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John sank down on the grimy floor, his eyes locked on the door of the cell, and waited. The guards had come and taken McKay some time back, roughly an hour ago by his estimation, and he’d been able to do little but pace the tiny cell and wait. Eventually he’d grown tired of pacing and had sat, but his knee bounced in agitation. He was too well trained to allow his imagination to try to fill in the blanks about what was happening to McKay, but he couldn’t ignore the fear that was churning in his gut. He hated whenever any of his team were taken by hostiles but it was always worse when it was McKay. Teyla and Ford had had training, they knew how to take care of themselves, but McKay was different.
It wasn’t that John didn’t think that McKay could take care of himself - in the few short months that they’d been in Pegasus, he’d more than proved himself. He was braver than anyone back at the SGC had given him credit for, and he had saved their butts on more occasions already than John could count. It was the fact that he shouldn’t have to take care of himself. That was John’s job, not only as his team leader, but also as the Military Head of the expedition.
John had failed McKay already, numerous times, but most recently during the Genii incursion during the storm. He’d used every ounce of his training to take out every single one of the Genii invading force to prevent Atlantis from falling under Kolya’s reign, and yet he’d been unable to prevent McKay from being hurt. He’d already learned that McKay would bitch and moan about every little bruise and paper cut but it was bad when he went quiet. He’d walked around with a bandage he’d wrapped around his arm himself and hardly said a word about the injury beneath but John knew that it haunted him. McKay felt like he’d let them down after giving in to the torture, to telling Kolya about their plans to save the city, but no one blamed him. He was a civilian, with no training in how to withstand torture. John was simply glad that he’d given Kolya what he’d wanted before he’d inflicted even more damage.
And now, before the wound had even fully healed, they had found themselves in another bind. The Kinerians were supposedly a peaceful people, whom the Athosians had traded with several times in the past, but like many, they were very different towards the Atlanteans than they were to the natives of Pegasus. Oh, they’d appeared friendly enough, welcoming the team into their large village and offering them a meal before they began trade negotiations. It was then that it all went wrong. John and McKay had been separated from Teyla and Ford and he had no idea if they’d managed to escape or were being held somewhere else. They’d been thrown in a small cell beneath the meeting hall and as yet had not informed John of what they were after. When they’d come for McKay his request to be taken instead had been ignored and they’d dragged a kicking and complaining McKay off between two burly guards.
There was the sound of a heavy metal door opening and John scrambled to his feet and crossed to peer through the small window in the door that was covered with bars to see what was happening. He heard McKay before he saw him and something inside of him eased a little since McKay couldn’t be hurt too badly if he was still able to speak.
“Get back,” a guard ordered as he approached the cell and John followed the command, walking backwards until he was pressed against the damp stone wall beneath the single small window high overhead out of reach.
The door was opened and McKay was shoved unceremoniously inside, before it was slammed shut and the guards turned and walked away without another word. “Don’t expect a five star review!” McKay hollered after them.
John hurried to McKay’s side and grasped his arm. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Did they hurt you?”
McKay brusquely brushed himself down and shrugged but as he did so, his face caught the light from outside the cell and John could see several bruises forming. Anger welled up inside of him and he must have made some sort of noise since McKay was turning to him and holding up a hand to quiet him. “It’s not too bad,” he assured John, which only served to make him more worried. McKay caught his expression and grimaced. “Okay, so they were typical brutes who roughed me up a little but I got worse as a ten year old starting high school.”
“Did they say what they wanted?”
A shadow passed over McKay’s face. “I didn't give them what they wanted, if that’s what you’re implying,” he snapped, his whole body going rigid.
“McKay, that’s not what I meant at all,” he said. “I’m just wondering what info you were able to gain about why they’re holding us or if they’re working for somebody else.”
“You mean the Genii?”
John shrugged. “Given our track record with them, it seems the obvious conclusion.”
McKay sighed and he looked around the cell in distaste before choosing the comfiest looking corner to sit down in. “They honestly didn't give much away in between acting menacing and throwing punches.”
John’s eyes narrowed. Harming them to get information was one thing but this seemed more like intimidation tactics and the beginnings of torture. It sounded exactly like the sort of games that Kolya would play and John figured that he’d have to face the very real possibility much sooner than he’d wanted that his shot at Kolya hadn’t been a kill shot.
“I’m guessing they might be saving the questions for my next visit,” McKay added.
John growled. “Like hell I’m letting them take you again!”
McKay looked around the cell pointedly. “Given that we have no weapons, we’re out-manned and out-gunned, do you really think that you’ll have a choice, Major?”
“They can take me instead.”
“While I normally wouldn’t argue that I’m extremely valuable and should be protected at all costs, I would much rather that they took neither of us and we were rescued instead.”
John took the handful of steps that it took to cross the cell and he sat down next to McKay. “We both know that Elizabeth will try diplomacy before a rescue attempt, so we may need to rescue ourselves if that takes too long. Where did they take you? What was the lay of the land?”
It turned out that John didn’t have to fight to be taken instead of McKay the following time that the guards turned up as they’d come for him. McKay started to protest as John was dragged from the cell but a quick shake of his head cut him off and the last thing that John saw was McKay’s big, worried blue eyes.
He was taken down a long corridor and they turned right at the end as he expected after McKay’s run down. Three doors down on the left and he was taken into a large room that was straight out of a villain's lair in a Bond movie. There was a simple chair in the centre of the room, various chains and pulleys hanging from the roof, and a long table to one side that was empty except for a rolled up piece of leather. A tall, imposing man stood beyond the chair but otherwise the room was empty. John met and held the man’s eyes even as the guards manhandled him into the chair, projecting as best he could a confident demeanour. Once he was secured, the guards saluted at the man and then turned and left.
John remained silent, simply watching the man, who watched him back. After ten minutes of silence, he allowed his lips to curl up into a smirk, knowing that the man was trying to put him on edge with the silence. John and silence were old friends and if it wasn’t for the shackles around his wrists, he’d be quite comfortable.
A few more minutes passed and a flicker of irritation flashed across the man’s face as he still failed to put him on edge. John opened his mouth wide and very deliberately yawned, giving himself a mental high five as he saw the man’s jaw tighten at his insolence. His smirk turned into a shit eating grin, which may have gone too far because the man took a brisk three steps forward and landed a punch across John’s jaw.
His head snapped back and John could taste blood but he blanked his face into an emotionless mask and simply spit onto the floor.
“Your lack of cooperation will not do you any favours,” the man said in a quiet voice.
