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Rodney found himself uncommonly preoccupied and not even sure why. While still perfectly capable of completing the mundane task at hand, his thoughts were like insects in June, incapable of lighting anywhere for long, though Sheppard's idea for them to check out the mainland was that one indestructible gnat, intent on getting at the sweet liquor of his brain. Somehow, when Sheppard had asked, it had sounded more like an invitation than a…
"Rodney McKay wearing jewelry… now there's something you don't see every day."
Keller's voice startled him. Deer – headlights. Jewelry?
"The bracelet," she said, pointing to him. "It's just so unusual to see you with—"
"Sheppard brought it back from P8X-636," he blurted, feeling a flush creep up to his cheeks. "It's like surfer jewelry or something, for guys, and I, well, it's impolite not to appreciate a gift from someone, and so—"
"Rodney, Rodney, don't get all bent out of shape. It's fine. It's just… unusual for you, that's all. And often those tribal bracelets have some kind of lore attached to them. But knowing you, I'm sure you checked it out completely before you ever put it on."
He saw no reason to tell her that Sheppard had actually been the one to put it on. Because it fastened by tying small leather strips, he'd had… Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa. "You mean this could be cursed?" Formerly, this word existed in Rodney McKay's vocabulary only as something verbally hurled at people or things that generally annoyed him. Five years in the Pegasus Galaxy had changed more than his hairline.
"Or charmed." Keller shrugged. "Of course, I suppose that's really all in the lore, or it probably means nothing at all. Obviously, if there's no story behind it, it means nothing, right? Now, are we good here? Is my scanner okay? I'm going to miss my ride."
Rodney squinted at her, 'curse' still rattling around in his head.
"Two-day mission to Cirros. Medical checks, vaccinations? Hello? You were going to make sure our scanners were all functioning properly?"
"Oh, right. Yes. I mean, they're fine." He gathered up the scanners and handed them over.
"Are you all right, McKay? You look a little—"
"No, no. Good. I'm good—when—have a good trip," he said absently, patting the devices as if he would miss them.
She put her hand on his shoulder and he looked up again. "Maybe we can do lunch when I get back—I'll buy," she added, smiling sweetly.
"Lunch? Okay, that would be…" His words trailed off into hers, words that Rodney could no longer hear, like a voice in a well, and then she was gone. He stood there fingering the bracelet, really looking at it. It was made from one smooth strip of leather threaded through a hammered metal disc or emblem, then fastened into a tight knot with thinner leather tendrils, one of which had a tiny metal charm hanging from it that changed color with the light.
With his mind a whirl of thoughts, each one building and doubling back on the other, he began to feel slightly sick. Checking his forehead and cheeks, he found no sign of fever, but…
Had Sheppard known about the bracelet and given it to him anyway? Ridiculous. Of course, he didn't know, never gave a thought to the bracelet or local lore or curses or anything. He saw it, thought it was cool, and brought it back – along with god only knew what else. Pestilence, plagues, bad luck, or maybe even…
Rodney scrabbled at the knot with dull, inefficient fingers, unable to loosen it at all. John may as well have welded it to his wrist. Pulling a tiny screwdriver from his drawer, he dug at the tightly knotted leather until he had enough of a loop to work with and finally freed the damned thing from his arm. He held it up to look at it closer. The markings on the emblem weren't anything he recognized. They weren't Ancient or Wraith, nor did the symbols resemble anything he could remember from the database. However, they did look cool.
Feeling only slightly relieved, Rodney slipped the bracelet into the drawer with the screwdriver and tried to concentrate on the day's work.
~~~~
By dinnertime, Rodney had left most of his panic over the bracelet in the dust. A problem with the City's wastewater processing systems had trumped everything else on his plate during the afternoon, including a meeting with Woolsey to discuss new annual evaluation procedures, but he and Steadman had gotten the problem under control in time to consult with Zelenka on the repairs to 'Jumper Three.
For the moment, though, he was mostly intent on savoring each bite of his meatloaf and gravy, potatoes, carrots, and green beans – barely registering the conversation of the others at the table. He did catch John staring at him a couple of times. When he realized where John was looking, the next bite hit Rodney's stomach like a rock.
His face flushed and his mind went straight to the strip of leather lying in his lab drawer.
Unusual for Rodney, he found he was too full for dessert. Sheppard had been quiet for the balance of the meal and the looks between Teyla and Ronon hadn't exactly been subtle. Whatever had settled over their table, it was like a fifth person everyone was choosing to ignore.
After one excruciatingly long bout of silence, Teyla stood. "If you will excuse me, the Myrantan trade agreement is up for renewal and we received several proposed amendments late this afternoon."
Rodney looked up; a sudden unease crowded his chest as she turned to Ronon.
"I am afraid I'm a bit stuck on one of the translations, Ronon, I would appreciate your help."
Rodney glanced to Ronon, who met his eyes briefly before standing himself. "Wait, Teyla, if it's just translation you need… we could, if you'll wait just a minute, we could use the translator in the lab—it would be much faster, and—"
But Teyla had already picked up her tray. "Thank you, Rodney, but not only is Ronon familiar with the language form, he is familiar with the terms of the original agreement. It may not be in our best interest to agree to everything the Myrantans are proposing." She turned to Sheppard. "We should have something to present to Mr. Woolsey by tomorrow morning."
John nodded into his coffee. "Thanks, Teyla."
