14 Valentines 14: Czech Mate (John/Rodney, PG)
Title: Czech Mate
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~3,500
Warnings: None that I'm aware of.
Summary: John could have spent the night on the mainland taking part in some crazy Athosian harvest festival that had promised to include lots of ale, but he'd declined in favour of playing chess. With Rodney. Who was now standing him up.
Notes: The grand finale! And the title's horrible, innit? *smiles proudly*
This story holds a bit of my Urban Legend Challenge prompt because it was just so much fun to play around with. Pre-Sunday. Much thanks to cupidsbow for the fantastic beta, broet-chan for her additional help. Also, special thanks to tagetes who was so kind as to translate some stuff into Czech. Translations back into English can be found at the end of the story.
Set some time before Sunday.
14 Valentines Essay: Day 14: International
~~~
John twirled the black pawn between his fingers, watching Sgt. Gardner getting shot down once again by Marina the kitchen help, while Rodney cancelled their plans for the evening.
"Anyway, Radek's sister sent him some Czech horror flicks. Something about zombie lumberjacks eating psychology freaks on the search for themselves - no big loss there, if you ask me - and enchanted earrings and vampires and a girl named… Vicky or Valerie or something like that; I didn't really pay attention. Radek says the movies are awful." Rodney bounced a little on his feet. "You, uh, you want to join us?"
Leaning back, John threw the pawn up and caught it. On the other side of the mess hall, Sgt. Gardner meekly accepted his pudding. "Nah. I've had my share of vampires for the week, thanks."
Seeing Rodney flinch at the less than subtle hint at Tuesday's run in with the Wraith was strangely gratifying. After all, John could have spent the night on the mainland taking part in some crazy Athosian harvest festival that had promised to include lots of ale, but he'd declined in favour of playing chess. With Rodney. Who was now standing him up.
"I, um… I'll just tell Radek you won't be coming, then."
"You do that."
"… right."
Rodney hovered for a moment, looking undecided, but finally he nodded and left.
Calmly, John put the chess pieces back into the box. Then he went to see if Elizabeth was in the mood to go over the mission roster for the next two months.
~~~
"How stupid do you have to be to lose the remote control?!"
John gritted his teeth and snapped back, "I'm sorry if I was a little too preoccupied with saving your ass!"
The mission had gone south almost as soon as they'd set foot into the "minor outpost, but worth checking out. Plus the planet is completely uninhabited. Come on, Colonel, or are you waiting for a change of weather?" Of course the planet had not been uninhabited, and they didn't even have Teyla to negotiate them out of what the natives decreed a gross violation of boundaries, or Ronon to shoot at them when they started to wield their spears. Of course the planet had an orbital Stargate, and without the jumper they had no way to reach it.
The rock slide hadn't helped, either. At least they'd missed a check-in already, so Elizabeth was probably going to call in soon.
"It's not saving my ass if you can't get us home! Oh god, I'm going to die here! My blood is going to splatter over the cloaked jumper and the natives will think it's hanging in the air and worship it as a new god and build it an altar and watch it dry for centuries unless it starts to rain and it all washes away - do you think it's going to rain? Because I'd rather drown myself in mud than-"
"McKay!"
"What?!"
Thankfully, that was when Atlantis called in. Rodney demanded John's radio, having lost his own somewhere between running away and barely making it out of the rock slide - and he had the gall to bitch at John for losing the remote control! - and after a lot of yelling things like, "What? No, he's useless, the gene doesn't… No, I don't think you can just… Yes, the transmission is nearly static-free, but… Oh, come on, that's a myth, I… fine, hold on…" he held the radio against the jumper's wall and watched open-mouthed as it shimmered back into visibility. The ramp was already lowering, which was a good thing because the natives chose that moment to start throwing spears at them again.
"As much as I hate to admit it," Rodney panted, dropping into the co-pilot's seat, "Radek is, occasionally, rather handy to have around."
John bit down on the suggestion that if he, John, was so useless, how about Rodney fly the damn jumper. Instead he just gritted his teeth, focussed on the controls, and got them home.
~~~
When John stepped into the lab, he came bearing coffee. It was a peace offering, because Rodney had been sulking in there for the last two days and people had started complaining to John about his mood. People who knew how to shoot a gun. John's plan for Soothing the Wild McKay involved helping to figure out an Ancient device or two, until Rodney had finished inhaling the contents of the mug. After that, he'd drag Rodney off to watch a TV show or maybe play some golf, and hopefully squash whatever bug had crawled up Rodney's ass.
