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"Marry me."
John tensed. He'd been drifting in the afterglow from another spectacular orgasm, enjoying the feel of Rodney's fingers slowly playing up and down his spine, and it took him a minute to get his brain working again. He lifted his head from its resting place on Rodney's chest. "Huh?" he asked blankly.
"You heard me." Rodney gave him a little pat, smiling. "I said marry me. Don't Ask, Don't Tell was repealed. It's okay now. We don't have to hide anymore. We can get married." He paused. "At least, we can in Canada."
John pushed himself away from Rodney's warmth and sat up, taking a few deep breaths to calm his suddenly racing heart. "That's not a good idea," he said finally. "Whatever the rules say, the marines still won't accept a queer military commander. I have to be able to count on them to keep us all alive."
"That's bullshit, and you know it. They love you. And even if they didn't, Elizabeth would replace them all in a heartbeat before she'd get rid of you."
"Caldwell wouldn't. Caldwell hates me. He'd just look for something else to use as an excuse to ship me back to Earth."
Rodney's voice sharpened. "Elizabeth wouldn't let that happen, and neither would I. Give us some credit."
"Elizabeth doesn't control the military. If they want me out of here, all they have to do is have Caldwell beam me onto the Daedalus and I'm gone. There won't be a hell of a lot you can do about it."
"That's not going to happen. You're Elizabeth's choice, and Elizabeth has the backing of the IOA. You're just being paranoid."
"Realistic." John was starting to panic, and searched frantically for a reason that Rodney would accept. "I don't want to leave Atlantis. It's my home now. I can't risk it."
"Where do you see this going then?"
"Why does it have to go anywhere? Can't it just be what it is? It's pretty good, isn't it?" John hated the note of pleading that he heard in his voice, but he couldn't seem to keep it clamped down.
"We agreed that we wouldn't do anything that would jeopardize your career. As long as Don't Ask, Don't Tell is in effect, we'll keep things low-key, we said. But it's not anymore." Rodney's voice took on a touch of pleading as well. "I'm tired of having to pretend that we're just friends. I hate sneaking around and never getting to spend more than a couple of hours in the same bed. I want to go to sleep knowing you'll still be there when I wake up in the morning."
John sat up and swung his legs out of bed, turning his back to Rodney so he didn't have to look at him. "I just… I can't."
Rodney gathered his clothes and dressed. His silence unnerved John, who didn't know what to say to make this right. When he looked up, Rodney was gone.
John came awake slowly the next morning, aware that something was different. Stretching lazily, he spread out until he was taking up all of the available space and contemplated life without Rodney. No more sharing a too-small bed with a cover-hog. No more being woken up at 3 a.m. when Rodney finally gave up on the problem of the day, but was too wired to sleep. No more patches of drool on the pillow case, or wet spots on the sheets. He wouldn't have to do laundry anywhere near as often.
Okay, no more amazing sex either, but he knew how to live without sex. He and his right hand had a long and amicable relationship. He'd been prepared for this to happen—had been expecting it even. His track record on relationships was really bad. Sooner or later everyone wanted more from him than he was able to give. He had lots of practice at failed relationships.
Rolling out of bed, John headed for the bathroom. His good mood lasted through his run and his shower and all the way to the mess hall. He loaded up a tray then looked around him for someone to eat with. Rodney was sitting over near the door, poking at his laptop while he ate. Before John could turn away, Rodney looked up and their eyes locked. John automatically took a step towards him, and then Rodney's chin went up.
John stiffened his shoulders and went to join Lorne and Stackhouse on the other side of the room.
John wondered if he should call off—or at least postpone—the mission to P4X-137 that was scheduled in two days. He really didn't want to explain to Elizabeth why that was necessary though, so he decided to just go and tough it out. It would be awkward, but he was a professional, dammit, so even if McKay wasn't they could still work together.
The trip was awkward and uncomfortable. Rodney talked non-stop as usual on the way from the Stargate to the Ancient outpost they'd found, bitching and moaning about his allergies and all the walking they had to do. John thought he was the only one who noticed that Rodney never addressed him directly.
That night, instead of spending a few hours beside their campfire waxing sarcastic about the relative merits of Star Trek and Star Wars, Rodney went straight to their tent and pretended to be asleep when John came in.