When they'd gone, that left Rodney sort of alone with John. He stared at his tray, having second thoughts about dessert and turning over in his mind several clever excuses for why he wasn't wearing the bracelet John had given him when he heard the scrape of a chair on the floor. Looking up, John was beginning to gather his things.
"You took it off." The words were more a verbal shrug than a question.
"Well, no, I, uhm… I need to get used to it. It's not that I don't like it, it's neat, I—"
"Don't sweat it, McKay," John said, finally meeting Rodney's eyes. "Only… I don't think you're supposed to take those off." His voice was different, more somber than Rodney thought necessary for mere disappointment, as if Rodney not wearing his gift even qualified as disappointment. But that was Sheppard these days. Rodney tried to think of the last time he'd seen John smile and once again felt the fullness in his stomach as he realized it had been the night John had tied the bracelet around his wrist. Rodney recalled it had been a shy kind of smile, but still…
"What's that supposed to mean?" Rodney asked, as John picked up his tray. "Wait, Sheppard… Look, I'll—"
"I'm sure it's fine. See you tomorrow, Rodney." John stopped, then added. "We're still on for exploring the mainland, right?"
Rodney had almost forgotten they had two full days of downtime – well, not forgotten, because downtime – he was just a little rattled to find out it was so soon. "Sure. Can we make it afternoon, though?"
John said that was okay by him and left Rodney sitting there wondering why he'd even asked. More unsure about the bracelet than ever, John's words glowed neon bright in Rodney's brain – not supposed to take those off. What the hell did that even mean?
Oh, god. His mouth began to water as an odd shiver shimmied down his spine. What if the bracelet had been for good luck and now he'd broken it? Setting in motion all sorts of calamities queuing up to occur? What he should have done was suggest they scrap the entire exploration plan; the last thing he wanted was to spend the day with a pouty Sheppard in uncontrolled surroundings.
He got up from the table and absently dumped his tray at the cleanup station – literally tray and all into the bin – and made his way back to the lab, expecting misstep and misfortune at every turn.
Even though he arrived without incident, Rodney was unable to concentrate on the few projects he'd left for after dinner. The lab was empty and quiet – something he prayed for otherwise – but his mind kept coming back to that look on Sheppard's face. Rodney eased open the drawer. Perhaps it had been rude to cast the gift aside, and he probably should have discussed it with Sheppard right away, or checked it out himself – Keller had been right. Although, he did feel some self-vindication in the fact that anyone who knew him would have expected nothing less of him upon hearing of possible curses.
He closed the drawer and attempted once more to run through the risk simulations for the upgrades to the wastewater system, but neither his heart nor his mind were in it. He just couldn't believe Sheppard had known anything about the bracelets. After all, he'd still been wearing his. But that meant if there was something… John could be… Rodney jerked open the drawer and took out the bracelet. He knew exactly what to do.
~~~
The expected crack of bantos rods and dull thuds of bodies hitting mats greeted him as he walked into the gym. Teyla hadn't been in the small conference room, so he hoped he might find her there before she retired for the night. But it was Ronon alone who was sparring with no less than four marines – hard to tell if the one on the floor was still in the match or not.
Rodney discretely slipped the bracelet into his jacket pocket and waved cautiously to get Ronon's attention.
"Hey, McKay – suit up!" Ronon ceased instructing one of his charges on the merits of leveraging one's weight and walked over. The sweat-glow over his forearms seemed to bring his tattoo to life. From the amount of sweat, Rodney figured they'd just gotten started, or that Ronon was going easy on the poor marines. "You know, I think me and you could take this bunch – your moves would create confusion and then I could pick 'em off one by one."
With a forced grin, Rodney replied, "It's so heartening to see that you bring humor to these male-bonding sessions—actually, I thought I might find Teyla here." He looked around, hoping he wouldn't have to explain further.
Ronon swiped a towel across his face and shook his head. "Haven't seen her since dinner," he said, tossing the towel aside. "Change your mind, we'll still be here." With that, Ronon gave him a wink and went back to join the others.
~~~
After his timid knock, Rodney waited for Teyla to open the door. He should have just radioed her to meet him somewhere, but that might have seemed unusual. Oh yes, like standing there outside her door wasn't, he thought. He waited a few more seconds, convinced himself she was elsewhere, then turned to go back to the lab. He'd taken a half step when the door finally swished open. The delicate light from inside framed Teyla in a golden halo.
Satisfied he wasn't being a bother, Rodney followed her inside. "I wanted to ask you about this," he said quietly, careful not to walk too far into the room, craning his neck to make sure he hadn't disturbed the baby. Nodding to a smiling but haggard looking Kanaan, who was holding a small, very still bundle, Rodney threw up a hand in greeting, then turned his attention back to Teyla. He presented the bracelet, holding it up and away like it might snap at him.
She took it from him, her graceful fingers curling around the emblem. A good sign, he thought, that she had no hesitation in touching it.
"It is very nice," she said. "I have not seen one of these in many years. What did you want to know?"
Rodney clasped his hands together and tried to think of something that wouldn't sound petty or paranoid, then thought of what Keller had said. "Uhm, are there any legends or local mythology attached to something like this? You know powers or luck or…curses?"
"I don't believe so." She eyed him and pointed to the metal disc. "Only that the markings here appear to be the Sarnaan sign of the chosen."
"Chosen?"
Teyla smiled. "Did you purchase this for Dr. Keller?"
"Keller? No, it was – wait, when you say chosen… chosen for what?" His mind went straight to fiery cliff tops, a tribal council, and him in a virginal white loincloth with no parachute.