Figuratively.
Rodney was busy glaring at Zelenka, and John smiled a little at the obvious tension between the two men. He frowned when he caught himself, wondering why Rodney and Zelenka being at odds with each other would be so satisfying. Before he could come to a conclusion, Rodney started snapping his fingers and Zelenka pushed his glasses up his nose and off they went, firing half-sentences between them that, from the slightly dazed faces around them, no one else was able to follow.
"Wonder Twin powers, activate!" Simpson joked; Zelenka grinned madly and called Rodney Jayna; Rodney launched into a red-faced splutter that had everyone else laughing and eventually he joined in.
John watched quietly, unnoticed, before he turned on his heel and left, taking the coffee with him.
~~~
John was being petty for no reason, but even knowing that didn't stop him from getting into an argument with Rodney. A mean, useless argument that had no purpose but to hurt Rodney. A lot.
So when Rodney complained about his latest squabble with Jeannie - something that involved Madison's birthday and absent uncles - John said, calmly and deliberately, "You know, I think Rod would have handled that better."
Watching Rodney go pale, two red spots appearing high on his cheeks, wasn't as gratifying as John had thought it would be. In fact, he felt a little nauseous, but the words were out and it was too late to take them back.
"Excuse me, Colonel." Rodney stood up without looking at John, his voice choked and brittle. "I forgot something in the lab."
He stalked to the door, chin raised and back straight, and walked out, simply walked out. Heading straight to the damn lab and his fucking best buddy, and John wanted to hit something. Possibly himself.
But maybe, just maybe, he wanted to hit Zelenka.
~~~
John was fast asleep when the call came, half past midnight Atlantis time, informing him that there had been a minor explosion in one of the outer towers and Dr. McKay was in the infirmary right now. He didn't even bother to get into his uniform, just pulled on his sneakers and sprinted down the hall in sweats and t-shirt. His fist still smarted from slamming it against the dialling map too hard when the transporter doors opened onto the barely controlled chaos of the infirmary.
John grabbed the first nurse that crossed his way. "How is he?"
"Dr. Beckett is just seeing to him," she said, startled. "He has some shrapnel cuts on his arms and face and a light concussion, but he'll be fine."
Shrapnel. Jesus. John let go of her and she hurried away, looking wide-eyed over her shoulder before ducking behind a privacy screen. He looked around for someone to explain to him how the fuck Rodney had managed to get hit by shrapnel in Atlantis of all places, and his gaze landed on Zelenka, who was nervously pacing up and down a small niche to the left.
Zelenka. Minor explosion. Zelenka.
John saw red.
He strode over to the Czech and got right in his face. A small part of him felt darkly pleased when Zelenka faltered and actually took a few steps back.
"What the hell happened?" he demanded, and Zelenka stuttered, "My fault, I didn't think to factor in the-" and that was as far as he got before John's fist connected with his jaw and sent him sprawling.
~~~
Zelenka insisted that he'd walked into a door, "or possibly filing cabinet or Ancient wall decoration, co já vím, things exploded, I do not know," and his jaw wasn't even broken, and John very calmly asked Elizabeth for the day off and took a jumper to the mainland and ran away, away, away.
~~~
They had a team movie-night two days later, but Ronon and Teyla begged off at the last possible minute. John was still standing frozen in his quarters, one hand at his radio and the other holding a bowl of popcorn, when the door chime rang. He swallowed, and went to let Rodney in.
The cuts on Rodney's face were healing nicely, most of them too small to even scar. He was wearing khaki pants and his blue short-sleeved shirt and John had no idea why his mouth was suddenly dry.
"Ronon and Teyla aren't coming."
"I know," Rodney replied, brushing by John to step into the room. He waved a DVD case. "I guess we'll just have to explain The Giant Claw to them some other time."
John merely nodded. There was a lump in his throat that hadn't been there a minute ago. If Rodney was willing to spend time alone with him and had even brought a crappy black-and-white horror movie, the two of them had to be good, right? Rodney wasn't still… they were good.
And if John let Rodney eat all the popcorn, he was simply too busy mocking the movie. Easy as that.
