and absent-mindedly watched it roll down to hit the gravy with a tiny splash. The gravy was good. For that matter, so were the peas and the mashed potatoes and the meatloaf. PegasusTV's kitchen had a policy of highest quality ingredients only, and it showed, while the menus were still perfectly affordable. He wondered how the food at Genii Industries would be. Probably overcooked.
"Rodney."
"Hmm?" He looked up to find John watching him with a small frown.
"You've been distracted all day. Something wrong?"
"What? Oh," Rodney waved his hand, trying to appear unperturbed. "No, it's, uh, everything's fine."
They'd just made up again, after a tense apology from Rodney that John had accepted with a jerky nod. Rodney wasn't entirely sure what he'd been apologising for, but the point was that they had started dating again, no expectations, and the last thing he wanted was for John to feel under pressure. Their relationship was strained enough as it was, so the best course of action was probably to keep quiet about Cowen's phone call, keep it a secret. He'd figure things out on his own, somehow.
John's frown had deepened. "Look, if you don't want to talk about it, okay, but don't-"
"Genii offered me double the money if I go to them," Rodney blurted, wincing a second later. Some secret-keeper he was. Thankfully, the small mess hall was mostly empty, so no one had heard him but John.
John, who seemed to have frozen on his chair. "The Genii guys are criminals," he said flatly.
"I know. Believe me, I'd have every contract vetted by a lawyer before I'd sign anything." I'm just really not sure if I should go, and you're not asking me to stay. Shouldn't you be asking me to stay?
"So what's the plan?" John asked instead, regarding him with a strangely closed-off expression.
"I don't know." Rodney raised his chin, hating the coarseness of his voice when he wanted to know, "Where are we standing, John?"
John just looked at him, his face betraying nothing of what he was thinking. Rodney waited, first for John to say something, then for any reaction at all as the seconds kept ticking by, the silence stretching between them until Rodney couldn't pretend any more.
"I see," he nodded, blinking rapidly as his voice cracked. He'd thought- Well, he didn't even know what he'd thought, what he could have possibly expected; he just knew that it hadn't been this. Trying to swallow his disappointment and nearly choking on it, he rose, not looking at John as he picked up his wallet and turned away. Why did you even ask me on a date if you don't care? he didn't ask. The question wasn't worth the effort it would take to meet John's eyes again, and honestly, Rodney didn't really want to know.
He could feel John's gaze on his back as he walked to the door. No matter how he let his hand linger on the handle, though, John didn't call him back.
Rodney walked out.
~~~
"So what do you think?" Rodney asked the cat, lightly stroking his thumb over the bridge of her nose, "Atlantis or Genii?"
In lieu of an answer, the cat butted her head against Rodney's hand with a demanding meep. He smiled briefly as he scratched her neck. "Of course, you don't care who pays for your food as long as it keeps coming, right?"
The cat meeped again and he petted her affectionately. At least she let herself be touched.
Perhaps he should make a spreadsheet to help him sort out the pros and cons in his head. Atlantis had friendly people who actually seemed to like him, and John, which were pros. They also had insane working hours and a rather dim-witted engineering staff and John, which were cons. Two pros, three cons. Genii, on the other hand, had money and no John, which were pros. They also had people he didn't like and no morals to speak of and no John, which were cons. Two pros, three cons.
Rodney groaned, mournfully shaking his head at the mess he'd somehow gotten himself into without even noticing.
Atlantis or Genii?
~~~
He was studying fluid dynamics with Radek in their dorm room, writing red equations on blue paper. Kavanagh glared with a pinched expression down at his pad of yellow legal paper and drew thick circles with a green crayon. Radek and Rodney grinned at each other, students from two different sides of the world united in contempt for a moron, except Jeannie opened her mouth and said, thump, thump, thump.
"Huh?" Rodney asked, gaping at her, and Jeannie rolled her eyes and repeated, thump, thump, thump, thump. "What?"
He looked at Radek but the Czech merely shrugged and flew out of the window, and then Rodney opened his eyes and blinked at the dark ceiling, a loud thudding sound still echoing through the house.
Someone was hammering against his front door.
Confused, Rodney turned his head toward the digital watch on his bedside table. 3:17 a.m., the slightly burred LCD informed him, and Rodney closed his eyes. That was far too early to get up and open the door for what would undoubtedly turn out to be a crazed junkie astrophysicist murderer anyway. He groaned as the hammering continued without giving the impression of stopping any time soon, first burying his head under his pillow, and when that didn't help, groggily getting to his feet.