John knew Rodney didn't get a lot of sleep that night, because he didn't either, and every time he looked at Rodney, Rodney was awake and watching him. He wondered what Rodney was thinking, but couldn't bear to ask and be rebuffed. John was remembering how right from the beginning they'd been good together--joking and teasing and scoring points off each other. And how, after they finally became lovers, they looked forward to overnight away missions when they could safely fall asleep and then wake up together, even though sleep was usually the only thing on the agenda. John missed the easy familiarity of it.
Rodney was fairly subdued in the morning as well, at least for him, enough that John overheard Teyla asking him "Dr. McKay, are you not well?" John listened with interest for Rodney's reply.
"Fine. I'm fine," Rodney said. "Why wouldn't I be fine?"
"No reason," Teyla replied. "I am glad to hear it." But John caught her shooting him the occasional concerned look as they packed up for the return to Atlantis, and she made a point of walking with Rodney and drawing him out on the way back.
John dropped back until he couldn't hear what they were saying. He didn't feel left out. Just doing his job, guarding the rear.
A couple of days later John dropped by the lab to ask Rodney to have a look at his favourite jumper. She'd been reacting sluggishly for the past couple of missions, and that wasn't good. Had to keep his babies humming.
"Hey," John said, "can you give me a hand with the jumper today?"
Rodney looked up briefly from whatever he was scowling at and waved his hand at Zelenka. "He'll look after it. I'm busy. I've got to get this repair to the septic system done or we're going to have toilets backing up all over Atlantis before long."
"Why are you doing that yourself?" Zelenka looked puzzled. "Normally is a job for the week's worst offender in the Stupidity Stakes."
Rodney flushed. "Yes, well. I'm in the mood to be magnanimous."
"But there is—"
"No time. You do it," and Rodney grabbed his laptop and his tools and headed briskly for the door.
John ruthlessly suppressed a stab of hurt. At Zelenka's speculative look, he shrugged and gave a lopsided grin that he knew didn't reach his eyes. "Let's get started."
Seeing who he was dealing with, John supposed he should be grateful that Rodney was being as civil as he was, even if in his case being civil meant he was avoiding John as much as possible. If John didn't know any better—say, if he were Elizabeth—he'd think everything was good.
John knew better.
He missed the mind-blowing sex. A lot. But he missed his friend even more than his lover. He missed dropping by the lab with a coffee in the afternoon; dragging Rodney over to the mainland on a rare day off to laze on the beach (in the shade, of course, to avoid the risk of skin cancer); relaxing after dinner while sharing a bowl of popcorn and watching the Hail Mary pass for the 163rd time.
John even found he missed Rodney stumbling into bed at an ungodly hour, and waking up with his backside frozen because Rodney had the blanket wrapped tight under his chin, but with his front-side toasty warm because Rodney gave off more heat than the average furnace.
He felt like he was missing a limb. He'd never expected it to hurt this much.
It never had before.
Teyla, it seemed, wasn't as clueless as Elizabeth. About a month after Rodney started avoiding him Teyla cornered them both on a visit to another Ancient ruin, Ronon at her shoulder, and laid down the law.
"I do not know what has happened between the two of you, and I do not need to. But the way things stand, you are a danger to yourselves and to us."
"Teyla—"
"I don't know what—"
"I do not wish to know," she said firmly. "The team cannot continue with this rift between the two of you. Either the rift is mended or the team must eventually be dissolved. It cannot function like this."
"We'll take the first watch," Ronon said. "Fix it, Sheppard."
John watched helplessly as Ronon and Teyla walked away. "I don't know why they'd assume that this is my fault," he grumbled.
"Possibly because it is," Rodney retorted.
"I'm not the one who's been avoiding you."
"Well, excuse me if I haven't been handling this as well as you. You turned down my proposal. What did you think was going to happen?" The hurt evident in Rodney's voice made John cringe inside. He'd never intended to hurt Rodney.
"I don't know," John replied defensively. "I didn't think it would matter."
"Not matter?" Rodney's voice rose an octave, and then broke. He looked devastated now, arms wrapped around himself protectively.
Oh, shit. That didn't come out right. "McKay. Get a grip. You matter, all right? You matter." John scrubbed his hand tiredly over his eyes. "I just didn't know that marriage would be such a big deal to you."
