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wickedwordsFrom Part One
John said good-bye to the rest of the collaborators, a little puzzled on why Rodney had never returned. He could hear music coming faintly from the library, though, along with laughter and the Carson's occasional high-pitched squeal. Ronon was lounging around outside of the room, and glanced over at John. His look clearly said "You have no idea what you've gotten into."
"What is it? What's going on?"
"Fun." Ronon hitched a thumb at the library door. "Your McKay could make whole nations tumble, I bet." Ronon patted John's shoulder in passing. "I gotta check on dinner. Tell McKay I liked the music."
The library door was open a crack, so Ronon could watch; John jerked it the rest of the way open, staring at the sight of the whole group lined up in two rows, following Rodney's lead. "You're teaching them the time warp?"
"Among other things, yes," Rodney said, as they wound through the furniture. "This isn't the time warp, though. This is the cha-cha." He gave a wiggle, throwing his head back, and John felt himself blush. "Come on," Rodney said, grabbing John's wrist and tugging. "Sounds like I need to teach you a thing or two, along with the rest of 'em."
"I'm not. I can't--" John was going to say he couldn't dance, but not thirty seconds after he'd opened the door, Rodney had him joining in on a conga line.
For one brief instant, it was perfect--Rodney's hands on his waist, the two of them swaying to the music together, and John smiled, twisting around to catch Rodney's eye.
God, Rodney was gorgeous, and with that thought, John knew he was in over his head. They all were. And Elizabeth had just been here a few days ago, telling them that the money was running out. He felt a knot form in his stomach. He knew he hadn't been working as hard as he should have, but it looked like everyone was in the same boat. He pulled himself away and walked to the CD player, turning it off.
"Hey!" Rodney said, stalking over.
John stood in front of him, blocking access to the CD player, and crossed his arms determinedly. He had to get this over with quickly, like pulling off a band-aid. "Would you mind leaving the room, McKay?"
"We were just having a little fun. You have something against that?" Rodney said, hurt creeping into his voice, his eyes betraying his confusion; his eyes hardened at whatever look was on John's face. "Oh."
John cleared his throat, glancing down at the carpet and then back to Rodney again. "The group and I need to have a private conference. So would mind leaving, please?"
"Fine." Rodney rolled his eyes, and sauntered across the room. "Get whatever it is out of your system. I'll be in the kitchen."
"Now, if everyone can show me what they have written in the past three days--"
***
As Rodney headed toward the kitchen, he heard someone knocking on the terrace door. Ronon wasn't around, and Rodney headed cautiously toward the door, catching sight of Kavanagh's distinctive outline through the door's window.
"It's about time," Rodney said, darting through the door and closing it quietly behind him. "I thought you'd forgotten where you'd parked me." Furious, voice low and quiet, Rodney jerked his head at the door. "You left me on the doorstep, just like a baby in a basket. It was going to only be for one night," Rodney said, sticking his index finger in the air.
"Now sugar--" Kavanagh said, and Rodney stiffened.
"You don't get to pull that 'sugar' stuff. I only let Cowen do that, and he isn't here. So you wanna tell me what's going on?"
"Fact is," Kolya said, "you're hot and it's getting hotter. Police are working to get this whole town sealed up, have the feds out here and everything." He glanced at Kavanagh. "There's even a grand jury getting involved, talking about political corruption.
"That's insane."
"Yeah, but it's an election year, so they want to look like they're trying to clean house." Kolya smiled, and Rodney swallowed hard. "And you, McKay, are the key to their whole plan. Without you, they ain't got nothin'."
"Wait here. I'll grab my things and be out in two seconds flat."
"Just a sec. We got a surprise for you," Kavanagh said and smiled.
"You aren't leaving, not yet." Kolya grabbed Rodney's arm.
"I'm not?" Rodney could feel his heart racing. "Cowen's out, isn't he? And, uh, he still wants me to stay with him, right?"
"Right now, he wants you to stay here."
"Okay, see, that's not going to work--"
"Give him the treat." Kolya lounged against the wall of the house, but his eyes never left Rodney's face, and Rodney could feel himself starting to sweat.
"What treat?"
"Put on your sunglasses, McKay," Kavanagh said, bringing out a small jewelry box. "The boss wanted to make sure you knew you were special." He flipped open the lid, and Rodney felt his mouth drop open. That was the biggest diamond he'd ever seen.
"It's worth 10K. Your daddy's taking care of you."