"Pants... pants," he mumbled until he spotted a pair of black sweatpants hanging over the back of a chair, nearly hidden by a stack of physics journals. Pulling them on and marching to the door he grabbed a t-shirt, more as an afterthought and because the night air was cool on his sleep-warm skin than for matters of decency. If someone was insisting on dragging him out of bed at three in the morning, they had no claim on him following society's demands for decency.
The forceful knocking grew louder as Rodney padded through the house on bare feet, irritation growing until he finally reached the front door, yanking it open with a snarled, "What?!" that died in his throat when he saw who his nightly intruder was.
John, still wearing the same jeans and light blue shirt he'd had on the day before, was smelling faintly of beer. Fist still raised, he blinked at Rodney as if he had no idea what to do now the door was open. Rodney blinked back.
"John? What on Earth are you doing here?" Hadn't they just broken up a mere few hours ago?
That seemed to break John's spell of silence and he started to talk, faster than Rodney could remember ever hearing him talk before. "Look, I have no idea where we're standing, but God, Rodney…" he slurred, swaying slightly, "I mean, I'm terrible with this stuff and, you know. Sex. It's… It's just not… I don't like it all that much, okay, but I can… I just need to… and seriously, you won't be selling half as much without me so the Genii deal is just crap."
Of all the- "I know," Rodney said stupidly. "I, uh, already called Cowen to decline his offer."
"You have?"
Rodney snorted and felt his mouth twist into a sarcastic smile. "Yes. But it's nice to know you care." Which wasn't what he'd meant to say at all, except perhaps it was, a little. This constant up and down with John was exhausting, he was tired, and he just wanted to go back to bed and pull the blanket over his head and sleep until he felt awake enough again to understand what John was trying to tell him. "Listen-"
"No, I… Rodney." John took a deep breath and a step forward, his expression somewhere between scared and determined as he placed his hands on either side of Rodney's face and pulled him in. Rodney was too befuddled to do anything but obediently lean in, eyes fluttering closed as John kissed him. His mouth tasted vaguely of beer but still mostly familiar; like something Rodney would always want to come back to; like home. They both sighed and then groaned as the kiss grew firmer, more heated, sexual instead of sensual. Then somehow John's shirt had come off and Rodney's t-shirt was lying in an ochre puddle half on his left foot and John was fumbling with Rodney's sweatpants, and wait a minute.
"Okay, stop." Rodney grabbed John's wrists to still the insistent hands. The man probably didn't even realise what he was doing, where this was leading, drunk as he was. "You don't have to. I already said I was staying."
John licked his lips and shrugged. "Yeah. I think I'm staying, too." He looked embarrassed and shy and stubborn, and Rodney's heart rate picked up the pace.
"Are you-"
"Yes, Rodney," John interrupted him, "I'm sure."
"But you're-"
"I'm not drunk." John picked that moment to sway on his feet, and he shook his head as if to clear it. "Okay, I'm drunk, but I know what I'm doing. What we... Rodney," he added in a helpless little voice, and Rodney just about melted on the spot.
"You're gorgeous," he mumbled, letting go of John's wrists to run his hand up and down John's warm back, feeling muscle play under skin when John shivered slightly. "How could anyone not want to touch you?"
"That… that wasn't really the issue," John muttered, and Rodney belatedly realised that the faint tremble just then hadn't been born from pleasure. In fact, John was tense in his arms, breath coming shallow and fast, and when Rodney slowly ran his hand down to cup John's groin, there was no sign of an erection.
Jesus. "What, now I'm supposed to rape you?" he demanded, nearly stumbling over his feet as he jerked away. "Are you insane?"
"Rodney-"
"No!" Rodney yelled, not caring if he woke the entire neighbourhood if he could just get some sense into John's head. What the hell did the man think he was doing? "What the hell do you think you're doing? For that matter, what the hell do you think I'm doing? You don't like sex and you're, you're," he gestured in the direction of John's groin, "you're not even hard, and what do you think you're doing?"
"I just-" John licked his lips. "Look, I, I care about... and I know you want to," a little swirl of his finger like that meant anything, "and I thought, how hard can it be, to, to-"
"-let yourself be raped?" Rodney finished flatly.
"Would you just stop with that word already?" John's voice was dripping with exasperation, and Rodney crossed his arms. "Look. I didn't ask you on a date to lead you on. I, uh, like you. Kind of a lot. It's just not-" John shrugged helplessly, "I really don't like being touched. People did that a lot when I was a kid, and I... don't like it."
"Then where do you think this is going?" Rodney wanted to know, arms falling to his sides as he sighed. He'd have to be spectacularly shallow to want John simply for his good looks, but at the same time, he just had to admit that he didn't have the patience for a platonic relationship. No matter how funny and sarcastic and dorky John might be or how well their personalities seemed to fit together, Rodney would always want to touch him.