"Well, surprise." Rodney threw his arms out in a sweeping gesture. "In spite of the less than stellar example provided by my parents—or maybe because of it," he added wryly, "I happen to like the idea of being married."
"But why?" John asked.
"Getting laid on a regular basis for one, and not having to sneak around to do it. Oh, and being able to make Carson cough up the details when you're unconscious in the infirmary again. That's another good one." He trailed off and then added self-consciously, "Normal human being here. I want to be loved. Not so hard to understand."
"Rodney, I—"
"Look, Colonel, don't you worry your pretty head about it. I'll get over it." Rodney looked away. "At least, I'll get over you."
The silence stretched out uncomfortably as John searched for a way through, around or over this fucking minefield.
"I…" he began haltingly. "I'm not very good—no, I suck at…" He risked a quick look at Rodney, who was making impatient, hurry-up motions. He stuttered to a halt.
"What?" Rodney demanded. "You're not good at a lot of things. You're going to have to specify."
"I'm not good at this relationship stuff," John got out.
"You really aren't." Rodney replied. "And that's quite ironic, coming from me."
John hunched his shoulders defensively and stared at his shoes. "I don't… I can't talk about…"
"Feelings?" Rodney supplied sarcastically.
Relieved, John finally looked up. "Right."
"So you break up with people so you don't have to?" Rodney asked incredulously.
"I didn't break up with you!" John let his frustration show in his voice. "That was all your own idea." He looked at Rodney briefly, then looked away again, staring fixedly over Rodney's left shoulder.
"Oh," Rodney said. "That's what it sounded like."
"No. I just… I didn't try and stop you."
"Well, why not?" Rodney demanded. "If that wasn't what you wanted…"
"People leave." John shrugged. "You can't make them stay. It doesn't work."
Rodney was silent for a long time. John could practically see the wheels turning and wondered if he'd said too much. After a few minutes he reached out, hesitated, then patted Rodney awkwardly on the shoulder. "So, are we… good?" he asked.
"I guess," Rodney said almost grudgingly.
John thought he'd better clarify. "You think you can work with me? Keep Teyla off our backs?"
"Yes," Rodney snapped, "I can work with you."
"And you'll stop avoiding me?"
"Okay. I can do that."
"Good. Okay, let's get back to work."
Rodney got out his scanner and moved off towards the ruin he was studying, head down, seemingly deep into his work already.
John looked after him, face impassive but gut churning, until Teyla and Ronon returned.
It got better after that. The team ate together a few times a week, and they had a movie night where John and Rodney tried, and failed miserably, to explain Monty Python humour to Teyla. There were still awkward moments, but they were happening less as time went on, and it was good enough that Teyla wasn't on their case anymore. John was grateful for the improvement: really, he was.
Things limped along like that until they lost Sgt. Milton on what was supposed to be a routine exploration mission but which turned out to be an unmitigated disaster. John held it together long enough to debrief Elizabeth, then quickly changed his clothes and ran. He ran until his legs turned to rubber, then ran some more. He finally came to rest on a balcony off the east pier, lungs heaving, sweat pouring off him, mind mercifully blank. Finding a corner out of the wind, he sank down the wall and wrapped his arms around his knees, letting the rhythm of the waves calm his racing heart and ragged emotions.
He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there when the door behind him opened and closed, but it must have been a while, because he was now hugging his knees as much for warmth as for comfort. He was pathetically grateful for Rodney's familiar bulk settling down beside him and for the warmth of his hand on John's arm.
"Idiot," Rodney grumbled, but the exasperation John expected to hear wasn't there. He heard Rodney rustling around in a pack, and his jacket fell across his shoulders. "Put this on."
John shrugged the jacket on, then leaned back against the wall tiredly. "I should have known you'd show up. How did you find me?"
"Piece of cake," Rodney replied, busily pulling cups and a thermos from the pack. "You're very predictable, and Atlantis has excellent scanners." He handed John a steaming mug of coffee. "Drink up."
"Thanks," John said, wrapping his cold hands around the mug and breathing in the aroma.
Rodney took his own mug and sat back, and John leaned over to bump his shoulder into Rodney's, then casually left it there, soaking up his warmth.
"So," Rodney said, not looking at John, "are you okay?"
