There Are Worse Things (1/2) ~ SGA (McShep)
Title: There Are Worse Things (1/2)
Author: icantfollow
Prompt: #063 Summer
Word Count: ~7300
Rating: R
Summary: But, oh, those summer nights.
A/N: Wow, this became so much more more than I intended, and it's so anachronistically out of whack it's not funny because I really couldn't decide what era to set it in.
Act One -
I. Summer Nights
They meet for the first time on a beach in California. John wears nothing but flip-flops and boardshorts that sling dangerously low across his hips, exposing a clearly defined tan line. Rodney, in contrast, sits beneath his wide-brimmed sun hat in an over-sized white t-shirt with a stripe of zinc oxide on his nose, making corrections in the margins of his physics book.
It would be nice to say it’s love at first sight, but they’re only seventeen, and male, so it’s more like curiosity mingled with mild disbelief at finding someone like that in this place.
John plants his surfboard in the sand next to Rodney and sits down with his knees pulled against his chest, digging water out of one ear with his finger.
“Hey,” he says.
Rodney looks up, but it’s clear that he can’t believe John is talking to him. John notices that Rodney’s wearing Batman swim trunks and something flutters in his chest.
“You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself,” comments John.
Rodney rolls his eyes as if to say, ‘What gave it away?’ then says in a monotone, “I don’t want to be here.”
Instead of asking why he is here then, John asks, “Where would you rather be?”
The corners of Rodney’s mouth turn up into a smile, and it’s charming in a dorky way. “Anywhere else. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
He makes a gesture at John as if to say that John, with his wet hair and brown shoulders obviously belongs to the surf and sand. And, in a sense, he’s right. John wouldn’t trade the beach, the waves, the fiery sunset for anything.
“Yeah, well, believe it or not, I understand the feeling.” John shakes away thoughts of the end of summer and says, “I’m John Sheppard.”
“Rodney McKay.”
They shake hands, feeling a jolt of electricity at the contact, pulling back with equally shy smiles. Rodney looks away first, brushing his fingers across the spine of his book. John peers over and is surprised to find that it isn’t complete gibberish to him.
“If you’re not doing anything later,” John says, feeling inexplicably nervous, wiping some of the wet hair from his forehead, “how about you check out the pier with me?”
Rodney starts. “Uh,” he says, “I’m kind of on vacation with my family. Besides, guys like you don’t hang out with guys like me.”
John almost laughs. It would be kind of insulting if it weren’t so sad. Rodney is all tense muscles and gruff exterior, but there’s something longing in his eyes, a desperation that he probably hides from most people, but, for whatever reason, can’t hide from John.
People react in one of two ways to Rodney McKay - either they loathe him on sight, or they find him fascinating and oddly attractive. There aren’t many of the latter.
“What do you mean, ‘guys like me’? Are you from a foreign country or something?”
“Canada, actually,” sniffs Rodney, and he smears some of the zinc off his nose across his cheek. John has the odd impulse to reach over and brush away the smudge.
“All right then, Mountie Man,” says John, and he stands up, brushing sand from his shorts, “can you swim?”
Rodney looks flummoxed. “If the occasion calls for it.”
John’s eyes travel from Rodney’s face to his surfboard, then back again. Rodney follows along, then throws his hands up as if warding off something truly evil and dangerous.
“Oh, no,” he says, over and over again as John drags him into the water.
They kiss with lips puckered by the salty sea for the first time in the middle of the Pacific Ocean after Rodney rides his first (albeit tiny) wave. It’s more a question than anything else, with answers to come later.
“I’m sorry,” is the first thing Rodney says when John meets him at the entrance to the pier the next night, hair combed, teeth brushed, and for a completely heart-stopping moment John thinks that Rodney is going to say his trip has been cut short and it’s all over.
Rodney produces Jeannie, his eleven year old sister and the apparent bane of his existence.
“My parents made me bring her,” he says with a scowl over her little blonde head.
John, who’s not great at public displays of affection anyway, only shrugs and introduces himself to the girl who is a shockingly female version of Rodney, only with better people skills.
Soon, despite Jeannie’s intrusion into what they’re both thinking of privately as their first official date, Rodney begins to smile, and laughs outright when John’s eyes light up at the sight of the ferris wheel. He pales, however, when John insists they ride it together.
“That is a metal deathtrap,” he says, dragged along by both John and Jeannie. “I’m sure it isn’t even up to code.”
When Jeannie insists on riding in her own car over Rodney’s protests, John takes Rodney’s hand with a suggestive smile, and they climb into the seat behind her.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” a pale-faced Rodney accuses when the car comes to a squeaking halt at the top of the wheel, rocking gently back and forth. The night sky is cloudless, and though they’re too close to the city for an explosion of stars, John thinks the lights of Los Angeles might do just as well.
“Well,” says John, threading his slightly sweaty fingers through Rodney’s, watching the flush spread up the other boy’s face, “yeah, actually.”
It’s the last week of vacation for both of them, but neither wants to say it. Rodney has refused to spend yet another day at Disneyland with Jeannie and his parents, so they’ve agreed to let him spend the day with his ‘new friend’.
John takes Rodney to a secluded part of the beach along Pacific Coast Highway in Malibu. They have to ride the bus, though John makes much mention of the fact that his dad says he can get a motorcycle for his eighteenth birthday - providing he pays for half, and the insurance, and keeps it in repair. Rodney, perhaps wisely, says nothing.
They swim a little, and sun a little, John helps Rodney cover that difficult patch on his upper back with sunscreen, and then John moves in a little closer while Rodney’s busy complaining about sand in awkward places.
His heart is racing, and there’s a tightening in his groin as he runs his hand down Rodney’s arm. Rodney moans a little, just under his breath, and tilts his head to the side to better catch John’s mouth. A warm flush spreads across his stomach when they bump noses and fall backward onto the sand.
“I’ve never-“ whispers John, blushing painfully, and Rodney laughs nervously, rubbing his cheek.
“Me either,” he says, but leans over to try again. He’s nothing if not determined. This time, they don’t try for tenderness, but just do whatever feels good, figuring out along the way what doesn’t.
“Hey,” Rodney says a short time later, panting slightly with one leg wrapped around John’s. He’s stopped complaining about the sand, though there are grains of it at the corners of his lips now swollen with the salty tang of the ocean and John. “This, this is-“
“This is summer,” John finishes, and uses his mouth to say goodbye.
To John’s surprise, it’s Rodney who suggests the henna tattoos.
They’re walking the Third Street Promenade, brushing shoulders or hands, trying not to think about how they’ll never see each other again, or what any of this means outside the magical bubble of summer vacation. Rodney, in his walking shorts, sun hat, and a camera around his neck, couldn't look more like a tourist, but John thinks it's kind of cute.
“This way,” says Rodney, “we’ll have a reminder - until it fades anyway, by which point I’m sure you’ll have forgotten me.”
“Why not go all out,” John teases, “and get real tattoos with our initials in hearts?”
Rodney rolls his eyes. “Do you have any idea how unhygienic those needles are? I’m not getting HIV to remember you by.”
“Nothing says love like a deadly disease,” John says solemnly, but agrees to sit down at one of the henna artist stands.
Rodney gets a surfboard on his bicep, both for John and for his own personal triumph, and John asks for a maple leaf on his shoulder blade, figuring he can always pass himself off as a hockey fan if anyone asks.
"Hey," Rodney says to the tattoo artist, "can you take our picture?"
"What are we, girls?" John mutters, but sits still as the tattoo lady positions Rodney's polaroid. She takes two pictures, handing one to each of them, like somehow she knows. John takes his and tucks it away in his back pocket, still feeling red around the ears.
When the time comes, they don’t exchange numbers or promise to write. They don’t say anything other than, “Aloha.”
II. Hopelessly Devoted
There ought to be a law, Rodney thinks, against moving to a new school, let alone a new country, just before the start of senior year.
American high school isn’t wildly different or anything, but he’d finally gotten all his teachers and classmates inToronto suitably intimidated by his dazzling intellect - and now he’ll have to start from scratch.
“Welcome to Chicago,” says a kid with wild Einstein-esque hair and crooked glasses, the moment Rodney steps out of the principal’s office with his class schedule. He has an accent and looks even more out of place than Rodney does. “I am Radek Zelenka.”
“What is that, Russian?” Rodney asks, shaking hands with his self-appointed tour guide. Apparently, he’s wearing a sign that says ‘New Kid,’ and Radek has taken pity on him.
“Czech,” Radek replies. “My family moved here when I was quite young.”
Radek likes science, and video games, and is not as stupid as he looks, thank goodness. Rodney starts to relax in his company, and when they get into an argument about Oppenheimer’s work on the Manhattan Project, he thinks that some day he might be able to call this place home.
John’s group of friends are popular to the point of obscenity. They punch and noogie and laugh when they see each other again, shouting about how awesome senior year is going to be, already talking about parties and prom. John’s friends aren’t the sort to plan ahead much, and deep down, they’re all terrified that these really are the best years of their lives, that it’s all downhill from here.
“It is good to see you again, John,” says Teyla Emmagen, pulling him into a hug - an indignity he suffers from no one else. He beams at her as he opens his locker. Inside’s a picture of Johnny Cash, a football, last year’s A+ math test, and a pair of ratty sneakers. For a second, he wishes he had something of Rodney’s to tack up in back, though he doesn’t know how he’d explain it. He remembers the polaroid and slips it, slightly crumpled, in between the pages of his physics book.
