Fic: "For Better or For Worse" 1/4 (NC17)

[crownglass39]

Title: For Better or For Worse
Author: crownglass39
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: ~38,000 total(I know!), 10,800 this part
Pairing:McShep AU Harlequin fic
Status: Complete
Warnings: Abuse by a parent,misunderstandings in a sexual situation.
Disclaimers: Not mine. Please don't sue. If you do, all you'll get is a few pairs of old pointe shoes and and a dancing pole.

Summary: It was not some unworldly force hurtling its way to the earth that would change John Sheppard’s life forever, but one lone man, someone literally thrown at John’s feet, tossed away like yesterday’s rubbish, a man named Rodney McKay.

Author’s Notes: I started this in January with the idea of remaking Jude Deveraux’s Harlequin novel The River Lady" into a John and Rodney fic. 38,000 words later and you’ll have to tell me if this is even close. This fic is so much larger than any others previously attempted that I literally needed cheerleaders to get me through it. Thank you to tacit_uk for her absolutely invaluable and wonderful brainstorming, pompom waving, and alpha work. Without her I would still be stuck at chapter 2. Thanks also to lady_greysgate for helping me with the original outline and adafrog for help with the medical stuff.

Amazing beta done by my_lil_darlin but, as usual, I always poke at these things after they’re done so all remaining mistakes are my own.

All feedback loved and hugged. Con crit welcome.

Because this fic is long I will be posting it in four parts over the next few days; however, this is not a WIP, it is complete.


~*~

The day started like any other: John got up, let Douglas the dog out, scooped the kitty litter, drank his orange juice, checked his email, got dressed and went to work. There was nothing especially extraordinary about the day. The sun rose just like normal. The sky didn’t appear to be falling. The earth did not tilt off of its axis. Which was why John had no clue that his life as he’d known it was about to change. It was all, John decided later - much later- a devilish scheme to lull him into a feeling of complacency. He had no warning that an energy previously unmatched in intensity would come barreling into his life.

No, it was not some unworldly force hurtling its way to the earth that would change his life forever, but one lone man, someone literally thrown at John’s feet, tossed away like yesterday’s rubbish, a man named Rodney McKay.

Sitting in the boardroom at a massive glass table, John heard the first stirrings of trouble when Laura’s voice rose to previously unheard-of levels. Laura, his executive assistant, possessed the unflappable calm only known to ex-military munitions experts and mothers of small children. Fortunately for John, she was both. Anything short of plastic explosives was dealt with a firm voice and a steady hand. Hell, after that bomb scare last month, John had to admit that even plastic explosives were dealt with a firm voice and steady hand. Hiring Laura was the best decision he’d ever made, even if the interview with her had felt more like he was being interrogated.

John was shocked out of his reverie by Laura’s voice, which rang clearly through the closed doors. “Sir? SIR! I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, but we don’t condone that kind of behavior here!” John heard her implied “and don’t make me hurt you” tone, even through two inches of solid oak. Whatever the hell was going on just outside the boardroom had been impressive enough to get Laura to pull out her Corporal Mom’s voice.

“Excuse me a minute,” John said to the officials sitting at the boardroom table.

He quickly made his way to the door, mustering calm. Whatever shit hitting the fan beyond the doors would be making its way into the boardroom next, and he’d like to diffuse whatever the situation was as quickly as possible.

Sure, he didn’t really need the contract with the U.S. Air Force to stay in business, but it would mean the difference between pulling ahead of the competition and being forced to make cutbacks. Everybody knew John would do just about anything to avoid laying off his employees. While “Pegasus Designs” wasn’t the largest or most cutting-edge developmental air design company out there, they were a tightly knit group, and every small decision impacted the entire company, for good or for ill.

There were a lot of people depending on John to get this design job with the government. Whoever was out there either had shit timing or was a freaking genius, because the last people John wanted to witness some kind of scene were right behind him, sitting there calmly at the table in their tailored government suits and impeccable Air Force uniforms.

“This is SO not the time for this,” John muttered to himself while making his way towards the anteroom. He was right in front of the door, hand on the knob, when it burst open with a whoosh, causing him to jump back or risk losing the tips of his toes to the Oak Door of Doom.

The door hit the wall with a resounding bang, rattling the windows and causing the ugly painting of a cow to tilt precariously on the wall. Everyone present was shocked silent by the sight of a man plowing into the room.

“Whores and deviants, all of them!” the guy yelled to no one in particular. “The ungodly! They’ll all burn in hell!” His eyes were wild with fury, and his suit, while at one time may have been something any businessman would be proud to own, was ripped and filthy. When John looked down, he saw the man’s knuckles were bloody, as if he’d been hitting something. The crazy man continued to rant about sin and eternal damnation while pulling something, no someone, behind him by the hair, and he shoved the person to the floor at his feet.

Dropping his eyes to the huddled mass kneeling on the floor, John soon saw what, or whom exactly, he’d been dragging along. He was a man, but just barely; by John’s estimation, he couldn’t have been more than 25 years old, if that. His sandy brown hair was cruelly twined in his captor’s fingers, his head forced down so he was facing the floor. His hands were bound in front of him by a length of rope, and John could see rope burns and cuts around the man’s wrists.

“Which one of you is John Sheppard?” the ranter growled, glaring at everyone in the room.

At that moment the silence was so thick, John could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Everyone held their breath; it was as if the world simply paused for a moment, knowing that something pivotal was going to happen. Everyone was stock still, including John.

“I am,” John answered without thinking, his eyes fixed on the poor soul the man had dragged by his hair into the boardroom.

“My name is Trevor McKay, and this,” he jerked the man’s head up so John could see his battered face, “is now your filth to deal with.” With that, Trevor threw the young man down at John’s feet, where he landed with a dull thud, barely having the time or energy to stop his own fall.

John was no blushing virgin; he’d seen a few things in his life that had made his blood run cold. Hell, he’d been in the Air Force for a while; he’d been in a war, for God’s sake, and yet the sight of the battered guy at his feet still made his stomach roll and his hand automatically reach for the sidearm that he no longer carried.

The object of McKay’s judgment was curled on his side, one hand cradled protectively to his chest, a few fingers obviously broken. His hair was matted with sweat and God knows what else, and his lower lip was split and still bleeding profusely, despite being swollen to twice normal size. The skin of his jaw was a plethora of colors in various stages of bruising, and dried blood was stuck to his cheek. It was obvious this poor soul had been in Trevor’s company for some time now; he was barely conscious, much less coherent.