"It is not a belief of my people, you understand, but the Sarnaan, and some other cultures of Pegasus have strict protocols ruling the choice of one's mate. This is one of the symbols that would adorn a piece of jewelry or other article that is given by a man to his chosen one." Her eyes seemed to be searching him, as if this was information Rodney should know and the light bulb would appear over his head at any moment. "As a kind of promise gesture before any formal mating ceremony – what you call an engagement, I think."
~~~
Rodney sat in his quarters turning the bracelet over in his hands and a dozen thoughts over in his mind. Thoughts of how many times he'd been tempted since coming to Atlantis, and how he'd not allowed that particular bent to interfere with his friendship with Sheppard or his performance with the team. If what Teyla had told him was accurate, and he had no reason to doubt her, did that mean…
But that was impossible. He thumbed slowly over the markings. Sheppard was straight, right? Of course he was. Unequivocally, unmistakably, positively straight as an arrow. He just had no idea what he'd done, no idea that the bracelets actually meant something.
Or had he? Wasn't John's bracelet almost identical? And he hadn't brought back anything for anyone else – at least not that Rodney knew about. But a move like that... because while Sheppard was brave, the chief military officer pinning the chief science officer – that took serious balls. And how had Sheppard even known? Rodney had always been so careful… No, John had gotten too much sun and surf and beer and picked up something because it looked good. Rodney let out a low, irritated growl, like a hive of drunken bees. Damn it, there was no use throwing logic at this – hello? – he was talking about Sheppard after all and who knew how that mind worked?
Rodney knew. He got John, didn't he? They could finish each other's thoughts and John could sit in Rodney's lab while Rodney worked, and other than the obvious distractions of touching things and leaning and stuff, the silence between them was usually comfortable, even appreciated some days.
But if John had known… Did he really dare take the conjecture train to that destination? Jesus, didn't he have work to do or sleep to catch up on? Shouldn't he get some rest? Tomorrow, he and Sheppard were traipsing off to the ass end of the planet to explore. That thought brought him back to John's invitation. It did seem more like that than a mission, even an off-duty one – and hadn't John said it would be just the two of them? Seems they'd want Ronon around for tracking and such if they were… Oh, but maybe not so much if the trip was really a…
~~~
"Sorry, sorry, but I just need to clarify one thing," Rodney said, sporting a half smile as he stood facing a sleepy-eyed Teyla. She held Torren in her arms and he made another weak facial gesture trying to get her to smile back.
"Rodney, did the tradesman not explain the bracelet to you when you bought it?"
"No, yes... well, you know me, I probably wasn't listening. Anyway, say someone else bought one, would they buy it... could they buy it without knowing the meaning?
She looked puzzled and switched the squirming bundle from one shoulder to the other. "It is not likely, especially among the Sarnaans since anything bearing this mark would be—"
"So, a tradesman, as you say, should explain the significance to whomever they were going to sell the bracelet to."
"I would think so," she replied. "But Rodney, you must understand that these symbols are not that widely recognized as a contract or a betrothal. You have no reason for concern—your intention is only symbolic, correct?"
Rodney let those words sink in as he stared at the markings on the emblem. "Yes, of course." He looked up at her again. "So there's no loss of power or anything – no bad mojo – if a person should remove it after it's placed on their wrist?"
Teyla seemed amused, though her stare was intense, and Rodney worried for a moment that she was reading his thoughts. "It is simply leather and tooled metal. I believe whatever special power it holds is between the bearer and recipient. In such case, to remove it could be seen as rejection or a broken tie, but certainly no more than that." She placed her free hand on his arm and smiled. "In other words, Rodney, I do not believe anything bad will happen to you, no."
Rejection? The look on John's face at dinner swam before him. Oh, this was bad. This needed to be fixed, pronto. He thanked Teyla, patted Torren's little bottom, and excused himself. Checking his watch, he headed straight for the mess. He wasn't quite finished thinking for the evening, and woe betide anyone who stood between him and a cup of hot caffeine at that very moment.
~~~
When he arrived at John's quarters, he wasn't so timid – knocking and calling for Sheppard to wake up. He was just about to sweep his hand over the crystals when the door opened, and it was not a happy nor a restful looking Sheppard who greeted him. "I'm assuming by that look on your face, McKay, that you don't realize what time it is, so I'll make this easy for you… Goodnight."
"Wait!" Rodney's arm shot out to catch the door. "Of course I know what time it is—it's our day off."
"But you said afternoon." John looked to the window and back. "Unless you have your days and nights mixed up… again."
Rodney pulled a face, then pointed to his watch. "We are officially two hours and forty-six minutes into our downtime and I see no point in wasting half of it sleeping."
"No, because that's what normal people would do," John offered, stepping aside as Rodney walked past him over to the closet and took out the Colonel's duffle.
"Not like you'll need much," Rodney said. "Change of underwear… socks…"
"Hey… How about you just stay out of my underwear drawer, okay?" John had followed him inside; he stood there adorably rumpled in a black tee shirt and running pants he'd probably pulled on just before opening the door. There was a small crease on the left side of his face from lying on his pillow. He might have looked twelve years old if not for the stubble shadowing his jaw, which was kind of incredibly hot now Rodney thought of it, but he made himself look away from that thought – at least for now.
"It's exploring the mainland," John said, bringing Rodney's eyes back up level. "I don't need anything."
"Good. Then let's get going. Chop, chop... we're burning minutes. Meet you at the jumper in five."