~~~
John and Zelenka were still tense around each other, and Rodney wasn't too happy about it.
"Look, I don't know what happened between you two, but the passive-aggressive staring is distracting me." His eyes kind of shifted to the side when he said it, though, so John suspected he knew exactly what had happened. And it wasn't like he didn't know he owed Zelenka an apology, it was just… It was awkward.
But John was the military commander of an alien outpost in another galaxy. Despite what his wife had said just before the divorce, he was perfectly able to admit when he'd fucked up. He could buckle down and get over himself.
So he went and apologised. In the lab no less, making sure that Rodney was there to witness him being the better man. Okay, Rodney was bent over his laptop and not even looking, but that didn't mean he wasn't paying attention.
Right. The better man.
"Zelenka. So listen." Yeah, that was a good start. "I'm sorry for, you know… the thing. With the… door. I was… out of line." Not that Zelenka hadn't deserved being slugged for getting Rodney hurt. Again even, and why wasn't Rodney holding a grudge about that? "So, uh." He licked his lips. "Do over?"
"Myslím si, že jseš idiot, kterej neví, co chce," Zelenka said, nodding and offering John his hand.
John blinked but shook it, deciding that it was probably best for all if he didn't ask.
He could see Rodney smiling, still bent over his laptop. Things were good.
~~~
Things were so bad it wasn't even funny anymore.
The sudden rockslide - what was it with this galaxy and rockslides? - that had knocked Ronon out had been bad enough. Then John had lost his footing and taken a tumble down the hillside, spraining his ankle and quite possibly breaking his wrist. But it had been the tree that had done him in: the fucking tree he had slammed against, which had put a broken branch straight through his chest.
He couldn't breathe. He was trying, but there was no air.
Rodney's fingers were digging into his shoulder. Rodney was speaking, but John didn't quite get it, too focussed on breathing. He nodded in response to whatever Rodney was saying, then screamed - or tried to - when he was shifted. Dimly, he could hear Rodney's panicked babbling but it was drowned by the buzzing in his ears.
Only the buzzing wasn't in his ears. It grew louder and louder, but Rodney held him steady, like a lifeline, away from the tree, away from the-
From the saw, god, agony, and he jerked, fell, blood in his mouth, falling forward, falling into Rodney.
Into nothing.
~~~
John never quite remembered the first few days after that mission. It was all one tight Gordian knot of pain and too-bright lights and weirdly distorted voices.
When he was off the ventilator and halfway lucid - but still on the good drugs and boy, were they good - Beckett opened his private cubicle to visitors. And even though all John could do was blink and smile dopily, his visitors were plenty. Teyla and Elizabeth for a few minutes in the morning. Lorne checking up on him around noon. Ronon dropping by to grin at him for a while sometime in the evening.
Rodney always came at night.
John knew that Beckett had told him not to come by so late, but Rodney obviously didn't care, and neither did John. Rodney always stayed for half an hour at least, which was a great distraction when Beckett started to wean John off the drugs.
The withdrawal wasn't pretty. The pain wasn't, either, and John started lashing out with words as well as gestures because who the fuck cared about morphine addictions when his fucking lungs were on fire. Rodney stayed with him, talking to him and cursing Beckett's evil, torturous ways, and when that didn't help anymore he took John's hand and let him squeeze until his fingers hurt more than his chest.
And John held on, held Rodney's hand in the dark infirmary and thought, yes, and had no idea what he was agreeing to.
He just knew that he wanted it.
~~~
Eventually the pain faded and John felt like a human being again. Beckett had begun to make noises about letting him out soon, but tomorrow wouldn't be soon enough because John was bored. Terribly, fatally, bored. His team was offworld along with most of the others, helping the Alerians bring in their harvest in exchange for a good portion of the crop. No Teyla, no Ronon, no Rodney. Not even Lorne, and John was about ready to start gnawing on his arm just to see how long it would take him to get to the bone.
Then Zelenka walked in, portable chess set tucked under one arm and amusement plain on his face as he sat down by John's bed, setting up a game. "I am not as loud as Rodney, but I believe you will still find me a challenge."
John tried very hard not to show how grateful he was for the distraction. He didn't think he fooled Zelenka for even a minute, but apparently the Czech was perfectly capable of being the better man as well, because he didn't comment. Instead, he started talking, sharing gossip about the lab in general and Rodney in particular in that dry way he had, and before John knew it hours had passed and he was laughing so hard his lungs started hurting again.