Ronon Dex, who looms like nobody’s business but is just about the best person he knows, asks if John has a date for Homecoming yet, and sophomore Aiden Ford says, “But it’s only the first day of school!”
If this really is as good as it gets, John thinks, closing his locker door, watching Laura Cadman rebuff Evan Lorne’s advances with a throaty laugh, then he’s a pretty lucky guy.
The classes, even the honors ones he's bullied his way into, are simplistic bordering on childish, so Rodney makes a plan to look into classes at the local community college. Senior year is just a place filler anyway. He only needs to ride it out as long as it takes to get his diploma, then he’ll disappear. He has no intention of getting involved at his new school, content to sit back and sail through.
Unfortunately, Radek introduces him to Elizabeth Weir, and Elizabeth is Girl Most Likely To.
Class President, head of the Future Leaders of America, editor of the yearbook and the school paper - Rodney wonders when she has time to breathe. She seems determined, once she learns his GPA, to drag him down with her.
“So, what did you do for your summer, Rodney?” asks Carson Beckett, Elizabeth’s cousin from Scotland who plans to be a doctor. They’re all sitting at the same table in the cafeteria; for the first time, Rodney’s actually been invited to eat with other people.
“Hung out at the beach, mostly,” says Rodney. He hesitates, then decides there’s no point in pretending with people whose opinions don’t matter to him anyway. “I met a guy.”
Elizabeth jumps, and exchanges a look with Kate Heightmeyer who’s in Rodney’s AP history class. “Oh, so you’re...”
“Yeah,” Rodney supplies, without waiting for the awkward end to that sentence. “I am. Is that a problem?”
He probably sounds more belligerent than he should, but he’s aware of the fact that he’s no longer in a country that has legalized gay marriage.
“Of course not,” Elizabeth says, recovering, and she sounds sincere. “I’m co-chair of the Gay-Straight Alliance on campus. We’re having a meeting on Friday, you should come.”
“Uh, maybe,” says Rodney, who can’t think of anything he’d rather do less. Except eat citrus. Or sit through a lecture on the fundamentals of gravity. Or babysit his sister.
“So, tell us about him,” says Kate, evidently trying to cover up the blunder.
“About who?”
“Your mystery man,” Radek replies, leaning forward so that his glasses catch the light.
Rodney’s hand goes to his arm where the surfboard tattoo is covered by his sleeve. His face feels hot, but he can’t help smiling.
“There’s nothing to tell,” he lies. “It was just a summer thing. I’m sure I’ll never see him again.”
It’s not halfway through the first day and already John has a date with the principal. Sadly, that’s not even a record.
“Mr. Sheppard,” says Principal Caldwell in his booming voice, “shall we go through the basics again?”
“No need, sir,” says John, leaning back in his chair. “I’m pretty sure I remember the speech.”
John rarely gets caught, but always attracts suspicion. The cost of being popular is that it shines a spotlight on you and all your misdeeds.
“Seniors frequently feel the need to leave a sort of legacy behind,” Caldwell continues, glaring at John from behind his fortress-like desk. “I’m sure I don’t have to worry about that sort of thing with you.”
John’s goal is to get the hell out of high school and join the Air Force. He’s not stupid enough to jeopardize that for a senior prank, even if some of his friends are.
Ronon, in particular, is the one he needs to watch out for. Not because Ronon’s a bad guy or anything, but because he can never resist a challenge. The rival biker gang from the next high school over, led by a toad named Kolya, has it out for John and his group. Ronon won’t like hearing that he can’t get involved. John doesn’t like that he has to be the one to say it.
"Mr. McKay," says Principal Caldwell, staring at Rodney over steepled fingers, "how are you enjoying your first day?"
Rodney hates people like Caldwell. Anyone who asks inane questions like that is clearly deficient.
"Fine," he says. What he wants to say is, 'I'm only here for the diploma, and the second I graduate I'm going to leave without a backwards glance.'
"I'm glad to hear it," Principal Caldwell replies without looking up from Rodney's file. He sees the CIA stamp from that incident when he was in the sixth grade. "You've certainly had an interesting academic career."
"Yes, sir, but I only want to graduate. I won't cause trouble."
Caldwell pauses. "Where are you planning to go to college?"
Rodney's a bit taken aback by his interest. "I had thought about Harvard, MIT, or Cornell."
"What about the University of Chicago? We have a fast track program."
Finally, Rodney gets a chance to say what's on his mind. "Basically, my goal is to get the hell out of Chicago. Nothing against the city, but it's not for me. I don't want to be here. In fact, I want to be anywhere else."
John and Rodney meet for the second time at the bonfire after Homecoming. John’s wearing a leather jacket, dark jeans, and combat boots, Rodney a poorly knit sweater and mismatched socks because he couldn’t be bothered to check their color that morning.
“All I’m saying,” he insists, walking with Elizabeth, side-stepping drunken teenagers and their disgusting contributions to Mother Earth, “is that everything that’s wrong with your country can be summed up by the fact that more attention is paid to a losing football team than the winners of the academic decathlon.”
Paying more attention to where he’s putting his feet than where he’s putting the rest of his body, Rodney runs straight into a guy in a leather jacket holding a beer, and his life flashes before his eyes. Then he hears a familiar voice, tinged with astonishment.
“Rodney?” says John, wiping away the beer he sloshed on his shirt.
“John?” Rodney squeaks, caught between pleasure and anxiety.
“What are you doing here?” John asks, unable to keep the smile off his face.
“My dad got a better job, so we moved. What about you? I thought you lived in California!”
The rest of John’s gang turns at the intrusion. Teyla, still in her cheer uniform, looks the most benign, placing a delicate hand on Ronon’s thick arm. Evan’s got Laura off in a secluded spot somewhere, but Aiden’s hanging around, looking green around the mouth from the alcohol John told him not to drink.
John looks from them to Rodney, sparing a glance for a cool, calculating Elizabeth. He can feel the faded maple leaf on his shoulder blade burn, echoing his cheeks as he remembers the last time he and Rodney were together. Rodney’s practically glowing, his eyes lit up with the same fervor they had when John caught him correcting a well-known physicist's text book.
“You know him, Shep?” asks Ronon, eyeing Rodney like a cat might eye a goldfish.
“Rodney?” Elizabeth has put her hand on his shoulder, and John bubbles with jealousy that a moment later leaves him feeling queasy.
For a second, Rodney seriously contemplates flinging his arms around John and drawing him into a kiss, classmates be damned, but he’s a genius, and being a genius has taught him some hard lessons about the way things are done in school. He opens his mouth to say something (awkward silences are not his friends), but John gets there first.
“Yeah,” John says in answer to Ronon’s question, hands flexing at his sides as if they want to take Rodney’s face between them, “I, uh, taught him to surf.”
Rodney’s expression goes blank, like someone’s wiped it clean. “That’s right. Santa Monica. Never expected to find you all the way out here.”
John tries to laugh and ends up sounding like a sick donkey. He’s starting to sweat by the firelight, and his heart is drumming faster. He turns to Ronon and says, “McKay had never even seen a board before. He was really crap. Had to save him from drowning a couple times.”
Ronon seems satisfied by this, but Rodney is not.
“McKay,” he repeats, and one hand goes up to his arm where the surfboard stands, “since when am I McKay to you?”
Not outing a man to a circle of his peers is one thing - allowing him to act like an asshole is another, and Rodney’s not about to let John walk away scot free.
John laughs again and turns away from Rodney. “Man, I don’t know what you thought, but I don’t know you all that well. It was a couple of surf lessons. Never thought I’d see you again.”
Rodney staggers, his face open and injured, and Elizabeth steadies him, glaring at John. They’re all silent, staring, while people celebrate in the background with drinks and laughter. A moment later Rodney’s closed off again, and he shakes off Elizabeth’s help.
“Yeah, well, it’s good to see you too,” he says coolly, and stalks off.
“Was that him?” Elizabeth asks in a soft voice when they’re a little ways away. “Your mystery man?”
There’s a note of complete shock in her voice. The angry, jealous, hurt part of Rodney wants to say yes, to hurt John, to let the entire school know just what kind of dick he is, but the part of him that smiles at the sight of a ferris wheel doesn’t want to cause that much damage.
“No,” he says. “That was someone else. John...Sheppard was just a guy who taught me to surf. I guess I thought he’d be glad to see me. Stupid. After all, guys like him don’t hang out with guys like me.”
And he and Elizabeth walk back to the others.
III. Look at Me
John sweeps his hair out of his eyes, and waits. Two days since the bonfire, and he’s put the time to good use, hunting down Rodney’s class schedule and throwing his friends off the track. All this subterfuge has put him a little on edge, though; the clock in the hallway ticks unevenly, causing a twitch in John until it's drowned out by the bell.
“Hey,” he says, grabbing Rodney by the arm when he exits his AP Calculus class, distracted by a pretty blonde. “Can we talk?”
Rodney pulls away and makes a face. “You’d talk to me in public? I’m flattered.”
“Rod-ney,” John groans, but still Rodney won’t come near him.
“What happened to ‘McKay’?”
John rolls his eyes and drags Rodney down the hall to the boys’ bathroom, kicking in the stalls to make sure they’re alone.
“Okay, I admit it,” he says, sitting on the edge of the sink. Rodney’s leaning against the wall by the paper towel dispenser, arms crossed over his chest. John doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone look less cooperative. “I was a jackass. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Rodney sniffs. “It’s a start.”