When John arrived in the jumper bay, he was still a bit out of sorts, but he was dressed, barely, and had both eyes open. "I've already done the pre-flight checks," said Rodney, "we're good to go."
John stared at him a moment, then tapped his earpiece. "Sheppard and McKay standing by. Just a hop over to the mainland… hopefully. We'll check in at 08:00 hours."
The gate tech acknowledged, but said they'd been cleared for P8X-636. Same check in, and their ETA for return was 15:00 hours on Sunday.
"P8X-636?"
"Sarnaa," Rodney replied, pretending to be checking something on his tablet. "Land of sun, surf, and killer waves." When John didn't say anything, and they hadn't yet taxied to the gateroom, Rodney looked up. He grinned at the look on John's face. "What? I want to see what all the fuss is about, too. See these pristine beaches and waves that have never been surfed – except they've been surfed now. Ronon's been there – so has Lorne, even Teldy."
"You want to surf?" John's eyebrows hit a new level.
"Did I say that? No, I said I would like to see it. We'll still have plenty of time later to check out the mainland." He tapped his watch. "Tick tock, Colonel Grumpy."
~~~
The 'gate was inland on Sarnaa, which meant a jumper ride to get to the shore. As they neared their destination, the land beneath them began to look as if it might have been thrown up overnight by some great underwater volcano. Even at that hour, the moon provided adequate light to see the outline of the small islands seated in the elongated archipelago. Rodney had never seen a beach not populated by miles of people. Here, sand the color of abalone glittered in the moonlight alongside great stretches of what looked like charred driftwood or black coral taking the position of a rocky moat, standing guard to protect the dunes.
Back from that break lay a lush sandy carpet of land Rodney would bet no human or Wraith had ever set foot on – though obviously Sheppard and the others had. It extended a few hundred feet inland, beyond the dunes to a point where the trees began, and stretched up and down the main shoreline for miles. Hard to believe from here, another short jumper ride would deliver them into a bustling village. Seeing it from above, Rodney wished it were daylight so he could better see the clear water John had spoken of, and get a good look at the waves breaking out from the beach. Still, from his vantage point, they swelled in a timeless rhythm, rolling and crashing forward in a shower of eerie blue-green spray.
"Oh wow," Rodney said, leaning forward. "It really is beautiful."
"Parking sucks, but I think I can squeeze us in somewhere."
John chose a spot just back from the dunes to set down. "Okay, we're here," he said, bringing up the HUD for a surface check. "It's a nice night out… and I stress the word night, as in you can't actually see anything, so what now?"
Rodney took a deep breath; the bracelet was burning a hole in his pocket, but he couldn't just blurt things out right there. "We could start a fire, maybe make some coffee?"
"I think you've had plenty," John said, politely covering his yawn with the back of his hand. "Look Rodney, I'm really wiped. How about we just take a nap?"
John's words had the effect of a bully coming along and toppling all of Rodney's carefully placed blocks. Somewhere along the way in this cleverly disguised plan, Rodney had failed to recognize that his ruse needed to make sense. Possibly, he'd been counting on Sheppard being too tired to notice, or figure it out, or even ask questions. Feeling a bit like a guttered candle, Rodney nodded absently.
"Sure, I, we could do that."
"Was there something else you wanted to do?" John asked.
"No, no. Nothing," he said, stuffing his hand inside his pocket.
"You wanna just sack out here, then? Or we could…" He pointed out the front window. "It's nice outside."
"You mean like outside, outside?" Rodney looked around the jumper. "No, no. Here's good."
John was already out of his seat and headed for one of the benches in the cargo area.
~~~
The sound of the waves woke him, mere seconds before he would have had his hands on the ZPM hidden behind a waterfall on the planet of all things green and beautiful. He blinked open his eyes, coming face to face with a dripping John Sheppard standing over him. The wetsuit Rodney had secreted was unzipped and peeled to Sheppard's waist leaving a tantalizing view of bare skin and water… dripping…
"Jesus," he said, as if he suddenly remembered that this should be annoying, and pushed Sheppard away.
But John just grabbed Rodney's arms and shook his head like some kind of demented Spaniel. "You've had enough beauty sleep, McKay… and you missed the sun coming up."
Rodney shot up and glanced at his watch. Jesus Christ! "Why didn't you wake me… I didn't want to waste—you should have woken me."
John let go of him and planted his hands firmly on the almost bared hips peeking from the wetsuit. All Rodney could think about was that one probably didn't wear underwear in one of those things.
"Well, I would have but I forgot to pack any C4," Sheppard said, smiling. "Besides, you looked like you needed the rest."
"But I wanted to watch you."
"Excuse me?"
Rodney looked away from those hips and felt the warming in his cheeks. "Surfing. I meant I wanted to see you…" His hand made a wavy motion in John's direction. "I see you found my surprise."
"You're not exactly subtle, Rodney." No, and actually, it was a miracle or providence or something that John hadn't noticed the surfboard right away.
The look between them lasted a beat or two longer than was comfortable.
"Hey, we've got all day," John said as he grabbed Rodney by the arm and hauled him up. "The best swells are in the afternoon anyway."
~~~
Notwithstanding all of the bitching and moaning about the heat and the bugs, Rodney had dutifully helped gather wood and done his share of the work in making their little clearing habitable. His reward, of course, had been John's face when he'd run back up the beach after surfing. Even ripping his pants and cutting his knee on the coral-like stuff couldn't dampen the sense of freedom he felt watching John cut through the waves with a graceful ease Rodney knew would never be his. What was his was the strange, proprietary feeling that flooded him with just the two of them there on the beach.