He didn't care. It felt good to laugh.
A movement in the doorway made him look up. Rodney was standing there, glaring at Zelenka and the chess board as though their very existence was a deep, personal affront. He looked at John, who was still trying to catch his breath, back at Zelenka, and then his eyes widened and his mouth opened, making him look almost comically surprised.
John frowned, but before he could ask what was wrong, Rodney turned and marched out of the infirmary, shaking his head. And that was... weird, even for Rodney.
John stared after him, chessboard forgotten until Zelenka cleared his throat.
"I believe it is time to call it a night."
John nodded, and Zelenka packed up the travel set and bid him goodnight, and then John was alone again, still wondering what the hell had just happened.
~~~
"-never be the same," Rodney complained as he set up the laptop. "And don't think I'm not aware that you're behind it. I'm all for military paranoia and bigger guns, but I highly doubt that one extra crate of ammunition is going to make a difference, and if something had to wait until the next shipment, I don't see why it had to be the mango pudding. Why couldn't you have cancelled the oranges? Limonene causes cancer in rats, did you know that?"
"Sorry for the inconvenience," John drawled. He didn't really mean it, but that was okay because neither did Rodney.
He was finally out of the infirmary and back in his own quarters, which was just as well. He'd been going out of his mind with boredom. His team on the other hand had apparently been busy, because he'd come home to find his quarters fitted with a new sofa. A very nice sofa that, according to Rodney, was perfect for watching movies. John had taken the not-so-subtle hint and invited him for another round of hilariously awful horror movies.
Rodney settled down next to him and the movie started. It was an American remake of some Japanese flick, and John amused himself with counting down the minutes to Rodney's first complaint. True to form, Rodney didn't even make it seven minutes before he started to fidget, and the timer had only just jumped to double digits when Rodney's patience ran out.
"Only you could choose a sofa that is even worse for my back than your sorry excuse for a bed," he complained, twisting and stretching well into John's personal space.
John was just about to point out that he hadn't, in fact, chosen the sofa, when Rodney stretched again, clearing his throat and settling his arm on the backrest behind John in a move that was anything but suave.
John's swallowed and licked his lips. He stared at Rodney's profile, so busy wondering if Rodney's move was actually what it looked like that he missed the next few lines of dialogue entirely.
Rodney's eyes were glued to the screen, giving no clues at all, and his arm wasn't actually close enough to be making contact, so maybe he was just cramped up by the couch after all.
John took a deep breath and reminded himself that fortune supposedly favoured the brave. His heart was hammering in his ears as he subtly shifted closer to Rodney.
When his thigh made contact with Rodney's, nothing happened. Rodney just went very, very still by John's side.
John stopped moving and stared at the screen every bit as intently as Rodney was.
After a few minutes, Rodney shifted again, and this time his arm came to rest on John's shoulder.
They both stared determinedly at the screen some more.
As Elvis Presley was trying to decipher rude hieroglyphs scribbled by a cowboy mummy on a toilet stall, John not-quite-but-kind-of put his head on Rodney's shoulder.
He'd never done anything like that before. It was... it was nice, and got even nicer as they both relaxed, slowly melting into a more comfortable position. When John grew tired halfway through the movie, Rodney nudged him into lying down. John's feet were hanging over the edge of the sofa and he couldn't see the laptop screen anymore, but his head was in Rodney's lap and it was warm and comfortable. Then Rodney's fingers slipped into his hair and started lightly scratching his scalp, and John closed his eyes, smiling.
John fell asleep like that: Rodney's leg warm under his cheek; Rodney's belly soft against his nose; Rodney's fingers playing softly with his hair.
It was worth the crick in his neck. Even more so when he woke up in the middle of the next movie and Rodney pressed a kiss to his lips.
~~~
Rodney and Zelenka were playing chess at one of the small tables when John entered the mess hall. He gave them a little wave, sauntered over to the snack line, and charmed Marina into slipping him a second bag of popcorn.
Rodney had borrowed a whole heap of Zelenka's bad horror movies. John was looking forward to not watching them for many nights to come.
~~~
End.
co já vím - no idea/I don't know (literally what do I know)
Myslím si, že jseš idiot, kterej neví, co chce. - I think you're an idiot who doesn't know what he wants.
