SGA-fic: Transformation Theory 1/3 (EP, John/Rodney, PG)
Title: Transformation Theory
Author: Zinnith
Rating: PG
Pairing: John/Rodney
Genre: AU/Drama
Wordcount: ~14.200
Disclaimer: Still not mine, damnit!
Warnings: If you can't stand OC:s, this is not the story for you. Then again, if you can't stand OC:s, you probably haven't read anything else in this 'verse, so you wouldn't bother anyway.
Notes: Once upon a time, there was a little story called Entangled Particles. Then there was a little sequel to that story, called Spatial Separation. For some strange reason, people seemed to like those stories and asked for more sequels, and I started writing this one. That was a year and a half ago, and it is now finished. I might possibly be the slowest writing person in this fandom.
This story follows right after Yield Point.
As always, I can't thank the_cephalopod enough. Without her, this 'verse would not exist. I'd also like to thank those of you on the almighty f-list who helped me out when I asked about babies a while back!
Summary: By the time they finally got around to making the trip to the East Coast, to visit Hawk and Meg and the baby, it was spring and Rodney was the one freaking out.
´Transformation Theory
By the time they finally got around to making the trip to the East Coast, to visit Hawk and Meg and the baby, it was spring and Rodney was the one freaking out.
They had meant to go earlier, but first Rodney had come down with the flu and had spent two weeks coughing and sneezing, completely convinced that he was dying. After he'd got better, John had torn a ligament in his knee while playing basketball with the kids at the youth centre, which sucked big time; he had spent far too much time in hospital after the helicopter crash and the prospect of even more physical therapy had been enough to make him want to hit something.
The surgery itself had been a simple outpatient procedure and John went home the same day, accompanied by the hated crutches and an itching knee immobiliser. The only upside of the situation was that he had Rodney waiting on him hand and foot, providing food, drinks and, on a few memorable occasions, blowjobs.
So when they were finally at Sacramento International Airport, John was left trying to balance bags, crutches and Rodney’s take-out coffee while Rodney was on the phone to Laura for the third time since they had left for the airport, giving her last minute instructions to remember not to feed Newton milk or she would have to clean up cat-vomit from all over the apartment.
John was less nervous and more angry because he had chickened out yet again and had not been able make himself tell Hawk over the phone that Rodney was not just his friend but also his lover. He was a bit surprised because Rodney had not made a big deal of it. “Tell them or don’t tell them,” he’d said while they were packing their things (or rather, while Rodney was packing their things, because John was milking his injured knee for all it was worth and had made himself comfortable on the couch to watch Rodney run around like a headless chicken). “I really don’t care, as long as they’re not planning to beat me to death with baseball bats and by the way, is this shirt too dressy?”
John wasn’t afraid to let Hawk and Megan know. They were good people and John trusted Hawk with his life. What made him a little edgy was the fact that as soon as the cat was out of the bag, the word would spread. There were others in his circle of acquaintances who would probably not be too keen on hearing the news that old Shep was now batting for the other team.
It was ridiculously early in the morning and John couldn’t stop yawning. Getting through security had been something of a nightmare. Rodney’s abrasive personality mixed badly with authority figures and the both of them had almost been subjected to full body-searches before John could produce all the necessary documentation to proved that yes, Rodney was allergic to pretty much everything and yes, he really needed to carry his epi-pen on board the plane and yes, John’s leg was held together by metal and no, he did not have any kind of weapon stuck up any orifice.
And now Rodney was freaking out, over cat sitting of all things. Five thirty in the damn morning, and Rodney was freaking out. If there was someone who had a reason for freaking out, it was John. It was all kinds of unfair.
He dropped the bags on the floor, leaned the crutches against the wall and hobbled close enough to deposit the coffee into Rodney’s wildly gesturing hand. “Rodney, this is the third time you’ve woken Laura and Carson up this morning. You will never find another person crazy enough to work for you, so will you leave her alone and let them sleep?”
Rodney protested wildly. “But I have to... What if he gets ill! The new veterinarian is a horrible woman who probably skins cats in secret and turns them into fur coats and Newton has a very sensitive stomach and Laura needs to know this!”
John sighed. He had personally witnessed Newton eating everything from French fries to the potted plants on Rodney’s windowsills without getting ill. His stomach was more iron-cast than John’s and John had eaten grubs.
“She knows, Rodney. She’s going to do a better job of looking after him than we do.” John snagged the phone out of Rodney’s hand and spoke into it. “Go back to sleep, Laura, we’ll be fine and the cat will be fine. See you Monday.”
Laura muttered something unintelligible on the other end of the line and hung up, and John did the same on their end, ignoring Rodney’s red-faced sputtering.
“Drink your coffee,” he said and patted Rodney’s shoulder. Rodney opened and closed his mouth like a fish and then shut up and did what he was told.
John watched his throat move as he swallowed and thought about earlier that morning when the shrill sound of the alarm clock had forced them awake. John had been plastered against Rodney’s back with his face tucked into Rodney’s neck, and right now he would have given his good leg to be back there and not have to worry about flights and friends and life-altering revelations.
Rodney had sprung for first class tickets for which John was tremendously grateful. He was going to be uncomfortable enough with the crutches and the knee-brace and was glad for the extra leg room. "I could get used to this,” he told Rodney as he stretched out in his seat with a glass of juice provided by a nice flight attendant.
But Rodney was getting more and more pale, and by the time the plane was taxiing from the terminal to the runway, he was clenching his armrests so tight that his knuckles were white and John was worried that he was going to have a panic attack. Which was stupid because Rodney was flying more often than John did these days.
Then he remembered that Rodney had been like this for days. He had just finished a short story for a journal and John had put it down to the usual pre-deadline jitters, but now he realised that Rodney had to be more terrified of meeting Hawk and Megan than John was of introducing him.
He put the glass down and turned to Rodney. “Hey, listen. It’s no big deal, okay? If it seems like it’s gonna be a problem, I just won’t tell them. We’re a couple of guys going on a trip to visit friends. People do that all the time.”
Rodney was breathing a little fast and his face had taken on the red hue that made John fear for his blood pressure. “A friend who happens to be in the military and might possibly want to castrate me for molesting his old war-buddy and it’s not too late to get off the plane, is it?”
The last was said so loudly that a concerned flight attendant showed up and carefully asked if everything was all right.
“We're fine,” John said with a smile and put his hand on Rodney’s thigh. “He’s just a little anxious about flying, that’s all.”
“I am not anxious about flying,” Rodney protested and John recognised all the signs of a full-blown rant coming on. “I’m anxious about...”
The flight attendant seemed to be a nice person and John didn’t think she deserved a cranky Rodney McKay at six o’clock in the morning, so he leaned over into Rodney's seat, grabbed his face and kissed him. Rodney made a choked little noise but then he returned the kiss. John tasted coffee on his lips and was suddenly overwhelmed by the realisation that he could do this, here in front of everyone. Something achy and warm flared up in his stomach and he never wanted to let this go, ever, not for anything in the world.
* * *
Four hours and 34 minutes on a plane that John wasn’t flying himself was not even fun in first class. Rodney had one more minor freak-out just after takeoff and John had to physically restrain him to keep him from calling Laura again.
He tried to sleep without success, throwing jealous glances at Rodney who, after calming down a bit, had sacked out in his seat and was snoring with his mouth open. John watched the clouds and tried to ignore the way his guts seemed to have transformed into an anthill. Hawk and Megan were good people. He had nothing to worry about.