“Well if I had any idea about what I was supposed to be cooperating about,” John drawled, “or is this just how you treat all potential trading partners?”
“You are making this more difficult than it needs to be.”
John huffed out a breath. “Look, I don’t know who you are, if you’re with the Kinerians or if you’re working for somebody else, but all we did was come to trade with you, maybe make an ally against the Wraith. I don’t know what you want from me, but I can tell you that after you locked us away and beat up on my scientist, I’m really not in the mood to be cooperative.”
The man sneered and leaned down close to John, his rancid breath hot against John’s face. “I believe you will soon be more cooperative,” he spat, and then he was pulling away and walking towards the door, passing three huge men on his way out.
One of the men cracked his knuckles and grinned at John and he resigned himself to what was to come.
Rodney glared at the guards as they shoved Sheppard back into the cell and slammed the doors behind him and then hurried over to him as he staggered. “Jesus, what did they do to you, Major?” he demanded, taking in his battered appearance.
Sheppard grunted. “Apparently they don’t like it when you get mouthy.”
“Huh, well, I guess I’m screwed then.”
Sheppard barked out a laugh at that and then winced in pain and Rodney helped him over to their corner so they could sit down. “Can I have a look to see what the damage is?” he asked.
It was clear that Sheppard didn’t really want to be examined but he nodded anyway. Rodney gently lifted up his shirt, his lips thinning as he took in the extensive bruises already blooming across the major’s torso. He ran his hands over the damage, feeling for any breaks but luckily there didn’t seem to be any. “Are you having any trouble breathing?” he asked.
Sheppard shook his head. “No, I’m good.”
“Were they any more forthcoming with you about their nefarious intentions?”
“Nope,” Sheppard said, popping the p. “They want us to cooperate but he wouldn’t tell me what about.”
Rodney nodded. “It was much the same with me.” His stomach growled and Rodney scowled. ‘I wonder if we’ll get a meal to go with our five star accommodations?”
Sheppard dug into a pocket and pulled out a power bar. “They missed this when they were searching us,” he said, handing it over.
Rodney swallowed, touched by the gesture. He ripped open the bar and then broke off a small amount, then broke that further into two pieces, handing over one to Sheppard. “Just in case they don’t feed us, we’ll stretch it out as long as possible.”
Sheppard smiled at him, warm and genuine and Rodney felt his stomach give a little flutter. “Thanks, McKay.”
The flash of tongue as Sheppard popped the piece into his mouth went right to Rodney’s cock and he wondered if he’d been hit on the head when they were captured and he hadn’t realised. It seemed the only thing that would explain why he was getting turned on whilst being held captive. He quickly shoved his own piece into his mouth to distract himself and then looked around. There wasn’t anywhere in the cell to hide the power bar so Rodney wrapped it up as best he could and shoved it into one of his deeper pockets. Then he settled down to get as comfortable as possible on the cold, hard floor (which wasn’t very). Sheppard moved just slightly and suddenly their thighs were pressed together, warmth seeping through the touch.
Maybe this being captured thing wasn’t so bad after all?
When they came next to take McKay, John fought them with all he had. Unfortunately, it was nowhere near enough. He was already injured, weak from no food or water in over a day, sleep deprived, and weaponless. The guards were all in good health, carried heavy club-like weapons, and were built like brick shit houses. Sure, John managed to get in a few good punches, as well as a very satisfying elbow to one man’s face that broke his nose, but then he was taken down and kicked until he stayed down. All the while, McKay was yelling and cursing up a storm, fighting against the two guards who held him. As he was dragged away, one of the guards threw a look over his shoulder at John and smirked and he got the sinking feeling that he’d just made things a lot worse for his team mate.
After picking himself up off the floor and holding a hand to his gut, he managed to make his way over to the corner where they’d taken up residence. He slid down the wall to wait, and fought to keep his eyes open. It was suddenly much harder to do and he found himself jerking awake several times, eyes darting to the cell door. He’d lost track of how much time had passed when the door opened and McKay was shoved inside, falling like a dead weight onto the floor as he was out cold. John stared at the guards as they turned and left the room, not taking his eyes off of them until the door was closed. Only then did he scoot over to McKay, a hand going directly to his throat to check for a pulse.
Luckily there was one and he slumped a little in relief, before he began the onerous task of dragging McKay over into the corner with him. Once there, he slumped down, breathing hard, before he settled down, pressed close against McKay’s side.
It was over five minutes by his estimate before McKay regained consciousness, a fact that had him worried sick. Carson was always fussing over them even if they passed out for a few moments, and anything over a minute meant a date with an Ancient scanner to ensure that there was no lasting damage. He was going to have a fit when he learned how long McKay had been out for, and McKay was going to have just as big a fit when he got home only to have to spend the first few days in the infirmary.
McKay groaned and his eyes fluttered open and John tried to give him a smile. “Hey,” he said.
“Wha?” McKay mumbled.
“You back with me?”
McKay tried to sit up and groaned again. “Ow.”
“Yeah, you’re not in the best of shape,” John informed him, his eyes raking over the new scrapes and bruises from the latest beating.
“You don’t say.” McKay gave up trying to sit up straight and fell back against John, who lifted his arm and wrapped it around his shoulders. “Wassthat for?” McKay asked, slurring his words a little.
“Because it’s getting cold,” John said simply. He didn’t mention that he’d spent most of his nights since they’d come to Atlantis dreaming of holding McKay in a very non-platonic way. His little crush was his own business after all.
“Mmm, you’re warm,” McKay agreed, and snuggled in a little closer. “Ow,” he said again as he jostled his head.
“Try and get some sleep, okay.”
“Thought I wasn't supposed to sleep with a head injury?”
John chuckled. “You’re not up to date on the latest voodoo practices I see,” he teased. “It’s fine to sleep with a concussion, it’s actually advised.”
“Huh.”
“So try and get some rest. I’ll wake you in a little while to make sure that you’re okay.”
“What ‘bout you?” McKay asked around a yawn. “Must be tired too.”
“I’ll be okay for a bit. Gotta keep watch.”
“Like a guardian angel,” McKay murmured, his eyes already falling closed. They opened again as he corrected himself, “Or an avenging angel.” He nodded. “Yeah, that’s more accurate.” Then he closed his eyes once more and turned his face a little so John could feel his warm breath against his throat.
John huffed. “Trust me, if I get the chance, I’ll definitely be avenging you, Rodney. I won’t let them get away with hurting you.”
The only response was a soft snore.