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~3,500
Warnings: None that I'm aware of.
Summary: John could have spent the night on the mainland taking part in some crazy Athosian harvest festival that had promised to include lots of ale, but he'd declined in favour of playing chess. With Rodney. Who was now standing him up.
Notes: The grand finale! And the title's horrible, innit? *smiles proudly*
This story holds a bit of my Urban Legend Challenge prompt because it was just so much fun to play around with. Pre-Sunday. Much thanks to cupidsbow for the fantastic beta, broet-chan for her additional help. Also, special thanks to tagetes who was so kind as to translate some stuff into Czech. Translations back into English can be found at the end of the story.
Set some time before Sunday.
14 Valentines Essay: Day 14: International
~~~
John twirled the black pawn between his fingers, watching Sgt. Gardner getting shot down once again by Marina the kitchen help, while Rodney cancelled their plans for the evening.
"Anyway, Radek's sister sent him some Czech horror flicks. Something about zombie lumberjacks eating psychology freaks on the search for themselves - no big loss there, if you ask me - and enchanted earrings and vampires and a girl named… Vicky or Valerie or something like that; I didn't really pay attention. Radek says the movies are awful." Rodney bounced a little on his feet. "You, uh, you want to join us?"
Leaning back, John threw the pawn up and caught it. On the other side of the mess hall, Sgt. Gardner meekly accepted his pudding. "Nah. I've had my share of vampires for the week, thanks."
Seeing Rodney flinch at the less than subtle hint at Tuesday's run in with the Wraith was strangely gratifying. After all, John could have spent the night on the mainland taking part in some crazy Athosian harvest festival that had promised to include lots of ale, but he'd declined in favour of playing chess. With Rodney. Who was now standing him up.
"I, um… I'll just tell Radek you won't be coming, then."
"You do that."
"… right."
Rodney hovered for a moment, looking undecided, but finally he nodded and left.
Calmly, John put the chess pieces back into the box. Then he went to see if Elizabeth was in the mood to go over the mission roster for the next two months.
~~~
"How stupid do you have to be to lose the remote control?!"
John gritted his teeth and snapped back, "I'm sorry if I was a little too preoccupied with saving your ass!"
The mission had gone south almost as soon as they'd set foot into the "minor outpost, but worth checking out. Plus the planet is completely uninhabited. Come on, Colonel, or are you waiting for a change of weather?" Of course the planet had not been uninhabited, and they didn't even have Teyla to negotiate them out of what the natives decreed a gross violation of boundaries, or Ronon to shoot at them when they started to wield their spears. Of course the planet had an orbital Stargate, and without the jumper they had no way to reach it.
The rock slide hadn't helped, either. At least they'd missed a check-in already, so Elizabeth was probably going to call in soon.
"It's not saving my ass if you can't get us home! Oh god, I'm going to die here! My blood is going to splatter over the cloaked jumper and the natives will think it's hanging in the air and worship it as a new god and build it an altar and watch it dry for centuries unless it starts to rain and it all washes away - do you think it's going to rain? Because I'd rather drown myself in mud than-"
"McKay!"
"What?!"
Thankfully, that was when Atlantis called in. Rodney demanded John's radio, having lost his own somewhere between running away and barely making it out of the rock slide - and he had the gall to bitch at John for losing the remote control! - and after a lot of yelling things like, "What? No, he's useless, the gene doesn't… No, I don't think you can just… Yes, the transmission is nearly static-free, but… Oh, come on, that's a myth, I… fine, hold on…" he held the radio against the jumper's wall and watched open-mouthed as it shimmered back into visibility. The ramp was already lowering, which was a good thing because the natives chose that moment to start throwing spears at them again.
"As much as I hate to admit it," Rodney panted, dropping into the co-pilot's seat, "Radek is, occasionally, rather handy to have around."
John bit down on the suggestion that if he, John, was so useless, how about Rodney fly the damn jumper. Instead he just gritted his teeth, focussed on the controls, and got them home.
~~~
When John stepped into the lab, he came bearing coffee. It was a peace offering, because Rodney had been sulking in there for the last two days and people had started complaining to John about his mood. People who knew how to shoot a gun. John's plan for Soothing the Wild McKay involved helping to figure out an Ancient device or two, until Rodney had finished inhaling the contents of the mug. After that, he'd drag Rodney off to watch a TV show or maybe play some golf, and hopefully squash whatever bug had crawled up Rodney's ass.