Maybe it’s the way Rodney’s got his hair combed, or the fact that he’s wearing a t-shirt that reads I’ll try to be nicer if you try to be smarter, but John flashes back to their days at the beach, and a low burn starts in his belly.
“What?” says Rodney, lowering his eyes suspiciously. “Look, if you’re trying to warn me off, don’t bother. I get it. It was a summer thing, we never planned on seeing each other again, or even keeping in contact, et cetera. Don’t worry about it. You don’t have to be my friend, you don’t even have to talk to me.”
The bell rings again, which is just about the only thing that stops John from shoving Rodney inside one of those bathroom stalls and sticking his tongue down Rodney's throat. He squirms a bit, thinking of how close he’d come to letting some bizarre sexual fantasy play out in the halls of his high school. He thought he had more control than that, which just goes to show the kind of effect Rodney has on him.
Rodney doesn’t notice that anything’s wrong. “I’m late for class.”
He pushes his way past John and out the bathroom, but collapses against the wall and sinks to the floor when he’s out of sight, shivering at the contact. A part of him wants to just skip out on his next class (something pedantic and not worth his time anyway) to take a cold shower, but he goes anyway, concentrating on baseball or whatever it is people are supposed to think about at times like this.
On the weekends, for fun, John’s friends do this:
Go to the mall, hang out, go to the movies, hang out, watch NASCAR, hang out, skateboard, hang out, party, hang out, drink, hang out, cause trouble for the rival gang, hang out, work on cars, and hang out.
Ronon gets sullen when John puts an embargo on interactions with Kolya and his group, but he obeys. He and John blow off steam sparring at the local gym and fixing up old motorcycles for the undeserving. John’s dad may have promised he can have one of his own when he goes back out to California next summer, but his mother would kill him for even thinking about it.
Some days after school John hangs around the bleachers watching Teyla at cheer practice, goes with Evan down to the local diner, or watches Aiden try to pick up girls. One afternoon, he actually catches one. Unfortunately, she comes with strings attached.
“Her cousin’s in from out of town,” he says to John, pleading, “and she won’t go out with me unless her cousin’s got a date, too. You gotta help me out, man.”
And that’s how John meets Chaya.
On the weekends, for fun, Rodney’s friends do this:
Build fighting robots, volunteer at soup kitchens and pediatric wards, plot world domination, play video games, start homework not due for another two weeks, debate the scientific and sociological merits of Star Wars versus Star Trek, and - if there’s time - hang out.
They’re at Carson’s house - Rodney, Elizabeth, Radek, Kate, and Carson - gathered in front of the television. Elizabeth and Radek are working on a project for English, Kate’s sketching Carson’s profile for her art class while he reads a medical journal with disgusting pictures, and Rodney eats a sandwich, planning his next move in a chess game he plays by mail with one of his teachers from Canada.
“Rodney, we need to find you a boyfriend,” Elizabeth announces.
Rodney half-expects one of the others to react with laughter or disgust, but they’re all nodding along like it’s the best idea they’ve ever heard.
“Please tell me,” Rodney says in the calmest voice he can muster - which isn't all that calm, “that I haven’t become your gay mascot.”
“What about Lucius?” says Carson, as if Rodney hadn’t spoken. “He’s a decent bloke.”
“No, no, Walter is much more Rodney’s speed,” says Kate, and Rodney feels ill.
“Sorry, is this Gay-Straight Alliance of yours a pro-tolerance group or a dating service?”
Radek tries to draw Elizabeth’s attention back to their assignment and glances up at Rodney. “No offense, but I would rather not talk about your sex life - any of your sex lives,” he adds.
“I agree,” Rodney says, shuddering. They mean well, but this is just disturbing. Besides, his summer with John is still too fresh in his mind. “There will be no more discussing my sex life or lack thereof. Agreed?"
“Agreed,” Elizabeth, Carson, and Kate say, disappointed.
And that’s how Rodney is introduced to Daniel Jackson.
It's taken some more subterfuge, but John's finally got ahold of Rodney's home phone number.
"Hey," he says when a young girl picks up, "it's John Sheppard. Do you remember me from the pier, Jeannie?"
She squeals and giggles, and he has to hold the phone a foot away from his ear.
"Can I talk to your brother?" he asks, interrupting her high-pitched chatter. The shrieks die away and a moment later Rodney picks up the phone.
"How did you get this number?" Rodney demands, loud enough to pierce John's eardrum.
"Snuck into the principal's office and took a look at your file," John replies evenly. "Did you really build a nuclear bomb for your sixth grade science fair?"
"Well, it's not like I could actually get my hands on plutonium-"
John interrupts before he loses his nerve. "Look, my mom's going to be out of town this weekend, so I'm having a party, and I want you to come. You can bring your friends if you want."
There's silence on the other end of the line. Then -
"You're serious."
John clears his throat. "I don't see why we can't be friends, Rodney. Unless, of course, you don't want to-"
"No, no." John breathes a sigh of relief. "Okay. I'll come."
"Great. Saturday. See you there."
John's first date with Chaya Sar, on Friday night, is incredibly uncomfortable. Aiden and his date spend the entire night sneaking glances at one another, starting sentences then trailing off, and spilling drinks. John keeps glancing at his watch.
Chaya asks if something's wrong, and John lies to keep her happy. She's pretty and sweet, but there's something about her (aside from the fact that she's female) that just rubs him the wrong way.
Rodney's first date with Daniel Jackson, on Friday night, isn't really a date. Elizabeth, Carson, Radek, and Kate invite Daniel to go with them to the Field Museum. Daniel, whose parents were archaeologists before they died, knows everything about every exhibit, and though his enthusiasm is kind of cute, it quickly starts to grate on Rodney's nerves.
Plus, he's not even sure that Daniel's gay.
At John's party the next night, several things happen - all seemingly at once.
John gets spectacularly drunk off cheap beer, too drunk to protest when Chaya drags him onto his feet to dance. Rodney and co. enter at that moment, and while Rodney is busy wishing the earth would swallow him whole, Elizabeth and Ronon lock eyes from across the room and disappear for the rest of the night. Teyla, a little tipsy herself, takes a dive from the kitchen table, stumbling right into Carson's unsuspecting arms. She giggles drunkenly and he turns bright red, setting on her feet, which, a moment later, turns out wasn't such a great idea.
Evan and Laura are screaming at each other upstairs, though whether they're angry or about to have sex, no one knows and no one's brave enough to find out. Aiden is making out indiscriminately with any female that comes his way.
"This was the worst idea I've ever had," Rodney moans, and Radek shakes his head, shouting over the grinding music.
"I have not known you long, but this cannot be worse than your idea to corner the market on chocolate bars during midterms. Or the plan you had for turning Principal Caldwell's car into a giant fighting robot. Or the time you-"
"Yes, thank you, Radek," Rodney snarls, "I get it. I'm going to find the bathroom. Please try not to lose your mind like everyone else while I'm gone."
John chooses that same moment to turn green and excuses himself from Chaya's vise-like grip.
He barges straight into the first floor bathroom and throws himself over the toilet. Unfortunately he forgets to lock the door, and when he hears footsteps behind him, the best he can muster is a low groan.
"What the hell!" Rodney yells, stumbling backward against the sink and away from the swamp monster formerly known as John. "John? Is that you?"
"What's left of me," John mumbles. "'ey, Rodney. Enjoying the party?"
"Not particularly, no," says Rodney, crossing his arms. "So, tell me, John, are you having fun?"
"Oh yeah," John says, hearing his voice echo in the toilet bowl. "Loads."
Rodney's expression softens and he runs a hand through John's hair, kneeling down on the cold tile. His touch is surprisingly gentle, given their current relationship.
"I did this once, you know," he says conversationally. "Got drunk that is. Thought it would help me fit in."
"Let me guess," John says, smothering a burp, "you had one beer and passed out."
Rodney is insulted. "Please, I could drink you under the table any day, you're a lightweight. Thing is, brain cells weren't the only thing I lost that night."
John chokes and Rodney holds his shaking shoulders. "You told me - on the beach - that you had never -"
"My first time was with a girl," says Rodney, voice still even. "And it sucked. Suffice it to say, I didn't feel like getting drunk after that."
"Why are you telling me all this?" John moans, sliding further onto the floor. Rodney grabs a washcloth from under the sink, runs it under the tap, and presses it to John's forehead.
"I guess...because I have to know. What happened on the beach, at the pier - was that real? Did it mean anything to you?"
"Jesus, Rodney," says John, struggling to sit up, keeping the cloth pressed to his head with one hand. "Of course it did. I'm not that good an actor. Look, all this, it's just high school."
"Just high school," Rodney repeats. "So the John Sheppard I met in Santa Monica, he's real, but this John Sheppard, he's a lie to make his friends happy."
John's head is pounding and he feels queasy. "Yeah, I guess. Nobody's themselves in high school, Rodney. You know that. You can say you want to be an individual, but at the end of the day, all anyone wants is to survive. And to survive, I can't be gay."
Rodney's quiet. Then: "That's fucked up."
And he leaves John lying on the bathroom floor.
IV. Greased Lightning
"You know that guy McKay's a queer?" Ronon says while they're in the garage on their lunch break.
John chokes on his sandwich, spraying bits of tomato everywhere. "What? Where'd you hear that?"
"Elizabeth told me," says Ronon, shrugging. John really can't picture a less likely couple than Elizabeth Weir and Ronon Dex; the two of them have a hard time fitting in his mind at the same time. Of course, as far as John knows there's nothing official about them. Maybe they're just having sex - though it's been two months now.