“Mine?” John asked, ignoring the madman to bend down to get a closer look at the victim’s face. He did look disturbingly familiar, but honestly it was hard to tell anything, in the condition he was in.

“Yes, yours,” Trevor spat. “His name’s Rodney, and he’s--” Trevor snorted in derision. “No. Correction. He was my son, and you’re the... person,” at this, McKay couldn’t suppress a full-body shudder, “who had the dubious honor of despoiling him in that …that….that …whorehouse.” Gesturing at the man crumpled on the floor, he added, “Now you get to deal with the soiled goods. Good luck with him. He’s all yours.” He stepped back a bit, hands on his hips, and his proud, patrician nose held high.

John could feel the blood drain from his face as his knees went weak, although thankfully, he didn’t actually swoon, but he damn well wanted to. That was where he remembered the face! From the Dude Ranch, the damned club he’d gone to on a lark; it was the only legal brothel in Nevada to exclusively employ men. John’s eyes cut from Rodney, lying at his feet on the floor, to the government officials and (oh GOD!) the Air Force personnel sitting around the table.

This was not good. This was SO not good.

Before John could say or do anything, though, Trevor took two giant steps towards Rodney and loomed over him menacingly, yelling, “Tell me where she is, you whore! Where is your sister?”

Like an audience enthralled by a bodice-ripper stage play, the room was silent, save for Trevor’s harsh breathing. Some of John’s VIPs were now on their feet, and a few of them had crept closer to the drama, eyes wide and curious.

John was sure Rodney was unconscious; he hoped to God he was, anyway. The man looked like he’d been to hell and back. That was why he was so surprised when Rodney slowly cracked open one eye and turned his head to glare up at his father. “Do whatever you want with me, old man,” he spat. “I’ll never tell you where she is.” Then he promptly passed out… right at John’s feet.

That’s when all hell broke loose.

All at once, the boardroom was a cacophony of sound and a blur of motion. Laura, God bless her, tackled Trevor to his knees before he could kick the now unconscious Rodney. The female Air Force Colonel leapt from seat and called for security. Two of the other Air Force personnel knocked over their chairs in their haste to help Laura subdue Trevor, who, for his part, thrashed wildly on the floor, yelling about the eternal judgment and damnation due anyone who fell into sin.

Trevor was like a man possessed; even with two full grown men and one very pissed off Laura holding him down, he continued to kick and scream at his erstwhile son. “You’re just like your mother, you worthless piece of garbage!” he yelled, flailing against the hold they all had on him.

One hand shot up and caught Laura on the chin, snapping her teeth together and momentarily knocking her back on her ass. Taking advantage of the reduced weight on him, Trevor tried dragging himself towards his unconscious son. “You’d be better off dead than to be the whore you are!” he screamed hoarsely, heedless of the fact that his son lay unconscious. “Sinner! Blasphemer! You’re dead to me, do you hear me?” Apparently McKay had lost whatever touch with reality he’d had, since it was so obvious his son wasn’t hearing anything at the moment.

Laura, who had picked herself up off the floor, looked majorly pissed. She had a mark on her chin that would surely leave a nasty bruise later. John wasn’t sure exactly what she was going to do with the mad man when she got to him, but he knew at that moment that he’d finally caught a glimpse of Laura nearing the end of her patience.

Looking up, John saw Trevor trying to crawl towards him and Rodney. The crazed look on his face and the unstoppable determination in his eye was eerily reminiscent of that movie, The Terminator. If Trevor had been a cyborg hell-bent on killing them all, which with the way John’s day was shaping up, wouldn’t have been all that surprising.

Fortunately for all involved, they didn’t have time to find out what would happen when Laura got her hands on the man. Evan Lorne, head of security, finally (finally) showed up and tackled Trevor, laying him out flat on the floor before quickly binding his wrists together with zip ties.

He and one of the Air Force personnel had dragged McKay out of the room before John realized he’d been sitting on the floor watching the entire scene play out in front of him the whole time. That was not like him; John was not the type of person to sit back, while other people saved the day. He was usually the one who did the rescuing. For the life of him, he couldn’t imagine what compelled him to sit with Rodney instead of helping Laura and the others with his old man.

With Trevor finally restrained, Laura calmly walked back to the lobby and called for Carson Beckett, the company doctor and, not so coincidentally, her husband. John had never been so glad that he’d been convinced to keep a full-fledged doctor on staff. At the time, he’d been happy to provide a place for Carson to work while he waited for the typical bureaucracy to clear him to practice in the United States.

Beckett was a fully qualified physician in his own right, and a notable geneticist in his native Scotland. After Laura’s stint with the Marines, they moved their family from Europe to Nevada. Unfortunately, Carson’s U.S. licensing got caught in red tape, and he was currently unable to practice in a hospital. John had overhauled the company’s small first-aid office to a larger, well-equipped infirmary to provide him a place to work under the radar. With his friend and colleague Dr. Keller available nearby to legally oversee his work and write out prescriptions, Carson was able to provide a valuable service to Pegasus Designs. As it turned out, his employees liked having a doctor on hand for every scratch and sniffle (as good as they were, they could be a whiny bunch), and Carson appreciated the work. Initially John had thought that the expanded infirmary and on-hand doctor was unnecessary, but he liked Carson and wanted to help him and Laura out.

John didn’t know how long he sat there on the floor in a stupor. The fact that he sat there for any length of time was more than a little disconcerting, but several minutes had passed in a blur. It took a few moments for John to realize that Carson was standing in front of him, trying to get his attention.

“Good job there, lad. You can let go of him now.” Carson gently shook John’s shoulder. Looking down, John was surprised to see he had Rodney’s head cradled in his lap, and he had angled his body in such a way to put himself between Rodney and his lunatic father.

Huh, he thought.

Huh. I don’t remember doing that…

Carson crouched down next to John and took Rodney’s pulse.

“I think he’ll be ok, then.” Carson was using his special doctor voice, the one he only pulled out when someone was either badly hurt or just really out of it. It was the same voice John heard him use trying to lure stray dogs into his car.

John looked up. Whatever Carson was going on about wasn’t making any sense.

“Your friend here. I’ll have to look him over right good, but I think he’s just had too much of a shock on top of the obvious abuse. Of course I can na’e rule out internal bleeding till I get a better look at him, but I think we’ll be able to mend him.”

It was still too much to comprehend. John said the first thing that came to his mind. “He’s not my friend.”

The look that flashed across Carson’s face clearly showed that he didn’t believe him. “Right, then. So maybe if he’s not your friend, you’ll be wanting to let go of him now?” Carson suggested.