Over a very late lunch, Rodney had listened to John babble on about the waves, their construction, and talk about his moves in some kind of members-only, pseudo-language. Pseudo because it did contain actual words, only they made no sense the way Sheppard put them together. It didn't matter; John's eyes held all the translation Rodney needed, along with an easy smile that took up most of that rugged face. And Sheppard's smiles had rivaled Bigfoot sightings in sheer numbers lately. Watching John enjoy himself, forget for just a while that he had responsibilities that would crush other men… If they did nothing else the entire time, Rodney decided, that joy was enough.
Oversleeping had totally screwed his eating schedule, forcing Rodney to have a power bar in order to hold him until dinnertime. After one more go at the waves, they'd parted – Rodney to half-heartedly gather more wood while John had changed and had disappeared off down the beach.
Looking like a twenty-first century Robinson Crusoe – shirtless, BDUs rolled at the ankle and riding low on those narrow hips – Sheppard had returned with an amazing string of fish for dinner. Rodney had stood there open-mouthed, partly staring at the wet trail of chest hair leading to the Colonel's belt buckle, and partly wondering what in hell Sheppard expected him to do with fish that were still flopping around. He'd been perfectly willing to gorge himself on MREs, but the look on John's face – that near-Neanderthal "me bring food" look – had twisted fast around his heart. John had even taken care of the cleaning and cooking and was now sitting in front of the fire, reclined back on cushions from the jumper.
In an effort to round out their meal, Rodney had still raided a few MREs and was now sated and happy. He grabbed two beers from the cooler and handed one to John just as he was finishing up yet another one of Ronon's-first-surfing-lesson stories.
"Thanks," John said, tossing another small branch into the flames. By now, it was late and the air had finally cooled from the grip of the day's heat, though it was still balmy and somewhat intoxicating as the ocean breeze blew the salt-scented spray their way.
"For what?" Rodney knew very well what, but he wanted John to say it, needed something to serve as a segue into why they were there. As he waited for his answer, he noticed John picking at the blanket they'd put down. Perfect. Sheppard was going to choose now to clam up.
"Bringing me out here – you know, instead of the mainland." He didn't look at Rodney as he added, "It's been nice."
"Yes, it has," Rodney agreed, sitting down beside John. If his proximity made John uncomfortable, he didn't show it. When Rodney twisted the cap off his beer, his shoulder brushed against John's, or was it the other way around? "I'm glad I thought of it," he added smugly.
It had been a hell of an idea, but time was getting short. The time had come to disclose the real reason it was so important, but now, in a sick twist, the words he'd so carefully rehearsed didn't sound the same to him. Before, they'd fit together so easily and now… now John was really here and Rodney realized that the way his heart was kicking against his ribcage was more than just having to say the words. Spending the day together, stealing glances during dinner, and now, the way John looked bathed in the fire light, symbolic or not… Rodney found this was something he really wanted.
He turned to John, looking at him with that hollow feeling in his gut, wondering if he should have said something sooner. Years sooner. Swallowing hard and wondering if he really ought to say it now.
"What?"
Rodney closed his eyes briefly; he could do this. He took the bracelet from his pocket and handed it to John, a frisson running up along his arm as their hands touched briefly, and with one great rush of words, he said, "I'd like you to put it back."
John looked at the bracelet then at Rodney. "Why?"
How did Rodney answer that? He'd just assumed John would know why. Always acutely aware of the regs, Rodney also knew that people in the know were getting pretty excited about the possibility of that wall coming down soon. Still, that didn't mean John would want it out in the open. But things were different now that Rodney had figured it all out. Weren't they?
He gave John a look to mean we're on the same page, right?. "Look, I know, okay. About the bracelet. And I realize that this thing can't be – that no matter what happens, you still might not want to acknowledge certain… things, and that's fine. It allows us to maintain plausible deniability, right?"
John stared at him, lips parted just a little, brows crinkled as if Rodney had spoken in Wraith. "This is the reason you wanted to come out here? And this… thing… you think it has something to do with the bracelet?"
"Well, of course. Mind you, it took a bit of doing to finally get the whole story. At first, I thought you'd just picked it out because it was leather and looked cool, with no thought at all to Sarnaan lore. But that was before I knew the meaning."
"Oh?"
"Granted, the symbols only mean what they mean to the Sarnaans, but then I realized that they—that this was symbolic… that the mark of the chosen was a meaning couched in a seemingly innocuous gift and the act of you being the one to tie the bracelet into place was… was… Well, it was just a misunderstanding that made me take it off. After all, these aren't new…" Rodney cleared his throat and took deep breath. "That is, for a while now, I've dressed this thing up as friendship because I didn't want to face rejection seeing as how I thought you were completely straight, and now that I..."
John's eyes widened. For a second, he looked like a scared rabbit caught in the crosshairs, twitching, trying to decide his next move – left, right, deny, stuff back, outright lie…
"With the bracelet… you probably felt the same but because of your situation, you couldn't let on. No, you'd do something exactly like this and expect me to work it out. Which I did."
"Yeah." John's voice was a whisper, rough and parched from the sun. "Okay, and now you want me to put it back. Why?"
Rodney smiled, but felt a little sick to his stomach, wondering if there was any way he could keep his feelings from showing after this and what this might mean for the team. Ronon and Teyla… they'd know. Teyla would see him wearing the bracelet. Maybe she'd already seen John's, maybe she'd already made the connection, hadn't she said… And if she knew of the Sarnaan mores and customs, it was a good bet Ronon did too.