Ignoring the comment, Rodney couldn't help taking the ring out of the box and putting it on. "Cowen didn't have to bribe me."
"It's not a bribe," Kolya said.
"It's an engagement ring."
"An engagement ring?" Rodney glanced up at the two of them.
"Sure." Kolya straightened upright. "You're from Canada, right?"
"So? Cowen made sure it was legal for me to be here."
"The boss figures the two of you get married, and it'll take forever to sort out whether you can testify against him or not."
Shaking his head, Rodney stared at the ring. "It takes the DA to finally get him to ask me. But who cares? It's results that count, right? And this is gonna to kill my dad when he finds out."
"This goes with it." Kavanagh held out a large black backpack for Rodney to take. "Cowen says you should stay in the ice chest, and wanted to give you a little more dressing."
"Not yet." Kolya stuck his hand in front of the backpack. "We need your signature first, on the application for a marriage license."
"Doesn't that have to be notarized or something?" Rodney asked, signing when Kolya pointed.
"We'll take care of it." Kolya nodded to Kavanagh, who handed the pack to Rodney.
The pack was pretty hefty. Had to be another change of clothing or something in there. "I can't believe that all this is because of a pair of pajamas."
Kavanagh snorted. "The best investment you'll ever make."
"Keep your head down and don't cause trouble," Kolya said. "I know you're probably busting to get outta there, but it's got to be this way until the boss gets everything settled. So keep your Bluetooth hot, so we can call."
"The cell doesn't work here, so you'll have to use the landline." Rodney shouldered the bag. "I--" He glanced through the door, and saw that the Professors were finally leaving the library. "The guys go to bed early, so have Cowen ring me around ten. I'll be the only one up." He slipped into the door and slid the backpack behind the entry table, hoping no one would notice. "Hey, what's up?"
Whatever it was couldn't be good. None of the others would look at him. "Professor Sheppard wants a word with you, in the library," Lorne finally coughed out.
Rodney patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about me. I'm sure Shep and I can work something out." He snapped his fingers and pointed. "I'm on top of it."
***
As he stepped into the library, John called out, "Close the door, please."
"Sure," Rodney said, strolling into the room as the door swung shut behind him.
John felt distinctly uncomfortable, tugging at his shirt collar and smoothing his bow tie. "Take this chair, will you Dr. McKay?"
Rodney glanced around. The closest one was the big, overstuffed chair he'd sat in the first night; the one that tended to eat visitors. "Okay." Rodney shrugged and relaxed into the chair. "What's this about?"
John rubbed the back of his neck. Damn but he hated this. He didn't even know where to being. "How are you feeling, Dr. McKay?"
"Pretty good, other than a slight twinge in my back." Rodney rubbed at the sore spot. "I could use a good massage."
Clearing his throat, John glanced down and away from Rodney, speaking to the carpet to put the image of Rodney's naked back out of his mind. "And your throat, how is that feeling? Any soreness at all?"
"No, nothing." Rodney shook his head, watching as John paced the length of the room. "I feel better than I have in days. Must be all the good food and rest around here." Rodney obviously knew something was up. He shifted in his chair, lacing and unlacing his fingers, clenching his hands. He looked in utter agony, but John still couldn't bring himself to do what he needed to do.
Looking out the window, John sighed. The weather was particularly gorgeous today. He really had no excuse for putting this off. Turning around, John left his perch by the window to stand by Rodney's chair, resting his hand along the back even though his fingers itched to stroke Rodney's neck. "I just checked and the sky's clear today. If you're feeling as good as you say you are, then...I think it's time for you to leave."
"Why?" Rodney blinked up at him.
Okay, John hadn't been expecting that. He put his hands behind his back. "Your participation in the project has been most helpful--"
"Yeah, it's been a ton of fun."
"Rod--Dr. McKay, that's exactly the point. The foundation that is paying us for our encyclopedia expects us to work on it." John rubbed his hand across his forehead, and paced across the room. "And for the past four days--the four days that you have been here--we've, well, we've lost our way. The compass no longer points north, it points...well, at your...wherever you want it to point."
Rodney rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Look, if it's bothering you so much, I'll stay out of the way. I'll sit in my room and read, or hang out with Ronon in the kitchen."
"It's too late for that. You've got to leave, Rodney. I--" John cleared his throat. This really was going as badly as John had expected "You have to go."
"You don't mean that." Rodney jumped out of the chair, his hands whirling in the air. "What about your work, your slang research?" He strode over to the dictionary and tapped its cover. "You know that the rest of them can't break it down for you like I can."