John actually had to look down to understand that his fingers were tangled in Rodney’s clothes. Anyone seeing the two of them would think John was clutching Rodney to protect him, probably because that was precisely what he was doing. Funny, but John didn’t even remember doing that. Even so, he had to fight to uncurl his fingers, so Carson could ease Rodney away from John’s lap and help the medics lay him on the stretcher they’d brought in.

~*~

John was still seated on the floor when General Jack O’Neill laid his hand on his shoulder. “I think we should reschedule, John.”

Oh, God! The meeting! Shocked out of his momentary stupor, John started to get up, only to have Jack push more firmly on his shoulder. “Stay here, take care of things. We’ll reschedule the meeting for another day.” He crouched down to look John in the eye. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure out a way to appease the boneheads.” He nodded in the direction of the government employees. “Me and my people don’t care about things we shouldn’t ask about. But we’ll figure out something that will make them happy,” he added with another meaningful head bob towards the bureaucrats. With that, he got up and gathered his things; his entourage followed him out the door like a row of ducklings behind their mother.

John was left sitting in a heap on his conference room floor, wondering what he was going to do with the mess he’d made of his life, and what the hell he was going to do with one Rodney McKay.

~*~

By the time John made it down to the infirmary, Rodney was not only conscious again, but he was putting up a rather vocal fuss. “Are you an idiot? I told you to let me out of here! I’ve got to check on someone right now!”

From the sound of it, this argument had been going on for a few minutes; even over the bluster, John could hear the hint of desperation creeping into Rodney’s voice. How telling was it that John could ascertain that, having just known the man for a short while? They couldn’t, John admitted, really count the time they spent together at the Ranch. From what he’d deduced, their time together at the Ranch was definitely under false pretenses.

John rounded the corner to see Carson attempting to hold Rodney down on the examining table. “Aye, we’ll let you go soon enough, laddie, but you’re not leaving my infirmary till I’m right sure you’re not gonna drop dead of internal injuries the minute you leave!”

Rodney grabbed at Carson’s wrists. “You don’t understand! I can’t let him get to Jeannie! I have to make sure she’s okay.”

Carson tried placating Rodney. “Your father’s in jail, son. He’s not getting to anyone.”

“Are you thick?” Rodney protested harshly. “Are you incapable of listening? He’s got people! I have to check on my sister!”

By the time John got to Rodney’s side, he wondered if Rodney was going to injure himself further just by trying to leave. Carson was clearly exasperated with him, and it was clear to everyone but Rodney himself that he was in no condition to be checking on anyone.

“And if she needs help, son, what will you do? Look at you; you can barely stand up.”

“I’ll do what I have to! Now get off me!” Rodney’s voice held just a tinge of panic.

Clearly, John thought, Jeannie must mean a lot to her brother, because he was going to great lengths to make sure of her safety. “How about I send someone?” John interjected. “Or I’ll go, if you want.”

Both Rodney and Carson turned to face him. Carson opened his mouth to say something, but Rodney beat him to the punch. “Why should I trust you?” Rodney demanded.

It was a damn good question, actually. “Because you can,” John answered. “If you tell me where to look for her, I’ll make sure she’s okay. I can even bring her back here, if you want.”

It was obvious Rodney wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea, so John pushed his advantage. “Besides, what will you do if someone is bothering her? You can barely stand up, much less fight someone off. You look like you’ve been used as a punching bag for two days straight.”

The fight seemed to go out of Rodney all of a sudden, and he sagged back onto his pillow. “Try three,” he said quietly.

John shuddered at the thought. His voice softened minutely. “Okay, three days then. It appears I’ve inadvertently caused you some…problems…here; let me at least try to make it better. Let me check on your sister for you.”

Silent, Rodney stared at him for a few moments, and then finally sighed quietly and nodded his agreement. John got the distinct impression it wasn’t trust that that was motivating Rodney so much as physical weakness and resignation. Even Rodney had to see he couldn’t help his sister much in his condition.

“Okay. Fine. Make sure she’s all right. Let her know where I am, but do NOT let her leave school to check up on me. I don’t want to distract her from her studies with inconsequential things.”

“Rodney, what happened to you is hardly inconsequential!” Carson interjected.

“Actually, in the long run, it is.” Rodney spared a glance towards the doctor. “Jeannie’s smart, and she can take care of herself. I just want to make sure…” his voice faded. “I just want to make sure she’s safe.”

Rodney seemed to be a protective bastard, but oddly enough John could understand completely. “I’ll make sure.” He laid a hand on his shoulder. “You just stay here and let Carson fix you up.”

“I don’t appear to have much choice in the matter, now do I?”

“No, you don’t. Now that’s the smartest thing I’ve heard you say,” Carson observed.

After John got Jeannie’s address from Rodney, he left him in Carson’s capable hands. This day was just getting weirder and weirder.

~*~

Rodney never pictured himself working at a place like the Dude Ranch, but as far as jobs went, bartending in a brothel was about as good as Rodney had ever known. First and foremost, he and his sister Jeannie were safe from their father. It’d taken years, but Rodney had finally found someplace far enough away from the clutches of Trevor McKay.

The Dude Ranch was a legal brothel located in Carson City, Nevada. Unlike the more famous Bunny Ranch, the Dude Ranch employed a decidedly different flavor of “bunny” for sale. Catering to both women and gay men alike, the Dude Ranch offered its patrons a safe, clean and legal place to have fun with some beautiful and willing men.

The job as a whole was a massive waste of Rodney’s intellect, but it paid better than any other job he could get. Even as a bartender, Rodney made excellent wages, and as per his agreement with the owner, bartending was the extent of his duties.

Rodney had come to the Dude Ranch desperate for employment. He’d finally found a safe place for his sister to stay and was looking for a means to pay for her school and board. Elizabeth, the proprietor of the facility, took one look at Rodney’s blue eyes and hired him on the spot. That he could actually memorize every drink ever made and could calculate a tab in his head was just an added bonus. Women adored him, men flirted with him, and it was the only place in the world his lunatic father would never come looking for them. Rodney pulled in enough money working behind the bar to pay Jeannie’s tuition to the University of Nevada in Reno. She was doing so well in school, he could even forgive her choice of Desert Science as a major. Desert Science! Rodney scoffed at the idea. Who the hell studied Desert Science?

Jeannie loved the desert almost as much as Rodney loved physics. The lone trip they took to the arid region at the south rim of the Grand Canyon was the last vacation they’d before their mother took off. Much of Jeannie’s love of the desert was wrapped around her memories of their mother, Rodney was sure, and he couldn’t take that away from her. Once she graduated and had a job, Rodney would go to school himself, but priorities were priorities, and Jeannie’s safety and happiness were foremost on Rodney’s mind.