"She just told you? Just like that?" John had thought Elizabeth had more class than that.
"Wanted me to come to one of her meetings," says Ronon. "Said McKay goes."
John hasn't spoken to Rodney since the party that ended with a call to the cops, his mother arriving home early, two broken lamps, and the garbage disposal backing up all over the kitchen.
He hasn't spoken to anyone, really.
"And, uh, what do you think?" John asks, carefully.
Ronon shrugs. "Said it was his life, what did I care? It's not like we're friends or anything."
John picks at his bag of chips. "So, you don't think it's weird or he's going to hell or anything?"
Ronon looks at John like John's grown another head. Though if John did grow another head, he'd half-expect the ever-cool Ronon to say, "Okay."
"It's not my business," Ronon says with another shrug. "I don't care one way or another. C'mere, I want to show you something."
Ronon puts down his sandwich, wipes his hands on a rag, and crosses to the other side of the garage, pulling a tarp off what looks, at first glance, like a heap of spare parts.
John's mouth falls open, and all thoughts of Rodney are forgotten. "Is that a '45 Harley Davidson WL? Where'd it come from?"
"Traded for it," Ronon replies, circling the busted up motorcycle like a mother protecting its young. "I'm going to fix it up, and then I'm going to race it. Want to help?"
John very nearly hugs Ronon. Thoughts of the Air Force, of his mother's disapproval, of his determination to stay away from Kolya's gang, of surviving just a few more months of high school, they all just seem to dissipate. "Hell yeah."
"What's this I hear about you jumping a motorcycle through flaming hoops?" Rodney demands, red-faced, catching up to John in the hall. "Are you insane?"
"First of all," John says, opening his locker, "it's Ronon's bike, not mine, and there are no plans to jump it through hoops - flaming or otherwise. Hell, it's not even in one piece yet. Where are you getting your information?"
He grabs his physics book a little too roughly and drops it. Something flutters from between the pages onto the floor. Rodney's too quick for him and stoops to pick it up.
In the picture, Rodney is flexing the bicep with the surfboard while John makes a disparaging face at Rodney's muscles. The casual observer might miss the way one of John's hands rests lightly at the nape of Rodney's neck, or the way Rodney's head is falling onto John's shoulder - but Rodney isn't a casual observer.
To cover up the awkward moment, John says, "You want to come over after school today?"
Rodney, startled, stumbles against the bank of lockers. "I thought you were grounded."
"Mom's just about ready to lift my prison sentence, and besides, she'd be more than happy to meet my physics tutor."
The corners of Rodney's lips turn up, and John's stomach lurches. "Physics tutor? You don't need a physics tutor."
"She doesn't know that." John gently lifts the polaroid from Rodney's fingers and presses it back between the pages. He gives Rodney his best look, and is pleased to see Rodney crumple. "Please?"
"Oh, all right."
The thing is, Rodney should know better. He's had his heart broken before, and it's hardened him against the world - the only person who seems to be able to break through his defenses is John.
And that makes John dangerous.
They walk to John's house together after school without saying much. It's the first time they've really been alone since the bathroom at John's party.
John opens with, "So Ronon said something weird to me the other day."
"Weird for him or weird for normal people?"
"He said he knew you were - that he knew you were gay."
Rodney's step doesn't falter. "So?"
"So? You don't mind?" John is busy watching the pavement, stepping on cracks in the sidewalk, but he can't help looking up.
Rodney snorts. "I really don't want to have this conversation with you now - but if you must know, no, I don't care. I don't care if the whole school knows. It's not as if the opinions of any of these people actually matter. When I become a brilliant astrophysicist, the last thing my peers will be concerned with is my sexual orientation. Besides, I never tried to pretend I'm someone I'm not."
That hits John hard, like a physical blow to the solar plexus. Before he has time to recover, however, Kolya and his gang pull up alongside.
Acastus Kolya looks about thirty, probably because he's been held back so many times. He's every meaning of the phrase 'from the wrong side of the tracks', though he has a certain snakelike charm and cunning that causes people to follow him.
He and John had hated each other on sight.
"Well, well," says Kolya, stepping off his motorcycle. "Taking your boyfriend for a walk, Sheppard?"
John stiffens. "Back off, Kolya, I've got no beef with you - today."
"Why are you hanging around with this fairy, Sheppard?" asks Cowen, one of Kolya's goons. "Are you in love?"
"Shut up." John starts to feel rage burn through his body, like an out of control wildfire. His vision starts to blur, and he's trembling, but not from fear.
"John." Rodney hand his on his shoulder. "Forget them. Let's go."
"Yes, John," mocks Kolya. "You wouldn't want to miss your Ladies Sewing Circle. Is your mother proud of having a pansy, Sheppard? Or is that why your parents are divorced?"
With a roar John launches himself at Kolya, taking the larger man completely by surprise. He can vaguely feel hands pulling at his jacket, and punches to his sides and head, but he's intently focused on causing as much damage as he can, and it's not until he runs out of strength that he lets Rodney pull him away.
Rodney stares. John is bleeding from a cut at his temple, his nose, and his mouth, but he looks triumphant. Kolya's still on the ground, surrounded by his toadies, who hoist him to his feet.
"This isn't over, Sheppard," he says, low and threatening, and Rodney feels a wave of fear. "Not by a long shot."
Then he gets on his motorcycle, and his gang speeds away. Rodney wonders what, exactly, made them stop, and then he thinks maybe it's the feral look in John's eyes, that glittering, terrifying look that says this boy is capable of anything.
"Come on," he says to John, trying to keep his fear out of his voice, putting his arm around the sagging John's shoulders, "let's get you to the house."
John passes out on the couch almost as soon as Rodney gets him inside, which gives Rodney ample time to stare.
This is what he sees:
He sees a bloodied mouth that is too often set in a fake expression, whether it's a smile or a sneer. He sees dark circles under John's eyes, and a crease in his forehead even when he's unconscious. He sees what John wants him to see (an aimless hooligan with fists of fury) and he sees what's really there (a lonely boy who understands what it is to want to be anywhere but here.)
When John wakes up, Rodney smiles. John's startled, but not displeased by his proximity.
"When's your mom going to be home?"
Later, upstairs in John's bedroom, in John's bed, he trails a finger down Rodney's arm and grins when the other boy shivers.
"I'm exhausted," says John, stretching his arm over his head, then resting his hands comfortably around Rodney's waist. This should feel weird, he thinks. He should feel confused. Instead, he feels better than he has in a long time.
"Thanks," says Rodney, one eye open. John leans over and draws him into a deep kiss. "I have to say, after that run in, I didn't think you'd want -"
"Shh," John says, and moves his hands into a better position, causing Rodney to moan. "Don't."
Later, when they're lying side by side, staring up at the ceiling, John asks:
"You going to prom?"
Rodney's laugh is muffled by the pillow. "Hadn't thought about it. Why, you asking me?"
"No," says John, punching him in the shoulder. Then he rests his head back down and they're quiet again.
"Elizabeth'll probably make me, just to see her get crowned prom queen," Rodney comments. "Though it might be worth the money to see that gorilla friend of yours in a tux."
"I don't think prom is really Ronon's scene," says John.
"Yeah, but it is Elizabeth's, and he's dating her now, right?"
John looks at the cracks in his ceiling; the one that used to look like Abraham Lincoln is now starting to resemble Teddy Roosevelt. "You really think they're dating?"
"What else would you call it?"
John shifts slightly, and props himself up on one elbow, rearranging the sheet. "I don't know, I just kind of thought they were -"
"Fuck-buddies?" Rodney's voice is suddenly anarctic. "Like us?"
John tries to cover this with a laugh. "Wow, you really know how to kill a moment."
And just like that, Rodney's on his feet, gathering his clothes. Before John even has a chance to blink, he's putting on his shoes.
"What'd I say?" John asks, trying to keep calm.
"You - you -" Rodney sputters. "You're impossible!"
"Okay," says John slowly, "what else?"
Rodney just makes a noise of strangled rage and storms out of the room. John hurries to put some clothes on and follows.
Downstairs in the kitchen, John's mother is putting away groceries. She looks up as Rodney flies by.
"John?" she says, catching sight of him. Rodney squeals to a halt, guilty. John runs in, some weird mix of anguish and anger on his face. He, too, stops when he sees his mother.
"Uh, this is Rodney, Mom. He's, um, tutoring me in physics."
Mrs. Sheppard, whose expression had looked extremely severe, relaxed palpably. "Oh, that's excellent news. I'm very glad to see you finally buckling down to your studies, Johnny."
John rolls his eyes, and Rodney thinks, for a moment, that he could just slip away. "I've told you, Mom, the Air Force isn't going to care if I get straight As."
"Well, it certainly can't hurt," she sniffs, "and you know I don't like the idea of you in the military."
"You just don't like the idea of me following in Dad's footsteps," John snaps.
"Uh, maybe I should go," says Rodney. And, really, there's no maybe about it. John and his mother are too busy glaring at one another to really notice him anyway. Rodney walks home alone, confused about everything, where just that morning it had all been so clear.
Rodney waits all night for a call from John, and when it doesn't come, he calls himself an idiot, swears to never fall for that stupid ploy again, and vows to pay attention to nothing else but graduating and getting the hell away from John Sheppard.
John gets into another screaming match with his mother, storms upstairs, picks up the phone to call Rodney, and then remembers the look in his eye just before he left. He hangs up without dialing.