"That's true." John shook his head, walking over to Rodney. He'd already rehearsed the answer for this one in his mind. "I will just have to work twice as hard with the others."
"Ah, but you'll miss my keen mind," Rodney said, and smiled. It trembled a little around the edges.
"You're right, Rodney. I will." John turned his head away. "Unfortunately, it seems to be connected to an extremely...disconcerting personality, and a very attractive...body."
"Really? Huh." Rodney blinked. "I think that's the longest speech I have ever heard you make." He waved John off. "All right, you win. I'll leave sometime tomorrow."
"No tomorrow, right away. I don't know what it's like for the others, but I can't hear myself even think around you."
"Any special reason?" Rodney's smile firmed under John's gaze, becoming more knowing, practically smug.
The look freed John's mind from its current focus on Rodney's lips, and mentally, John grabbed for the first things he could think of. "For example, when you brought me a cup of coffee yesterday morning, I couldn't help but notice how the cut of your shirt sleeve emphasized your biceps when you set the cup down. And later, when you were at the white board, I couldn't help but notice the way that your jeans accentuated the curve of your...bottom. And then you looked over your shoulder at me, and the way the light hit your eyes--" He swallowed hard. "It was very disconcerting."
"So...you like my ass?" Rodney's smug smile turned amused and self-satisfied, and his eyes sparkled with amusement. "I've been told it's one of my best features."
"Yes, well.... If I'm staring at your ass, I'm not getting any work...oh, no. None of that. Don't." John's voice became very strained as Rodney turned around deliberately, walking over to the bookcase on the far wall, and propped his foot up on the lowest shelf and looked over his shoulder at John.
"Why do you think I came here in the first place?" Rodney said, posing carefully in the sunlight.
Really, when Rodney stood like that, John could barely think. "To help with the research, of course." John tugged at the collar of his shirt. It was suddenly very warm in here. Very, very warm.
"You are an idiot, aren't you?" Rodney shook his head, and left the window, stalking forward to run his hand over John's arm; John couldn't look away. "It wasn't so much the research as the researcher that I was interested in, if you catch my drift."
"McKay!"
Rodney grinned, obviously enjoying how…discomfited he made John feel. "I thought you were...." his eyes tracked down John's body, and back up to capture his gaze, "fit. And pretty." He ran a finger down John's jawline, and John reflexively jerked away, his pants growing excessively, uh, tight.
"Pretty?" John glared at him.
"Uh-huh," Rodney said, pushing forward again, his lips almost brushing John's. "A regular yum-yum type."
"Yum-yum?" John said, wrapping his arms around Rodney's waist.
"Don't you know what that means?" Rodney was practically laughing at him, and John had never felt like such a clumsy, awkward fool.
But he didn't want to leave, and anyway, he wasn't sure he could. Rodney was like one of those old serpent-charmers, and John was mesmerized by his movements, how he spoke, how he looked. Feeling dazed, John shook his head, trying to clear it while his body demanded that he press in close. "No, uh, No. We...we never got to that."
"Here, let me demonstrate then." Rodney slid his hand up and around John's arms. "Here's yum." Rodney gave John a quick peck on his lips. "And here some more yum." John was relaxing now, his lips softening under Rodney's. "And here's some yum-yum."
As they kissed, John felt himself relaxing against Rodney, as a tingle built up in his hands, feet and spine. He felt Rodney's hands press into his ass and moaned softly, sliding his arms around to stroke Rodney's back as well. He licked and nipped at Rodney's lips, mouthing his ear and neck, loving the taste and feel of Rodney's skin.
Warning bells went off in his mind. He couldn't, shouldn't do this. Not now. Quickly, he pulled away and straightened himself out, his face flushed, hands trembling. He ran up the stairs two at a time, and hit the door of the bathroom; flicking on the cold water, he splashed it over his face and the back of his neck until he finally felt like he had cooled down enough to keep himself back under control.
Rodney was sitting in the overstuffed chair once again. "What did you mean, running out on me like that," he huffed, glaring at John. "And why is your hair wet?"
"These past few minutes have merely...confirmed my hypothesis, that your presence in this house ensures that no one will get any work done. I've asked Ronon to call you a taxi, and you must get me out of your mind, just as I must get you out of mine." John put his hands on his hips and smiled shyly. "I would still like to keep in touch, though. When the encyclopedia is done in three years or so, I would love to see you again"
"Sheppard, I--" Rodney rolled his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face. "Teyla and Sam aren't celibate, you know. So why should you be?"