John sat there for a while, listening to the sounds of McKay sleeping, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Eventually he couldn’t help it and they closed completely as he drifted off to sleep himself.
The sound of the door opening jolted Rodney awake at the same time as Sheppard woke and they sat bolt upright, knocking their heads together as they did so. A guard was in the doorway but he didn't enter, just bent over and threw a bowl onto the floor and placed a clay jug next to it before he slammed the door closed, the sound of the bolt sliding into place loud in the silence.
“Food?” Rodney asked hopefully.
Sheppard inched across the floor and retrieved the bowl and jug, his nose wrinkling as he observed the contents. “I suppose that’s one definition,” he drawled.
Rodney peered into the bowl as Sheppard sat back down next to him and he frowned. “Is that… gruel?”
“Looks like,” Sheppard said.
“But, I mean, who even makes gruel?”
“I’m guessing the chef at Casa Kinerian.”
“Oh, ha ha, very funny.” His stomach growled and Rodney reached out and swiped a finger through the lukewarm slop and sucked it clean before he could think twice about it. “Hmmm,” he said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sheppard asked.
“It’s kind of tasteless. Well, not quite - I assume it tastes a little like wet cardboard would.”
“Why didn't you let me taste it first?” Sheppard chided. “It could have had citrus in it.”
“That would imply that these people seasoned their gruel and we both know that that’s not something we should expect.”
Sheppard rolled his eyes. “Still, it’s a risk you shouldn’t have taken given that we don’t have an Epi-pen on us.” He picked up the jug and took a swig of water, making a show of swishing it around his mouth. “Water tastes okay.”
They shared the gruel, having to use their fingers since a spoon wasn’t provided. Rodney tried his hardest not to stare as Sheppard sucked his fingers into his mouth, not wanting to explain an erection in such close quarters. He concentrated on the bland, sloppy breakfast, unable to help but note that Sheppard made sure that Rodney ate more than he did. After thoroughly rinsing his mouth with water afterwards, Rodney settled back down against the wall and tried to get comfortable once more. The warmth that he’d felt from being pressed against Sheppard as they slept had faded and he wished that he could casually sit just as close now but he didn’t dare.
Time was meaningless in their cell.
They played Prime, Not Prime, and then a game of chess, both keeping track of their pieces in their minds. Rodney described a project that he was working on, and Sheppard told a funny story about how a marine got his boot stuck in a transporter and his subsequent freakout that his foot would be disintegrated. They shared a little more water, and another bite each of the power bar. They both awkwardly averted their eyes so they could relieve themselves in the opposite corner. Rodney shared a memory of his time in Siberia and how this was much more pleasant.
Time was meaningless.
Eventually Rodney drifted into a doze again, but it wasn’t long afterwards that he was startled awake by guards at the door once more. Rough hands gripped him and he was hoisted to his feet before being dragged towards the door.
“Hey, hey! Take me,” Sheppard yelled. “You bastards, take me!”
Rodney heard the sound of a blow, then a grunt, and then someone hitting the floor. Since his progress wasn’t halted and he heard the door slam closed behind them, he could only assume that it had been Sheppard.
John hated this, hated it with a passion. He felt so helpless, unable to keep one of his team, an untrained civilian safe. He’d paced for a short while but was forced to stop due to the pounding in his head from the blow that he’d taken. He’d set up sentry instead, watching the door with a hawk-like gaze, waiting for the moment that it would open and McKay would be returned.
He was a little surprised by how courageous and level-headed McKay was being given the circumstances. Sure, he’d been surprised in the past by McKay’s bravery - notable examples included the shadow creature when they’d first arrived and more recently during the storm and Genii invasion - but he’d expected more… complaining if he was honest. If there was one thing that McKay excelled at other than astrophysics and saving their asses with hare-brained plans, it was complaining. Any time that they were forced to walk more than a mile from the gate, or required to participate in a harvest festival or other ritual deemed necessary before they could trade, he expressed his displeasure loudly for one and all to hear. Being kept prisoner in a bare cell with no creature comforts and nothing to do seemed at first glance to be a perfect opportunity for him to wax lyrical to John about how inconvenient and dangerous the situation was. Sure, McKay had mouthed off a little to their captors but the rest of the time that they’d whiled away the hours, he’d been strangely pleasant.
He’d never admit it to anyone but John had actually enjoyed those parts of their capture. He and McKay had definitely been on the way to becoming fast friends prior to this interlude, but John felt like they’d grown much closer thanks to their time shared in the cell.
He didn’t have much more time to ponder on his friendship with McKay as he heard people approaching and soon enough, McKay was being shoved into the cell. John was on his feet and caught him before he could fall, and didn't bother demanding an explanation from the guards as he was pretty sure that one wouldn’t be any more forthcoming now than it had been the previous times. Once the door was shut, he helped McKay over to their corner and began his examination.
“‘m fine,” McKay mumbled, his voice slurred and his eyes unfocused.
John snorted. “Yeah, I don’t think so, buddy. Can you tell me where it hurts the most?”
“Head, shoulder… some other places.”
“Knees and toes?”
McKay huffed out a small laugh at that. “Knees always hurt, and toes are the only things that don't hurt right now.”
John squinted at his eyes, noticing that his pupils seemed a little uneven. “Well, I’m pretty sure that if you didn’t have one before, then you’ve definitely got a concussion now so maybe you should stop letting them hit that pretty head of yours.” His eyes went wide as he realised what he’d said and he snapped his jaw shut to keep anything else damning from slipping out.
Unfortunately, despite his head injury, McKay’s hearing was perfectly fine. “Y’think m’head’s pretty?” he asked, looking up at John who couldn't help but notice his stupidly long lashes.
He shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “I’ve always found intelligence attractive so I guess it’s more your brain that I find pretty.” Which was a big fat lie but sue him.
“Aww, you’ve got a nice brain too,” McKay said, his head lolling back on his shoulders and a crazy grin on his face. He almost seemed drunk and John was secretly worried about just how bad his concussion was.
“Thanks. Did you know that I aced the Mensa test?”
McKay’s eyes widened comically. “Really?”
John nodded. “Yup, but I didn’t end up joining.”
“Too cool for us geeks,” McKay said, nodding sagely and then wincing at the pain it caused.
“No, I just joined the Airforce geeks and put my math knowledge to use there.”
They fell silent for a while and then McKay said, “John?”
As far as he knew, it was the first time that McKay had called him by his first name.
“Yeah?” he replied, just as softly.