They had a brief layover in Atlanta, where Rodney found fault with everything from the masses of people ("Cattle, I tell you. Cattle!") to the selection of food and beverages offered. (“I want coffee.” “There’s a Starbucks over there.” “I said coffee, not Starbucks. I’m a responsible consumer and I refuse to support any company built on the idea of world-domination.”)
From Atlanta to Fayetteville they had to fly coach and it didn’t take long for John to get bored. Rodney was engrossed in a physics journal and talked more to the article he was reading than to John. “What? That’s just stupid! There is no possible way for that to... unless maybe... wait, I can use this! Hey, do you think I could write science fiction?”
John watched Rodney’s lips as he spoke, the little hint of pink tongue, and Rodney’s fingers tapping a pencil against the page and wondered if they were too old to try out for the Mile High Club.
Hawk was waiting for them at the terminal. John spotted him from far away; it wasn’t much of a challenge to find the guy who was a head taller than everyone else, and waved. At John’s side, Rodney whispered, “If it seems like I’m about to say something stupid, just stop me, okay? Hit me, stomp my foot, anything. I swear there will be no retribution, just don’t let me make an ass of myself."
“Relax, Rodney, everything’s gonna be fine,” John reassured him, admittedly more to calm himself than Rodney.
Hawk caught sight of John and made his way through the flurry of passengers meeting up with their loved ones. “Hey, Shep! What’s with the crutches? I thought you were done with this shit?”
“Yeah,” John ducked his head and laughed a little. “I ran into a basketball court that didn’t agree.”
Hawk grinned at him, and the next moment John found himself ensconced in a bear-hug. The nervousness was firmly tucked away out of sight because this was Hawk, rock-steady Hawk, who had saved his life, and whose life he had saved in return and John didn’t know what he'd do if he lost this friendship.
He pulled away and motioned to Rodney, who was looking pale and a little nauseous, holding his laptop case in front of him like a shield.
“Hawk, this is Rodney McKay. Don’t worry; his bark is worse than his bite. Rodney, meet Rudy Hawkins.”
Hawk reached out his hand and Rodney took it, very carefully, like he was afraid Hawk would bite him. “Mr. McKay, I’ve heard a lot about you. Just call me Hawk or Rudy, everyone does,” Hawk said with a smile.
Rodney shook his hand and stuttered, “Thank you, me too. I mean, I’ve heard a lot about you from John. Very pleased to meet you, and Rodney, that’s my name, I mean, call me Rodney.”
So, Rodney was obviously still nervous. If he hadn’t looked so miserable, John would almost have thought it was funny to see him so flustered and unsure of himself. But this was like watching a particularly horrible train wreck, and he had promised Rodney, so he stepped in.
“Well, that’s the introductions care of.” He turned to Hawk. “Didn’t you say something about feeding us before? I’m starving."
“Sure!” Hawk grabbed John’s bag and offered to take Rodney’s laptop, but Rodney held on to it like he didn't know how to let go. Hawk led the way through the airport and to the parking lot, where he had to remove a child seat from the passenger side of his car and a heap of junk from the back seat to make room for them. Rodney quickly slunk into the back, apparently trying to turn himself invisible. He hadn’t said a word during the walk to the car, and for Rodney, that was something of an anomaly
John clambered into the passenger seat and soon fell into the familiar old rhythm he'd always had with Hawk. John talked about the youth centre and had to tell the story of his basketball accident in detail. Hawk couldn’t shut up about his little daughter, how she was smiling all the time now and had to be the smartest kid ever born.
John thought Rodney would comment on that, but there was not one sound from the backseat.
* * *
Hawk and Megan lived in a small two story house, which had three sides painted in white and one in a shabby yellow.
"We've been meaning to fix that," Hawk said apologetically as they pulled into the driveway. "But there hasn't been much time lately, what with the baby and everything."
John studied the house. "I could come back a little later in the spring, help you guys out," he offered, half expecting Rodney to come up with some statistics about the risks of climbing ladders, but it never came. Rodney hadn't opened his mouth since the airport and left all the talking up to John and Hawk. John found it deeply unsettling. A quiet Rodney was just unnatural.
As Hawk went around the car to get their bags out of the trunk. John turned around in his seat to look at Rodney. "What's wrong with you?" he asked.
"Nothing," came Rodney's tight-lipped answer. "I'm fine."
"Bull," John shot back. "You're not talking."
"I'm trying to do my best not to embarrass you.”
John sighed. It was hard to believe that a man like Rodney could be so lacking in confidence beneath his brash surface. This was the Rodney who had no idea how to get along with people. And all this because he wanted John's friends to like him. "Rodney, you won't embarrass me. They're nice people. Just be yourself."
"In case you hadn't noticed, I don't usually make a good first impression. The first thing you said to me was 'you're kind of a jerk', remember?"
“Well, you are. Give me a hand out.”
Rodney got out of the car, helped John out of his seat and handed him the crutches while Hawk carried their bags inside. Rodney refused to meet Hawk's eyes, and seemed determined to make himself invisible. John hoped he wouldn't keep this up the whole weekend. If that were the case, things would get really awkward really fast.
Hawk and Megan's hall was small and very homey, with a full length mirror on the wall and a small carpet on the floor. You could barely turn around for all the coats and shoes and assorted clutter. Neither Hawk nor Megan had ever been very organised. On the inside of the front door someone had tacked up a large shiny poster of an A-10 Thunderbolt II. Yeah, this was Hawk's home all right.
Megan stood in the doorway to the living room, a yellow bundle of blankets in her arms. "Hi guys," she greeted them with a wide smile. "Did you have a good trip?" Then she caught sight of John's crutches. "What did you do to yourself this time?" she asked, and John had to re-tell the whole story about the accident.
When he was finished, Hawk kissed Megan’s cheek and took the baby from her. "Anna, this is John," Hawk said, holding the little girl up for John to see. "Don't listen to a thing he tells you."
The baby had Megan’s hair, a thick black tuft of it, and dark brown eyes. John reached out his hand to touch her cheek, amazed at how soft her skin was. He wanted to ask Megan if he could hold her, but didn’t trust himself to be able to balance both baby and crutches. Anna blinked at him, looking very solemn. "Hi Anna," John said. "Did your mommy and daddy get you a skateboard yet?"
"No, they didn't," Megan said with emphasis. "And if Uncle John gives her one, we will have a little bonfire in the garden."
“Every kid should have a skateboard,” John stated. “And maybe a surfboard. But that’ll probably have to wait until she’s a little older.”
Hawk handed the baby back to Megan and bent down to get John and Rodney’s bags. The hall was small enough as it was without the extra clutter. Rodney peeked over John’s shoulder at the little girl, and Megan looked up at him.
“Hello, you must be John’s friend. I’m Megan.”
“Rodney,” Rodney answered, still staring at the baby.
Megan noticed and smiled warmly. “Do you want to hold her?”
Rodney took a very quick step back, holding his hands up. “No! No, no no, I mean it’s not that I don’t want to because she’s beautiful and tiny and you should be very very proud of her, but I'm not good with kids. Seriously, she’ll scream the house down as soon as I touch her and..."
“Don’t be silly,” Megan said and put the baby in Rodney's arms.