"I'm fine, McKay." John twisted his head and rolled his shoulders, feeling the tension that gave the lie to those words. Letting his head thunk back against the wall, he closed his eyes. "No. I'm not."
Rodney snorted his agreement. "There was nothing you could have done," he said.
John wanted to get angry, but it wasn't worth the effort today. "Of course there was. I can think of four things I could have done differently that would have meant Milton didn't have to die."
"Yeah. Hindsight's a bitch, isn't it? In hindsight, I wouldn't have blown up 5/6 of a solar system," Rodney said bitterly. "In hindsight, I wouldn't have handed Gall a gun so he could blow his brains out."
"Hey," John said, momentarily distracted. "You did what you thought was right. Let yourself off the hook."
Rodney turned to face John and gave him a piercing glare. "Right back atcha."
"It's not the same."
"Of course it's the same! I made the best decision I could with the information I had at the time, isn't that what you told me when I was freaking out over Gall killing himself? And so did you, today."
"It's my job, keeping people alive. That's what I do, what I was trained for. I'm supposed to be able to see all the angles, weigh all the options, and pick the best one."
"And my job is physics. I'm supposed to be able to see all the angles, weigh all the options and pick the best one. And genius here. Better at my job than anyone else in two galaxies. Didn't stop me from blowing up a solar system. In the screw-up race, I think that one still takes the prize."
"Yeah," John said. "You're probably right about that. Doesn't make me feel any better, though."
"Well, it shouldn't." Rodney turned and poked John's chest several times, over his heart. "You wouldn't be you if you didn't hate losing people. It's who you are, Colonel Leave-No-Man-Behind. It's part of what we love you for." John watched Rodney's cheeks redden, but his eyes stayed firmly fixed on John's face. "But you've got to learn what you can for the next time, grieve, and move on."
John reached up and squeezed the hand Rodney was still poking him with. "Thanks," he said briefly before letting go.
"Any time," Rodney replied. "What for exactly?"
"For coming to find me, for the coffee, the reality check." John sat up straight, putting some distance between them. He stared fixedly at the water. "For caring."
"Oh, for God's sake." Rodney snaked an arm behind John's head and grabbed his shoulder, hauling him in until his head was firmly pressed to Rodney's chest. Rodney's other arm came around his back and held him close, patting him a little awkwardly. John thought about trying to pull away, but he really didn't have the energy to fight, so he let himself be comforted by the steady beat of Rodney's heart and the warmth of his arms, and when he was ready he let Rodney haul him to his feet and lead him back into the city.
When they got back to the living areas and Rodney left for the lab with a wave of his hand, John stared after him for a moment, feeling bereft. Then he slowly turned and went back to his quarters alone.
Milton's death didn't even begin to approach the level of the disaster that was lying in wait for them right in their own backyard. Another week, another Ancient lab being catalogued, another Ancient experiment gone wrong. You'd think we'd have learned by now, John thought bitterly as he waited helplessly for Carson to identify whatever toxin had caused the city to quarantine the lab and surrounding area. Déjà fucking vu. Rodney, of course, was right in the middle of it, stuck in the lab where the toxin had been released. They'd lost radio contact with the lab 20 minutes after the lockdown occurred, and that was—John looked at his watch for the 25th time—four and a half hours ago.
Zelenka and the rest of the science team were working frantically with the sensor data, feeding it to Carson as quickly as they could. John had gotten in Zelenka's way once too often and been firmly requested to take himself elsewhere, so here he was, pacing on the edge of the affected area, trying not to think about the possibility that Rodney was already dead.
He felt absolutely useless.
Ronon and Teyla had tried to drag him away from his self-imposed vigil, and when he wouldn't be moved had taken it in turns to keep him company while he waited. Teyla was currently sitting cross-legged against the wall, gazing serenely at the flame of a small candle that she had brought with her, breath slow and even. John had tried to emulate her, he really had, but he had to keep moving, had to be ready, had to…
John threw himself down on the floor opposite Teyla and her candle and tried to get himself back under some sort of control. There was nothing he had to do right at the moment except keep his shit together. He'd learned to meditate in the sanctuary. He'd hated it, but he could do it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, then another, and another. Teyla's voice, when it came, startled him.
"You and Dr. McKay are more than just friends, are you not?"