“Did you know… “
“Did I know what?” prompted John when McKay failed to elaborate.
“Did you know,” he began again, looking earnestly at John, “that I think I’m gonna throw up?”
“Oh.”
McKay lurched to the side and began to empty the meagre contents of his stomach onto the floor of the cell, and John simply rubbed soothing circles on his back. Once he was done, he pulled him close to his side, his arm wrapped around his shaking shoulders and guided McKay’s head to his shoulder. “Try and get some rest, okay.”
“‘kay. Thanks, John.”
“No worries, Rodney.”
Rodney woke again but this time it wasn’t because the guards had come to take one of them, but because of the pain in his shoulder. His arm had been wrenched cruelly behind his back during his last interrogation and he was sure that he’d come mighty close to dislocating the joint. He groaned and sat up a little, trying to stretch out his arm and felt John stir next to him.
“What’s wrong?” John asked.
“My shoulder really hurts,” Rodney said, not bothering to complain about his splitting headache or how the room seemed to spin occasionally.
“Scoot forward a little,” John instructed and Rodney didn’t even bother to ask why, simply putting his trust in his team leader. He was too tired and too sore to do anything else right now.
Then he yelped as John lifted his arm and began to maneuver the limb, rotating it around and checking for the range of movement. “Hmmm, it’s not dislocated and there’s no swelling or anything to indicate a sprain. I think it’s just a strain.”
“Doesn’t make it hurt any less,” Rodney grunted. He began to shift back against the wall but one of John’s hands on his back stopped him. Then his breath caught as his other hand joined in and he began to run his hands over Rodney’s back and shoulders. “Um, what are you doing?” he almost squeaked.
“I’m giving you a massage,” John said, as if it was an everyday occurrence.
“Um… why?”
“Because if we leave it too long, you’ll get even more knotted up and probably cause more damage. Besides, it’s not like we’ve got anything else to do to pass the time.”
Rodney really couldn’t argue with that so he didn’t, but he did wonder if he was hallucinating. Maybe he didn’t have a concussion but was in a coma? Surely he had to be dreaming. Hot, intelligent Airforce Majors didn’t just start putting their hands on snarky scientists every day, did they? God, he was never gonna be able to go back to his old fantasies about Samantha Carter now, not when he had this tucked away in his memory. John - and when had he started thinking of the Major as John? - had such warm, capable hands and slowly but surely they worked out the kinks in Rodney’s shoulders until he was almost sagging in relief.
“Feeling any better?”
Rodney almost moaned in reply but managed to keep it in at the last minute. John was still running his hands over him but it was almost a caress now, not working the muscles but simply maintaining contact. It felt nice, more than nice, and Rodney’s cock was beginning to sit up and take notice. He wanted John to drop his hands, move them lower, wrap them around his cock and stroke him until he was spilling over his fist. It was so vivid in his imagination that he could almost feel it, the way that the gun calluses on John’s fingers would create their own kind of friction on his shaft, the warmth of his palm, the long digits wrapping snuggly around him.
He didn’t realise that his eyes had fallen shut until his moan finally escaped his lips and they snapped open. He glanced down and saw that John’s hand actually was in his pants and he froze, his breath hitching.
“Is this okay?” John murmured close to his ear, sending goosebumps chasing one another down Rodney’s back.
He nodded. “Uh huh.” It wasn’t exactly a manly squeak.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” John admitted.
“But why?” Rodney asked before he gasped and cried, “Fuck, feels so good.”
“Why do I want you?” John asked. “Or why now?”
“Oh God, do that again,” he begged as John rubbed his thumb over his slit. “Both, why both.”
He felt more than saw John shrug in his periphery. “You’re everything I find attractive in someone - intelligent, funny, good looking, confident. As to why now?” He leaned in even closer and sucked Rodney’s earlobe into his mouth before letting it go and licking it once. “Why not? If we can take comfort from one another and make this less horrible for one another, then why not?”
His hand had sped up and suddenly Rodney was grunting, his cock twitching and jerking as he spurted over the back of John’s hand. Rodney slumped back against John, breathing hard and huffed out a short laugh. “Well, you don’t hear me complaining,” he said.
“I kinda like it when you complain.”
Rodney snorted. “Yeah right.”
“No, I do,” John insisted. “Okay, so maybe I wouldn’t like it so much during sex, but I find your complaints kinda soothing.”
Rodney twisted so he could peer over his shoulder. “Are you delusional?”
John’s lips twitched a little as he gave a short shake of his head. “When you’re complaining about how dumb your scientists are, or how dumb my marines are, how many bugs there are, how hot it is, how far the walk to the gate is - all those little things, I know that everything is actually okay. When there’s an emergency, sure, you might spend a moment or two detailing how gruesome our deaths are gonna be, but you get over that pretty quickly and get down to business, saving our asses. That bit I find extremely hot.”
Rodney felt himself blushing. “You think I’m hot?”
John rolled his eyes and then tilted his hips up so Rodney could feel his erection against his lower back. “You’re a scientist, Rodney - form a conclusion based on the evidence at hand.”
He maneuvered himself around so he wasn’t contorting his back so much and dropped his hand until he was palming John through his BDUs. “Now that the evidence really is at hand, I concur with your findings.” His voice came out a little more husky than usual and even in the dim light of the cell, he could see John’s pupils dilate at that.
“Oh man, your geek talk is so sexy,” John gasped as Rodney worked his zipper open so he could get his hands on him properly.
“That’s simultaneously the sexiest and weirdest thing that anyone has ever said to me.”
John tried to glare at him but Rodney ignored him and bent down, licking over the head of his cock and causing John to cry out. It had been a long time since Rodney had given anyone a blow job but he wasn’t a genius for nothing and it all came back to him pretty quickly. He sucked and licked and tongued his way over John’s cock and it took hardly any time at all for John to come, spurting hot and bitter into Rodney’s mouth.
They cleaned themselves off and tucked themselves away, then sat down, pressed against each other once more. “So,” Rodney said, after they’d sat in silence for a few minutes, “you really think I’m hot?”
John batted at his arm, but couldn’t keep the smile off of his face and Rodney couldn’t help it, he leaned in and kissed him sweetly. John hummed in appreciation and kissed him back and they passed the next several minutes trading soft kisses.
When they did break apart, John cupped Rodney’s face and asked, “How’s the head?”
He shrugged. “Still pounding but at least I can talk in complete sentences now.”
“Carson’s gonna have a field day with us when we get back,” John said with a sigh.
“If we get back,” Rodney said bitterly.