A smack on the counter broke Rodney from his thoughts. “Hey there, sweet cheeks, daydreaming again?”

Ah yes. Jason. Jason was one of the regular “dudes” at the ranch, and he never gave up on his goal to bring Rodney over to a “full fledged employee”, as he liked to call it. Jason took their “dude” moniker in stride, mostly dressing in leather chaps and little else. Women and men alike loved him, and he had his share of regulars, but all that attention never made a dent in his incessant flirting with Rodney.

Aware he was very probably blushing, Rodney poured out a Red Bull without prompting. It was Jason’s favorite work-time drink. He played along with Jason’s antics because snark came naturally to him AND the patrons ate it up. “If only your brains were as big as the rest of you, there’d be something to daydream about.”

Steven snickered from his perch over in the corner of the “lounge”-- not a bar, never a bar! Rodney could hear Elizabeth’s speech in his head. A bar was seedy; a lounge, however, offered an appropriately relaxing setting for their patrons to become acquainted with the employees.

Jason smiled at the comment, playing along with the scene. “You just need a real cowboy to bring you on over to the other side.”

“Maybe so.” Rodney looked up through his lashes at Jason, well aware of how the women in the bar loved that. “But that cowboy won’t be you.”

“Aw…” Jason pouted, a look that drew the attention of everyone in the lounge, as Rodney went back to mopping down the bar.

Elizabeth had been the one to suggest that Rodney play the male ingénue with the clients. From the first day on the job, it’d been painfully obvious the effect his sheltered life had on his social skills. When he’d started behind the bar, he’d nearly blushed scarlet every time a patron hit on him. Play to your strengths Elizabeth suggested and, oddly enough, it worked.

Everyone knew Jason enjoyed playing the cowboy, Danny’s thing was the role of sex kitten, and Steven got to be the older, hard-nosed military man; they were just personas the men deliberately took on to amuse both themselves and their clients.

With Rodney, not so much. As far as he knew, most of the patrons never suspected that in his case, it was less of an act and more like the only part Rodney knew. If everyone enjoyed watching Rodney verbally slap people around, all the while vehemently defending his “honor,” all the better. The role of male ingénue easily explained his blushing and awkwardness. The lack of social skills was pure Rodney, but clients and employees alike all looked at him with fond exasperation. Sure, a few of his coworkers knew the real reason behind his character, but that just saved him from embarrassing explanations all the way around.

The only exception to the rule thus far was that slimy Mr. Kavanagh. Somehow, the jerk had found out the reason behind Rodney’s “act” and quickly made it his purpose in life to be the one to initiate him into the joys of gay sex. At first he’d tried to charm the bartender, but Rodney could see his phony endearments as the act they were.

Rodney supposed it was harmless, really, if a little creepy; Kavanagh kept propositioning, and Rodney kept slapping him down. Elizabeth had offered to ban the man from the premises, but Rodney adamantly declined. Undeniably, Kavanagh was a well-paying customer, and Rodney didn’t want to deny other employees the income they made off the guy, even if he was a creep.

No, Rodney thought, he didn’t have time for sex and all that bullshit that went along with it. He was better off just focusing on keeping himself and his sister safe. Besides, when he did finally decide to sleep with someone, it’d be because he or she saw him for his worth as a person, not because of what he may or may not provide in bed.

When Rodney McKay finally fell in love, it would be with someone special; he insisted on it.

~*~

John’s mind wandered as he drove to the address Rodney had given him. He didn’t entirely feel comfortable leaving Rodney, but he knew Carson would give him the best care possible. Still… an experience like that had to leave a mark on a person; most people just aren’t wired to handle getting kidnapped and beaten by anyone, much less a parent.

John thought back to the time they’d spent at the Dude Ranch. It had been years since he’d visited such a place. John wasn’t completely oblivious to the fact that he was a pretty good looking guy. In the past, he hadn’t had to work too hard for some companionship, but this last time, John had just needed a “fix.”

Relationships were complicated, and quite frankly, John sucked at them. He never knew what to say in any situation, and even he wasn’t enough of a bastard to keep someone around just to scratch the occasional “itch”. It had gotten to the point where he was just restless and couldn’t think clearly. While he had no problem dealing with his self-imposed celibacy, clearly others around him did; he was driving everyone nuts.

It was his friend Ronon who finally suggested that he check out the Dude Ranch. Ronon knew John didn’t want to spend the time forming lasting relationships, and John also wasn’t about to just use somebody close to him, no matter how willing that person may have been. His trip to the Dude Ranch had been a one-time thing, a lark, and now, despite the fact that what he’d done was completely legal, it may cost his company this very important government contract. John wished for a red light, just so he could bang his head against the steering wheel a few times. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

It was only two weeks ago when John walked into the Dude Ranch, and he remembered it clearly. He’d been greeted, oddly enough, by a woman. Elizabeth was her name. She was beautiful in her own right, but she exuded good business sense, through and through. She’d explained that all parties were negotiated between client and employee in the lounge before any activities begun. She also pointed out that they had a very varied group at the Ranch. On any given day, you could find just about any given body shape, and personalities as diverse as the patrons themselves. She listed off a number of employees available that evening. He clearly remembered her little speech; thinking back on it, her list of available employees clearly hadn’t included one very important name.

“Well, we have Jason, our resident cowboy; he does like his leather. And then we have Steven, the Air Force Colonel, although he’s wearing his fatigues tonight instead of his dress uniform.” She pouted slightly at that.

“Tonight we also have Aiden, a young man who likes to pretend he’s a ninja…” she trailed off. “I know, I know, it’s all very Village People, but it works for us.”

John knew his eyes were huge as he took all of this in; he couldn’t help but feel a little bit like a kid in a candy shop.

“Are you looking for anyone in particular this evening?”

“No,” John answered automatically. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted himself.

Elizabeth gave him a knowing look. “Well, if this is your first time, we have those here who specialize in that.”

“No… no!” God, John knew he was blushing like the virgin Elizabeth thought he was. “I’m just not sure who I’m looking for.”

“Okay, then. Why don’t you go into the lounge and mingle a bit. Meet some people.” She guided John into the bar (correction, the lounge) and went back to the front room to greet the next client.

To the uninitiated, the “lounge” looked like a nice gay bar. Sure, there were some strange looking guys out and about, but there were also men in business suits, a cowboy, a guy in a kilt, and then there were just some good-looking men in tight jeans and polo shirts. If you didn’t know it was a brothel coming into it, you’d never be the wiser.