John opened his eyes and looked at her steadily for a moment while he decided how to answer that loaded question. Finally he said, "I'm sure I've explained Don't Ask, Don't Tell to you. This is precisely what you're not supposed to ask," before closing his eyes again.
"Colonel—"
"And I'm not telling."
"Colonel, that policy has changed. You know that. It was the subject of much discussion among your military." Teyla gave him that Mona Lisa smile that sometimes amused and sometimes infuriated him. "Right around the time when you and Dr. McKay started having difficulties, as I recall."
"And what were they saying?" John asked idly, not really wanting to know. "These are good guys—they'd never get past the SGC psych evaluation if they weren't—but if I know the marines, there was still a macho pissing contest going on."
"There was some of that," Teyla agreed. "But not so much as you think. Most, I believe, were happy that…"
"That what?"
"That those who wished to could now choose a partner without fear of reprisal. It was generally believed that you and Dr. McKay would be among that number."
John's jaw dropped. "What? You're kidding me."
"I would not joke about such a thing, particularly at a time like this."
John didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. He felt a stirring of pride in his men; he really did command a great bunch of guys. Rodney was right about that. But the marines weren't the problem, not really. Teyla had it figured wrong. It was him. He was the problem.
After a few moments, Teyla said softly, "In this very uncertain world, love is something to be treasured. Do not let old fears keep it from you." And she leaned over to blow out the candle before rising smoothly to her feet, looking expectantly down the hall.
Carson and a full medical team came jogging around the corner seconds later. "Oh, there you are, Colonel," Carson said on his way by. "We appear to have the toxin neutralized, and we're just going in to see what's what."
"I'm coming with you."
Carson didn't even look back. "No. I'll let you know over the comm when it's safe."
John practically snarled his frustration. He drew back his hand, preparing to slam a fist into the wall, but Teyla grabbed his arm before he could make contact. He simply stared at her hand until she squeezed his arm and let go. Turning away, he went back to his pacing, thinking now about all the different shades of fear.
In the end it was all anticlimactic. The "toxin" turned out to be a sensor glitch, the radio malfunction caused by someone touching what Rodney told them not to. The worst thing that happened was that everyone got a little hungry.
John attached himself to the group as they made their way to the infirmary. He tried to stay with Rodney, but Carson threatened to have him thrown out of the infirmary, so he had to wait outside. It was only a short stay: a round of precautionary bloodletting, then Carson released them all to their quarters for a good night's sleep.
John walked silently beside Rodney as he made his way back to his room, soaking up Rodney's diatribe on the idiots he had working for him. It was music to his ears; just a few hours earlier he'd been afraid he'd never hear one of Rodney's rants again.
"Well, Colonel," Rodney said, winding down as they reached his door, "that was fun. Good night." Rodney opened the door and started to walk through.
Ignoring the dismissal, John stayed right on Rodney's heels, following him in. As the door slid shut, he grabbed Rodney's shoulders, turning him around and shoving hard so his back hit the wall with a thud.
John immediately closed the gap between them, pinning Rodney to the wall with his whole body, and, pressing his hands to the wall on either side of Rodney's head, kissed him hard, trying to communicate his fear and relief without words.
Rodney shoved weakly at John's shoulders, but John was well balanced and wasn't budging, and he finally gave up and started to kiss back. Breaking the kiss at last, John buried his face in the curve of Rodney's neck, placing one hand flat over Rodney's heart, trying to feel the steady beat. "I thought you were dead," he said. "They wouldn't let me go in, not even in a hazmat suit. Elizabeth made sure that I couldn't get in this time. I thought you were dead," he trailed off.
Rodney's hands came up to cup John's head, and he gently urged John to lift his head and look him in the eye. "I'm fine."
John shuddered, and Rodney's hand on his face pulled him in for another kiss. Rodney was finally getting with the program, nipping at John's lower lip before fusing their mouths together again. John let his hand slide down Rodney's body, until he was palming a rapidly hardening cock. Without losing contact, John mumbled against Rodney's lips, "Fuck me."
"Yes. Okay. Fine," Rodney panted, punctuating each agreement with a thrust of his hips.
"Please," John said. "Now."