He went silent, just like that. Anna looked at him with huge brown eyes, and then smiled. Rodney's eyes widened. "Oh," he breathed, and then he smiled back at her. "Hello there."
John watched and once again felt that warm ache deep inside. He knew that he’d probably given everything away the moment Rodney had taken the kid because it had to be clear on his face just how much he loved the man who was standing there, in the middle of the hall, cradling a three-month-old baby with a look of wonder.
"You're a natural," Megan said. "Have you been around a lot of children?"
Rodney didn't seem to be able to take his eyes off Anna. "Not really, no," he answered. "My sister has a little daughter but we don't see each other much. She lives in Vancouver with her family."
"You don't have any of your own?"
"What?" Rodney’s head darted up like it was the most unthinkable idea he'd ever heard. "No, no, I don't."
Anna chose that moment to hiccup and throw up a little on Rodney's shirt. "And now I remember why," he said with a grimace and handed her back to a laughing Megan.
John breathed out. The ice was finally broken. He made a silent vow to get Anna the best skateboard money could buy as soon as she was old enough to walk.
* * *
Rodney and Megan became firm friends as soon as Rodney discovered the piano in the living room. "Do you play?" he asked, pointing to the instrument with something like longing in his eye.
"Meg used to give private lessons," Hawk explained on his way to the kitchen, and John remembered how their small house on Nellis AFB had always been full of kids and music the first autumn after Hawk and Megan had got married.
"I teach a couple of high school music classes," Megan said, letting her fingers slide lovingly over the black and white keys. "But I've been thinking about starting up the private lessons again while I'm home with Anna. Children should grow up with music, don't you think?"
"I wanted to be a concert pianist," Rodney said, to John's surprise. That was news to him. Then again, he had never really talked about childhood dreams with Rodney. Family was something of a sore point for both of them, badly-healed wounds with ugly scars, and John had never felt confident enough to bring it up. He knew about Rodney's love for classical music though, and this new revelation made him regret that he'd never asked about it.
"Really? You'll have to play something for us after dinner," Megan said, but Rodney looked away.
"No, I...I gave it up. I haven't played in ages."
There was old pain in his voice, the kind that made John want to wrap his arms around Rodney and hold him tight, make him tell John everything, and then allow John to kiss the pain away and make it better. He couldn't do that now though, and it made him feel deficient, like something important was missing.
Then Hawk called from the kitchen that dinner was served, and Rodney was saved from having to explain why he had given up on his dream. John managed to give him a covert squeeze on the shoulder as they left the living room. It didn't feel like it was enough.
Rodney and Megan kept talking music over dinner, Beethoven and Mozart and a bunch of other composers John had never even heard of, while John and Hawk rolled their eyes at each other. Anna sat in a baby carrier on the chair beside Hawk, gurgling happily with a toothless grin. Hawk told John how he planned to fix up the small garden, maybe plant another apple tree. Meg's parents had a big orchard, he said, stroking her hand, and she had missed picking her own fruit. Hawk was an instructor for the A-10s now and knew he would be stationed at Pope for some time; that was why they had bought the house in Fayetteville.
Hawk and Megan were touching each other all the time, like they always had, fingers searching and finding each other across the table, a fleeting stroke over skin every time one of them rose from their chair to re-fill a dish. John was itching for the same, that natural unaffected familiarity they had with each other, the comfort he himself had together with Rodney when it was just the two of them alone. To be able to reach out his fingers and find Rodney’s, to hold his hand, to rest his head on Rodney’s shoulder. It was all new to John, something he was only now discovering. Looking back on his life Before Rodney, he’d been so starved of touch, of intimacy, that his skin sometimes felt dry like a desert, sucking up every drop of Rodney like desperately needed water.
He couldn’t imagine what it would be like not to have that. Rodney was a constant in his life now, the thing he’d built everything else around.
But Before Rodney, one of his constants had been Hawk. Even when they weren't stationed together, they had always stayed in contact. Hawk had been John's ally against his father. Hawk had always offered a place to crash when one of John's numerous relationships had ended. Hawk had been the one to listen to John's drunken ramblings after Mitch and Dex died. John's entire career in the Air Force had started and ended with Hawk, from their Academy days to the court martial and John’s subsequent exile to Antarctica. A life without Hawk was as impossible as a life without Rodney.
John wasn't sure if Rodney knew this, or if he was just doing his best to make a good first impression for once. He only talked about his work when he was asked, listened attentively to Megan's stories about her students without the commentary John was met with when he told Rodney about some of the stunts his own kids had pulled. He was trying so hard to be polite and likeable that John almost wanted to stand up and ask right out where his Rodney was.
After they finished dinner, Megan said, “Just leave the dishes on the counter. The dishwasher broke again. We’ll just rinse them out and Rudy can do them later.”
"Really?" Rodney piped up. "I could take a look..."
The next moment, he had rolled his sleeves up and was elbow-deep in the guts of the dishwasher while Megan watched and explained in detail every strange noise it made. Rodney seemed to be enjoying himself so John took the offered beer from Hawk and followed him into the living room. The anthill was back in his belly, crawling and burning with anxiousness.
"McKay seems like a good guy,” Hawk said, nodding towards the kitchen. “Smart.”
“Smart? He’s a freaking genius,” John replied and sat down on the couch. “Just don’t tell him I said so.”
“He’s kinda quiet though.”
John almost laughed out loud. If there was one word to describe Rodney McKay, quiet wasn’t it. “He was just so nervous about meeting you guys that he’s trying to be on his best behaviour. Believe me, as soon as he’s figured out you’re not axe murderers, he’ll be back to being the usual pain in the ass.”
“Well, Meg likes him. If he can fix that dishwasher I think she’d be happy to replace me,” Hawk said and laughed. Then he turned serious. “But I don’t have to worry about that, do I?”
So, this was the moment of truth. John's mouth went dry and he had to take a gulp of beer to un-glue his tongue. He and Rodney had tried not to act so much like a couple, but Hawk had always been brighter than people gave him credit for. John wouldn't be surprised if he'd noticed it the moment he picked them up at the airport.
And why shouldn't he? When John was with Rodney it was like he had mine mine mine on repeat as an undercurrent somewhere in the back of his mind. Maybe it was clear to other people as well? In any case, it was obviously clear to Hawk, and John had to answer, had to tell the truth and live with whatever consequences it would have.
"No," he said, and then, because it felt like a statement that important ought to be longer than just one word. "No, you don't. We... we're together. That way."
John had to force himself to meet Hawk's eyes, trying to keep his gaze unabashed and steady. He had no reason to be ashamed of this, damnit. Rodney was the best thing that ever happened to him. If Hawk couldn't accept that...
"Yeah, that's what I thought." Hawk put the hand not holding the beer in his pocket. He looked like he didn't know what to say, how to continue the conversation. John didn't blame him. What did you say when you found out that a guy you had counted as a close friend for years, the guy you had shared showers and locker rooms with, was fucking another man? John didn't know how he would have reacted in Hawk's place.
"He's the first," he said quickly.
Hawk seemed to relax a little at that. "No shit," he said, and then, "How long have you two... you know?" He did a little gesture with the beer bottle that John translated to mean 'how long have you been boinking like bunnies?'
"A year or so. After I moved to Sacramento." That seemed important somehow. "We were friends first, and then he sort of jumped me. We were watching TV and before I knew it he was..."