John made his way over to the bar. The bartender was down at one end with his back to John, and he appeared to be having an argument with another patron. John could see the slumped line of the barkeep’s shoulders and caught fragments of what they were saying; it sounded like this was a conversation they’d had before.

“I’m not for sale, Kavanagh, and you know it,” the bartender said with an air of finality.

“I know it’s just an act. Everyone here has a price,” Kavanagh replied with a sneer. He was leaning way over the bar, clearly enjoying the way he was making the other man squirm.

“Not me! Oh, look!” The bartender said, pointing. “There’s Ford. Why don’t you go play ninja with him?”

Kavanagh grinned, and even John could see there was no humor in it. “Okay, I’ll go away. For now.” With that parting line, he pushed off to go mingle with one of the groups of men.

John took a seat at the bar and waited. Finally the bartender finally turned around, putting one hand on the bar and taking a few fortifying breaths before coming over to take John’s order. Clearly he’d been more upset by his interaction with Kavanagh then he wanted to let on.

“What’ll ya have?” he asked, looking John over.

The man had the most beautiful blue eyes John had ever seen. He could easily get lost in them... “That guy giving you trouble?” he asked with a nod to the departed patron.

“Nah. Not anything I can’t handle,” he said with a hand wave. “He’s just my idiot stalker. So what can I get you?” he asked again, clearly trying to redirect the conversation.

Fine by John, the bartender was a grown man and he could take care of himself. “Dunno,” John answered settling more comfortably into his seat, “what can you make?”

“Anything,” the guy answered quickly. He’d finished putting some bottles away and leaned over on the counter, resting his weight on his forearms.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” With a wry grin, the man pointed to his own face. “Genius here.” His smile was a little lopsided, but it lit up his whole face.

“Okay, genius, what’s in a Green Opal?”

Not a bit of hesitation. “Anise, anisette, and gin.”

John blinked, slightly shocked that someone would know the ingredients for such an obscure drink, right off the top of his head. He wracked his brain for something that would stump the bartender. After a moment, he thought he had one. “Screaming Viking?”

Another grin, this one even more cocksure. “You want the cucumber bruised or not?”

“Damn, you’re good.” John was honestly impressed.

“Why, yes.” His chest actually puffed out a bit. “Yes, yes, I am,” he agreed, the smile lighting up his face.

“What’s your name?” God, it was such a line, but John was genuinely curious.

“Rodney, at your service.” He held out a hand to shake. “You?”

John grasped the guy’s hand, already enjoying his company. “John.”

“Really?” Rodney asked, eyebrows raised. “Is that really your name, or just what you call yourself in a place like this?”

John laughed; it was his real laugh, the braying guffaw most people found horrifying, but Rodney just grinned in response.

“Yes, it is. Unfortunate, given our circumstances, but that is my real name.”

“Okay, then.”

It was a little odd. John was in a bar (excuse him, a lounge) with all of these beautiful and scantily clad and available men walking around, and yet he was inexplicably drawn to the bartender. It was as if they just clicked.

A couple of minutes later, Rodney set down John’s drink in front of him. John took a sip of the Amaretto Sour he’d finally decided on, taking the opportunity to check out Rodney. He wasn’t dressed like most of the other employees at the Ranch; he wore a plain black t-shirt and some nice blue jeans. He was undeniably handsome, but in a regular guy kind of a way, and he wasn’t dressed to the nines. He also didn’t seem to be actively soliciting other people’s company.

After Rodney moved off to help other patrons at the bar, John watched as a lot of men hit on him, but he fended them all off with practiced ease. The way he blushed wildly when the cowboy (Jason?) came up to him and called him “sweet cheeks” was cute, almost innocent, in a way.

John only had half his drink done when Rodney came back down to the end of the bar. “Still nursing that?”

John twirled the half full glass a bit, just to watch the amber liquid slosh up the sides. “Yeah, I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Why don’t you go out there,” Rodney gestured to the groups of men gathered on the main floor of the lounge. “Meet someone, do that “party” thing this place is so famous for.”

“Yeah, well,” John replied, looking right into Rodney’s eyes, “I’m having a great time just hanging out here with you.”

Rodney’s blush was immediate and spread right to the tips of his ears. “You’re kind of barking up the wrong tree here,” he replied, ducking his chin down almost shyly. “I’m just the bartender, you know.”

John blinked at him. This was an odd way to pick up potential clients, but maybe Rodney’s “act” was the virginal thing. That was okay; John liked him well enough. Hell, they’d seemed to click from the moment they met; he could work with that. When he tried to reply, though, Rodney was already off filling an order at the other end of the bar. He figured he’d get a little more information on Rodney before he pursued him any further.

He pushed himself off the bar and waded into the sea of men. Before long, he felt as though he’d spoken with half the guys who worked at the Ranch. None of them “fit” with John the same way Rodney had. He’d watched the man dressed like a cowboy flirt shamelessly with the bartender and seen nothing come of it; in fact, it almost looked like it was a regular thing between the two of them. All the other patrons seemed to ignore Rodney completely as a potential date. The whole thing was very strange.

John was sitting alone at a table when Kavanagh, the guy John first had seen at the bar, sat down next to him.

“He’s hot, isn’t he?” He nodded towards Rodney.

“Yeah,” John agreed, “he’s easy on the eyes.” He turned towards his new companion. “You don’t work here, do you?”

“Me? Nah. I just come here from time to time to relieve some …stress.” The guy gave John a self-depreciative nod. “I guess I’m sort of a regular.”

“Yeah? So do you know what’s up with the Rodney guy?”

“Oh, he likes to play the resident virgin.”

“So he’s not really…” John made a vague hand gesture.

“God, no! That’s just an act!” Kavanagh replied. “It’s no different than the Marine or kilt-boy over there.”

John turned towards the bar to watch Rodney fend off yet another advance, almost missing the cruel smirk that played across Kavanagh’s face. “He works in a brothel! No virgin in their right mind would work in a place like this, even as a bartender!”

The guy did have a point. “Ya think?” John asked, eyes still fixed on Rodney.

“I know!” he replied. “Just remember that he’s a very good actor. He probably won’t drop the persona at all, but it’s all just an act. Go on,” the guy prodded, “why don’t you see how far you get with him.”

John knew he should have listened to the little voice in his head telling him that something was definitely NOT right about the situation, but he really liked this Rodney guy, and if the blushing and the shyness were all just an act, then there was no reason he couldn’t step up to the plate and see about scoring a home run. Try to woo him, as it were, and see where things went.