Figuratively.
Rodney was busy glaring at Zelenka, and John smiled a little at the obvious tension between the two men. He frowned when he caught himself, wondering why Rodney and Zelenka being at odds with each other would be so satisfying. Before he could come to a conclusion, Rodney started snapping his fingers and Zelenka pushed his glasses up his nose and off they went, firing half-sentences between them that, from the slightly dazed faces around them, no one else was able to follow.
"Wonder Twin powers, activate!" Simpson joked; Zelenka grinned madly and called Rodney Jayna; Rodney launched into a red-faced splutter that had everyone else laughing and eventually he joined in.
John watched quietly, unnoticed, before he turned on his heel and left, taking the coffee with him.
~~~
John was being petty for no reason, but even knowing that didn't stop him from getting into an argument with Rodney. A mean, useless argument that had no purpose but to hurt Rodney. A lot.
So when Rodney complained about his latest squabble with Jeannie - something that involved Madison's birthday and absent uncles - John said, calmly and deliberately, "You know, I think Rod would have handled that better."
Watching Rodney go pale, two red spots appearing high on his cheeks, wasn't as gratifying as John had thought it would be. In fact, he felt a little nauseous, but the words were out and it was too late to take them back.
"Excuse me, Colonel." Rodney stood up without looking at John, his voice choked and brittle. "I forgot something in the lab."
He stalked to the door, chin raised and back straight, and walked out, simply walked out. Heading straight to the damn lab and his fucking best buddy, and John wanted to hit something. Possibly himself.
But maybe, just maybe, he wanted to hit Zelenka.
~~~
John was fast asleep when the call came, half past midnight Atlantis time, informing him that there had been a minor explosion in one of the outer towers and Dr. McKay was in the infirmary right now. He didn't even bother to get into his uniform, just pulled on his sneakers and sprinted down the hall in sweats and t-shirt. His fist still smarted from slamming it against the dialling map too hard when the transporter doors opened onto the barely controlled chaos of the infirmary.
John grabbed the first nurse that crossed his way. "How is he?"
"Dr. Beckett is just seeing to him," she said, startled. "He has some shrapnel cuts on his arms and face and a light concussion, but he'll be fine."
Shrapnel. Jesus. John let go of her and she hurried away, looking wide-eyed over her shoulder before ducking behind a privacy screen. He looked around for someone to explain to him how the fuck Rodney had managed to get hit by shrapnel in Atlantis of all places, and his gaze landed on Zelenka, who was nervously pacing up and down a small niche to the left.
Zelenka. Minor explosion. Zelenka.
John saw red.
He strode over to the Czech and got right in his face. A small part of him felt darkly pleased when Zelenka faltered and actually took a few steps back.
"What the hell happened?" he demanded, and Zelenka stuttered, "My fault, I didn't think to factor in the-" and that was as far as he got before John's fist connected with his jaw and sent him sprawling.
~~~
Zelenka insisted that he'd walked into a door, "or possibly filing cabinet or Ancient wall decoration, co já vím, things exploded, I do not know," and his jaw wasn't even broken, and John very calmly asked Elizabeth for the day off and took a jumper to the mainland and ran away, away, away.
~~~
They had a team movie-night two days later, but Ronon and Teyla begged off at the last possible minute. John was still standing frozen in his quarters, one hand at his radio and the other holding a bowl of popcorn, when the door chime rang. He swallowed, and went to let Rodney in.
The cuts on Rodney's face were healing nicely, most of them too small to even scar. He was wearing khaki pants and his blue short-sleeved shirt and John had no idea why his mouth was suddenly dry.
"Ronon and Teyla aren't coming."
"I know," Rodney replied, brushing by John to step into the room. He waved a DVD case. "I guess we'll just have to explain The Giant Claw to them some other time."
John merely nodded. There was a lump in his throat that hadn't been there a minute ago. If Rodney was willing to spend time alone with him and had even brought a crappy black-and-white horror movie, the two of them had to be good, right? Rodney wasn't still… they were good.
And if John let Rodney eat all the popcorn, he was simply too busy mocking the movie. Easy as that.
~~~
John and Zelenka were still tense around each other, and Rodney wasn't too happy about it.