Hawk waved furiously at John to stop talking. "Okay, I don't need to hear that!" he coughed, but there was amusement in his voice and not disgust. John felt some of the tension he'd walked around with all day drain out of his body and couldn't hold back a smile. He should've known better than to doubt Hawk.
"So... we're good?" He had to hear the words, had to know for sure.
Hawk grinned. "When have we ever not been?"
It was almost like an anticlimax, that it wasn't harder than that. Everything was fine between them, and John felt light-headed with relief. He knew he should probably go and talk to Rodney, tell him it was all clear, that they didn't have to pretend any longer, but then Hawk sat down in the couch, grabbed the remote and said, "Want to see what’s on ESPN?"
And that was business as usual, a beer and a game, the same thing they had been doing together since long before there had been a wife and a gay lover fixing the dishwasher in the kitchen. It was a desperately needed normalcy, so John said, "Sure," and they spent the next two hours watching sports while darkness fell outside.
When the game was over, Hawk collected the bottles and John fought his way up from the couch. His knee was stiff after an entire day spent on a plane, and he was just beginning to think about how they were going to tackle the sleeping arrangements. Knowing John and Rodney shared a bed was one thing, having visible proof of it might be something completely different.
Rodney and Megan were sitting at the kitchen table finishing off the bottle of wine they'd had with dinner. Megan was giggling and Rodney's ears were bright red; he seemed to be a little tipsy. "We had to celebrate!" Megan exclaimed, pointing to the humming dishwasher. John had to smile - score one for the almighty McKay.
John sat down next to Rodney while Hawk rinsed the empty beer bottles, and Rodney leaned in and whispered, "Did you tell him? Because it's possible that I might have let something slip to Megan, but to my defence I must say that she's sneaky and evil and possibly in league with my sister, but if you didn't tell him maybe we can convince her to shut up about it..."
Across the table, Megan was giggling even more. "I'm open to bribes," she said. "Foot massage is preferred, but chocolate works too."
“I told him," John said, almost laughing himself at Rodney's wide-eyed concern. "Everything's okay."
"Really? We're out?"
John nodded and finally dared to reach out for Rodney’s hand, knit their fingers together and ground himself in the touch. This almost felt like the post-mission adrenaline crash, when nerves strained to the max were finally allowed to relax. He distantly heard Rodney's voice, "Oh, that's good, that's very very good, not that I was worried of course. I already assured Megan that I'm taking good care of you, though I would appreciate it if you could stop getting hurt all the time, but this is good, this is great, isn't it great, Megan?"
"It's wonderful," Megan agreed. "I'm so happy for you, John."
John glanced at Hawk over by the counter and was met by a smile, and suddenly it hit him - they were out and it was okay, and he got to keep both his lover and his friends. He felt shaky and a little lightheaded and tried to hide it by gripping Rodney's hand a little tighter so his fingers wouldn't start trembling.
"Well," Hawk said with a fond look at his wife. "It's getting late and if I know our daughter she'll be awake at dawn." He turned to John. "Do you guys want to share the guest room or..." he hesitated, seemingly unsure of what to say.
John was just about to answer that as far as he was concerned, he could sleep on the couch and let Rodney have the guest room, but Rodney was quicker and said, "Yes, thank you, that'll be perfect."
His decision was apparently not open for argument, so John just nodded again and said, "Yeah, that's fine."
Hawk carried their bags upstairs while Rodney helped John navigate the staircase, all of them trying to keep their voices down so they wouldn't wake Anna. Megan showed them the guest room, which was small but very nice, decorated in earth tones and with an en-suite bathroom. Then she and Hawk disappeared into their own bedroom.
Rodney sat down on the bed, bouncing up and down a couple of time before he found the mattress to his liking and went for his suitcase. “That went well,” he said. “Don’t you think it went well? And Megan is very nice, I think she and Jeannie would like each other. We should invite all of them to Sacramento some time...”
John wasn't really listening. He was busy trying to adjust to being out. Good god, this was it, this was the final goodbye to Major Sheppard and the Air Force. He was out, and the thought made his knees feel weak and he had to sit down on the edge of the bed.
Rodney was digging in his bag, mumbling something to himself. John felt dizzy and sick, he’d only had one beer but he still felt like he was going to puke. Suddenly he was shivering, shaking violently, and his teeth were chattering even though the room was warm.
Rodney didn’t seem to notice. "I know I packed the toothbrushes, I just can't remember where I put them. Do you..." Then there was a concerned pause before Rodney’s voice came back. "John? What is it, what's wrong?"
John tried to force the shaking to stop without success. Nothing was wrong, there was no reason for this, none at all, and yet his body felt completely out of control. "I don't know," he managed. "I don't know why I..."
And then Rodney was there, arms wrapped tight around John's trembling form. "How someone so smart can be so stupid I will never understand," he muttered, his hands stroking wide circles over John's back. "If you could only talk about things, if you could just tell me, but no, not you, not John Sheppard. You're always fine, even when you're not."
“I’m sorry,” John mumbled into Rodney’s shirt. He couldn’t believe how screwed up he was. Rodney shouldn’t have to deal with this, didn’t deserve this.
“No, god no, don’t be,” Rodney pulled away a little so he could look John in the eye. John could barely meet his gaze, but forced himself to keep it steady. “I’m the one who should be sorry,” Rodney said. “I made everything be about me as usual, when it was you... I’m so sorry, John. I guess I really am a jerk, but I can’t help it, that’s who I am and I can’t just not be me.”
“Don’t want you any other way,” John said, feeling a little better now, a little steadier, not like the earth would open up and swallow him. Rodney was an anchor, his heartbeat keeping John grounded.
Rodney looked at him for a long time, as if he was trying to see something in John that John wasn't even sure was there. "Let's get ready for bed," he said finally. "It's been a long day."
John could only agree to that. After he'd brushed his teeth and washed his face he felt ready to join the human race again, especially since he got to curl up next to Rodney instead of trying to get comfortable on a lonely couch.
"Talk to me," Rodney said when they were settled, buried underneath the covers together, smelling of toothpaste and soap. "I need to know what's going on in that head of yours."
John had no idea what to say, how to put his thoughts into words that Rodney could understand, but he knew he had to try. If there was one thing he had learnt from this relationship, it was that they had to work on it and work hard. That meant that Rodney had to put his work aside to spend time with John, and John had to talk when Rodney needed him to.
"It's like..." he started. "Like... I don't know. Like it's over for good now. The Air Force. I can never go back."
"What, were you planning to?" Rodney asked, his voice a little high. John thought he should just have shut up, but then Rodney said, "No, wait, I'm sorry, ignore that. Go on, you were saying?"
"It's stupid. But it's just... I've been in the military all my life, and now I'm not, and I'm not sure how to... do that."
Rodney was silent. John listened to his breathing in the darkness, wondering what he was thinking. Then Rodney said, "I thought that was good? The whole letting go of the past thing? Starting a new life?"
"Yeah," John said. "Yeah, I guess so."
So why did was he feeling like he was missing out on something? He had made an active decision to quit the Air Force. If he'd wanted, they would've let him stay. Not as a pilot, but there were plenty of other jobs. But he had chosen to leave and if he got another shot, he'd do the same thing again. So he should be happy, right?
It was too late and he was too tired for thoughts like this. He'd have to try to sort it out tomorrow. John buried his face in Rodney's neck and let the steady rhythm of Rodney’s heartbeat lull him to sleep.