*
tbc.
Author: icantfollow
Prompt: #063 Summer
Word Count: ~7300
Rating: R
Summary: But, oh, those summer nights.
A/N: Wow, this became so much more more than I intended, and it's so anachronistically out of whack it's not funny because I really couldn't decide what era to set it in.
Act One -
I. Summer Nights
They meet for the first time on a beach in California. John wears nothing but flip-flops and boardshorts that sling dangerously low across his hips, exposing a clearly defined tan line. Rodney, in contrast, sits beneath his wide-brimmed sun hat in an over-sized white t-shirt with a stripe of zinc oxide on his nose, making corrections in the margins of his physics book.
It would be nice to say it’s love at first sight, but they’re only seventeen, and male, so it’s more like curiosity mingled with mild disbelief at finding someone like that in this place.
John plants his surfboard in the sand next to Rodney and sits down with his knees pulled against his chest, digging water out of one ear with his finger.
“Hey,” he says.
Rodney looks up, but it’s clear that he can’t believe John is talking to him. John notices that Rodney’s wearing Batman swim trunks and something flutters in his chest.
“You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself,” comments John.
Rodney rolls his eyes as if to say, ‘What gave it away?’ then says in a monotone, “I don’t want to be here.”
Instead of asking why he is here then, John asks, “Where would you rather be?”
The corners of Rodney’s mouth turn up into a smile, and it’s charming in a dorky way. “Anywhere else. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
He makes a gesture at John as if to say that John, with his wet hair and brown shoulders obviously belongs to the surf and sand. And, in a sense, he’s right. John wouldn’t trade the beach, the waves, the fiery sunset for anything.
“Yeah, well, believe it or not, I understand the feeling.” John shakes away thoughts of the end of summer and says, “I’m John Sheppard.”
“Rodney McKay.”
They shake hands, feeling a jolt of electricity at the contact, pulling back with equally shy smiles. Rodney looks away first, brushing his fingers across the spine of his book. John peers over and is surprised to find that it isn’t complete gibberish to him.
“If you’re not doing anything later,” John says, feeling inexplicably nervous, wiping some of the wet hair from his forehead, “how about you check out the pier with me?”
Rodney starts. “Uh,” he says, “I’m kind of on vacation with my family. Besides, guys like you don’t hang out with guys like me.”
John almost laughs. It would be kind of insulting if it weren’t so sad. Rodney is all tense muscles and gruff exterior, but there’s something longing in his eyes, a desperation that he probably hides from most people, but, for whatever reason, can’t hide from John.
People react in one of two ways to Rodney McKay - either they loathe him on sight, or they find him fascinating and oddly attractive. There aren’t many of the latter.
“What do you mean, ‘guys like me’? Are you from a foreign country or something?”
“Canada, actually,” sniffs Rodney, and he smears some of the zinc off his nose across his cheek. John has the odd impulse to reach over and brush away the smudge.
“All right then, Mountie Man,” says John, and he stands up, brushing sand from his shorts, “can you swim?”
Rodney looks flummoxed. “If the occasion calls for it.”
John’s eyes travel from Rodney’s face to his surfboard, then back again. Rodney follows along, then throws his hands up as if warding off something truly evil and dangerous.
“Oh, no,” he says, over and over again as John drags him into the water.
They kiss with lips puckered by the salty sea for the first time in the middle of the Pacific Ocean after Rodney rides his first (albeit tiny) wave. It’s more a question than anything else, with answers to come later.
“I’m sorry,” is the first thing Rodney says when John meets him at the entrance to the pier the next night, hair combed, teeth brushed, and for a completely heart-stopping moment John thinks that Rodney is going to say his trip has been cut short and it’s all over.
Rodney produces Jeannie, his eleven year old sister and the apparent bane of his existence.
“My parents made me bring her,” he says with a scowl over her little blonde head.
John, who’s not great at public displays of affection anyway, only shrugs and introduces himself to the girl who is a shockingly female version of Rodney, only with better people skills.
Soon, despite Jeannie’s intrusion into what they’re both thinking of privately as their first official date, Rodney begins to smile, and laughs outright when John’s eyes light up at the sight of the ferris wheel. He pales, however, when John insists they ride it together.
“That is a metal deathtrap,” he says, dragged along by both John and Jeannie. “I’m sure it isn’t even up to code.”
When Jeannie insists on riding in her own car over Rodney’s protests, John takes Rodney’s hand with a suggestive smile, and they climb into the seat behind her.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” a pale-faced Rodney accuses when the car comes to a squeaking halt at the top of the wheel, rocking gently back and forth. The night sky is cloudless, and though they’re too close to the city for an explosion of stars, John thinks the lights of Los Angeles might do just as well.
“Well,” says John, threading his slightly sweaty fingers through Rodney’s, watching the flush spread up the other boy’s face, “yeah, actually.”
It’s the last week of vacation for both of them, but neither wants to say it. Rodney has refused to spend yet another day at Disneyland with Jeannie and his parents, so they’ve agreed to let him spend the day with his ‘new friend’.
John takes Rodney to a secluded part of the beach along Pacific Coast Highway in Malibu. They have to ride the bus, though John makes much mention of the fact that his dad says he can get a motorcycle for his eighteenth birthday - providing he pays for half, and the insurance, and keeps it in repair. Rodney, perhaps wisely, says nothing.
They swim a little, and sun a little, John helps Rodney cover that difficult patch on his upper back with sunscreen, and then John moves in a little closer while Rodney’s busy complaining about sand in awkward places.
His heart is racing, and there’s a tightening in his groin as he runs his hand down Rodney’s arm. Rodney moans a little, just under his breath, and tilts his head to the side to better catch John’s mouth. A warm flush spreads across his stomach when they bump noses and fall backward onto the sand.
“I’ve never-“ whispers John, blushing painfully, and Rodney laughs nervously, rubbing his cheek.
“Me either,” he says, but leans over to try again. He’s nothing if not determined. This time, they don’t try for tenderness, but just do whatever feels good, figuring out along the way what doesn’t.
“Hey,” Rodney says a short time later, panting slightly with one leg wrapped around John’s. He’s stopped complaining about the sand, though there are grains of it at the corners of his lips now swollen with the salty tang of the ocean and John. “This, this is-“
“This is summer,” John finishes, and uses his mouth to say goodbye.
To John’s surprise, it’s Rodney who suggests the henna tattoos.
They’re walking the Third Street Promenade, brushing shoulders or hands, trying not to think about how they’ll never see each other again, or what any of this means outside the magical bubble of summer vacation. Rodney, in his walking shorts, sun hat, and a camera around his neck, couldn't look more like a tourist, but John thinks it's kind of cute.
“This way,” says Rodney, “we’ll have a reminder - until it fades anyway, by which point I’m sure you’ll have forgotten me.”
“Why not go all out,” John teases, “and get real tattoos with our initials in hearts?”
Rodney rolls his eyes. “Do you have any idea how unhygienic those needles are? I’m not getting HIV to remember you by.”
“Nothing says love like a deadly disease,” John says solemnly, but agrees to sit down at one of the henna artist stands.
Rodney gets a surfboard on his bicep, both for John and for his own personal triumph, and John asks for a maple leaf on his shoulder blade, figuring he can always pass himself off as a hockey fan if anyone asks.
"Hey," Rodney says to the tattoo artist, "can you take our picture?"
"What are we, girls?" John mutters, but sits still as the tattoo lady positions Rodney's polaroid. She takes two pictures, handing one to each of them, like somehow she knows. John takes his and tucks it away in his back pocket, still feeling red around the ears.
When the time comes, they don’t exchange numbers or promise to write. They don’t say anything other than, “Aloha.”
II. Hopelessly Devoted
There ought to be a law, Rodney thinks, against moving to a new school, let alone a new country, just before the start of senior year.
American high school isn’t wildly different or anything, but he’d finally gotten all his teachers and classmates inToronto suitably intimidated by his dazzling intellect - and now he’ll have to start from scratch.
“Welcome to Chicago,” says a kid with wild Einstein-esque hair and crooked glasses, the moment Rodney steps out of the principal’s office with his class schedule. He has an accent and looks even more out of place than Rodney does. “I am Radek Zelenka.”
“What is that, Russian?” Rodney asks, shaking hands with his self-appointed tour guide. Apparently, he’s wearing a sign that says ‘New Kid,’ and Radek has taken pity on him.
“Czech,” Radek replies. “My family moved here when I was quite young.”
Radek likes science, and video games, and is not as stupid as he looks, thank goodness. Rodney starts to relax in his company, and when they get into an argument about Oppenheimer’s work on the Manhattan Project, he thinks that some day he might be able to call this place home.
John’s group of friends are popular to the point of obscenity. They punch and noogie and laugh when they see each other again, shouting about how awesome senior year is going to be, already talking about parties and prom. John’s friends aren’t the sort to plan ahead much, and deep down, they’re all terrified that these really are the best years of their lives, that it’s all downhill from here.
“It is good to see you again, John,” says Teyla Emmagen, pulling him into a hug - an indignity he suffers from no one else. He beams at her as he opens his locker. Inside’s a picture of Johnny Cash, a football, last year’s A+ math test, and a pair of ratty sneakers. For a second, he wishes he had something of Rodney’s to tack up in back, though he doesn’t know how he’d explain it. He remembers the polaroid and slips it, slightly crumpled, in between the pages of his physics book.