~*~

Now in his car, on his way to see about Jeannie, John remembered how he’d gotten up and swaggered towards the bar again, his goal of “bagging” Rodney in the forefront of his mind.

This time he really did get the chance to bang his head on the steering wheel a couple of times. Stupid stupid stupid, he thought. He knew better than to listen to a stranger over his own conscience! He and Rodney both knew what happened that night at the Dude Ranch, and now they had to live with the consequences.

John managed to make it to the address Rodney had given him. He’d made it in record time, especially given the fact that he pulled off the road a few times to smack his head against the steering wheel.

How was he going to explain all this to Rodney’s sister? How was he going to make it up to Rodney?

Fortunately for him, though, Jeannie was an extremely intelligent woman, and she quickly understood the situation. Once he’d found her and made sure she was safe, he called Carson and let Rodney hear for himself that Jeannie was fine.

Afterwards, he excused himself to make a call to Laura. She would know a good, discrete bodyguard that John could leave with Jeannie. There was no way in hell this family was going to suffer any more because of Trevor McKay, not if John had anything to say about it.

Once the formalities were taken care of, John and Jeannie were left there, pretty much staring at each other.

“So…” said Jeannie.

“So…” replied John.

“You’re a friend of my brother’s?”

“I guess you could call me that.” It was a generous description.

“You want a beer?” Jeannie nodded towards her kitchenette. “I only have Canadian, but you look like you can use one.”

“Yeah. Yeah I can,” John admitted.

With much clanking of bottles and shuffling of boxes, Jeannie emerged from the fridge with two bottles of Labatt’s. It was only 2 in the afternoon, but they both really needed it.

“Did my brother tell you the story behind our father?” Jeannie asked once John got situated at the table.

“No, actually, he didn’t.”

“That doesn’t surprise me much. He’s a wonderful brother, and a protective pain in the ass, but his social skills are for shit. You really want to hear all about our sordid past?” Jeannie asked, absently picking at the label on her beer bottle.

“I do,” John honestly admitted. He really wanted to know the strange and convoluted story behind the enigma that was Rodney McKay.

“He wasn’t always like that,” Jeannie paused, taking a sip of her beer. “Our father, I mean. Once upon a time, we were a normal family and all that. Mom taught up at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver.” She looked up at John, eyes narrowing. “That’s in Canada, you know.”

“Yeah, I’m not THAT geographically challenged.”

The corner of Jeannie’s mouth twitched up. “Sorry about that. Some people just don’t have a clue. Anyway, we had a nice house up there. A good life.”

John sat back and silently listened.

“Then about 10 years ago, mom left.” She paused, her eyes shifting a bit. “To be with another woman.”

John sat up straighter. Not that he had any problem with their mother’s sexual orientation (pot/kettle and all that), but of all the things Jeannie could have told him, he just hadn’t expected that.

“Rodney took after our mother in more ways than one. They both loved science-- adored it, in fact. She was always researching on thing or another; if it wasn’t space telemetry, it was wormhole theories, or something like that. Rodney’s dream was always to be a world class physicist, just to make mom proud.”

Oddly enough, John could picture Rodney toiling away in a lab somewhere, heading up a scientific research facility.

“They also look a bit alike,” Jeannie continued. “Our father always said he could see our mother in Rodney’s eyes. After mom left to be with Corrine, the fact that Dad was reminded of our mother every time he looked at Rodney became a curse.”

Jeannie looked up suddenly. “Hey, want some pretzels?” She went to the cupboard without even waiting for John’s reply. He could tell that this was a subject she wasn’t entirely comfortable talking about.

She returned with a bag of pretzel rods, put the bag on the table between them, and grabbed one to twirl between her fingers. “See, I think mom was confused when she and dad met. She was still trying to figure herself out when she got pregnant with Rodney and had to marry Dad. I don’t think she ever resented Rodney, but I think she always held it against our father just a little bit.”

John grabbed a pretzel, just to have something to do with his fingers.

“By the time I was ten years old, she realized that she’d made a mistake. She loved us kids, I’m sure she did, but wasn’t in love with our father.” Jeannie sighed. “She left all of us to be with her girlfriend, and that’s when dad… well, to put it succinctly, that’s when he went nuts. He sold just about everything and moved us up to a cabin in the back woods of B.C. He wouldn’t let mom see us because he said she’d be a bad influence. Not wanting to cause more problems for us, I think she just went along with it.”

John couldn’t completely understand why a mother would willingly stop seeing her own children, but he admitted that he certainly did not comprehend the whole situation.

“Dad was convinced that the root of all our problems was mom’s love for this other woman, and in his mind, he concluded that all homosexuality was evil. He started preaching against the “sinful lifestyle” while keeping Rodney and me tucked safely away at home, where he said we couldn’t be influenced by others.” She shuddered slightly, as if trying to physically brush off the memory.

“Rodney took the brunt of it. Not only did he physically remind him of our mother, but it was pretty obvious to everyone by the time Rodney was 14 that he was either gay or bi. Dad not only kept Rodney at home day and night, to keep him away from what he called the “evil temptations...“ ” Jeannie put down her pretzel to make finger quotes in the air, it was clear that this was a term she heard often. “He also refused to let him to go college, even though he graduated from high school at fourteen. And Rodney … well, he refused to go anywhere without me.”

Jeannie shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable. “He pretty much gave up his future for me. When dad went away to “preach” at a local club one night, Rodney gathered up as much of our stuff as he could, and he and I just took off. Escaped. That was four years ago. Ever since then, we’ve been moving around, and he’s been working odd jobs to help put me through school. He says he’ll go to college after I graduate, and he knows I’m safe.”

“John, you’ve got to understand something about my brother.” She leaned forward on the table, meeting John’s eyes squarely. “He hasn’t had a chance to do normal things in a very long time. He never dated while we were with our father, and as far as I know, now he spends all his time either working or checking up on me. When it comes to people, he’s very naïve; he’s never had the chance to really be around anyone but family.”

She sat back in her chair. “He got me away from our father as soon as he could, and I had a fairly normal life, but I worry about him so much. When it comes to people, he’s just so …inexperienced, and I worry that some asshole is going to take advantage of that.”

In that moment, John’s fears were confirmed. He was almost floored by the wave of crushing guilt he felt for how he used Rodney that night at the Dude Ranch. John thought they were just playing some game, acting a part. And poor Rodney, apparently he hadn’t been acting; his responses had been genuine.