Part 2.
Author: Zinnith
Rating: PG
Pairing: John/Rodney
Genre: AU/Drama
Wordcount: ~14.200
Disclaimer: Still not mine, damnit!
Warnings: If you can't stand OC:s, this is not the story for you. Then again, if you can't stand OC:s, you probably haven't read anything else in this 'verse, so you wouldn't bother anyway.
Notes: Once upon a time, there was a little story called Entangled Particles. Then there was a little sequel to that story, called Spatial Separation. For some strange reason, people seemed to like those stories and asked for more sequels, and I started writing this one. That was a year and a half ago, and it is now finished. I might possibly be the slowest writing person in this fandom.
This story follows right after Yield Point.
As always, I can't thank the_cephalopod enough. Without her, this 'verse would not exist. I'd also like to thank those of you on the almighty f-list who helped me out when I asked about babies a while back!
Summary: By the time they finally got around to making the trip to the East Coast, to visit Hawk and Meg and the baby, it was spring and Rodney was the one freaking out.
´Transformation Theory
By the time they finally got around to making the trip to the East Coast, to visit Hawk and Meg and the baby, it was spring and Rodney was the one freaking out.
They had meant to go earlier, but first Rodney had come down with the flu and had spent two weeks coughing and sneezing, completely convinced that he was dying. After he'd got better, John had torn a ligament in his knee while playing basketball with the kids at the youth centre, which sucked big time; he had spent far too much time in hospital after the helicopter crash and the prospect of even more physical therapy had been enough to make him want to hit something.
The surgery itself had been a simple outpatient procedure and John went home the same day, accompanied by the hated crutches and an itching knee immobiliser. The only upside of the situation was that he had Rodney waiting on him hand and foot, providing food, drinks and, on a few memorable occasions, blowjobs.
So when they were finally at Sacramento International Airport, John was left trying to balance bags, crutches and Rodney’s take-out coffee while Rodney was on the phone to Laura for the third time since they had left for the airport, giving her last minute instructions to remember not to feed Newton milk or she would have to clean up cat-vomit from all over the apartment.
John was less nervous and more angry because he had chickened out yet again and had not been able make himself tell Hawk over the phone that Rodney was not just his friend but also his lover. He was a bit surprised because Rodney had not made a big deal of it. “Tell them or don’t tell them,” he’d said while they were packing their things (or rather, while Rodney was packing their things, because John was milking his injured knee for all it was worth and had made himself comfortable on the couch to watch Rodney run around like a headless chicken). “I really don’t care, as long as they’re not planning to beat me to death with baseball bats and by the way, is this shirt too dressy?”
John wasn’t afraid to let Hawk and Megan know. They were good people and John trusted Hawk with his life. What made him a little edgy was the fact that as soon as the cat was out of the bag, the word would spread. There were others in his circle of acquaintances who would probably not be too keen on hearing the news that old Shep was now batting for the other team.
It was ridiculously early in the morning and John couldn’t stop yawning. Getting through security had been something of a nightmare. Rodney’s abrasive personality mixed badly with authority figures and the both of them had almost been subjected to full body-searches before John could produce all the necessary documentation to proved that yes, Rodney was allergic to pretty much everything and yes, he really needed to carry his epi-pen on board the plane and yes, John’s leg was held together by metal and no, he did not have any kind of weapon stuck up any orifice.
And now Rodney was freaking out, over cat sitting of all things. Five thirty in the damn morning, and Rodney was freaking out. If there was someone who had a reason for freaking out, it was John. It was all kinds of unfair.
He dropped the bags on the floor, leaned the crutches against the wall and hobbled close enough to deposit the coffee into Rodney’s wildly gesturing hand. “Rodney, this is the third time you’ve woken Laura and Carson up this morning. You will never find another person crazy enough to work for you, so will you leave her alone and let them sleep?”
Rodney protested wildly. “But I have to... What if he gets ill! The new veterinarian is a horrible woman who probably skins cats in secret and turns them into fur coats and Newton has a very sensitive stomach and Laura needs to know this!”
John sighed. He had personally witnessed Newton eating everything from French fries to the potted plants on Rodney’s windowsills without getting ill. His stomach was more iron-cast than John’s and John had eaten grubs.
“She knows, Rodney. She’s going to do a better job of looking after him than we do.” John snagged the phone out of Rodney’s hand and spoke into it. “Go back to sleep, Laura, we’ll be fine and the cat will be fine. See you Monday.”
Laura muttered something unintelligible on the other end of the line and hung up, and John did the same on their end, ignoring Rodney’s red-faced sputtering.
“Drink your coffee,” he said and patted Rodney’s shoulder. Rodney opened and closed his mouth like a fish and then shut up and did what he was told.
John watched his throat move as he swallowed and thought about earlier that morning when the shrill sound of the alarm clock had forced them awake. John had been plastered against Rodney’s back with his face tucked into Rodney’s neck, and right now he would have given his good leg to be back there and not have to worry about flights and friends and life-altering revelations.
Rodney had sprung for first class tickets for which John was tremendously grateful. He was going to be uncomfortable enough with the crutches and the knee-brace and was glad for the extra leg room. "I could get used to this,” he told Rodney as he stretched out in his seat with a glass of juice provided by a nice flight attendant.
But Rodney was getting more and more pale, and by the time the plane was taxiing from the terminal to the runway, he was clenching his armrests so tight that his knuckles were white and John was worried that he was going to have a panic attack. Which was stupid because Rodney was flying more often than John did these days.
Then he remembered that Rodney had been like this for days. He had just finished a short story for a journal and John had put it down to the usual pre-deadline jitters, but now he realised that Rodney had to be more terrified of meeting Hawk and Megan than John was of introducing him.
He put the glass down and turned to Rodney. “Hey, listen. It’s no big deal, okay? If it seems like it’s gonna be a problem, I just won’t tell them. We’re a couple of guys going on a trip to visit friends. People do that all the time.”
Rodney was breathing a little fast and his face had taken on the red hue that made John fear for his blood pressure. “A friend who happens to be in the military and might possibly want to castrate me for molesting his old war-buddy and it’s not too late to get off the plane, is it?”
The last was said so loudly that a concerned flight attendant showed up and carefully asked if everything was all right.
“We're fine,” John said with a smile and put his hand on Rodney’s thigh. “He’s just a little anxious about flying, that’s all.”
“I am not anxious about flying,” Rodney protested and John recognised all the signs of a full-blown rant coming on. “I’m anxious about...”
The flight attendant seemed to be a nice person and John didn’t think she deserved a cranky Rodney McKay at six o’clock in the morning, so he leaned over into Rodney's seat, grabbed his face and kissed him. Rodney made a choked little noise but then he returned the kiss. John tasted coffee on his lips and was suddenly overwhelmed by the realisation that he could do this, here in front of everyone. Something achy and warm flared up in his stomach and he never wanted to let this go, ever, not for anything in the world.
* * *
Four hours and 34 minutes on a plane that John wasn’t flying himself was not even fun in first class. Rodney had one more minor freak-out just after takeoff and John had to physically restrain him to keep him from calling Laura again.
He tried to sleep without success, throwing jealous glances at Rodney who, after calming down a bit, had sacked out in his seat and was snoring with his mouth open. John watched the clouds and tried to ignore the way his guts seemed to have transformed into an anthill. Hawk and Megan were good people. He had nothing to worry about.