Still, he came back to one thing: John had put it there to begin with, taking for granted that Rodney would figure it out– know what it meant and why it had to be that way. But now John was just sitting there. No smile, no eureka moment, no nothing. It seemed quite possible that Rodney had just put a foolish teenager to shame and John was trying to devise a way to let him down in some way that wouldn't totally crush him. Rodney could feel it slipping away from him, all the lucid, well thought out reasoning circling the drain.
No! That was one rabbit hole he was not getting sucked into. John had put it all on the line and had done this once. Maybe he would again, if…
"I want you to," Rodney said quietly. "I want…"
John's eyes softened – or maybe it was just the firelight – locking onto Rodney's like a Vulcan mind-meld. Then, mercifully sparing Rodney any more justification, John took the bracelet and placed it on Rodney's wrist, tying the thin leather cords with a double knot.
Rodney laughed. "I don't think that's necessary.
John moved closer. "You're sure about that?"
As sure as he knew Pi to twelve decimals – with one half of his brain tied behind his back.
John turned the leather around on Rodney's wrist, allowing his fingers to play over both before moving his hand up to stroke across Rodney's jaw. Reaching back to cup the base of Rodney's skull, John licked his lips before asking, "Who told you about the bracelet?"
"Teyla was very informative." Rodney ducked his head quickly and looked back at John. "She thought I'd gotten it for Keller."
John's brows arched a silent query.
"No," Rodney said simply. One answer for so many questions.
"I'm just saying – the two of you have been pretty cozy lately?"
"Are you going to talk all night or are you going to..."
"What?" John breathed.
"... kiss me." The words came out breathy, delivered with all the overdue longing Rodney had hoped to keep hidden. He leaned in and waited.
Instead, John started to say something about where a kiss could lead, and, kidding or not, Rodney held up his hand, nipping that bud at the knees. He knew where it would lead – exactly where he wanted it to lead.
"Okay. You're right." He placed his hand over John's and worked their fingers together. "Don't kiss me. It's better if I don't know what I'm missing, right? We can wait – I'm sure your government will get off its ass any day now. Of course, then there's the debate, the formulation of new regs, and timeline for implementation, any or all of which could turn into a campaign issue and end up dead in the water." Rodney took a breath and sighed. "I'm fairly certain I'll still have my teeth by the time it's all sorted out—just as long as I don't lose any more—"
"Bastard," John muttered, that smirk of his clipping all the menace from the word as he pulled Rodney to him, catching Rodney's breath with the reality of the kiss.
Kissing. John's mouth on his. Finally. Touching John and not being afraid he'd pull away. Just a hand curled around John's upper arm holding them together, but still… He could feel strength there, but also a trembling sense of cautious validation. John was warm from the sun; maybe that explained the goosebumps – the breeze blowing across newly-sunned skin.
He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but he was so not prepared for this. John kissed in short, sharp pulses, lips pursed and teasing, leaving Rodney breathless for the next one and the next. Kisses that stirred him and made him want to open up for John's tongue. Soft but demanding lips pulled at him and left him wanting more, like sliding his hand under John's shirt in search of more skin. Bidding him to stroke across John's thigh and up between his legs, over the hard bulge to fumble with buckle and snap and zipper, heartbeat drumming in his ears as John took hold of his hand and pushed it inside for the velvety-hot flesh that filled Rodney's hand like they were made to go together. "Oh, yeah…"
"Sorry," John said, though apologetic wasn't exactly the word for the look on his face. "I'm not really the hearts and flowers type."
"Sure thing, Mister secret-native-engagement-bracelet guy. No problem." Jesus, John was hard and so hot the way his hips followed Rodney's hand. "We'll do My Secret Diary next time… promise. Right now—don't stop—or I may seriously never speak to you again…aaahhh, don't stop to think about that… just… don't stop."
John pressed even closer, forcing Rodney to the ground then settling down beside him, allowing Rodney more than enough room inside those sized-up BDUs to work John's cock. Kisses like rapid-fire ordinance, quick short bursts sliding inelegantly into deep, long drags that made Rodney's body ache and left him acutely aware of his own throbbing need.
He drew back, as much for the need of air as to say to John, "Touch me…"
Pale, moonlit fingers caught the edge of John's grin. They sounded like a couple of huffing engines, trying to catch their breath as Rodney felt his shirt being lifted. He let John pull it over his head and sank back against the blanket, trying to concentrate more on the heat of John's mouth rather than how many places sand was likely to end up.
Now, John's lips were much too slow and determined as they roamed from Rodney's neck to a nipple to the sensitive shore of Rodney's armpit. There, the tip of John's tongue made Rodney grind himself up between John's legs going for any friction he could find. "Jesus, John… touch me."
"That what you want?"
"God, ye—no, wait. Of course that's not what I want – what was I thinking?" He grabbed at John's shirt to make John look at him. "Let's look at all of the things I want more than to have you fucking touch me? Okay? Start with a weekend trip to M7G-677 to check on the kids and the field generator – and, what the hell, I'll throw in babysitting services for Keras' brood while we're at it. Or how about tackling the mountain of new, excruciatingly detailed personnel evaluation forms waiting for me in the lab?" He paused, still teasing John's cock. "I know! Breakfast with Woolsey… for a month."
"Are you done?"
"You want more?"
John shook his head. "I happen to know Woolsey's quite pleasant after he's had his coffee," he said, palming over the hard ridge tenting Rodney's pants front.