"It's not that, it's just--" John scrunched up his face. "When this project was started, as our room and board is a part of our compensation package, we all agreed that we would not have...long term guests in the house. Ronon is the only one who wouldn't agree to the terms, and he lives off-site. And this book is my obsession, my brain child. I have to finish it. I need to be obsessed with my work and not with--" he waved a hand at Rodney's body, "well, you."
"Obsessed?" Rodney perked up. "I prefer the term focused, myself."
"Me, too, actually." John's voice was rough and raspy, and he couldn't tear his gaze away from Rodney...and Rodney seemed unable to tear his gaze from John. The realization was a heady thought, and it made John feel invulnerable. He stepped forward, ignoring the little tiny voice inside him that tried to remind him that this was a bad idea; Rodney stood and slid his arms around John's neck, leaning his forehead against John's. This felt right, more right than anything he'd done in the last ten years, since before he'd taken this job.
He curved his hand around the back of Rodney's neck and sighed, his breath mingling with Rodney's in the small space between them. "Before you go, maybe...just one more kiss?"
This time, Rodney's smile was wicked.
***
Waking up next to Rodney felt amazing. John ran his chin lightly over Rodney's bare shoulder, smiling at the grumbled 'mmmerm' as Rodney buried himself under the pillow. "Are you hungry?"
"'m always hungry."
"I'm going to sneak down and get us something," John said softly, pulling on his pants. "Ronon's gone, right?" He glanced at the clock: nearly ten. Yeah, Ronon would be long gone by now. "Back in a bit."
John couldn't help whistling as he made his way into the kitchen. He flicked on the light, and gave a small startled cry at discovering Parrish and Lorne present, yesterday's bread out and on the cutting board before them. "Do you guys do this every night?" he asked, padding into the room, the tile flooring cool under his bare feet.
Lorne gave a wry half-smile and nodded. "Pretty much, yeah." His hair was sticking up at all angles, and his flannel robe hung open, leaving his chest exposed, and there was a dollop of blackberry jam on the side of his mouth.
Parrish still had one of his fingers stuck in his mouth. He hurriedly licked it off, then wiped his hands with a napkin. "Well, I couldn't eat all the jam myself, could I?"
"Actually, I think you could." John dug around in the cupboards, moving aside the flour and sea salt, and reaching around behind the vanilla to pull out a spice grinder. He lifted the lid on it and took a sniff, nodding to himself. Yeah, this was the right one.
"Hey," said Lorne, staring at the dark powder encrusted on the lid. "That looks like coffee."
"That's because it is coffee." John puttered over to the refrigerator, and sorted through the boxes of soy delicious until he found the peanut butter and chocolate one. "Ronon keeps some coffee on hand in case he needs it for something." He pulled off the lid and brought out the small bag of roasted beans. "But you have to grind it yourself."
"I don't care. I think that's the prettiest thing I have seen in months. Ow." Lorne rubbed his arm where Parrish had hit him. "I was talking about the coffee!"
"Don't let Ronon know I told you." John pulled the tiny one-cup sized French press out from behind the mixing bowls and set it one the counter. "Would you mind turning the kettle on?"
Parrish stretched over and checked the water level, then flipped the switch on the kettle to 'on.' "I take it you had a pleasant evening?"
"Hmm, yes." John couldn't help smiling.
"I take it McKay will be with us for awhile."
"No, I--" John dumped beans in the grinder and pressed the switch, pulsing the blades until the beans were coarsely ground and shiny with oil. "You know he can't."
"You could hire him," Parrish suggested.
"As what?" John sighed heavily and poured the ground coffee into the press. "He told me he never went to college, that 'doctor' was a part of his act. And you know that Elizabeth was just after us about budget--" Frustration made him growl as he spoke, and John made himself take a deep breath and look around, rather than sinking any further into no-win scenarios. "Hey, mind if I make some toast."
"Knock yourself out," Lorne said, swinging a ladder-backed kitchen chair around so he could sit on it backwards, straddling it, arms crossed over the back. "Even if money weren't an issue, you know there would be a problem with that whole boss/employee thing."
"It really is too bad you can't marry him," Parrish sighed. "That would solve the whole thing.
John glanced up sharply at Parrish. "You are a genius," he said, waving the butter knife in Parrish's face. "An incredible genius."