"Look, I don't know what happened between you two, but the passive-aggressive staring is distracting me." His eyes kind of shifted to the side when he said it, though, so John suspected he knew exactly what had happened. And it wasn't like he didn't know he owed Zelenka an apology, it was just… It was awkward.
But John was the military commander of an alien outpost in another galaxy. Despite what his wife had said just before the divorce, he was perfectly able to admit when he'd fucked up. He could buckle down and get over himself.
So he went and apologised. In the lab no less, making sure that Rodney was there to witness him being the better man. Okay, Rodney was bent over his laptop and not even looking, but that didn't mean he wasn't paying attention.
Right. The better man.
"Zelenka. So listen." Yeah, that was a good start. "I'm sorry for, you know… the thing. With the… door. I was… out of line." Not that Zelenka hadn't deserved being slugged for getting Rodney hurt. Again even, and why wasn't Rodney holding a grudge about that? "So, uh." He licked his lips. "Do over?"
"Myslím si, že jseš idiot, kterej neví, co chce," Zelenka said, nodding and offering John his hand.
John blinked but shook it, deciding that it was probably best for all if he didn't ask.
He could see Rodney smiling, still bent over his laptop. Things were good.
~~~
Things were so bad it wasn't even funny anymore.
The sudden rockslide - what was it with this galaxy and rockslides? - that had knocked Ronon out had been bad enough. Then John had lost his footing and taken a tumble down the hillside, spraining his ankle and quite possibly breaking his wrist. But it had been the tree that had done him in: the fucking tree he had slammed against, which had put a broken branch straight through his chest.
He couldn't breathe. He was trying, but there was no air.
Rodney's fingers were digging into his shoulder. Rodney was speaking, but John didn't quite get it, too focussed on breathing. He nodded in response to whatever Rodney was saying, then screamed - or tried to - when he was shifted. Dimly, he could hear Rodney's panicked babbling but it was drowned by the buzzing in his ears.
Only the buzzing wasn't in his ears. It grew louder and louder, but Rodney held him steady, like a lifeline, away from the tree, away from the-
From the saw, god, agony, and he jerked, fell, blood in his mouth, falling forward, falling into Rodney.
Into nothing.
~~~
John never quite remembered the first few days after that mission. It was all one tight Gordian knot of pain and too-bright lights and weirdly distorted voices.
When he was off the ventilator and halfway lucid - but still on the good drugs and boy, were they good - Beckett opened his private cubicle to visitors. And even though all John could do was blink and smile dopily, his visitors were plenty. Teyla and Elizabeth for a few minutes in the morning. Lorne checking up on him around noon. Ronon dropping by to grin at him for a while sometime in the evening.
Rodney always came at night.
John knew that Beckett had told him not to come by so late, but Rodney obviously didn't care, and neither did John. Rodney always stayed for half an hour at least, which was a great distraction when Beckett started to wean John off the drugs.
The withdrawal wasn't pretty. The pain wasn't, either, and John started lashing out with words as well as gestures because who the fuck cared about morphine addictions when his fucking lungs were on fire. Rodney stayed with him, talking to him and cursing Beckett's evil, torturous ways, and when that didn't help anymore he took John's hand and let him squeeze until his fingers hurt more than his chest.
And John held on, held Rodney's hand in the dark infirmary and thought, yes, and had no idea what he was agreeing to.
He just knew that he wanted it.
~~~
Eventually the pain faded and John felt like a human being again. Beckett had begun to make noises about letting him out soon, but tomorrow wouldn't be soon enough because John was bored. Terribly, fatally, bored. His team was offworld along with most of the others, helping the Alerians bring in their harvest in exchange for a good portion of the crop. No Teyla, no Ronon, no Rodney. Not even Lorne, and John was about ready to start gnawing on his arm just to see how long it would take him to get to the bone.
Then Zelenka walked in, portable chess set tucked under one arm and amusement plain on his face as he sat down by John's bed, setting up a game. "I am not as loud as Rodney, but I believe you will still find me a challenge."
John tried very hard not to show how grateful he was for the distraction. He didn't think he fooled Zelenka for even a minute, but apparently the Czech was perfectly capable of being the better man as well, because he didn't comment. Instead, he started talking, sharing gossip about the lab in general and Rodney in particular in that dry way he had, and before John knew it hours had passed and he was laughing so hard his lungs started hurting again.