They had a brief layover in Atlanta, where Rodney found fault with everything from the masses of people ("Cattle, I tell you. Cattle!") to the selection of food and beverages offered. (“I want coffee.” “There’s a Starbucks over there.” “I said coffee, not Starbucks. I’m a responsible consumer and I refuse to support any company built on the idea of world-domination.”)
From Atlanta to Fayetteville they had to fly coach and it didn’t take long for John to get bored. Rodney was engrossed in a physics journal and talked more to the article he was reading than to John. “What? That’s just stupid! There is no possible way for that to... unless maybe... wait, I can use this! Hey, do you think I could write science fiction?”
John watched Rodney’s lips as he spoke, the little hint of pink tongue, and Rodney’s fingers tapping a pencil against the page and wondered if they were too old to try out for the Mile High Club.
Hawk was waiting for them at the terminal. John spotted him from far away; it wasn’t much of a challenge to find the guy who was a head taller than everyone else, and waved. At John’s side, Rodney whispered, “If it seems like I’m about to say something stupid, just stop me, okay? Hit me, stomp my foot, anything. I swear there will be no retribution, just don’t let me make an ass of myself."
“Relax, Rodney, everything’s gonna be fine,” John reassured him, admittedly more to calm himself than Rodney.
Hawk caught sight of John and made his way through the flurry of passengers meeting up with their loved ones. “Hey, Shep! What’s with the crutches? I thought you were done with this shit?”
“Yeah,” John ducked his head and laughed a little. “I ran into a basketball court that didn’t agree.”
Hawk grinned at him, and the next moment John found himself ensconced in a bear-hug. The nervousness was firmly tucked away out of sight because this was Hawk, rock-steady Hawk, who had saved his life, and whose life he had saved in return and John didn’t know what he'd do if he lost this friendship.
He pulled away and motioned to Rodney, who was looking pale and a little nauseous, holding his laptop case in front of him like a shield.
“Hawk, this is Rodney McKay. Don’t worry; his bark is worse than his bite. Rodney, meet Rudy Hawkins.”
Hawk reached out his hand and Rodney took it, very carefully, like he was afraid Hawk would bite him. “Mr. McKay, I’ve heard a lot about you. Just call me Hawk or Rudy, everyone does,” Hawk said with a smile.
Rodney shook his hand and stuttered, “Thank you, me too. I mean, I’ve heard a lot about you from John. Very pleased to meet you, and Rodney, that’s my name, I mean, call me Rodney.”
So, Rodney was obviously still nervous. If he hadn’t looked so miserable, John would almost have thought it was funny to see him so flustered and unsure of himself. But this was like watching a particularly horrible train wreck, and he had promised Rodney, so he stepped in.
“Well, that’s the introductions care of.” He turned to Hawk. “Didn’t you say something about feeding us before? I’m starving."
“Sure!” Hawk grabbed John’s bag and offered to take Rodney’s laptop, but Rodney held on to it like he didn't know how to let go. Hawk led the way through the airport and to the parking lot, where he had to remove a child seat from the passenger side of his car and a heap of junk from the back seat to make room for them. Rodney quickly slunk into the back, apparently trying to turn himself invisible. He hadn’t said a word during the walk to the car, and for Rodney, that was something of an anomaly
John clambered into the passenger seat and soon fell into the familiar old rhythm he'd always had with Hawk. John talked about the youth centre and had to tell the story of his basketball accident in detail. Hawk couldn’t shut up about his little daughter, how she was smiling all the time now and had to be the smartest kid ever born.
John thought Rodney would comment on that, but there was not one sound from the backseat.
* * *
Hawk and Megan lived in a small two story house, which had three sides painted in white and one in a shabby yellow.
"We've been meaning to fix that," Hawk said apologetically as they pulled into the driveway. "But there hasn't been much time lately, what with the baby and everything."
John studied the house. "I could come back a little later in the spring, help you guys out," he offered, half expecting Rodney to come up with some statistics about the risks of climbing ladders, but it never came. Rodney hadn't opened his mouth since the airport and left all the talking up to John and Hawk. John found it deeply unsettling. A quiet Rodney was just unnatural.
As Hawk went around the car to get their bags out of the trunk. John turned around in his seat to look at Rodney. "What's wrong with you?" he asked.
"Nothing," came Rodney's tight-lipped answer. "I'm fine."
"Bull," John shot back. "You're not talking."
"I'm trying to do my best not to embarrass you.”
John sighed. It was hard to believe that a man like Rodney could be so lacking in confidence beneath his brash surface. This was the Rodney who had no idea how to get along with people. And all this because he wanted John's friends to like him. "Rodney, you won't embarrass me. They're nice people. Just be yourself."
"In case you hadn't noticed, I don't usually make a good first impression. The first thing you said to me was 'you're kind of a jerk', remember?"
“Well, you are. Give me a hand out.”
Rodney got out of the car, helped John out of his seat and handed him the crutches while Hawk carried their bags inside. Rodney refused to meet Hawk's eyes, and seemed determined to make himself invisible. John hoped he wouldn't keep this up the whole weekend. If that were the case, things would get really awkward really fast.
Hawk and Megan's hall was small and very homey, with a full length mirror on the wall and a small carpet on the floor. You could barely turn around for all the coats and shoes and assorted clutter. Neither Hawk nor Megan had ever been very organised. On the inside of the front door someone had tacked up a large shiny poster of an A-10 Thunderbolt II. Yeah, this was Hawk's home all right.
Megan stood in the doorway to the living room, a yellow bundle of blankets in her arms. "Hi guys," she greeted them with a wide smile. "Did you have a good trip?" Then she caught sight of John's crutches. "What did you do to yourself this time?" she asked, and John had to re-tell the whole story about the accident.
When he was finished, Hawk kissed Megan’s cheek and took the baby from her. "Anna, this is John," Hawk said, holding the little girl up for John to see. "Don't listen to a thing he tells you."
The baby had Megan’s hair, a thick black tuft of it, and dark brown eyes. John reached out his hand to touch her cheek, amazed at how soft her skin was. He wanted to ask Megan if he could hold her, but didn’t trust himself to be able to balance both baby and crutches. Anna blinked at him, looking very solemn. "Hi Anna," John said. "Did your mommy and daddy get you a skateboard yet?"
"No, they didn't," Megan said with emphasis. "And if Uncle John gives her one, we will have a little bonfire in the garden."
“Every kid should have a skateboard,” John stated. “And maybe a surfboard. But that’ll probably have to wait until she’s a little older.”
Hawk handed the baby back to Megan and bent down to get John and Rodney’s bags. The hall was small enough as it was without the extra clutter. Rodney peeked over John’s shoulder at the little girl, and Megan looked up at him.
“Hello, you must be John’s friend. I’m Megan.”
“Rodney,” Rodney answered, still staring at the baby.
Megan noticed and smiled warmly. “Do you want to hold her?”
Rodney took a very quick step back, holding his hands up. “No! No, no no, I mean it’s not that I don’t want to because she’s beautiful and tiny and you should be very very proud of her, but I'm not good with kids. Seriously, she’ll scream the house down as soon as I touch her and..."
“Don’t be silly,” Megan said and put the baby in Rodney's arms.
He went silent, just like that. Anna looked at him with huge brown eyes, and then smiled. Rodney's eyes widened. "Oh," he breathed, and then he smiled back at her. "Hello there."