John didn’t have the guts to tell Jeannie that he was, in fact, the very asshole that she was worried about. Suddenly it was all too much to be sitting there across from Rodney’s sister, hearing about their past. He had to get out of there.

He stood up and extended his hand to Jeannie. “Thank you for telling me all this; I know it can’t be easy for you to talk about.”

Jeannie shook his hand and smiled at him while he inwardly grimaced. If she only knew what John had done to her brother, she wouldn’t want to be in the same county as him, much less stand there shaking his hand.

“I’m going to leave my address and phone number, but I better get back to your brother,” he added.

She nodded in agreement.

“Call me if you need anything, or even just want to talk to Rodney. I’m going to keep him with me for a few days, at least to make sure he gets the proper care.”

To his surprise, she agreed with him. “Do that, please! Rodney is great with tending to what others need, but he’s terrible when it comes to taking care of himself. I know you’ll make sure he’s all right, John.”

With that, John turned to leave. He had a lot of making up to do, and he didn’t even know where to start. He had no idea how to make things right between him and Rodney, but he sure as hell was going to try.

~*~

On the ride home, John thought back to that night again at the Ranch. He remembered so clearly what happened between him and Rodney…

By the time John approached the bar again, he had a whole game plan laid out in his mind. He’d play the debonair gentleman to Rodney’s virgin. If Kavanagh was right, then Rodney would take this act right through to the very end. John could work with that…

When he sat down at the bar again, he was 120% in sex-mode. He knew how to lay it on thick, and he thought Rodney would appreciate the effort. It wasn’t as if it was a hardship; he liked Rodney, they seemed to click, and a little bit of play-acting along with Rodney’s character would be intriguing. Fun even.

“Hey! You’re back!” Rodney said happily. “You have no idea how stupid some of these people are! It’s nice to have a conversation with a triple digit IQ every once in a while.”

Yeah, John thought, He could see why the other patrons weren’t breaking down the doors to “woo” Rodney.

John looked up through his lashes at the bartender. “Rodney, this is pretty much the only place I wanna be right now.”

He could see Rodney swallow and his eyes dilate. It appeared that Rodney really was that good of an actor; he was the epitome of naiveté, suddenly finding himself the focus of a very determined suitor.

John could keep up his end of the act. No problem!

It took a couple of tries before Rodney could get his next words out. “So what’ll you have to drink now, John?”

“I dunno,” he replied. “How about a Sex on the Beach? Or a Slippery Nipple?”

Rodney actually went a bit limp, his mouth open, and John actually wondered if he’d see his tongue hanging out next.

“Or maybe I’ll have both of them, followed by a Screaming Orgasm. How’s that sound to you?”

“Um, well, I wouldn’t really know, would I? But they’d probably... taste nice…” his voice trailed off.

John leaned in over the bar and whispered into his ear, “When d’ ya get off?” John knew the double entendre was not lost on him; Rodney actually had goose bumps up and down his arms.

Damn, this guy’s a good actor, John thought. He didn’t even know it was possible to force reactions like that. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought this really was the first time someone had honestly tried to seduce the man. He was practically speechless, and when John leaned over the bar to cup his hand over Rodney’s cheek, he leaned into it as though he was touch-starved.

“Mmm…” Rodney said, nuzzling softly into John’s hand. “Yeah, I could get a replacement soon.”

Rodney was acting like the simple touch was more than he could ever ask for; like it was some amazing gift. His reaction to the contact was almost overwhelming to John, he could hardly imagine anyone so skin hungry that a mere touch could make them act nearly drugged. It reminded John of the first time he’d ever made out, how he thought at the time that skin was the best thing ever and how he couldn’t get enough from a simple caress. Rodney was acting like that with John, and it floored him.

John gently tugged Rodney forward, trailing his lips across his cheek and nibbled on his ear. “Please, baby, make it soon. Very soon.”

It was almost amusing how quickly Rodney apparently fell for his act. Almost. That little niggling voice in the back of John’s head was still telling him something wasn’t completely kosher about this whole scenario, but again, he ignored his conscience.

~*~

“What do you mean there’ve been complications?” John knew his voice was raised and bordering on shrill, but he couldn’t give a damn right then.

He’d arrived back at the infirmary later that evening, expecting to find a nicely recuperating man, not one looking white as a ghost. The stark contrast between Rodney’s pale skin and the dark bruises on his face and around his wrists only accentuated them further; he looked like death warmed over.

“I didn’t realize at first that your friend here was hypoglycemic.” Carson snippily informed John while Rodney rolled his eyes. “He had a bit of an... episode.”

Reclining on a gurney with a blanket over his legs, Rodney’s weakness and fatigue were obvious. His eyes were glassy, a thin veil of sweat covered his face, and it looked as though he was shivering.

“He,” Rodney said through chattering teeth as he pointed at his own chest, “is right here and can talk for himself.”

Carson threw another blanket around his patient’s shoulders, wrapping him up. “Well, he should have told his doctor that he was hypoglycemic. Perhaps then we could have avoided this added brouhaha, aye?”

Rodney stuck one partially wrapped up hand out of his cocoon to clutch the blanket more tightly around himself, using only his thumb and forefinger, the only ones sticking out of bandage. He looked sheepish. “I guess with everything going on, I just forgot,” he mumbled.

“You forgot that you could go into hypoglycemic shock, now did ye?” Carson scolded. “Bloody short-sighted of you, lad, if you ask me!”

Rodney looked up sharply, his tone venomous. “You try going through what I did for the last three days, and we’ll find out how much youremember.”

“Okay, okay.” John stepped in before things could digress further. “Now what?”

“What do you mean ‘now what’? I get this damn tether,” Rodney shook the hand with the IV in it for emphasis, “unhooked from my arm. And then I go home, that’s what.”

“I believe you’ve got another think coming, lad,” Carson cut in, earning him another glare from Rodney.

“I am very capable,” Rodney took an impatient swipe at his sweaty forehead, “of taking care of myself,” he grabbed for a tissue, and wiped at his nose, “thank you very much!” he added in a hoarse croak. He blew his nose vigorously, his blue eyes snapping with indignation.

And wow, wasn’t that something that John thought even a bristly pissed off Rodney was kind of cute?

Carson was clearly at the end of his rope. “How’re you going to do that, man, with hairline fractures in three fingers, a busted rib, a swollen up knee, not to mention the numerous cuts and contusions all over you? Add the hypoglycemia on to that, and your body’s all out of whack. You should be in a hospital, lad! I don’t think you fully understand how hurt you are!”

