Yes, I'm procrastinating
Title: The Art of Feeling Guilty
Summary: Rodney says he isn't mad, but he sure behaves strangely.
Notes: 'nother self-indulgent snippet that might one day grow into a fic - tag to "Phantoms". I even managed to include a balcony. ;)
Not yet beta-read.
~~~
The Art of Feeling Guilty
It wasn't until well after the debriefing that John realised he'd almost killed Rodney, and subsequently lost what little breakfast he'd had. His face was grey when he looked at himself in the mirror after sticking his head under the faucet for at least five minutes, the water as cold as it came, his thoughts a litany of oh God oh God oh God and this galaxy is so fucked up.
In his defence, he hadn't seen Rodney when he'd fired his gun, not that it made the situation any better. The shot had been careless, casual, not really aimed all that well. Hell, it hadn't even been fatal, as such, but in the middle in the desert, miles from medical help, it had promised a slow, agonising death. Much like the one Holland had been experiencing.
John had gotten his team home this time, alive if not whole, and it sickened him to think that he almost hadn't.
And it would have been his fault.
~~~
Rodney, though, didn't really hold the whole thing against him, not after the initial round of 'you shot me - give me chocolate'. Ironically, it made a crappy situation even worse, because John didn't know how to deal with a forgiving Rodney McKay. Accusations he could have handled, loss of trust, pouting, a slow finding back to the friendship they shared. But there was none of that stuff, and it threw him. Rodney even offered him the second cup of butterscotch pudding he'd scored for lunch; John stared at it until the scientist shrugged and pulled it back towards his own tray.
The relief he felt over the fact that their friendship was obviously intact overwhelmed him so much that it took him almost a week to notice the way Rodney was... quiet. It made him feel a strange sense of dread, but he asked nevertheless.
"What's up?"
Rodney shot him a surprised glance, frowning.
"Um. Nothing?"
"You're awfully quiet."
"A man, uh, realises a few things when he thinks he's going to die. I mean, usually I can rely on you coming for me, but this time, you were there. Who'd rescue me if you didn't?"
"What kind of things?" John managed around the bile that was once again rising in his throat. Sometimes, Rodney's blunt honesty had its drawbacks.
"Oh, um. This and that. Private things." Rodney looked away, clearly uncomfortable.
John nodded. If Rodney didn't want to talk about it, the loss of trust was clearly there after all.
Strange how much that hurt.
And if he'd thought the situation after Duranda had been awkward, he quickly learned that it was nothing compared to this. John had never been able to handle guilt all that well, and this time was no exception - it was driving him up the wall. And Rodney kept acting… weird around him, laughing too loud, snatching quick glances when he thought John wasn't looking, jumping nervously at every careful, not-really-casual touch. It was like he wanted to pretend nothing had changed, when, well… everything had.
Finally, John snapped.
"Look, just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."
"Huh?"
"Seriously, what's it going to take? Flying lessons, a few scientific missions, a metric ton of chocolate, what?"
"I don't even know what you're talking about." Rodney blinked at him.
"I'm talking about this!" John gestured at the six feet of space Rodney had brought between them as soon as John had entered the room. "You're avoiding me!"
Rodney flinched, blushed, looked away, then jutted out his chin and defiantly stared at John.
"I'm not." He said it about forty seconds too late to be convincing.
"You are," John accused, "and I apologised, so just get the hell over it already!"
Rodney's eyes widened in realisation.
"You think this is about what happened back on that planet," he said faintly. "When you shot me." He seemed to shake himself out of some kind of stupor, and his voice grew louder. "Are you insane? I told you I didn't blame you - you were hallucinating, it's not like you shot me on purpose. Wait... you didn't, did you? I mean, you didn't know it was me, so clearly... that is, I just assumed... did you shoot me on purpose?"
"No!"
"Then what, pray tell, is your problem?"
"My problem? You're the one who keeps flinching back whenever I touch you! I just want to know what the fuck I did!"
And just like that, Rodney visibly deflated.
"Uh, as clichéd as this might sound," he muttered, "it's not you, it's me."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Fine. If you absolutely need to know, I realised I'm attracted to you. There, are you satisfied now?"
"You... what?" John tried very hard not to gape, but suspected he was failing.
"When you shot me, all I could think about was that I needed you to pull the plug, so to speak, before you accidentally killed yourself or something. Things like that tend to, uh, open one's eyes regarding one's own... emotional state of being."
"So you're not mad at me," John said slowly. Rodney made a face.
"Well, except for forcing me to admit this, no."
"Okay." To John's relief, Rodney didn't flinch back when he punched him lightly in the shoulder. "You know, I'll just, um."
He pointed at the door.
"Yes, go ahead, do some soldiery stuff."
John nodded and started to leave, pausing to turn and wave a hand vaguely between them.
"This is... this is cool."
"Right." Rodney sounded skeptical, but seemed willing to humour him for the time being, so John nodded and hurried out of the lab. He felt a little light-headed, so he stepped outside onto the nearest balcony and inhaled the cool sea air, leaning against the railing. So all this time he'd been busy feeling guilty over shooting Rodney and making him feel uncomfortable with John, Rodney had actually wanted to jump his bones. Huh. Now that was something that definitely needed some processing. He took another deep breath, shook his head, and turned away from the railing. He'd contemplate this later.
On his way to the shooting range, people stared more or less openly as John strolled along the corridor, a smile on his face and a distinct bounce in his step.
Rodney McKay was attracted to him.