"I like kissing you," John offered hesitantly, "We could work our way up from there?"
"I don't think that would be such a good idea." Rodney knew his luck. He'd end up traumatising John even more and then paying his therapy bills for the rest of their lives. But it was tempting. With John standing right there in front of him, looking dishevelled and hopeful, it was very, very tempting. Some part of Rodney would probably regret his altruism until he died or got Alzheimer's, but he was willing to act selflessly for once in his life. This wasn't about him. This was about John. "Perhaps we should-"
"Rodney," John interrupted him, perhaps sensing that Rodney was about to send him away. "I'm not some fragile flower. I'm not going to break. I just have some... issues, and I'm asking you to work them out with me."
"I'm no psychiatrist," Rodney replied, wavering. He wanted, oh, he wanted, but-
"But you're a genius," John said, flashing him his most winning TV smile. "And I trust you. We just need a little time."
The bastard knew exactly how to get to him. Rodney threw up his hands in defeat and John smirked at him, visibly relaxing as he stepped close enough again to pull Rodney into another kiss. This one was triumphant, claiming, anything but shy or hesitant in any way, and perhaps John was right. Perhaps this could really work.
Then John pulled back, rested his forehead against Rodney's and mumbled, "Let's go to bed," and Rodney knew that he was dealing with a madman, or at the very least an idiot, because that was obviously progressing much faster than John was fit to deal with. Again.
"John-"
"To sleep," John explained hastily, tripping over the words and smiling sheepishly. "You're tired, I'm drunk, and we both could use the break."
"So I'll call you a taxi," Rodney offered, mulishly raising his chin.
John sighed, putting his arms around Rodney's waist to hold him in a loose embrace. "I have to get used to touching you at some point," he muttered, kissing Rodney's cheek just underneath his eye, the bridge of his nose, his upper lip. "Let me handle this at my own pace, okay?"
Rodney shivered and took a deep breath, threatening somewhat shakily, "I swear to God, if you change your mind again I won't care how much Elizabeth likes you. I'm going to eviscerate you."
"I won't." John looked at him, hazel eyes dark and beseeching, leaving Rodney utterly defenceless. "Trust me, I won't."
And with John lying next to him, body turned toward Rodney's without quite touching him, his breath warm on Rodney's shoulder, Rodney believed him. He closed his eyes, inching his hand closer to John's until their fingers were just brushing together, and fell asleep.
~~~
The next morning, Rodney awoke alone, the other side of the bed cold and empty. He pushed himself up on his elbows, searched the room for John's clothes and didn't find them, and let himself fall back into the pillow, closing his eyes. He couldn't even say he was surprised to find himself alone, but still he'd been hoping. Really, he should have known better.
It had been stupid, so stupid to give in to John. How many times had he heard, 'I'm not one of those girls, McKay'; how many times had John pulled away? But instead of remembering that, Rodney had taken advantage of John when the man had been intoxicated and in an obviously stressful situation, which was just depraved. Of course John would walk out, thoroughly disgusted and anxious to put as many miles as possible between himself and Rodney without leaving the general area.
Working together after this mess was going to be awkward, Rodney supposed. Perhaps he should hand in his notice and move away. There were still several offers in the private research sector that had arrived after the publishing of his latest article on Lorentzian wormholes. He could also accept the offer of the United States' government and move to Colorado, although he knew deep space telemetry to be painfully boring, but hey, that could be his punishment. Or he could withdraw from academia altogether and move to a desert island somewhere in the Caribbean, to be forgotten and eventually killed by a hurricane.
A wary voice from the kitchen interrupted his musings. "Ah, Rodney. Your coffee-maker has a tentacle wrapped around my wrist."
John.
John, who was in his kitchen, and not gone. Rodney blinked, and then his body relaxed all at once. John was still there, he though, smiling as he pulled the covers a little more tightly around his shoulders, suddenly ready to doze just a bit longer. John, sounding suspicious and a little tired and like he was smiling nevertheless, and wow, really? That was… remarkably nice, actually.
"Rodney, do you have- Shit, what the hell is that?"
Something crashed, the cat let out a high-pitched squeal, and seconds later darted into the bedroom and under the bed. From the kitchen, John could be heard cursing loudly.
Rodney's smile widened. When he'd walked away from - been kicked out of, whatever - his academic circles, he'd never thought he'd find himself in the electronic retailing business, or with the king of home shopping as his boyfriend. He'd never thought that he'd find himself in a situation where he'd think of himself as happy.
Yet here he was.
~~~
End.
Companion piece: Handmade