"Then you have… oh, god, yes, do that again…"
John had Rodney's khaki's undone in a flash, rising up so that Rodney had no choice but to let go. Then Rodney's pants and shorts were down over his thighs so fast, he was barely able to follow John's movements before the scorching heat of John's tongue hit his cock – a long wet lick from base to tip that ripped a moan from Rodney's throat he was sure to feel for days.
With no warning, the full force of that mouth slid down over him, taking Rodney deep, hot, wet suction that curled his fists like claws around wool-covered sand and sent his hips moving of their own accord. Nothing else existed but the opening sky's azure-pink blush and the way John was working his mouth and his hand over the center of Rodney's world – over and over until that world started to break apart around him, fracturing into pieces just like the millions of grains of sand beneath them. And the hand… strong, warm, John's.
The space behind Rodney's eyelids swirled from light to dark and back as he jerked embarrassingly, uncontrollably, and too damn soon into John's grip, helpless to hold back against the barrage of dirty, whispered encouragement floating up to him in John's voice. Words that scraped him raw – John, wanting to see Rodney come… and Rodney gave that to him.
The friction eased now by his slick release, Rodney rocked gently through the rest of his orgasm. An honest to god, soul-shaking orgasm of the kind he hadn't had in… since… fuck, he didn't have the available brain cells to think back that far. But enough remained that he noticed John's open fly and the shadowed, stuttering movements. Rodney blew out a deep breath to clear his head, not able to take his eyes away. "Let me," he said, or thought he did. His ears felt funny and his own words seemed to float away on the wind.
At first, he joined John. Hand over John's, but then John let go, bringing back weird sense memories from ten minutes ago when he'd had his hand down John's pants, but also a sweet newness, like a wish fulfilled, or a carnival ride you wanted to go on again and again.
He tugged gently, almost reverently, at the high, hard shaft jutting in front of him, stretching the skin up and back. The swollen head was dark and begging for his tongue. Rodney flicked it over the underside – once, twice, and once more as he began to jerk John faster.
John's voice planed the air like a wood rasp, "Jesus, Rodney… Jesus… put it in your mouth."
He didn't need to be asked twice. John's cock was hard, hot against his lips and tongue; Rodney hadn't had this particular pleasure in a very long time. It felt good – special because it was John, but really, really good. As he bobbed up and down, John's hand rested just there at Rodney's nape. Not commanding, but an unassuming gesture that made Rodney shudder. And right on top of that, the sound of quickening breath above him burned inside Rodney; a white-hot need to make John come too.
He shifted up onto his knees and tried to take as much of John as he could, dragging down John's pants, and remembering to go slow and breathe so he wouldn’t gag. The stretch tightened the corners of his mouth until he felt the tickle of hair on the tip of his nose and fullness at the back of his throat. He slowly worked up to a swallowing motion that sent John's moans out to meet the shifting of the fire and the roll of the surf.
Rodney pulled himself back quickly at the sudden rush of breath and half-words above him – just in time for one ragged "fuuuucckkkk" as John pushed into his hand, hard. The grip on Rodney's shoulders was daring, desperate, as John arched his back and sent the first spurts shooting between them, the rest flowing down into Rodney's grip, warm and sticky.
Blatant assumptions, uncharacteristic risk taking, and the premature results of the same aside, this moment was worth all of it. The blissed-out openness of John's face, the trembling as Rodney curled his tongue around the spent, over-sensitive head, the surrender in the hands still fastened to his shoulders… worth anything… everything.
With the inevitable tumble of bodies back onto the blanket, John pulled himself up beside Rodney and wedged his thigh into Rodney's crotch. A protective gesture or maybe even a possessive one, Rodney found he didn't much care which. It was nice and he hummed contentedly when John's hand skimmed his naked hip.
~~~
The black coral-looking stuff had proved to be outstanding fuel; it still burned with a Mars yellow glow, warming them and cementing the sticky mess to their skin. And even as it started to itch and get right on the edge of Rodney's remaining active nerve, he didn't move. He'd dozed – for how long he didn't know – but looming low in the brightening sky, a huge pale-vanilla arc was all that remained of the Sarnaan moon. It seemed to be trying to hold fast to the night and Rodney understood that. If there was ever a point in time he could bottle up…
A quick orientation showed John was still there, his arm, weighty and warm, slung across Rodney's belly, the head of salt-tinged hair so near it tickled in the passing breeze. Their breathing had almost become one fluid motion.
Swiping at an itch near his right nipple, the slide of his bracelet brought him further around. To the rightness of it all. How could they ever go back? Was it even possible to exist in the same way as before? In a moment of desire, or was it weakness, things had changed forever – whether that had been the intention of either of them or not – and now he felt a desperate need to make sure nothing changed. While, at the same time, he was half-afraid of not measuring up to that challenge; a feeling not unlike that fleeting moment after being chosen for Atlantis itself.
He stretched over to plant a silent kiss on top of that unruly mass of hair and felt the arm tighten around him. Smiling up into that huge open sky, he mumbled something about sleep and the jumper.
"'S for wusses," John mumbled, sleepy words trapped against Rodney's skin.
They must have made some picture, Rodney thought. Him with pants around his ankles and John, shirt stuffed up under his arms, pants down past his hips. "Just so you know," Rodney warned. "It was never my intention to rough it."
John shifted, tangling his feet with Rodney's "I've slept in worse places."