"Parrish?" Lorne said skeptically, "Come on, Shep, you know--"
"Ah-ha!" John waved the knife at the two of them, then placed the toasted bread on a plate as it popped. "I know it's a little...corny to rush into things like this, but Rodney is just--"
"I don't want to know," Lorne sighed. "All right, okay, so let's say you are going to be this stupid and ask him to marry you. Then what happens?"
John put the plate of toast on a wooden tray, and covered it with a lid. "Nothing, really. Rodney stays here, and if anyone asks Elizabeth what is going on, we tell her about the wedding plans." He added the coffee, creamer, and sugar to the tray and stared at it a moment, trying to think if he had everything. "Any more jam?"
"You're crazy. You've never done anything like this in your life--" Lorne scraped the last of the jam onto his bread and defiantly popped it into his mouth. "And no, there's no more jam."
"I say it's very romantic," Parrish interjected. "Here." Parrish plucked a flower from the kitchen vase, and putting it on the tray. "Now you can go. And you," he glared at Lorne, "could learn to be a little more spontaneous in your life."
"Aw, David...."
Parrish huffed and swept out of the room, Lorne two steps behind him.
Carrying the tray up the stairs was difficult; John was afraid he would spill everything before arrived. But he managed, balancing the tray in one hand so he could open and close the door.
It was worth it, though. Rodney was sitting up in bed, the covers pooled around his waist, revealing his bare chest. John felt a deep, visceral shiver run through him at the sight. What they had just done--He had to shake himself, and set the tray on the bed.
"Oh, coffee," Rodney said with a sigh. "How'd you manage that?"
"Ronon keeps some for guests. I had to use the French press to make it." John poured him a cup, then reached for the milk pitcher.
"Just java," Rodney said, pulling the cup to him and taking a drink before John could do anything else. "It's perfect. Thanks."
"I made toast, too." John put his hand on the dish to life the cover, but Rodney wrinkled his nose.
"I don't really like toast. Unless you have jam. Do you have any strawberry jam?"
"I'm afraid we're out."
"Never mind. I'll stick with the coffee and can dig a bar out of my bag later."
"A bar?"
"You know, energy bars? Packed with nutrition and protein. I practically live on the stuff." He must have seen something in John's face, though, as he followed it up with, "But maybe I could...eat toast." His smile was half-hearted. "I don't suppose you have honey, do you?"
John tapped the ceramic honey-pot. "Would you like me to put it on the toast?"
"Sure, knock yourself out," Rodney said with an airy wave. "God, I can't get over you. You're all--what's this?"
John had taken the cover off, and the small jewelry box could clearly be seen. Rodney gingerly pricked it up, as if it was a bomb that might go off any second.
"Open it," John said eagerly, sitting down on the bed next to Rodney. "It was my grandfather's ring." He shrugged. "My grandmother gave it to me when she found out I was gay. Said she hoped it would bring me as much luck with men as it had brought her."
"Did it?"
"You're the first man I've ever given it to. If it doesn't fit, we can call a jeweler and get it resized." John toyed with the covered on the bed, straightening them out. "If you say you'll marry me, then you wouldn't be a guest. You could stay while we figured out the arrangements."
Staring at it, Rodney pushed the ring down onto his finger. "I don't know what to say."
"Say yes." John slid his hand over Rodney's. "Once one has admitted how one feels, it's the only logical step to take." He leaned back and threw and arm over his chair. "People like me, married to their work and their books...well, it's like dust piles up around their hearts, and it takes a strong breeze to blow it away."
"Hurricane McKay, that's me." His face was an odd combination of things, and John couldn't tease out what the look meant. "I just never wanted to destroy anything about you."
Someone pounded on the door right then, and Carson's voice could be heard from the landing. "Rodney! Rodney! There's a phone call for you."
"A phone call? What time--? Crap." Pulling on his borrowed pajamas, Rodney wrapped his robe around him and dashed past Carson, and barreled down the stairs to the nearest extension.
"Who is it?" John asked.
"He said he was Rodney's father," Zelenka replied.
"McKay senior, huh?" John shook his head. "That's peculiar. Rodney said his father threw him out of the house when he was younger."
"Maybe they have reconciled?" Teyla said. "Family is very important in many cultures."
"How did it go, Sheppard?" Lorne asked quietly. "With the, you know, the ring thing."
"He seemed...a little startled. Overwhelmed."
"Well, that's to be expected," Carson said. "I know I would be, swept off my feet by a handsome young lad."
Lorne really was the team's worst gossip. He must have told everyone about the ring. "Carson, you are two years younger than I am. Stop being an old biddy."