Ronon Dex, who looms like nobody’s business but is just about the best person he knows, asks if John has a date for Homecoming yet, and sophomore Aiden Ford says, “But it’s only the first day of school!”
If this really is as good as it gets, John thinks, closing his locker door, watching Laura Cadman rebuff Evan Lorne’s advances with a throaty laugh, then he’s a pretty lucky guy.
The classes, even the honors ones he's bullied his way into, are simplistic bordering on childish, so Rodney makes a plan to look into classes at the local community college. Senior year is just a place filler anyway. He only needs to ride it out as long as it takes to get his diploma, then he’ll disappear. He has no intention of getting involved at his new school, content to sit back and sail through.
Unfortunately, Radek introduces him to Elizabeth Weir, and Elizabeth is Girl Most Likely To.
Class President, head of the Future Leaders of America, editor of the yearbook and the school paper - Rodney wonders when she has time to breathe. She seems determined, once she learns his GPA, to drag him down with her.
“So, what did you do for your summer, Rodney?” asks Carson Beckett, Elizabeth’s cousin from Scotland who plans to be a doctor. They’re all sitting at the same table in the cafeteria; for the first time, Rodney’s actually been invited to eat with other people.
“Hung out at the beach, mostly,” says Rodney. He hesitates, then decides there’s no point in pretending with people whose opinions don’t matter to him anyway. “I met a guy.”
Elizabeth jumps, and exchanges a look with Kate Heightmeyer who’s in Rodney’s AP history class. “Oh, so you’re...”
“Yeah,” Rodney supplies, without waiting for the awkward end to that sentence. “I am. Is that a problem?”
He probably sounds more belligerent than he should, but he’s aware of the fact that he’s no longer in a country that has legalized gay marriage.
“Of course not,” Elizabeth says, recovering, and she sounds sincere. “I’m co-chair of the Gay-Straight Alliance on campus. We’re having a meeting on Friday, you should come.”
“Uh, maybe,” says Rodney, who can’t think of anything he’d rather do less. Except eat citrus. Or sit through a lecture on the fundamentals of gravity. Or babysit his sister.
“So, tell us about him,” says Kate, evidently trying to cover up the blunder.
“About who?”
“Your mystery man,” Radek replies, leaning forward so that his glasses catch the light.
Rodney’s hand goes to his arm where the surfboard tattoo is covered by his sleeve. His face feels hot, but he can’t help smiling.
“There’s nothing to tell,” he lies. “It was just a summer thing. I’m sure I’ll never see him again.”
It’s not halfway through the first day and already John has a date with the principal. Sadly, that’s not even a record.
“Mr. Sheppard,” says Principal Caldwell in his booming voice, “shall we go through the basics again?”
“No need, sir,” says John, leaning back in his chair. “I’m pretty sure I remember the speech.”
John rarely gets caught, but always attracts suspicion. The cost of being popular is that it shines a spotlight on you and all your misdeeds.
“Seniors frequently feel the need to leave a sort of legacy behind,” Caldwell continues, glaring at John from behind his fortress-like desk. “I’m sure I don’t have to worry about that sort of thing with you.”
John’s goal is to get the hell out of high school and join the Air Force. He’s not stupid enough to jeopardize that for a senior prank, even if some of his friends are.
Ronon, in particular, is the one he needs to watch out for. Not because Ronon’s a bad guy or anything, but because he can never resist a challenge. The rival biker gang from the next high school over, led by a toad named Kolya, has it out for John and his group. Ronon won’t like hearing that he can’t get involved. John doesn’t like that he has to be the one to say it.
"Mr. McKay," says Principal Caldwell, staring at Rodney over steepled fingers, "how are you enjoying your first day?"
Rodney hates people like Caldwell. Anyone who asks inane questions like that is clearly deficient.
"Fine," he says. What he wants to say is, 'I'm only here for the diploma, and the second I graduate I'm going to leave without a backwards glance.'
"I'm glad to hear it," Principal Caldwell replies without looking up from Rodney's file. He sees the CIA stamp from that incident when he was in the sixth grade. "You've certainly had an interesting academic career."
"Yes, sir, but I only want to graduate. I won't cause trouble."
Caldwell pauses. "Where are you planning to go to college?"
Rodney's a bit taken aback by his interest. "I had thought about Harvard, MIT, or Cornell."
"What about the University of Chicago? We have a fast track program."
Finally, Rodney gets a chance to say what's on his mind. "Basically, my goal is to get the hell out of Chicago. Nothing against the city, but it's not for me. I don't want to be here. In fact, I want to be anywhere else."
John and Rodney meet for the second time at the bonfire after Homecoming. John’s wearing a leather jacket, dark jeans, and combat boots, Rodney a poorly knit sweater and mismatched socks because he couldn’t be bothered to check their color that morning.
“All I’m saying,” he insists, walking with Elizabeth, side-stepping drunken teenagers and their disgusting contributions to Mother Earth, “is that everything that’s wrong with your country can be summed up by the fact that more attention is paid to a losing football team than the winners of the academic decathlon.”
Paying more attention to where he’s putting his feet than where he’s putting the rest of his body, Rodney runs straight into a guy in a leather jacket holding a beer, and his life flashes before his eyes. Then he hears a familiar voice, tinged with astonishment.
“Rodney?” says John, wiping away the beer he sloshed on his shirt.
“John?” Rodney squeaks, caught between pleasure and anxiety.
“What are you doing here?” John asks, unable to keep the smile off his face.
“My dad got a better job, so we moved. What about you? I thought you lived in California!”
The rest of John’s gang turns at the intrusion. Teyla, still in her cheer uniform, looks the most benign, placing a delicate hand on Ronon’s thick arm. Evan’s got Laura off in a secluded spot somewhere, but Aiden’s hanging around, looking green around the mouth from the alcohol John told him not to drink.
John looks from them to Rodney, sparing a glance for a cool, calculating Elizabeth. He can feel the faded maple leaf on his shoulder blade burn, echoing his cheeks as he remembers the last time he and Rodney were together. Rodney’s practically glowing, his eyes lit up with the same fervor they had when John caught him correcting a well-known physicist's text book.
“You know him, Shep?” asks Ronon, eyeing Rodney like a cat might eye a goldfish.
“Rodney?” Elizabeth has put her hand on his shoulder, and John bubbles with jealousy that a moment later leaves him feeling queasy.
For a second, Rodney seriously contemplates flinging his arms around John and drawing him into a kiss, classmates be damned, but he’s a genius, and being a genius has taught him some hard lessons about the way things are done in school. He opens his mouth to say something (awkward silences are not his friends), but John gets there first.
“Yeah,” John says in answer to Ronon’s question, hands flexing at his sides as if they want to take Rodney’s face between them, “I, uh, taught him to surf.”
Rodney’s expression goes blank, like someone’s wiped it clean. “That’s right. Santa Monica. Never expected to find you all the way out here.”
John tries to laugh and ends up sounding like a sick donkey. He’s starting to sweat by the firelight, and his heart is drumming faster. He turns to Ronon and says, “McKay had never even seen a board before. He was really crap. Had to save him from drowning a couple times.”
Ronon seems satisfied by this, but Rodney is not.
“McKay,” he repeats, and one hand goes up to his arm where the surfboard stands, “since when am I McKay to you?”
Not outing a man to a circle of his peers is one thing - allowing him to act like an asshole is another, and Rodney’s not about to let John walk away scot free.
John laughs again and turns away from Rodney. “Man, I don’t know what you thought, but I don’t know you all that well. It was a couple of surf lessons. Never thought I’d see you again.”
Rodney staggers, his face open and injured, and Elizabeth steadies him, glaring at John. They’re all silent, staring, while people celebrate in the background with drinks and laughter. A moment later Rodney’s closed off again, and he shakes off Elizabeth’s help.
“Yeah, well, it’s good to see you too,” he says coolly, and stalks off.
“Was that him?” Elizabeth asks in a soft voice when they’re a little ways away. “Your mystery man?”
There’s a note of complete shock in her voice. The angry, jealous, hurt part of Rodney wants to say yes, to hurt John, to let the entire school know just what kind of dick he is, but the part of him that smiles at the sight of a ferris wheel doesn’t want to cause that much damage.
“No,” he says. “That was someone else. John...Sheppard was just a guy who taught me to surf. I guess I thought he’d be glad to see me. Stupid. After all, guys like him don’t hang out with guys like me.”
And he and Elizabeth walk back to the others.
III. Look at Me
John sweeps his hair out of his eyes, and waits. Two days since the bonfire, and he’s put the time to good use, hunting down Rodney’s class schedule and throwing his friends off the track. All this subterfuge has put him a little on edge, though; the clock in the hallway ticks unevenly, causing a twitch in John until it's drowned out by the bell.
“Hey,” he says, grabbing Rodney by the arm when he exits his AP Calculus class, distracted by a pretty blonde. “Can we talk?”
Rodney pulls away and makes a face. “You’d talk to me in public? I’m flattered.”
“Rod-ney,” John groans, but still Rodney won’t come near him.
“What happened to ‘McKay’?”
John rolls his eyes and drags Rodney down the hall to the boys’ bathroom, kicking in the stalls to make sure they’re alone.
“Okay, I admit it,” he says, sitting on the edge of the sink. Rodney’s leaning against the wall by the paper towel dispenser, arms crossed over his chest. John doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone look less cooperative. “I was a jackass. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Rodney sniffs. “It’s a start.”