He didn't care. It felt good to laugh.
A movement in the doorway made him look up. Rodney was standing there, glaring at Zelenka and the chess board as though their very existence was a deep, personal affront. He looked at John, who was still trying to catch his breath, back at Zelenka, and then his eyes widened and his mouth opened, making him look almost comically surprised.
John frowned, but before he could ask what was wrong, Rodney turned and marched out of the infirmary, shaking his head. And that was... weird, even for Rodney.
John stared after him, chessboard forgotten until Zelenka cleared his throat.
"I believe it is time to call it a night."
John nodded, and Zelenka packed up the travel set and bid him goodnight, and then John was alone again, still wondering what the hell had just happened.
~~~
"-never be the same," Rodney complained as he set up the laptop. "And don't think I'm not aware that you're behind it. I'm all for military paranoia and bigger guns, but I highly doubt that one extra crate of ammunition is going to make a difference, and if something had to wait until the next shipment, I don't see why it had to be the mango pudding. Why couldn't you have cancelled the oranges? Limonene causes cancer in rats, did you know that?"
"Sorry for the inconvenience," John drawled. He didn't really mean it, but that was okay because neither did Rodney.
He was finally out of the infirmary and back in his own quarters, which was just as well. He'd been going out of his mind with boredom. His team on the other hand had apparently been busy, because he'd come home to find his quarters fitted with a new sofa. A very nice sofa that, according to Rodney, was perfect for watching movies. John had taken the not-so-subtle hint and invited him for another round of hilariously awful horror movies.
Rodney settled down next to him and the movie started. It was an American remake of some Japanese flick, and John amused himself with counting down the minutes to Rodney's first complaint. True to form, Rodney didn't even make it seven minutes before he started to fidget, and the timer had only just jumped to double digits when Rodney's patience ran out.
"Only you could choose a sofa that is even worse for my back than your sorry excuse for a bed," he complained, twisting and stretching well into John's personal space.
John was just about to point out that he hadn't, in fact, chosen the sofa, when Rodney stretched again, clearing his throat and settling his arm on the backrest behind John in a move that was anything but suave.
John's swallowed and licked his lips. He stared at Rodney's profile, so busy wondering if Rodney's move was actually what it looked like that he missed the next few lines of dialogue entirely.
Rodney's eyes were glued to the screen, giving no clues at all, and his arm wasn't actually close enough to be making contact, so maybe he was just cramped up by the couch after all.
John took a deep breath and reminded himself that fortune supposedly favoured the brave. His heart was hammering in his ears as he subtly shifted closer to Rodney.
When his thigh made contact with Rodney's, nothing happened. Rodney just went very, very still by John's side.
John stopped moving and stared at the screen every bit as intently as Rodney was.
After a few minutes, Rodney shifted again, and this time his arm came to rest on John's shoulder.
They both stared determinedly at the screen some more.
As Elvis Presley was trying to decipher rude hieroglyphs scribbled by a cowboy mummy on a toilet stall, John not-quite-but-kind-of put his head on Rodney's shoulder.
He'd never done anything like that before. It was... it was nice, and got even nicer as they both relaxed, slowly melting into a more comfortable position. When John grew tired halfway through the movie, Rodney nudged him into lying down. John's feet were hanging over the edge of the sofa and he couldn't see the laptop screen anymore, but his head was in Rodney's lap and it was warm and comfortable. Then Rodney's fingers slipped into his hair and started lightly scratching his scalp, and John closed his eyes, smiling.
John fell asleep like that: Rodney's leg warm under his cheek; Rodney's belly soft against his nose; Rodney's fingers playing softly with his hair.
It was worth the crick in his neck. Even more so when he woke up in the middle of the next movie and Rodney pressed a kiss to his lips.
~~~
Rodney and Zelenka were playing chess at one of the small tables when John entered the mess hall. He gave them a little wave, sauntered over to the snack line, and charmed Marina into slipping him a second bag of popcorn.
Rodney had borrowed a whole heap of Zelenka's bad horror movies. John was looking forward to not watching them for many nights to come.
~~~
End.
co já vím - no idea/I don't know (literally what do I know)
Myslím si, že jseš idiot, kterej neví, co chce. - I think you're an idiot who doesn't know what he wants.