Cool.
~~~
Summary: Rodney says he isn't mad, but he sure behaves strangely.
Notes: 'nother self-indulgent snippet that might one day grow into a fic - tag to "Phantoms". I even managed to include a balcony. ;)
Not yet beta-read.
~~~
The Art of Feeling Guilty
It wasn't until well after the debriefing that John realised he'd almost killed Rodney, and subsequently lost what little breakfast he'd had. His face was grey when he looked at himself in the mirror after sticking his head under the faucet for at least five minutes, the water as cold as it came, his thoughts a litany of oh God oh God oh God and this galaxy is so fucked up.
In his defence, he hadn't seen Rodney when he'd fired his gun, not that it made the situation any better. The shot had been careless, casual, not really aimed all that well. Hell, it hadn't even been fatal, as such, but in the middle in the desert, miles from medical help, it had promised a slow, agonising death. Much like the one Holland had been experiencing.
John had gotten his team home this time, alive if not whole, and it sickened him to think that he almost hadn't.
And it would have been his fault.
~~~
Rodney, though, didn't really hold the whole thing against him, not after the initial round of 'you shot me - give me chocolate'. Ironically, it made a crappy situation even worse, because John didn't know how to deal with a forgiving Rodney McKay. Accusations he could have handled, loss of trust, pouting, a slow finding back to the friendship they shared. But there was none of that stuff, and it threw him. Rodney even offered him the second cup of butterscotch pudding he'd scored for lunch; John stared at it until the scientist shrugged and pulled it back towards his own tray.
The relief he felt over the fact that their friendship was obviously intact overwhelmed him so much that it took him almost a week to notice the way Rodney was... quiet. It made him feel a strange sense of dread, but he asked nevertheless.
"What's up?"
Rodney shot him a surprised glance, frowning.
"Um. Nothing?"
"You're awfully quiet."
"A man, uh, realises a few things when he thinks he's going to die. I mean, usually I can rely on you coming for me, but this time, you were there. Who'd rescue me if you didn't?"
"What kind of things?" John managed around the bile that was once again rising in his throat. Sometimes, Rodney's blunt honesty had its drawbacks.
"Oh, um. This and that. Private things." Rodney looked away, clearly uncomfortable.
John nodded. If Rodney didn't want to talk about it, the loss of trust was clearly there after all.
Strange how much that hurt.
And if he'd thought the situation after Duranda had been awkward, he quickly learned that it was nothing compared to this. John had never been able to handle guilt all that well, and this time was no exception - it was driving him up the wall. And Rodney kept acting… weird around him, laughing too loud, snatching quick glances when he thought John wasn't looking, jumping nervously at every careful, not-really-casual touch. It was like he wanted to pretend nothing had changed, when, well… everything had.
Finally, John snapped.
"Look, just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."
"Huh?"
"Seriously, what's it going to take? Flying lessons, a few scientific missions, a metric ton of chocolate, what?"
"I don't even know what you're talking about." Rodney blinked at him.
"I'm talking about this!" John gestured at the six feet of space Rodney had brought between them as soon as John had entered the room. "You're avoiding me!"
Rodney flinched, blushed, looked away, then jutted out his chin and defiantly stared at John.
"I'm not." He said it about forty seconds too late to be convincing.
"You are," John accused, "and I apologised, so just get the hell over it already!"
Rodney's eyes widened in realisation.
"You think this is about what happened back on that planet," he said faintly. "When you shot me." He seemed to shake himself out of some kind of stupor, and his voice grew louder. "Are you insane? I told you I didn't blame you - you were hallucinating, it's not like you shot me on purpose. Wait... you didn't, did you? I mean, you didn't know it was me, so clearly... that is, I just assumed... did you shoot me on purpose?"
"No!"
"Then what, pray tell, is your problem?"
"My problem? You're the one who keeps flinching back whenever I touch you! I just want to know what the fuck I did!"
And just like that, Rodney visibly deflated.
"Uh, as clichéd as this might sound," he muttered, "it's not you, it's me."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Fine. If you absolutely need to know, I realised I'm attracted to you. There, are you satisfied now?"
"You... what?" John tried very hard not to gape, but suspected he was failing.
"When you shot me, all I could think about was that I needed you to pull the plug, so to speak, before you accidentally killed yourself or something. Things like that tend to, uh, open one's eyes regarding one's own... emotional state of being."
"So you're not mad at me," John said slowly. Rodney made a face.
"Well, except for forcing me to admit this, no."
"Okay." To John's relief, Rodney didn't flinch back when he punched him lightly in the shoulder. "You know, I'll just, um."
He pointed at the door.
"Yes, go ahead, do some soldiery stuff."
John nodded and started to leave, pausing to turn and wave a hand vaguely between them.
"This is... this is cool."
"Right." Rodney sounded skeptical, but seemed willing to humour him for the time being, so John nodded and hurried out of the lab. He felt a little light-headed, so he stepped outside onto the nearest balcony and inhaled the cool sea air, leaning against the railing. So all this time he'd been busy feeling guilty over shooting Rodney and making him feel uncomfortable with John, Rodney had actually wanted to jump his bones. Huh. Now that was something that definitely needed some processing. He took another deep breath, shook his head, and turned away from the railing. He'd contemplate this later.
On his way to the shooting range, people stared more or less openly as John strolled along the corridor, a smile on his face and a distinct bounce in his step.
Rodney McKay was attracted to him.
Cool.
~~~