Maybe it’s the way Rodney’s got his hair combed, or the fact that he’s wearing a t-shirt that reads I’ll try to be nicer if you try to be smarter, but John flashes back to their days at the beach, and a low burn starts in his belly.
“What?” says Rodney, lowering his eyes suspiciously. “Look, if you’re trying to warn me off, don’t bother. I get it. It was a summer thing, we never planned on seeing each other again, or even keeping in contact, et cetera. Don’t worry about it. You don’t have to be my friend, you don’t even have to talk to me.”
The bell rings again, which is just about the only thing that stops John from shoving Rodney inside one of those bathroom stalls and sticking his tongue down Rodney's throat. He squirms a bit, thinking of how close he’d come to letting some bizarre sexual fantasy play out in the halls of his high school. He thought he had more control than that, which just goes to show the kind of effect Rodney has on him.
Rodney doesn’t notice that anything’s wrong. “I’m late for class.”
He pushes his way past John and out the bathroom, but collapses against the wall and sinks to the floor when he’s out of sight, shivering at the contact. A part of him wants to just skip out on his next class (something pedantic and not worth his time anyway) to take a cold shower, but he goes anyway, concentrating on baseball or whatever it is people are supposed to think about at times like this.
On the weekends, for fun, John’s friends do this:
Go to the mall, hang out, go to the movies, hang out, watch NASCAR, hang out, skateboard, hang out, party, hang out, drink, hang out, cause trouble for the rival gang, hang out, work on cars, and hang out.
Ronon gets sullen when John puts an embargo on interactions with Kolya and his group, but he obeys. He and John blow off steam sparring at the local gym and fixing up old motorcycles for the undeserving. John’s dad may have promised he can have one of his own when he goes back out to California next summer, but his mother would kill him for even thinking about it.
Some days after school John hangs around the bleachers watching Teyla at cheer practice, goes with Evan down to the local diner, or watches Aiden try to pick up girls. One afternoon, he actually catches one. Unfortunately, she comes with strings attached.
“Her cousin’s in from out of town,” he says to John, pleading, “and she won’t go out with me unless her cousin’s got a date, too. You gotta help me out, man.”
And that’s how John meets Chaya.
On the weekends, for fun, Rodney’s friends do this:
Build fighting robots, volunteer at soup kitchens and pediatric wards, plot world domination, play video games, start homework not due for another two weeks, debate the scientific and sociological merits of Star Wars versus Star Trek, and - if there’s time - hang out.
They’re at Carson’s house - Rodney, Elizabeth, Radek, Kate, and Carson - gathered in front of the television. Elizabeth and Radek are working on a project for English, Kate’s sketching Carson’s profile for her art class while he reads a medical journal with disgusting pictures, and Rodney eats a sandwich, planning his next move in a chess game he plays by mail with one of his teachers from Canada.
“Rodney, we need to find you a boyfriend,” Elizabeth announces.
Rodney half-expects one of the others to react with laughter or disgust, but they’re all nodding along like it’s the best idea they’ve ever heard.
“Please tell me,” Rodney says in the calmest voice he can muster - which isn't all that calm, “that I haven’t become your gay mascot.”
“What about Lucius?” says Carson, as if Rodney hadn’t spoken. “He’s a decent bloke.”
“No, no, Walter is much more Rodney’s speed,” says Kate, and Rodney feels ill.
“Sorry, is this Gay-Straight Alliance of yours a pro-tolerance group or a dating service?”
Radek tries to draw Elizabeth’s attention back to their assignment and glances up at Rodney. “No offense, but I would rather not talk about your sex life - any of your sex lives,” he adds.
“I agree,” Rodney says, shuddering. They mean well, but this is just disturbing. Besides, his summer with John is still too fresh in his mind. “There will be no more discussing my sex life or lack thereof. Agreed?"
“Agreed,” Elizabeth, Carson, and Kate say, disappointed.
And that’s how Rodney is introduced to Daniel Jackson.
It's taken some more subterfuge, but John's finally got ahold of Rodney's home phone number.
"Hey," he says when a young girl picks up, "it's John Sheppard. Do you remember me from the pier, Jeannie?"
She squeals and giggles, and he has to hold the phone a foot away from his ear.
"Can I talk to your brother?" he asks, interrupting her high-pitched chatter. The shrieks die away and a moment later Rodney picks up the phone.
"How did you get this number?" Rodney demands, loud enough to pierce John's eardrum.
"Snuck into the principal's office and took a look at your file," John replies evenly. "Did you really build a nuclear bomb for your sixth grade science fair?"
"Well, it's not like I could actually get my hands on plutonium-"
John interrupts before he loses his nerve. "Look, my mom's going to be out of town this weekend, so I'm having a party, and I want you to come. You can bring your friends if you want."
There's silence on the other end of the line. Then -
"You're serious."
John clears his throat. "I don't see why we can't be friends, Rodney. Unless, of course, you don't want to-"
"No, no." John breathes a sigh of relief. "Okay. I'll come."
"Great. Saturday. See you there."
John's first date with Chaya Sar, on Friday night, is incredibly uncomfortable. Aiden and his date spend the entire night sneaking glances at one another, starting sentences then trailing off, and spilling drinks. John keeps glancing at his watch.
Chaya asks if something's wrong, and John lies to keep her happy. She's pretty and sweet, but there's something about her (aside from the fact that she's female) that just rubs him the wrong way.
Rodney's first date with Daniel Jackson, on Friday night, isn't really a date. Elizabeth, Carson, Radek, and Kate invite Daniel to go with them to the Field Museum. Daniel, whose parents were archaeologists before they died, knows everything about every exhibit, and though his enthusiasm is kind of cute, it quickly starts to grate on Rodney's nerves.
Plus, he's not even sure that Daniel's gay.
At John's party the next night, several things happen - all seemingly at once.
John gets spectacularly drunk off cheap beer, too drunk to protest when Chaya drags him onto his feet to dance. Rodney and co. enter at that moment, and while Rodney is busy wishing the earth would swallow him whole, Elizabeth and Ronon lock eyes from across the room and disappear for the rest of the night. Teyla, a little tipsy herself, takes a dive from the kitchen table, stumbling right into Carson's unsuspecting arms. She giggles drunkenly and he turns bright red, setting on her feet, which, a moment later, turns out wasn't such a great idea.
Evan and Laura are screaming at each other upstairs, though whether they're angry or about to have sex, no one knows and no one's brave enough to find out. Aiden is making out indiscriminately with any female that comes his way.
"This was the worst idea I've ever had," Rodney moans, and Radek shakes his head, shouting over the grinding music.
"I have not known you long, but this cannot be worse than your idea to corner the market on chocolate bars during midterms. Or the plan you had for turning Principal Caldwell's car into a giant fighting robot. Or the time you-"
"Yes, thank you, Radek," Rodney snarls, "I get it. I'm going to find the bathroom. Please try not to lose your mind like everyone else while I'm gone."
John chooses that same moment to turn green and excuses himself from Chaya's vise-like grip.
He barges straight into the first floor bathroom and throws himself over the toilet. Unfortunately he forgets to lock the door, and when he hears footsteps behind him, the best he can muster is a low groan.
"What the hell!" Rodney yells, stumbling backward against the sink and away from the swamp monster formerly known as John. "John? Is that you?"
"What's left of me," John mumbles. "'ey, Rodney. Enjoying the party?"
"Not particularly, no," says Rodney, crossing his arms. "So, tell me, John, are you having fun?"
"Oh yeah," John says, hearing his voice echo in the toilet bowl. "Loads."
Rodney's expression softens and he runs a hand through John's hair, kneeling down on the cold tile. His touch is surprisingly gentle, given their current relationship.
"I did this once, you know," he says conversationally. "Got drunk that is. Thought it would help me fit in."
"Let me guess," John says, smothering a burp, "you had one beer and passed out."
Rodney is insulted. "Please, I could drink you under the table any day, you're a lightweight. Thing is, brain cells weren't the only thing I lost that night."
John chokes and Rodney holds his shaking shoulders. "You told me - on the beach - that you had never -"
"My first time was with a girl," says Rodney, voice still even. "And it sucked. Suffice it to say, I didn't feel like getting drunk after that."
"Why are you telling me all this?" John moans, sliding further onto the floor. Rodney grabs a washcloth from under the sink, runs it under the tap, and presses it to John's forehead.
"I guess...because I have to know. What happened on the beach, at the pier - was that real? Did it mean anything to you?"
"Jesus, Rodney," says John, struggling to sit up, keeping the cloth pressed to his head with one hand. "Of course it did. I'm not that good an actor. Look, all this, it's just high school."
"Just high school," Rodney repeats. "So the John Sheppard I met in Santa Monica, he's real, but this John Sheppard, he's a lie to make his friends happy."
John's head is pounding and he feels queasy. "Yeah, I guess. Nobody's themselves in high school, Rodney. You know that. You can say you want to be an individual, but at the end of the day, all anyone wants is to survive. And to survive, I can't be gay."
Rodney's quiet. Then: "That's fucked up."
And he leaves John lying on the bathroom floor.
IV. Greased Lightning
"You know that guy McKay's a queer?" Ronon says while they're in the garage on their lunch break.
John chokes on his sandwich, spraying bits of tomato everywhere. "What? Where'd you hear that?"
"Elizabeth told me," says Ronon, shrugging. John really can't picture a less likely couple than Elizabeth Weir and Ronon Dex; the two of them have a hard time fitting in his mind at the same time. Of course, as far as John knows there's nothing official about them. Maybe they're just having sex - though it's been two months now.