“Hey, stop that,” John admonished. “We’re gonna get out of here, Rodney. We’ve just got to hang on. They’re going to come for us.”
Rodney nodded but didn't admit how much it worried him that John seemed to have given up on the two of them escaping and was now relying on a rescue. Neither of them had been able to see a way out during their short trips from their cell and the number of guards that the Kinerians had made it impossible for them to fight their way out. They had no option but to wait out a rescue from Atlantis.
They heard the dull clang of the outer door to the cell area opening and they both stiffened, wondering which of them would be taken this time. The door to their cell opened but instead of guards entering to drag one of them away, it was a solitary guard with another bowl of gruel and a jug of water. He slid it across the floor and then he tossed them a blanket that had been draped over his arm. “Gonna get cold tonight,” he told them and then he turned and slammed the door behind him.
Rodney’s stomach grumbled, despite how unappetising the gruel was and he found himself longing for tava beans and even Teyla’s disastrous Tuttle Root soup. He couldn’t wait to get home.
John lay on his side, one arm slung over Rodney, his head at a weird angle because they didn't have a pillow, and the thin blanket thrown over the both of them. Rodney was shivering against him but had finally fallen asleep and John trailed his fingers lightly over his hip. He couldn’t believe that he’d finally taken a chance and made a move on him. Of course, the timing could have been better - hitting on someone when you’re both injured and being held captive wasn’t exactly romcom material, but hey, Rodney had seemed receptive. John couldn’t wait until they were back in Atlantis, where they could explore each other on a real bed (even a tiny, uncomfortable Ancient one), without the stress and fear of when the guards would come for them next.
He knew that Rodney wasn’t as confident when it came to interpersonal relationships as he was when it came to science. He was self-conscious, unsure, and questioned his self worth. John may not have the best record when it came to relationships himself but he swore that he would do everything in his power to make Rodney realise how damn amazing he was.
Rodney shivered even harder and John pressed himself as close as possible, trying to share his own body warmth. It was worrying - Rodney always ran hot and given that he was feeling the cold more so than John was, indicated that his head injury was probably worse than they thought. The sooner they got back to Atlantis and Carson’s infirmary, the better.
At some point John fell asleep because he was rudely awakened by the guards entering the room. He was dragged to his feet, torn away from Rodney, and then taken away to the chamber that he was regularly taken to. The same man was there again as usual, watching impassively as John was tied to the chair.
Once the guards had left them alone, John hitched an eyebrow at the man. “So, are you finally going to tell me what you want today? Or are we going to keep playing the same old game.”
The man regarded him steadily. “You know what I want.”
“I really don’t,” John fired back. “Look, why don’t you start by telling me your name. I assume you have one of those.”
No answer.
“Fine, I think I’m going to call you Chad - that’s a suitable name for a douchebag like you.”
Though Chad didn’t understand the term, he obviously recognised it as an insult and he stepped into John’s space and backhanded him across the jaw. “Your insolence will do you no favours here. Your cooperation will however.”
“How the hell am I supposed to cooperate when I don’t know what you want?” John snapped, spitting blood.
“Your lies begin to tire me.”
“Well maybe you should take a nap, it might make you a little more cheerful.”
Chad shook his head, then walked over to the table and unrolled the piece of leather that lay upon it. Metal glinted in the overhead light and John swallowed as he recognised instruments of torture. He’d faced worse in the past and he knew that no matter how much it hurt, he wouldn’t tell this man anything. Not that he knew what the fuck he even wanted.
He stuck his jaw out in obstinance and glared at Chad, who smirked and walked to the door, knocking on it once. The door opened and he told the guard, “Bring him in.”
John watched in horror as the guard dragged in Rodney, who was tied up and gagged, his eyes wide in horror. Realisation dawned on him that the instruments weren’t meant for him and he began to struggle in the chair, fighting against his bonds. “No, don’t you touch him, you fucker, leave him alone!”
“Tell me what I want to know and you have my word that he will not be harmed,” Chad said.
“I don’t know what you want!” John screamed.
“Yes, you do.”
“For crying out loud, how many times do I have to say it? I. Don’t. Know. What. You. Want.”
The guards had attached Rodney’s bound hands to a hook hanging from the ceiling and he was wrenched upwards. John heard his muffled cry of pain through his gag as his shoulders bore the full weight of his body as he thrashed around, attempting to break free but simply hurting himself more.
“Let’s see how long it takes you to change your mind,” Chad said, and picked up a cruel looking knife.
Over the next hour, John screamed himself hoarse as he watched Chad torture Rodney, unable to do anything but bear witness. By the time he was finished, Chad was sweating and covered in Rodney’s blood, and Rodney was hanging limply from the hook, having passed out after Chad had one of the guards smash several of his fingers on his left hand with a hammer. John was bleeding too, he could feel it running down over his hands from where he’d rubbed his wrists raw trying to break free. His face was streaked with tears but inside rage was bubbling over. The second that he got a chance, he was going to kill Chad with his bare hands.
As Chad picked up a rag and wiped off his hands, there was a knock at the door and it opened to reveal a different guard. “Your Excellency,” he addressed Chad.
“What is it?” Chad barked.
“The leader of their people has arrived through the Ring of the Ancestors and she is requesting an audience with you.”
“Is she now?” he asked, throwing John an amused smile. “Well, by all means, show her to the Meeting Hall.” The guard nodded and left and Chad crossed to John and gripped his hair, yanking his head back harshly. “Luckily for your friend, we’ll have to stop here for today. I want you to think about the consequences of your actions, of not cooperating. Tomorrow will be worse for him if you don’t.”
John didn't bother repeating himself, knowing that Chad wasn’t going to listen. If he didn't believe him by now, he wasn’t going to believe him at all.
Chad left the room and then guards came and untied John and pulled Rodney down from the hook and they were escorted back to their cell. The door closed behind them and John cradled Rodney in his arms, covering himself in his blood as he did so. He couldn’t help a tear that slid down his cheek, mostly because of his sheer helplessness. He hadn’t been able to stop them from hurting Rodney, hadn’t been able to save him and now he was broken and bloody.
He allowed himself a minute to wallow before he began to pull himself together, building his walls up again and locking away his fear and frustration. He couldn’t afford to be John right now, he had to be Major Sheppard, Military Commander of Atlantis. Rodney needed him to be strong and so he was going to be strong, dammit.