Rodney was certain of that. "Well, it's our last day and if we're still planning to explore the mainland later, I'd like to get some real sleep first." He'd love a real shower, too, and possibly clean underwear and his own toothbrush, wishing now he really had packed a bag. Just then, John's hand moved, traced up along Rodney's side. Rodney followed it with his eyes, his skin pebbling in the wake.
"Now you wanna sleep?"
"Are you kidding - now is exactly when I want to sleep. I tend to drop off like a rock after sex." At least that was the way he remembered it.
"I think we both did. But you said yourself… it's our last day."
Rodney sighed, catching a glimpse of the twin bracelet, there where John usually wore his badass black wristband. "That might be more comfortable inside, as well." His dick twitched, letting him know that it had no preference. Inside, outside, whatever.
"I like it here," John said. "Kind of reminds me of a few spots off the Pacific Coast Highway, down around Santa Cruz… Monterey."
"Hmm, I've seen pictures," Rodney said. And it was nice – wind easy off the water, buffered just right by the something-like-coral break, and the fire that, along with John's partially naked body, was more than capable of chasing away any chills. He was just thinking of licking across John's bare shoulder, when John sat up quickly.
"You've never seen it in person?" He pointed at Rodney. "You, me – our next trip back, promise."
Rodney huffed. "Yeah, right, like you and I will ever get another trip back to Earth at the same time… it would be nice, though."
"Damn right." John looked down at him. His eyelids looked as heavy as Rodney's felt. "So…" he said sleepily, waggling those crazy eyebrows just the same. "Next month's paycheck says you can't make me come again."
Oh, there wasn't enough gauzy, post-orgasmic haze in the galaxy to hide that Gordian logic. "Uhm, doesn't that make it sort of a win-win for you?"
"Half the fun is trying." John's grin was insane, which was… it was almost as if he were happy.
Maybe what John was trying to tell him was that there would be plenty of time to talk and fret once they were back in Atlantis. Once they were home. This wasn't the first rodeo for either of them, and a "thing" didn't promise to be easy by anyone's definition – home being an ancient city in the middle of an ocean in outer space notwithstanding. Grab what they could when they could – and Rodney was all for grabbing.
"Half a month and you're on," he said, reaching for John to pull him close, that lush, full mouth hovering just inches away. He felt John kick free of his pants, body and breath hot, threatening to engulf Rodney all over again as John stretched out over him, but no kiss.
"What?" There was no grabbing. Why was there no grabbing?
"I, uh, you really thought that I didn't… the bracelet, that I'd picked it out just because it was cool?"
"Well, at first, yes. But then I thought since you had one—and after discovering the significance…"
John pushed back a little. "Okay, let's say… for the sake of argument, that I did… not that the sentiment wasn't there, but…"
Rodney sighed. "Did I ever tell you how I'm not a particularly patient person on point, but when I've had really great sex and it looks like I might be having more, that what little patience I do possess boils down to absolute zero?"
John licked his lips. "If the bracelet hadn't been the mark of the chosen, or whatever… would you take all this back?"
Even empty, Rodney's stomach churned with a sick twist, big wooden paddles folding his insides over and over like so much taffy. The question belied its complexity; it was totally unfair. Hell, even if he wanted to, how could he take it back? He'd opened a vein, figuratively, to possibly bleed out a friendship he cherished more than anything else he'd ever had, a little piece of John that belonged only to him. He'd thought this through, damn it, worked it all out, convinced that they could survive the next level, and now Sheppard was five and dancing around no take backs with that playfully guarded look of his.
"Would you?" he retorted, then swallowed back the lump in his throat.
"Rodney, you know why I—"
"Answer the question," Rodney demanded because, yes, he knew why. He was a genius, and he didn't need to hear it spelled out, not from John, not in the same voice that had just called out his name like an angel with a mouthful of demon.
"And what if I hadn't figured it out – what then? Would you have said anything?"
"When you took it off, I—"
"Ever?"
John made a face and pulled away even more.
"Of course, you wouldn't – you are, like, the king of manpain."
John cocked his head and began an amused grin. "Manpain?"
"That is a legitimate expression – I heard it from Keller. And it fits you to a… Whoa, wait… you didn't expect me to figure it out, did you? You were… you self-sacrificing, romantic son-of-a-bitch. You just wanted me to wear it… so you'd be the only one to… Oh my god, I'm not even going to ask how long."
"Shut up, McKay…" John was worrying his bottom lip and Rodney knew he'd touched a nerve. They stared at one another a long moment, and then, "So… we got a bet or what?"
Rodney relaxed and smiled up into that stricken look, softening it a little. What John meant was thanks for getting it and not making me say it… ever, and that was okay. Really okay.
"It's a good thing for you I'm so smart," Rodney said, his chin raising just a tic.
"Yeah, I sure know how to pick 'em," John said, grinning, his head and shoulders framed by the dewy, fresh-peach wash of the new day.
"Manly, surfer dude bracelets?"
The thwap to the head was not unexpected and totally a love tap, but then John finally leaned in closer. "Really great sex, huh? Is that what we're about to have again?"
"Oh, Jesus, I hope so."
It seemed to take forever for their lips to meet. This time the lingering build and the tip of John's tongue tracing and teasing brought fire to Rodney's chest and sent the blood rushing south in a big damn hurry. He reached out to cage those slinky hips – those slinky, naked hips rubbing against his own – as if somehow that might keep them both on the ground.
Somewhere in the midst of it all, Rodney knew Sheppard had failed to answer the question, but in the same way John could speak paragraphs with a look, the kiss would prove to be all the answer Rodney would need.