"Before I married," Radek said, "I had to discuss the matter with her parents."
"I can't imagine asking anyone other than Rodney for their permission." John scratched at his chest, and Parrish blushed.
"Not permission, perhaps, but maybe offer them a chance meet you," Radek said.
"Perhaps take a trip with Rodney to Canada." Parrish looked over at Lorne, who nodded and added, "You could get married there."
"Yeah, Sheppard. And you could honeymoon someplace other than a library." Sam grinned at him, and leaned against Teyla. "Maybe they have a cabin up in the mountains someplace that they'd lend you."
"Not all Canadians have mountain cabins, you know," John said.
"But you like to ski, yes?" Radek said. "I would love to ski again. My late wife and I went skiing for our honeymoon twenty years ago."
"You're all daft," Carson said. "I prefer golfing myself."
John edged around them and headed down the stairs, he could hear the strain in Rodney's voice as soon as he stepped on the landing. "I can't--Listen, I'm not--Fine." He took a deep breath. "Any other news, Dad? How are the crops doing?" He waved at John, and held the phone close to his chest. "I won't be long. Just wait in the library."
"Is everything all right?" John asked. "I know you said things were difficult between you."
"Oh, yeah. Sure, sure. Everything's fine. Dad's excited to have a star in the family." Rodney made shooing motions to the crowd gathered around him. "I'll just be a minute."
"Do you mind if I have a few words with him?"
"What? Are you--I mean, why?" Listening to the phone, Rodney visibly swallowed, and rolled his eyes. "Sure. Sounds great. Dad would love to talk to you, too."
Pale and trembling, Rodney handed the phone over to John. Really, John thought, he'd gotten here just in time. They had obviously been well on their way to another blow-up. "Mr. McKay? I'm Dr. John Sheppard, and I trust that Rodney has already told you about my, ah, interest in him."
"Yeah, he has. Are you crazy, taking an interest in a loose cannon like him?"
"No, no. I'm not crazy, sir. He's just one of the most intriguing people that I've ever met." He braved a smile at Rodney, who paled and looked away, his arms wrapped tight around his chest.
"Lived a sheltered life, have you?" Mr. McKay said.
"I am a researcher, if that's what you mean. I was a member of the faculty at the University of Washington for several years, before I accepted my current position. I would love to have the opportunity to come visit you with Rodney, if that was acceptable."
"I was thinking along those lines myself. We never planned on having a professor in the family, but if that's what Rodney wants.... We've spent too many years apart as it is."
"Oh, I understand, sir."
"So would you have any objection to bringing Rodney up to Vancouver tomorrow, so we could all meet?"
"I was going to suggest that very thing myself," John said, smiling and playing with the phone cord. "I would love to meet you all."
"Wonderful! Now listen, Rodney's mother can't travel, and it would break her heart not to see Rodney married, to see her little boy settle down."
"If my mother were still alive, I'm sure she would feel the same way."
"In that case, you wouldn't object to having the ceremony here, would you? So we could do it up nice and proper?
"Why, no, Mr. McKay. That's an excellent thought."
"Fine, then. Would you mind putting Rodney on?"
John grinned and gave Rodney the thumbs-up signal, before handing him the phone. "It's better than I hoped for," he said, and turned to the rest of the team who had been shamelessly eavesdropping. "They want us to come see them tomorrow, and have the wedding there."
"Umm-hmm. Maybe there's some other way." Rodney shook his head. "I really don't want to take anyone for that kind of a ride."
"Oh, that's okay." John said, stepping forward and putting his hand on Rodney's shoulder. "I'll take a couple of days off."
"We all will!" said Parrish.
"Oh, yes!" said Carson. "I haven't been to a wedding for years."
"I can call around and rent us a van or something," Sam added.
"It is an excellent idea." Teyla agreed.
While they were all talking excitedly to one another, Rodney hung up the phone. His mouth was a tight line, and John noticed that his hands were gripped into fists before he tucked them under his arms. John could see the tirade building, and stepped in close, laying his hand on Rodney's arm.
"What's the matter?"
"Oh, the...." John saw his eyes flicker and dart away as Rodney extracted himself fro John's touch. "He's always so controlling. Everything has to be his way."
"In this instance, it's my good fortune." John smiled, trying to catch Rodney's eye, though he left his arms at his side. He could see how upset Rodney was by the conversation, and given that John himself hated to be touched when he was angry, it only made sense for Rodney to withdraw as well. And if this was how Rodney reacted just from a phone call with his father...well, it was no wonder that Rodney decided on leaving the country. "It's going to be okay, Rodney. You'll see. The sooner we get married, the better, right?"