He heard the outer door open and then a face appeared at the small window of the cell. John squinted and saw that it was the guard from yesterday who had given them a blanket. He looked nervous, like he wasn’t supposed to be there, and to confirm this, he held his finger up to his lips to beg for John’s silence. John simply stayed where he was, watching. The guard began to drop items through the bars so they dropped onto the floor, and then when he was done, he disappeared without another sound.
When John heard the outer door close, he got to his feet and crossed the cell, examining the items. He found several bandages and a pot of strong smelling ointment that he recognised as an antiseptic cream that the Athosians traded for, several bread rolls, and a couple of pieces of dried meat. He wasn’t sure why the guard was being so nice but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth either. He placed the food to one side and then gathered up the bandages and the cream and took them over to where Rodney was slumped against the wall.
Being as gentle as possible, John used a little of their precious water to wet one of the bandages and began to clean up Rodney’s injuries. He had several deep cuts to his stomach and ribs, a burn on his right thigh, and then of course there was the mess of his left hand. John winced in sympathy having broken a finger or two over the years and knowing how much it hurt. He managed to tear a bandage in half and he used one half to form a pad to cushion Rodney’s fingers, and then the other half to wrap his hand. He then wrapped the other injuries as best he could and applied the antiseptic cream to his smaller cuts and scrapes. Once he was done, he bundled Rodney up in the blanket and scooted behind him, holding him cradled in the V of his legs, whispering comforting words and pressing the occasional kiss to his hairline.
It was a long afternoon and night, with Rodney coming in and out of consciousness. John would have been more worried about that but with how much pain that he had to be in, he honestly felt that it was better for Rodney when he was passed out.
He nibbled on one of the bread rolls and a piece of jerky, dozing off every now and then, but mostly, John simply stared at the door, wondering how much luck Elizabeth was having negotiating their release. Was Chad giving her any further information than he’d given John? Or was he simply making inexplicable demands? How long would Elizabeth try diplomatically to have them released before she gave Bates the order to break them out by force? Did Elizabeth’s arrival mean that Ford and Teyla had made it back safely to Atlantis?
The faint light of dawn spilled through their solitary window high up in the wall and John heard the outer door open once more. He got to his feet, leaning Rodney up against the wall as gently as possible and just managed to get between him and the door when it opened. John got into a fighting stance, refusing to go without a fight this time, but there appeared to be no need. The same guard was back, with more gruel and water for them, and he placed it on the ground just like usual. His eyes lingered on what he could see of Rodney and he asked quietly, “Is he okay?”
John wanted to snap, to scream and yell that of course he wasn’t okay, that he’d been tortured and beaten and needed medical assistance immediately but he held his tongue. The guard was their only lifeline in this stinking place and John needed to ensure that he maximised that advantage. “He’s in pretty bad shape,” he said, “but the supplies you left helped. Thank you.”
The guard darted a look over his shoulder, ensuring that he wasn’t being observed speaking to the prisoners. “Sorry that I cannot do more.”
“That’s okay, I get it,” John assured him. “I’m grateful for what you’ve done. What’s your name? I’m John, and this is Rodney.”
“Tollen,” the guard said.
“Thank you for your help, Tollen.”
Tollen nodded and then jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I should go.”
Before John could say anything else, Tollen was gone, the door locking behind him, leaving them alone once more. He sighed, and gathered the food and water. When he turned around, he found Rodney’s eyes were open and he was watching John listlessly. “Hey,” he said gently, kneeling down in front of him.
“I’m guessing from how much it hurts, that wasn’t just a horrible dream?” Rodney croaked.
John frowned. “No, I’m sorry.”
Rodney waved off his apology and tried to sit himself up a little more. John helped him, then sat next to him and took hold of his hand. “Elizabeth is here,” he said and then filled Rodney in on what had happened over the past twelve or so hours.
“Huh. I hope she’s safe.”
“I’m sure she is. She’s smart enough to have brought a big security detail with her.”
“Are you okay?”
John chuckled in disbelief. “Seriously? You’re asking me that?”
“I know it’s uncharacteristic of me to care about anyone else,” Rodney started but John cut him off.
“No, it’s not uncharacteristic at all. You care more deeply than anyone I know, you just aren’t very good at expressing it.” He leaned in and kissed Rodney’s temple. “I’m fine, you don’t have to worry about me, okay. Now, do you think you could eat anything?”
Rodney didn’t know how much time had passed when a familiar face appeared as the door swung open. Elizabeth looked outwardly composed as she took in their appearance but Rodney had seen the tightening around her eyes and thinning of her lips and knew that she was pissed. She turned to the man who was the one that both he and John had seen in the torture room as he’d dubbed it, and arched a brow at him. “I don’t understand why the Kinerians believe that we’d cooperate with you when this is how you treat our people, Chancellor Jowlett.”
Jowlett held his arms wide in supplication. “Forgive me, Doctor Weir but your people are in excellent health. They are fed and watered and have been well cared for during their stay with us.”
Elizabeth gave him her diplomatic stink eye and Rodney felt a vindictive thrill go through him as Jowlett flinched back from it. “I beg to differ, Chancellor. In our society, prisoners are treated with more respect than this.” Her eyes fell on Rodney’s bandaged hand. “They are certainly not tortured.”
“The sooner that your people cooperate with us and give us the information that we desire, the sooner they will be returned to you.”
“If you want any sort of amicable relationship with Atlantis in the future, you will release them this instant.”
Jowlett’s expression hardened. “I think not, Doctor Weir. You asked for proof of life and I have given it. Nothing else was agreed upon so I suggest that we resume our negotiations.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You seek information that we do not have.”
“I find that hard to believe. You of all people should know where Acastus Kolya has gone.”
Rodney and John exchanged a surprised look and John said, “Wait, you’re after the Genii? I thought that you were working with them!”
Jowlett sneered. “The Genii dogs have betrayed our people one too many times. We would never work with them!”
“What the hell?” Rodney snapped. “You’re enemies with the Genii as well? Why the hell are you fighting us! We could be allies!”
“My sentiments exactly,” Elizabeth agreed. “Well, they were until I saw how you treat your prisoners.”
“Enough!” Jowlett commanded. “Doctor Weir, we shall resume our talks in the meeting hall.”
“My people -”
“Will be treated with the respect that you so desire,” Jowlett assured her, and then ushered her out before she could say anything else. She threw a glance back at the two of them and Rodney knew that she was making a silent promise to get them out, no matter what it took.
“Why do I have a feeling that things are going to go horribly bad for us now?” John asked as the footsteps faded away.
Rodney glared at him. “Really? Did you really have to say that?”