John watched and once again felt that warm ache deep inside. He knew that he’d probably given everything away the moment Rodney had taken the kid because it had to be clear on his face just how much he loved the man who was standing there, in the middle of the hall, cradling a three-month-old baby with a look of wonder.
"You're a natural," Megan said. "Have you been around a lot of children?"
Rodney didn't seem to be able to take his eyes off Anna. "Not really, no," he answered. "My sister has a little daughter but we don't see each other much. She lives in Vancouver with her family."
"You don't have any of your own?"
"What?" Rodney’s head darted up like it was the most unthinkable idea he'd ever heard. "No, no, I don't."
Anna chose that moment to hiccup and throw up a little on Rodney's shirt. "And now I remember why," he said with a grimace and handed her back to a laughing Megan.
John breathed out. The ice was finally broken. He made a silent vow to get Anna the best skateboard money could buy as soon as she was old enough to walk.
* * *
Rodney and Megan became firm friends as soon as Rodney discovered the piano in the living room. "Do you play?" he asked, pointing to the instrument with something like longing in his eye.
"Meg used to give private lessons," Hawk explained on his way to the kitchen, and John remembered how their small house on Nellis AFB had always been full of kids and music the first autumn after Hawk and Megan had got married.
"I teach a couple of high school music classes," Megan said, letting her fingers slide lovingly over the black and white keys. "But I've been thinking about starting up the private lessons again while I'm home with Anna. Children should grow up with music, don't you think?"
"I wanted to be a concert pianist," Rodney said, to John's surprise. That was news to him. Then again, he had never really talked about childhood dreams with Rodney. Family was something of a sore point for both of them, badly-healed wounds with ugly scars, and John had never felt confident enough to bring it up. He knew about Rodney's love for classical music though, and this new revelation made him regret that he'd never asked about it.
"Really? You'll have to play something for us after dinner," Megan said, but Rodney looked away.
"No, I...I gave it up. I haven't played in ages."
There was old pain in his voice, the kind that made John want to wrap his arms around Rodney and hold him tight, make him tell John everything, and then allow John to kiss the pain away and make it better. He couldn't do that now though, and it made him feel deficient, like something important was missing.
Then Hawk called from the kitchen that dinner was served, and Rodney was saved from having to explain why he had given up on his dream. John managed to give him a covert squeeze on the shoulder as they left the living room. It didn't feel like it was enough.
Rodney and Megan kept talking music over dinner, Beethoven and Mozart and a bunch of other composers John had never even heard of, while John and Hawk rolled their eyes at each other. Anna sat in a baby carrier on the chair beside Hawk, gurgling happily with a toothless grin. Hawk told John how he planned to fix up the small garden, maybe plant another apple tree. Meg's parents had a big orchard, he said, stroking her hand, and she had missed picking her own fruit. Hawk was an instructor for the A-10s now and knew he would be stationed at Pope for some time; that was why they had bought the house in Fayetteville.
Hawk and Megan were touching each other all the time, like they always had, fingers searching and finding each other across the table, a fleeting stroke over skin every time one of them rose from their chair to re-fill a dish. John was itching for the same, that natural unaffected familiarity they had with each other, the comfort he himself had together with Rodney when it was just the two of them alone. To be able to reach out his fingers and find Rodney’s, to hold his hand, to rest his head on Rodney’s shoulder. It was all new to John, something he was only now discovering. Looking back on his life Before Rodney, he’d been so starved of touch, of intimacy, that his skin sometimes felt dry like a desert, sucking up every drop of Rodney like desperately needed water.
He couldn’t imagine what it would be like not to have that. Rodney was a constant in his life now, the thing he’d built everything else around.
But Before Rodney, one of his constants had been Hawk. Even when they weren't stationed together, they had always stayed in contact. Hawk had been John's ally against his father. Hawk had always offered a place to crash when one of John's numerous relationships had ended. Hawk had been the one to listen to John's drunken ramblings after Mitch and Dex died. John's entire career in the Air Force had started and ended with Hawk, from their Academy days to the court martial and John’s subsequent exile to Antarctica. A life without Hawk was as impossible as a life without Rodney.
John wasn't sure if Rodney knew this, or if he was just doing his best to make a good first impression for once. He only talked about his work when he was asked, listened attentively to Megan's stories about her students without the commentary John was met with when he told Rodney about some of the stunts his own kids had pulled. He was trying so hard to be polite and likeable that John almost wanted to stand up and ask right out where his Rodney was.
After they finished dinner, Megan said, “Just leave the dishes on the counter. The dishwasher broke again. We’ll just rinse them out and Rudy can do them later.”
"Really?" Rodney piped up. "I could take a look..."
The next moment, he had rolled his sleeves up and was elbow-deep in the guts of the dishwasher while Megan watched and explained in detail every strange noise it made. Rodney seemed to be enjoying himself so John took the offered beer from Hawk and followed him into the living room. The anthill was back in his belly, crawling and burning with anxiousness.
"McKay seems like a good guy,” Hawk said, nodding towards the kitchen. “Smart.”
“Smart? He’s a freaking genius,” John replied and sat down on the couch. “Just don’t tell him I said so.”
“He’s kinda quiet though.”
John almost laughed out loud. If there was one word to describe Rodney McKay, quiet wasn’t it. “He was just so nervous about meeting you guys that he’s trying to be on his best behaviour. Believe me, as soon as he’s figured out you’re not axe murderers, he’ll be back to being the usual pain in the ass.”
“Well, Meg likes him. If he can fix that dishwasher I think she’d be happy to replace me,” Hawk said and laughed. Then he turned serious. “But I don’t have to worry about that, do I?”
So, this was the moment of truth. John's mouth went dry and he had to take a gulp of beer to un-glue his tongue. He and Rodney had tried not to act so much like a couple, but Hawk had always been brighter than people gave him credit for. John wouldn't be surprised if he'd noticed it the moment he picked them up at the airport.
And why shouldn't he? When John was with Rodney it was like he had mine mine mine on repeat as an undercurrent somewhere in the back of his mind. Maybe it was clear to other people as well? In any case, it was obviously clear to Hawk, and John had to answer, had to tell the truth and live with whatever consequences it would have.
"No," he said, and then, because it felt like a statement that important ought to be longer than just one word. "No, you don't. We... we're together. That way."
John had to force himself to meet Hawk's eyes, trying to keep his gaze unabashed and steady. He had no reason to be ashamed of this, damnit. Rodney was the best thing that ever happened to him. If Hawk couldn't accept that...
"Yeah, that's what I thought." Hawk put the hand not holding the beer in his pocket. He looked like he didn't know what to say, how to continue the conversation. John didn't blame him. What did you say when you found out that a guy you had counted as a close friend for years, the guy you had shared showers and locker rooms with, was fucking another man? John didn't know how he would have reacted in Hawk's place.
"He's the first," he said quickly.
Hawk seemed to relax a little at that. "No shit," he said, and then, "How long have you two... you know?" He did a little gesture with the beer bottle that John translated to mean 'how long have you been boinking like bunnies?'
"A year or so. After I moved to Sacramento." That seemed important somehow. "We were friends first, and then he sort of jumped me. We were watching TV and before I knew it he was..."