"I guess."
Something jiggled the front door, and then Ronon stepped inside. He looked around at the assembled group and lifted an eyebrow. "You can't all be after the jam."
***
Ronon made tea while the rest of the group settled down in the library to plan the wedding. Books on marriage customs were investigated, but everyone agreed that nothing was really suitable, and Teyla insisted on writing the ceremony herself. Parrish wanted to be a bridesmaid, but Carson pointed out that no one was really a bride in this instance, which led to Lorne wondering about where they might be able to get tuxes or if their regular suits would work.
As one, everyone stopped and looked around at each other: John had no suit. Tension thrummed loud and hot as a powerline, until Sam shouted out, "The Internet!" Immediately, she bolted from the room, Lorne, Teyla, and Radek right behind her.
Rodney noticed that Carson had apparently fallen asleep on the library settee.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. Fuck. This was all so screwed. The longer he was here, the more he realized the compromises he'd made with Cowen and the way he'd turned a blind eye to things. Cowen probably was involved in a murder, and now he'd put everyone here at risk: if he didn't show up for the 'wedding,' then Cowen would come after him, killing anyone who tried to intervene.
But Rodney had a practical streak to him, and figured if he followed through, everyone stayed alive. Oh, sure, it would break John's heart when he found out that Rodney had used him like this, but he'd get over it. A guy like that, smart and fun and charming--not to mention sexy as hell--he'd find a new distraction within a week. He didn't need Rodney around at all.
The fact that it would also break Rodney's heart was really no more than he deserved. Before heading to bed, he stopped in the hallway to pick up the backpack that Kolya and Kavanagh had given him earlier, only it wasn't where he had left it. Puzzled, he mentally retraced his steps, but he couldn't remember taking it anywhere after he and John had kissed. He wandered into the library again, just to make sure he hadn't misplaced it.
"Hey," he said, tapping on Carson's shoulder. "Have you seen my backpack?"
Carson's eyes silted open. "Ronon took it upstairs, I think."
"Thanks." Rodney grabbed the afghan from where it had slipped off Carson's shoulder, and tucked it in around his neck. "You're gonna hurt like hell in the morning. Don't blame me for the fact that you feel asleep in an odd position."
"Yes, Rodney," Carson's said, burying his head in what looked like a scratchy, century- old pillow.
Shaking his head, Rodney headed up the stairs. He was going to miss all of them.
***
When Rodney opened the door to his room, Ronon was sitting on the bed, with Rodney's suitcase and backpack beside him, both of them open. The pack seemed to have contained power bars, a new silk shirt, and note which Ronon held in his hand. He arched an eyebrow the moment that Rodney entered. "Sugarpuss?"
"Hey, that's private!" Rodney said, jerking the paper out of his hand. "It's nothing you need to know about anyway."
"This is." Ronon tossed the newspaper in front of Rodney. "Not that good of a picture."
God, he'd forgotten about that. "Well, you blow them up like that, and they get grainy." Rodney sank onto the bed, almost sort-of happy that he didn't have to hide any more, that it was all out of his hands. "I suppose I better get my things together and high-tail it down the back stairs."
"You gonna marry Sheppard?"
"No."
"You gonna marry any of 'em?"
A sick, half-broken laugh escaped Rodney's lips. "No. They all deserve better."
"Okay." Ronon patted his thigh and stood, stretching. "Pack yourself, McKay. I gotta lay in supplies."
"What--? You're not going to call the police on me?"
"Rather not. I figure, break their hearts here or break them in Canada, doesn't really matter." Ronon shrugged. "When they get back, they'll be hungry, those of 'em that are eating."
"I don't get this. Why are you letting me go?"
"Do you want to leave?"
Rodney didn't have the heart to lie. "No." It sounded a lot softer than he intended.
"But you have to."
Rodney nodded.
"I thought so." Ronon stabbed a finger at Cowen's name in the article. "Before I took this job, I'd been on the run awhile. And this guy, he's bad, McKay. You go, he gets what he wants, and he leaves the professors alone. You stay, or I go to the cops, and...."
"Yeah." Rodney's mouth twisted on him. "At least this way, everyone gets out alive."
"Pretty much." Ronon tapped the paper. "You'll be okay?"