John just gave him a pointed look. “Do you disagree.”
Rodney’s shoulders slumped. “No, not at all. Jowlett is as hinky as they come.”
“Hinky?”
“Oh, shut up, you know what I mean.”
John nodded. “Yeah, I do. In my head, I’ve been calling him Chad.”
“Well, that’s an insult to all of the Chads out there,” Rodney muttered.
“Have you ever met a Chad who wasn’t a douche?” John asked.
“I can honestly say that I don’t think that I’ve ever met anyone called Chad.”
“I’m going to take a guess and say that you probably have, but you never bothered to find out their name, or remember it if they told you.”
Rodney tilted his head and then nodded. “Okay, that’s fair.”
“Look, I’ve met a few Chads in my days and they have exclusively been untrustworthy dicks. That man has something else in store for us, mark my words.”
Unfortunately, John turned out to be right. It was only a couple of hours later that they were both dragged from their cell once again only for their roles to be reversed. Rodney was tied to the chair and John was the one dangling from the ceiling. Rodney tried to keep his horrified panic under control by concentrating on the small slither of skin that he could see from where John’s shirt was riding up.
It was working too until the door opened and Jowlett walked in, a displeased expression on his face. “It would appear that your leader does not value your lives,” he told them. “She has so far refused to disclose any information that you have in regards to the whereabouts of your allies.”
“We’re not allies with the Genii,” John spat, glaring at Jowlett. “The last we saw of them, we’d fought off an invading force of theirs and I put a bullet in Kolya’s shoulder.”
“An easy enough assertion to make, but if you were truly enemies with the Genii, then you would tell us where to find Kolya.”
“Don’t you think that if I knew where that piece of crap was hiding out that I’d have found him and killed him by now?” John demanded.
“Your people are a stubborn lot, I’ll give you that,” Jowlett said and then he crossed to the table. “Let’s see if we can change your minds.”
John went utterly still, watching Jowlett as if he were a venomous snake, poised to strike, but Rodney began rocking back and forth on his chair, moving it in tiny increments across the floor as he tried to get himself in between the two men so he could protect John. Jowlett simply laughed in his face and with one shove, pushed Rodney over sideways, sending him crashing to the ground. He picked up a blade and told Rodney, “Enjoy the show,” before he got to work.
Rodney yelled and swore and begged and pleaded but nothing he did stopped the Kinerian. He fought his bonds, ignoring the sharp pain on his wrist that he assumed was the ropes cutting into his flesh. He watched as John stoically took the first few slashes to his torso but eventually the pain became unbearable and he began to cry out each time despite his best attempts not to. Rodney stopped talking to Jowlett and directed his words at John instead, assuring him that they’d get through this, that he was here, that he wasn’t leaving him. Towards the end, when John’s skin had gone pale from blood loss and his head lolled on his shoulders with his eyes looking unseeing at Rodney, his voice grew soft and he assured John that if this was the end, then they’d face it together.
Eventually, Jowlett called the guards in and John was cut down, his limp body being carried from the room. Another two guards picked Rodney up from the floor and untied him, then marched him towards his cell. As he left the room, he caught Jowlett’s considering look and he wondered if the man was only just beginning to realise that they’d been telling the truth the whole time.
Once the cell door had closed behind him, Rodney gathered John into his arms and held him close, trying unsuccessfully to stem some of the bleeding. When he finally realised that he was having no luck, despair overwhelmed him and he began to sob, begging John not to leave him, that he wanted, no, needed more time with him.
The door opened behind him but Rodney didn't bother to look up to see who it was. He felt more than saw someone moving around him and then a guard was crouching down next to him, a bundle of cloth in his hands. “Go away,” Rodney whispered, knowing that John wouldn’t want an audience for his death.
“I have bought bandages,” the guard whispered, holding the bundle out to him.
“It won’t help,” Rodney said brokenly. “He’s dying.” He reached up to wipe away the fresh tears that were falling down his face and flinched as his arm was grasped by the guard.
“What is this?” the guard asked, almost in awe. “You are Bonded?”
Rodney frowned. “Excuse me?”
The man turned Rodney’s arm and pointed at a mark that had appeared on his wrist.
It looked like a tattoo of a labyrinthine maze and Rodney stared at it dumbly, wondering where it had come from. “What have you done to me?” he finally asked.
“Done to you? We have not done anything to you,” the guard told him. He reached over and took hold of John’s arm, ignoring Rodney’s protest and then showed him the same mark on John’s wrist. “It is the Bonding mark.”
“I don’t know what that is.” Rodney felt numb, simply wanting this man to go away.
“You are Bonded,” the guard repeated.
“I don’t know what that is!” Rodney snapped again.
The guard gave him a sympathetic look. “You and this man are Soul Bonded, meaning that you have formed ties with one another that can never be broken. The Soul Bond is rare, so rare that it is cherished and celebrated amongst my people and those of planets beyond the Ring of the Ancestors.”
“Well, whoopee for us,” Rodney said snidely. “Fat lot of good it’s doing us here.”
The guard shook his head. “If the people found out that the Chancellor had held a pair of Bonded, our people would revolt.” He seemed to come to a decision and then he stood. “Stay here, I shall return shortly.”
“Yep, because I was planning on going for a romp across the countryside!” Rodney yelled after his retreating back.
Once he was alone with John, he lifted John’s wrist and examined the mark there. At a glance it looked exactly like the one on his own wrist and he wondered how much truth there was in the guard’s tale. He lifted John’s wrist to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the mark, saying a silent prayer to every god that he’d never believed in that John would make it through this. Given that John’s skin was cool and clammy, and was taking on a terrible grey shade, he knew that it was pointless. John was not long for this world but at least he wouldn't be alone. Rodney would be with him at the end.
“Thank you for being my friend,” Rodney whispered against John’s wrist, cupping his face with John’s hand. “Thank you for seeing me for who I am and not how I project to the world. You’ll never know how much I love you, and I’m sorry I never told you. I think I fell in love with you the moment I saw you sitting in the chair in Antarctica and really, how silly is that? I know you probably would have laughed in my face if I’d said anything back then, but maybe I should have said something recently? After the storm for sure. I don't think you would have laughed then, I think you might have even said it back to me.” He kissed the mark on John’s wrist again, almost absently, feeling the warm skin beneath his lips. “I don’t know how I’m going to go on without you. I know we’ll all struggle, but I know it’s going to be hardest for me. How selfish is that? But it’s true. No one really knew you the way I did, no one appreciated you the way I did. They all hero worship you, sure, but I think I was the only one who got a glimpse of the real you.” A half sob, half laugh escaped him as even more tears streamed down his face. “You are the biggest dork, you know that? And that made me love you even more. Who am I going to watch old episodes of Doctor Who with now? Who will play chess with me? Who will I explore the city with and trade insults with? God, John, I don’t want you to leave me, please don’t leave me.” He began to sob in earnest now, his whole body wracking with them, and he held John even tighter against him, too scared to see if he’d passed yet or not. He knew that he’d continue to hold him long after he’d taken his final breath and until Rodney looked to see when that was, the longer he could put off the inevitable.