By the time John had Rodney naked in front of him his desperation had reached a fever pitch. He dragged Rodney in until they were skin on skin, pressed together so tightly that he could feel Rodney's heart beating against his chest. John wrapped his arms around Rodney's back and pressed him even closer, one hand on his ass, one on his shoulders. He rubbed his cheek against Rodney's temple, feeling the silky glide of his hair, and took a ragged breath, searching for the familiar smell of him.
Rodney ran his hands soothingly up and down John's back. "It's okay. I'm not going anywhere."
Damn right, John thought. He worked a hand between them, took hold of both their cocks, and rubbed his thumb over the heads, which had both of them moaning.
"Bed, now," John panted, pulling Rodney after him.
"Have you got this feeling that we've done this before?" Rodney asked as he threw himself down half on top of John. "But usually you're the one who's almost died. There was The Nuke, and The Other Nuke, and the Hive—"
John shut him up by kissing him again, and rolled them so he was on top and straddling Rodney. "And there was the nanovirus, and the crazy Genii, and the enzyme, and the jumper on the bottom of the ocean."
"Okay," Rodney conceded between kisses, "sometimes it's me, too. We've got to stop meeting like this."
"I will if you will," John said, snatching the lube from Rodney's hand.
"Hey! I'll—"
"You go too slow," John bit out, reaching around to open himself up, groaning as he found his prostate.
"God, that's hot," Rodney said. "Thank you for that very inspiring image."
Intensely focussed on getting Rodney inside him as quickly as possible, John barely heard him. Two fingers out, three in. Good enough. Slick up Rodney. Now, damn it, now, because he had to have—
God, this.
It had been so long.
"Hey," Rodney said again after a minute, trying to shift his hips against John's weight. "You're the one who has to move here."
John allowed himself a moment longer, then he lifted himself up and sank back down again, setting up a steady rhythm. He didn't think he was going to last long, not after all this time, and particularly not after Rodney swiped his own hand through the lube John had dripped on his stomach and reached down to take hold of John's cock. Rodney was really good with his hands. Three pulls, and the special little squeeze and twist that he used when he knew John was close, and it was all over. John came with a groan, spilling over Rodney's hand and onto his chest.
"Come on. Come on. So close," Rodney urged, after giving John only a few seconds to enjoy his own orgasm.
John lifted himself up one last time and came down hard. Rodney gave a cry and John could feel his cock swell and twitch as he came. John lay down on top of Rodney, and breathed deep the smell of Rodney and sex.
"Can't breathe here," Rodney said, pushing at his shoulder until John rolled off him, and Rodney's softened cock slipped out of him. John immediately draped himself over Rodney, tangling their legs together. "We're sticky," Rodney said finally, dragging a finger through the mixture of lube and come that was now smeared on both of them. "I can't sleep like this. I'll be disgusting in the morning." He slid out from under John and headed for the bathroom.
John flopped over onto his back, listening to the water running. Rodney came back with a wet cloth, rubbing briskly all over John's chest, and tenderly wiping his cock and his ass clean before throwing the cloth in the direction of the bathroom and climbing back into bed.
John wrapped himself around Rodney again, smiled against his chest, and fell asleep.
John woke up alone the next morning. That in itself wasn't surprising. No, the surprising thing was that he woke up alone in Rodney's bed. He never slept more than a couple of hours in Rodney's room; his internal sensor always woke him by 3 a.m. so he could get back to his own room unobserved. And if Rodney was up, that meant it had to be late. Rodney was so not a morning person. John wouldn't normally have slept through him leaving either.
Grabbing his clothes, John headed for Rodney's shower. He alternated between worrying at the fact that he'd actually slept in Rodney's bed and the fact that he'd slept late while he moved automatically through his morning routine. Finally deciding that he'd just been over-stressed by the events of the day before, he left the room without checking to see if the hall was empty first and almost ran into Lorne, who was walking by.
John started to tense up, seeing Lorne's eye slide to the side and identify whose room he'd come out of, obviously fresh from the shower, but Lorne merely smiled and said, "Good morning, sir," and kept on walking.
"Good morning, Major," John replied warily, but he fell into step with him, relieved when Lorne started talking easily about the day's duty roster as they made their way to the mess.