"She just told you? Just like that?" John had thought Elizabeth had more class than that.
"Wanted me to come to one of her meetings," says Ronon. "Said McKay goes."
John hasn't spoken to Rodney since the party that ended with a call to the cops, his mother arriving home early, two broken lamps, and the garbage disposal backing up all over the kitchen.
He hasn't spoken to anyone, really.
"And, uh, what do you think?" John asks, carefully.
Ronon shrugs. "Said it was his life, what did I care? It's not like we're friends or anything."
John picks at his bag of chips. "So, you don't think it's weird or he's going to hell or anything?"
Ronon looks at John like John's grown another head. Though if John did grow another head, he'd half-expect the ever-cool Ronon to say, "Okay."
"It's not my business," Ronon says with another shrug. "I don't care one way or another. C'mere, I want to show you something."
Ronon puts down his sandwich, wipes his hands on a rag, and crosses to the other side of the garage, pulling a tarp off what looks, at first glance, like a heap of spare parts.
John's mouth falls open, and all thoughts of Rodney are forgotten. "Is that a '45 Harley Davidson WL? Where'd it come from?"
"Traded for it," Ronon replies, circling the busted up motorcycle like a mother protecting its young. "I'm going to fix it up, and then I'm going to race it. Want to help?"
John very nearly hugs Ronon. Thoughts of the Air Force, of his mother's disapproval, of his determination to stay away from Kolya's gang, of surviving just a few more months of high school, they all just seem to dissipate. "Hell yeah."
"What's this I hear about you jumping a motorcycle through flaming hoops?" Rodney demands, red-faced, catching up to John in the hall. "Are you insane?"
"First of all," John says, opening his locker, "it's Ronon's bike, not mine, and there are no plans to jump it through hoops - flaming or otherwise. Hell, it's not even in one piece yet. Where are you getting your information?"
He grabs his physics book a little too roughly and drops it. Something flutters from between the pages onto the floor. Rodney's too quick for him and stoops to pick it up.
In the picture, Rodney is flexing the bicep with the surfboard while John makes a disparaging face at Rodney's muscles. The casual observer might miss the way one of John's hands rests lightly at the nape of Rodney's neck, or the way Rodney's head is falling onto John's shoulder - but Rodney isn't a casual observer.
To cover up the awkward moment, John says, "You want to come over after school today?"
Rodney, startled, stumbles against the bank of lockers. "I thought you were grounded."
"Mom's just about ready to lift my prison sentence, and besides, she'd be more than happy to meet my physics tutor."
The corners of Rodney's lips turn up, and John's stomach lurches. "Physics tutor? You don't need a physics tutor."
"She doesn't know that." John gently lifts the polaroid from Rodney's fingers and presses it back between the pages. He gives Rodney his best look, and is pleased to see Rodney crumple. "Please?"
"Oh, all right."
The thing is, Rodney should know better. He's had his heart broken before, and it's hardened him against the world - the only person who seems to be able to break through his defenses is John.
And that makes John dangerous.
They walk to John's house together after school without saying much. It's the first time they've really been alone since the bathroom at John's party.
John opens with, "So Ronon said something weird to me the other day."
"Weird for him or weird for normal people?"
"He said he knew you were - that he knew you were gay."
Rodney's step doesn't falter. "So?"
"So? You don't mind?" John is busy watching the pavement, stepping on cracks in the sidewalk, but he can't help looking up.
Rodney snorts. "I really don't want to have this conversation with you now - but if you must know, no, I don't care. I don't care if the whole school knows. It's not as if the opinions of any of these people actually matter. When I become a brilliant astrophysicist, the last thing my peers will be concerned with is my sexual orientation. Besides, I never tried to pretend I'm someone I'm not."
That hits John hard, like a physical blow to the solar plexus. Before he has time to recover, however, Kolya and his gang pull up alongside.
Acastus Kolya looks about thirty, probably because he's been held back so many times. He's every meaning of the phrase 'from the wrong side of the tracks', though he has a certain snakelike charm and cunning that causes people to follow him.
He and John had hated each other on sight.
"Well, well," says Kolya, stepping off his motorcycle. "Taking your boyfriend for a walk, Sheppard?"
John stiffens. "Back off, Kolya, I've got no beef with you - today."
"Why are you hanging around with this fairy, Sheppard?" asks Cowen, one of Kolya's goons. "Are you in love?"
"Shut up." John starts to feel rage burn through his body, like an out of control wildfire. His vision starts to blur, and he's trembling, but not from fear.
"John." Rodney hand his on his shoulder. "Forget them. Let's go."
"Yes, John," mocks Kolya. "You wouldn't want to miss your Ladies Sewing Circle. Is your mother proud of having a pansy, Sheppard? Or is that why your parents are divorced?"
With a roar John launches himself at Kolya, taking the larger man completely by surprise. He can vaguely feel hands pulling at his jacket, and punches to his sides and head, but he's intently focused on causing as much damage as he can, and it's not until he runs out of strength that he lets Rodney pull him away.
Rodney stares. John is bleeding from a cut at his temple, his nose, and his mouth, but he looks triumphant. Kolya's still on the ground, surrounded by his toadies, who hoist him to his feet.
"This isn't over, Sheppard," he says, low and threatening, and Rodney feels a wave of fear. "Not by a long shot."
Then he gets on his motorcycle, and his gang speeds away. Rodney wonders what, exactly, made them stop, and then he thinks maybe it's the feral look in John's eyes, that glittering, terrifying look that says this boy is capable of anything.
"Come on," he says to John, trying to keep his fear out of his voice, putting his arm around the sagging John's shoulders, "let's get you to the house."
John passes out on the couch almost as soon as Rodney gets him inside, which gives Rodney ample time to stare.
This is what he sees:
He sees a bloodied mouth that is too often set in a fake expression, whether it's a smile or a sneer. He sees dark circles under John's eyes, and a crease in his forehead even when he's unconscious. He sees what John wants him to see (an aimless hooligan with fists of fury) and he sees what's really there (a lonely boy who understands what it is to want to be anywhere but here.)
When John wakes up, Rodney smiles. John's startled, but not displeased by his proximity.
"When's your mom going to be home?"
Later, upstairs in John's bedroom, in John's bed, he trails a finger down Rodney's arm and grins when the other boy shivers.
"I'm exhausted," says John, stretching his arm over his head, then resting his hands comfortably around Rodney's waist. This should feel weird, he thinks. He should feel confused. Instead, he feels better than he has in a long time.
"Thanks," says Rodney, one eye open. John leans over and draws him into a deep kiss. "I have to say, after that run in, I didn't think you'd want -"
"Shh," John says, and moves his hands into a better position, causing Rodney to moan. "Don't."
Later, when they're lying side by side, staring up at the ceiling, John asks:
"You going to prom?"
Rodney's laugh is muffled by the pillow. "Hadn't thought about it. Why, you asking me?"
"No," says John, punching him in the shoulder. Then he rests his head back down and they're quiet again.
"Elizabeth'll probably make me, just to see her get crowned prom queen," Rodney comments. "Though it might be worth the money to see that gorilla friend of yours in a tux."
"I don't think prom is really Ronon's scene," says John.
"Yeah, but it is Elizabeth's, and he's dating her now, right?"
John looks at the cracks in his ceiling; the one that used to look like Abraham Lincoln is now starting to resemble Teddy Roosevelt. "You really think they're dating?"
"What else would you call it?"
John shifts slightly, and props himself up on one elbow, rearranging the sheet. "I don't know, I just kind of thought they were -"
"Fuck-buddies?" Rodney's voice is suddenly anarctic. "Like us?"
John tries to cover this with a laugh. "Wow, you really know how to kill a moment."
And just like that, Rodney's on his feet, gathering his clothes. Before John even has a chance to blink, he's putting on his shoes.
"What'd I say?" John asks, trying to keep calm.
"You - you -" Rodney sputters. "You're impossible!"
"Okay," says John slowly, "what else?"
Rodney just makes a noise of strangled rage and storms out of the room. John hurries to put some clothes on and follows.
Downstairs in the kitchen, John's mother is putting away groceries. She looks up as Rodney flies by.
"John?" she says, catching sight of him. Rodney squeals to a halt, guilty. John runs in, some weird mix of anguish and anger on his face. He, too, stops when he sees his mother.
"Uh, this is Rodney, Mom. He's, um, tutoring me in physics."
Mrs. Sheppard, whose expression had looked extremely severe, relaxed palpably. "Oh, that's excellent news. I'm very glad to see you finally buckling down to your studies, Johnny."
John rolls his eyes, and Rodney thinks, for a moment, that he could just slip away. "I've told you, Mom, the Air Force isn't going to care if I get straight As."
"Well, it certainly can't hurt," she sniffs, "and you know I don't like the idea of you in the military."
"You just don't like the idea of me following in Dad's footsteps," John snaps.
"Uh, maybe I should go," says Rodney. And, really, there's no maybe about it. John and his mother are too busy glaring at one another to really notice him anyway. Rodney walks home alone, confused about everything, where just that morning it had all been so clear.
Rodney waits all night for a call from John, and when it doesn't come, he calls himself an idiot, swears to never fall for that stupid ploy again, and vows to pay attention to nothing else but graduating and getting the hell away from John Sheppard.
John gets into another screaming match with his mother, storms upstairs, picks up the phone to call Rodney, and then remembers the look in his eye just before he left. He hangs up without dialing.
*
tbc.