He cried until he thought he’d run out of tears, and then he cried some more, dropping kisses to John’s wrist that was still laying against his face and murmuring words of love and comfort. He heard the door open behind him and he curled over John’s body protectively, refusing to be separated from him. Someone knelt down next to him, and he heard the guard from before say, “Come, we must go now.”
“I’m not leaving him!” Rodney cried.
The guard sounded confused. “I would not expect you to.”
“Please, let him die with some dignity, please,” he begged.
“He is not going to die,” the guard told him gently.
Rodney squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, much like he’d done as a child. “I’ve seen too many people die to not know the signs.”
A hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “He is not dying. Look,” the guard urged.
Rodney finally opened his eyes and allowed himself to look at John, startling as he saw that John’s eyes were open and he was gazing up at Rodney with soft eyes. “John?” he asked.
“Hey, Rodney,” John murmured. He looked to the guard and said, "Hello, Tollen."
“I don’t understand,” Rodney said. “You were a breath away from dying.”
The guard, Tollen apparently, huffed and gestured at their wrists. “The Bond!”
“What about it?”
“It allows you to share your life force when needed.”
“What? How?”
“We don’t have time for this,” Tollen said urgently. “We must go!”
Rodney finally looked around the room and saw several other guards surrounding them. Unlike before, they were no longer looking menacing but awed. “What’s going on?”
“We will get you to your Doctor Weir but we must leave now. Please, we must hurry.”
Rodney exchanged a glance with John, who shrugged, indicating that he thought that it couldn’t hurt. Rodney allowed himself to be helped up by Tollen and then he pulled John up after him, wrapping an arm around his waist to support him. Their Bond may have saved John from dying but he was still weak and couldn't walk unaided.
They moved down the hallway, two of the guards scouting the way and another two bringing up the rear. They stopped several times, ducking into different rooms and staying silent as a patrol passed, but their new friends seemed to know the routines and they avoided coming across anyone who would challenge them. Finally they slipped through a large wooden door in a stone wall and they found themselves outside the wall of the village. The underground complex was bigger than it had appeared and spread much further than the confines of the meeting hall.
There was a noise from the trees nearby and they all looked over to see Ford and Bates emerging from the forest, guns raised. Behind them was Elizabeth.
“Please, you must get to the Ring of the Ancestors and leave this place,” Tollen told Elizabeth.
She inclined her head. “Thank you for your help in freeing my people. Are you sure that you do not require assistance?”
He shook his head. “There are enough of us to spread the word about what Chancellor Jowlett has done that we shall soon have a force to rival his own.”
“If you’re sure.” She nodded to the rest of the marines and they hurried forward and pulled John from Rodney’s grasp, settling him onto a stretcher that they’d brought, and then they guided Rodney onto another. He was too tired to protest and he kept his eyes closed as they hurried to the gate, ignoring the way the world swung alarmingly as he was carried. When he heard the gate activate and the wormhole engage, he almost cried in relief but then they were stepping through and a moment later they were home, in Atlantis, and he decided that he’d been strong enough for one night and he allowed himself to pass out.
John sat by Rodney’s bedside, his hand curled around Rodney’s wrist, his thumb brushing gently over the Soul Mark. He’d been sceptical at first when he’d been filled in about what it had meant but then Teyla had confirmed their existence, surprised that they’d never heard of such a thing.
“It is rare,” she’d explained, “but all in Pegasus know of the power of the Soul Bond.”
Beckett had run a multitude of scans and confirmed that there had been changes to their baseline DNA and Zelenka had managed to dig something up about it from the Ancient database. It turned out that it was a throwback from an Ancient experiment that had been abandoned, one meant to allow a loved one to reverse the effects of a Wraith feeding. It had never been that effective and so it had been abandoned but over the years its effects showed up with those with the gene from time to time, allowing one partner to help heal the other of all injuries. As to why it only activated in times of stress and trauma, no one yet knew, but John was sure that Rodney would begin researching and experimenting as soon as he was released from the infirmary.
Their Bond had saved John’s life, and had reduced the severity of Rodney’s concussion, but Carson had told them that they were both staying in the infirmary for at least two days so he could observe them. John made sure to skirt the rules as much as he could - sure, he never left the infirmary, but he rarely spent any time in his own bed. Rodney slept often as part of his recovery and John would sit by his bedside, holding his hand, stroking his Mark.
Bates had appeared uncomfortable when he’d come across them like that but even he could see that whatever the Bond was, it trumped something as petty and insignificant as Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. John was Bonded to Rodney now and he sure as shit wasn’t going to hide it. If they ever made contact with Earth again and he was booted from the military, well, he was pretty sure that Elizabeth could make use of his skills as a civilian.
Rodney’s hand twitched and John looked up to see that he was waking up. “Hey there, sleepy head,” he said, leaning down to brush a kiss over his lips. “How’re you feeling?”
Rodney yawned and then gave John a sleepy smile. “Better. Have you moved at all since I fell asleep?”
John shook his head. “Nope.”
Rodney blushed at that and John pressed yet another kiss to the Mark on his wrist. He simply couldn’t get enough of it, his lips seeking it out often. “So, uh, any news on when we can get out of here?”
“Carson says in the morning if our latest scans come back okay.”
“I suppose that you’ll have to get used to not watching me sleep once we’re out then.”
“Oh, and why is that?” John asked.
Rodney began to bluster, stammering out explanations about sneaking through the hallways at night, people seeing them, and the ramifications of them getting caught.
John just smiled, thinking about how he’d already had Bates move all of his stuff into Rodney’s quarters that afternoon and then he cut off Rodney with a kiss to his lips. “Rodney, don’t worry, okay. We’re Bonded now. No one is ever keeping us apart.”
Rodney looked up at him with a vulnerability that John had rarely seen on him. “Promise.”
He lifted his wrist to his lips once more, kissing the Mark and said, “Promise.”