“And I don’t think you full understand what I’m capable of!” Rodney yelled so loudly, the sound reverberated off the walls of the infirmary. At his shout, everyone stopped what they were doing, even the poor janitor emptying the wastebasket across the room halted mid-pour.

After all the noise, the silence was almost overwhelming, cut only by the quiet whirr-click of the medical machinery around them.

John laid a hand on Rodney’s shoulder and said softly, “I think you’ve proven to everyone that you can take care of yourself, but I think it’s time you let someone else help you.”

Rodney opened his mouth to say something, but John interjected before he could get a word out. “Let us help you.”

He could see Rodney gearing up to fight about it some more, so John pulled out the big guns. “Besides, I promised Jeannie I’d look out for you.” John could practically see the fight drain out of their patient as he slumped back on the bed.

“You’re kind of a manipulative bastard, you know that?” Rodney told him matter-of-factly.

“You wouldn’t want me to go back on my promise to your sister, would you?”

“See?” Rodney sighed. “Thank you for so eloquently proving my point.”

John felt bad he’d had to use Rodney’s feelings towards his sister to manipulate him, but his first priority was making sure the stubborn bastard recuperated. John’d worry about hurt feelings later. If that made him a bastard, too, oh, well. It wasn’t like he could really be more of an asshole than he’d already been a few weeks ago at the Ranch.

Turning to the doctor, John asked, “Carson, how much longer does he need to be hooked up to that thing?” He nodded his head to the oft-maligned IV stand.

“Oh, I think another half hour should do him fine.”

“After that, he can get out of here?”

“Not by himself, he can’t!”

John saw Rodney’s mutinous expression and quickly cut in, trying to head off another argument. “I think we’ve already established that, Carson. Do you have any objection letting him get out of here, if there’s someone to watch over him?”

“I’m not a child,” Rodney grumbled. “I don’t need anybody to watch over me like some damsel in distress!”

John held up a hand to forestall the speech. He ignored Rodney, keeping his attention on the doc. “If I brought him home with me, and you came by to check on him tomorrow, would that be okay with you?”

“Aye, I suppose that’d be fine, so long as you call me immediately if there’re any problems. That includes any complications with the wounds on his back. They’ve got me a mite bit worried.”

His back? What the hell else could Trevor have done to his son? It took a moment for John to realize he was silently staring at Carson and finally voiced the question. “His back? What happened?”

Carson was as pissed off as John had ever seen him. Whatever Rodney’s father had done to him obviously bothered the doctor on more than one level. “The bastard took a cane…” he started but was swiftly cut off by Rodney’s voice barreling over them.

“Yes, I know what he did, I don’t think I need a recap, thank you.”

Noting the way Rodney’s eyes darted about the room eyeing those within listening distance, John agreed that they could at least allow Rodney the dignity of discussing the matter in private. It was obvious that Rodney did not want any more people than necessary to hear what had been done to him.

John was happy to see Carson follow his cues and drop the subject, at least publicly.

“Right then. You’ll call me, John, if there are any troubles.” There was no doubt in John’s mind that that was NOT a question.

“I can do that,” John agreed.

“Would you please stop speaking over my head as though I’m not right here?” Rodney cut in. “Don’t I get a say in all of this? I am, after all, a full-fledged adult.”

“Okay,” John murmured, finally turning his eyes back to Rodney’s face. “If you really don’t want to be in my tender graces, then we’ll call your sister to come and get you.” He crossed his arms over his chest, in effect laying down the law. “Those are your only two options.”

Carson moved to protest, but John subtly waived him off. He knew Rodney wouldn’t want to be a burden on his sister.

“Jeannie’s in school; she doesn’t have time to play nursemaid to me.”

“But you know she will, Rodney. Do you want to risk her missing classes to keep an eye on you, or would you rather just come home with me?”

Rodney huffed, exasperated. “I did mention that you’re a manipulative bastard, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, I think you might have said something like that in passing.” John bit back the smile that wanted to escape. “So that’s a yes then?”

“It’s not like I have much choice in the matter, do I?”

John just shrugged. There were always choices; they didn’t have to be good choices. Besides, maybe if he could get Rodney home, he could start to show him he wasn’t the complete asshole he’d proven himself to be thus far. Maybe.

“Why don’t you finish filling up here,” John gently jiggled the IV line, “and I’ll call ahead to make sure the sheets in the guest room are clean.”

Rodney fell back onto his pillows and huffed, “Fine, I’ll just sit here like a good little patient.”

Carson snorted, and John finally allowed himself to grin. “You do that; I’ll be back in just a few.”

~*~

The first thing John did was call Jeannie to let her know where he brother would be, since clearly there was no way short of tying him to his bed that they could keep him at Pegasus Designs.

“Careful, John,” Jeannie warned. “He can be a handful and not entirely…nice, when he’s not feeling well.”

“I got an inkling of that, thanks. Don’t worry, I won’t be tossing him out on the street if he calls me an idiot or a bastard; he’s done that a few times already.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, “that’s my brother alright.”

It’d taken a little doing to get Rodney out of the infirmary. First, he refused a wheelchair. Then after he nearly gave himself a concussion falling to the floor, he tried to warn John off by reminding him of how much of a pain in the ass he could be, almost as though he was desperate not to spend time alone with John.

And that, John agreed, was Rodney’s right; if their positions had been reversed, John would have acted the same way. No man in his right mind would want to spend time alone with anyone who’d treated them the way John had Rodney that night at the Dude Ranch. The thought of it made John feel like seventeen types of asshole, and he deserved it.

Rodney was still carrying on. “I snore, and I’m hypoglycemic and…and…I’m allergic to citrus!”

John smiled. “Citrus, huh? Yeah, Jeannie told me about that one. Don’t worry, I called ahead and got rid of all the deadly lemons.”

“Are you mocking me? You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”

John let him go on and on for a few minutes till he got tired of the ranting and cut in, “No, Rodney, I’m not mocking you. Just relax, and I’ll get you home, and soon enough we’ll have you right as rain.”

“Sure, acid rain,” Rodney muttered with a roll of his eyes.

John laid his hand on his shoulder; it was just a pat, a gesture of comfort, but he was shocked to see that Rodney’s reaction to the contact was nearly identical to the one that night at the Ranch. He doubted Rodney was even aware of what he was doing when he melted into John’s touch, reveling in it as though he were suffering from a severe case of skin hunger; knowing what little he did about Rodney’s past, he probably was.

Sighing, John dropped his hand. He wasn’t going to take advantage of him. Not again. Maybe when Rodney was feeling better, maybe then he could see himself fit to forgiving him, but until then, John wouldn’t hold out hope.

Part two is here.
~*~