After breakfast John headed for his office to finish off the requisitions for the Daedalus' next run. Then there was a meeting to rehash the events of yesterday, which wasn't very useful because the scientists hadn't yet identified the cause of the sensor glitch. Then lunch, then a run to the mainland with Teyla. All in all, an ordinary day in Atlantis, John thought, as long as he didn't consider how it started.
"So, Teyla," John said as they exited the jumper, "are you up for the sparring session we missed yesterday?"
"Of course, Colonel. I will meet you in the gym in half an hour?"
"Great. See you then."
John went back to his quarters to change clothes, and made his way to the gym to meet Teyla, running through his warm-up routine before she arrived. Ten minutes later he was flat on his back.
"You are not concentrating," Teyla admonished him.
John didn't reply, getting himself back into position. This time it took only five minutes for Teyla to get the better of him. It wasn't his day. He tried again, and again.
"You're holding back," Ronon said briefly. John hadn't noticed his arrival in the room, since he really was trying to concentrate on not getting his ass kicked. When he looked up, Ronon was leaning casually against the wall by the door, watching them.
"What?" he panted.
"You have to go in no holds barred, or you can't win."
Oh, John thought, realizing that in the back of his mind he was still worrying over waking up in Rodney's bed and Lorne as good as catching him there, and so wasn't really giving all his attention to the fight. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the worry aside to be dealt with later and turned his attention back to Teyla. This time when the sticks clashed he held his own, pressing her back occasionally and not giving anywhere near as much ground himself. He still ended up on his back, but it took a lot longer, and Teyla was panting herself from the effort.
Ronon grinned at him. "Never said you would win if you did."
John grinned back. "Maybe we could take her two on one."
"Do you want to go again, Colonel?" Teyla asked innocently.
"I'm done, thanks," John replied with a wince. "Your turn." John waved Ronon over.
When he wanted not to think, John ran. It was tempting to take off and run himself into oblivion, but he resisted. Instead he headed back to his quarters to take a shower, his thoughts churning.
You're holding back. You have to go in no holds barred, or you can't win.
This was something he'd learned in the military when it came to combat situations, but he'd never applied it to his personal life.
Flying. That was the only thing he'd ever fully committed himself to.
He'd always held back, from relationships, from his job, from his life really. People died and people left and a little distance saved a lot of hurt. He'd learned that early on. But Ronon was right. Holding back wasn't safe. Holding back just guaranteed you'd lose, and sooner rather than later.
And maybe he had made that commitment to Atlantis. Not at first, no, but later. By the time the Wraith came. The suicide run was a pretty big clue.
Still deep in thought, John decided he'd get some dinner before going to look for Rodney, and he was on his way to the mess when he literally ran into Carson as he turned the corner by the transporter.
"Oh, Colonel," Carson said as they untangled themselves, "I wanted to say… Well, I'm sorry I was so abrupt with you yesterday. But as you're not Rodney's next of kin…"
Yes, I am.
John wasn't sure where that thought came from—maybe a bolt from the blue, maybe he'd just finally figured something out—but it felt right. He gave Carson a thump on the back as he passed him, headed now for Rodney's lab. "Thanks, Doc."
"For what?" Carson asked, but John just waved at him over his shoulder and kept going.
By some miracle, Rodney was alone in the lab. John stopped in the doorway to watch him for a minute, deeply engrossed, as usual, in what he was doing.
"I know you're there," Rodney said without turning around. "Did you bring coffee? Because coffee would be good." He reached out for the Ancient device he was studying, and turned to show it to John. "You wouldn't believe what this device we found—"
"Rodney!" John cut him off abruptly, and normally that would be good for a really aggrieved "What?" but something of what he was feeling must have shown in his face, and Rodney just looked at him with one eyebrow quirked.
John laughed. He felt like he was pulling out of a dive at 500 miles an hour, barely clearing the tops of the trees before he started to ascend again. He felt free.
John reached out an arm and Rodney started to walk into his embrace. John stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, then reached out for the other shoulder and tilted his head forward in the Athosian manner, letting his eyes fall shut. It felt like the longest seconds of his life, waiting to feel Rodney's hands grasp his shoulders in return and his forehead come to rest against John's.
John felt something inside himself settle, and he tightened his grip on Rodney until he was sure he must be leaving bruises. He took a deep breath and let it out, forcing himself to relax his hold.
He raised his head and waited for Rodney to meet his eyes.
"Marry me."