Hawk waved furiously at John to stop talking. "Okay, I don't need to hear that!" he coughed, but there was amusement in his voice and not disgust. John felt some of the tension he'd walked around with all day drain out of his body and couldn't hold back a smile. He should've known better than to doubt Hawk.
"So... we're good?" He had to hear the words, had to know for sure.
Hawk grinned. "When have we ever not been?"
It was almost like an anticlimax, that it wasn't harder than that. Everything was fine between them, and John felt light-headed with relief. He knew he should probably go and talk to Rodney, tell him it was all clear, that they didn't have to pretend any longer, but then Hawk sat down in the couch, grabbed the remote and said, "Want to see what’s on ESPN?"
And that was business as usual, a beer and a game, the same thing they had been doing together since long before there had been a wife and a gay lover fixing the dishwasher in the kitchen. It was a desperately needed normalcy, so John said, "Sure," and they spent the next two hours watching sports while darkness fell outside.
When the game was over, Hawk collected the bottles and John fought his way up from the couch. His knee was stiff after an entire day spent on a plane, and he was just beginning to think about how they were going to tackle the sleeping arrangements. Knowing John and Rodney shared a bed was one thing, having visible proof of it might be something completely different.
Rodney and Megan were sitting at the kitchen table finishing off the bottle of wine they'd had with dinner. Megan was giggling and Rodney's ears were bright red; he seemed to be a little tipsy. "We had to celebrate!" Megan exclaimed, pointing to the humming dishwasher. John had to smile - score one for the almighty McKay.
John sat down next to Rodney while Hawk rinsed the empty beer bottles, and Rodney leaned in and whispered, "Did you tell him? Because it's possible that I might have let something slip to Megan, but to my defence I must say that she's sneaky and evil and possibly in league with my sister, but if you didn't tell him maybe we can convince her to shut up about it..."
Across the table, Megan was giggling even more. "I'm open to bribes," she said. "Foot massage is preferred, but chocolate works too."
“I told him," John said, almost laughing himself at Rodney's wide-eyed concern. "Everything's okay."
"Really? We're out?"
John nodded and finally dared to reach out for Rodney’s hand, knit their fingers together and ground himself in the touch. This almost felt like the post-mission adrenaline crash, when nerves strained to the max were finally allowed to relax. He distantly heard Rodney's voice, "Oh, that's good, that's very very good, not that I was worried of course. I already assured Megan that I'm taking good care of you, though I would appreciate it if you could stop getting hurt all the time, but this is good, this is great, isn't it great, Megan?"
"It's wonderful," Megan agreed. "I'm so happy for you, John."
John glanced at Hawk over by the counter and was met by a smile, and suddenly it hit him - they were out and it was okay, and he got to keep both his lover and his friends. He felt shaky and a little lightheaded and tried to hide it by gripping Rodney's hand a little tighter so his fingers wouldn't start trembling.
"Well," Hawk said with a fond look at his wife. "It's getting late and if I know our daughter she'll be awake at dawn." He turned to John. "Do you guys want to share the guest room or..." he hesitated, seemingly unsure of what to say.
John was just about to answer that as far as he was concerned, he could sleep on the couch and let Rodney have the guest room, but Rodney was quicker and said, "Yes, thank you, that'll be perfect."
His decision was apparently not open for argument, so John just nodded again and said, "Yeah, that's fine."
Hawk carried their bags upstairs while Rodney helped John navigate the staircase, all of them trying to keep their voices down so they wouldn't wake Anna. Megan showed them the guest room, which was small but very nice, decorated in earth tones and with an en-suite bathroom. Then she and Hawk disappeared into their own bedroom.
Rodney sat down on the bed, bouncing up and down a couple of time before he found the mattress to his liking and went for his suitcase. “That went well,” he said. “Don’t you think it went well? And Megan is very nice, I think she and Jeannie would like each other. We should invite all of them to Sacramento some time...”
John wasn't really listening. He was busy trying to adjust to being out. Good god, this was it, this was the final goodbye to Major Sheppard and the Air Force. He was out, and the thought made his knees feel weak and he had to sit down on the edge of the bed.
Rodney was digging in his bag, mumbling something to himself. John felt dizzy and sick, he’d only had one beer but he still felt like he was going to puke. Suddenly he was shivering, shaking violently, and his teeth were chattering even though the room was warm.
Rodney didn’t seem to notice. "I know I packed the toothbrushes, I just can't remember where I put them. Do you..." Then there was a concerned pause before Rodney’s voice came back. "John? What is it, what's wrong?"
John tried to force the shaking to stop without success. Nothing was wrong, there was no reason for this, none at all, and yet his body felt completely out of control. "I don't know," he managed. "I don't know why I..."
And then Rodney was there, arms wrapped tight around John's trembling form. "How someone so smart can be so stupid I will never understand," he muttered, his hands stroking wide circles over John's back. "If you could only talk about things, if you could just tell me, but no, not you, not John Sheppard. You're always fine, even when you're not."
“I’m sorry,” John mumbled into Rodney’s shirt. He couldn’t believe how screwed up he was. Rodney shouldn’t have to deal with this, didn’t deserve this.
“No, god no, don’t be,” Rodney pulled away a little so he could look John in the eye. John could barely meet his gaze, but forced himself to keep it steady. “I’m the one who should be sorry,” Rodney said. “I made everything be about me as usual, when it was you... I’m so sorry, John. I guess I really am a jerk, but I can’t help it, that’s who I am and I can’t just not be me.”
“Don’t want you any other way,” John said, feeling a little better now, a little steadier, not like the earth would open up and swallow him. Rodney was an anchor, his heartbeat keeping John grounded.
Rodney looked at him for a long time, as if he was trying to see something in John that John wasn't even sure was there. "Let's get ready for bed," he said finally. "It's been a long day."
John could only agree to that. After he'd brushed his teeth and washed his face he felt ready to join the human race again, especially since he got to curl up next to Rodney instead of trying to get comfortable on a lonely couch.
"Talk to me," Rodney said when they were settled, buried underneath the covers together, smelling of toothpaste and soap. "I need to know what's going on in that head of yours."
John had no idea what to say, how to put his thoughts into words that Rodney could understand, but he knew he had to try. If there was one thing he had learnt from this relationship, it was that they had to work on it and work hard. That meant that Rodney had to put his work aside to spend time with John, and John had to talk when Rodney needed him to.
"It's like..." he started. "Like... I don't know. Like it's over for good now. The Air Force. I can never go back."
"What, were you planning to?" Rodney asked, his voice a little high. John thought he should just have shut up, but then Rodney said, "No, wait, I'm sorry, ignore that. Go on, you were saying?"
"It's stupid. But it's just... I've been in the military all my life, and now I'm not, and I'm not sure how to... do that."
Rodney was silent. John listened to his breathing in the darkness, wondering what he was thinking. Then Rodney said, "I thought that was good? The whole letting go of the past thing? Starting a new life?"
"Yeah," John said. "Yeah, I guess so."
So why did was he feeling like he was missing out on something? He had made an active decision to quit the Air Force. If he'd wanted, they would've let him stay. Not as a pilot, but there were plenty of other jobs. But he had chosen to leave and if he got another shot, he'd do the same thing again. So he should be happy, right?
It was too late and he was too tired for thoughts like this. He'd have to try to sort it out tomorrow. John buried his face in Rodney's neck and let the steady rhythm of Rodney’s heartbeat lull him to sleep.
Part 2.