"I'm getting Cowen," Rodney said, folding the paper up and laying it in the bottom of his trunk. "That should be more than enough for a guy like me, right?"
Ronon just grunted, picked up one of the power bars, and shut the door behind him, leaving Rodney alone.
***
It wasn't Carson's fault that the deer jumped out of the brush at them on their way to Vancouver and they ended up in a ditch near Surrey, having to walk into town and get a tow to the nearest garage. They found rooms at a run-down, cottage-style hotel, which may have once been a working farm at some point in the last century. They had dinner in a large, family-style dining room, and then John insisted that Rodney call his father.
"You were nervous the whole drive," John said. "I was afraid you'd throw up when we got to the border. We'll just spend the night here and see your parents tomorrow. We can't get a new car until then anyway."
"Yeah, yeah, I guess," Rodney said distractedly. "You just don't know how...disappointed he'll be." He went out to the reception area to use the phone, while John headed back to the dining table.
Using several equations scrawled on the backs of paper napkins, Radek was explaining to the group how it wasn't Carson's fault that the deer hit him, while every else laughed. "I can prove it," Radek said carefully. "It's simple physics."
"For that, you should have some more wine," Carson said, topping off Radek's glass and his own. "Anyone else?"
"I'll have some." Lorne held out his glass.
"And me," Parrish said, mirroring Lorne.
"You might as well just top everyone off, Carson. I don't think anyone's abstaining." John gestured at Rodney's plate.
Sam snorted and giggled simultaneously at that. "Abstinence. He's right, no one's abstaining around here."
John ordered another bottle, and by the time Rodney got back, most of that one was gone. "I think I'll head to bed," he said. Big day tomorrow." He circled his hand in the air. "You know, wedding and that."
"Good idea. We'll be leaving early. Seven thirty, all right."
"Oh, I'll be awake all right." Rodney picked up his glass rolling his stem between his finger a moment, before looking at everyone and lifting his glass. "Here's to you, kids."
"To all of us," Parrish said, standing.
"Agreed," Carson added, standing up beside him, until the whole table was on their feet.
"Sheppard," Rodney said, and seemed to freeze for a moment, before turning to look at the rest of the group. "You guys still have time to change his mind, you know. He doesn't have to marry me."
"No one's changing my mind," John said, taking Rodney's hand in his own. "And I want to marry you."
"You are such an idiot," Rodney said, a little breathlessly, laying his hand on John's chest. It felt good there, right, and John relaxed into the moment, letting all the warmth and affection he felt for Rodney bubble up from inside of him to where Rodney could see. He knew he looked a little goofy, but he didn't care. This was going to be worth it.
For a moment, they breathed together, then Rodney shook his head and pulled his hands away. "At least they can give you a proper bachelor party, before you settle down." He drained his glass and set it down on the table. "Anyone remember which cabin is mine?"
"Six, I think," said Carson.
"No, that one is mine," said Parrish, elbowing Carson. "You're in number nine, Rodney, It's the sixth one on the left hand side."
"Right." Rodney paused and patted John's chest. "I really--If I were ever trapped on a desert island, I'd want to take all of you with me." He cleared his throat. "Goodbye, kids."
"Goodnight!" Teyla called out, as Rodney headed quickly for the door, the rest of the group adding their 'good nights' as well. He hesitated a moment on the doorstep, then reached up and swatted the nose of the moosehead hanging over the door. "For luck," he said, coloring brightly, and closed the door behind him.
They talked for a while about the upcoming marriage, and what it was that made for a good relationship. Radek ended up banging on his water glass to get everyone's attention. "Please, you are all speaking on a subject that you know very little about. I am the only one here who has been married."
"Hey!" Sam yelled. "While we haven't tied the knot, I wouldn't say we're chopped liver in the relationship department."
"Perhaps there is another way to phrase that, Doctor." Teyla arched her eyebrow and gave Radek a level, icy stare.
"I'm curious, though. How long were you married for?" Sam asked.
"Five years. I came to America after." Radek cleared his throat and looked away. "She was an artist, gifted with finding the beauty in the most desolate landscapes. She died sketching an abandoned building when it collapsed." He sighed and took a sip of water. "I have spent many hours reliving our happiness, and Sheppard, if you should ever need it, I would be happy to give you advice."
"Thank you, Radek, but that would be unnecessary. Rodney is an open book, his emotions are written in his expressions and his voice and his language."
"That's just it, don't you see?" Parrish banged his hand on the table. "Rodney is a fragile creature, like...like...like an orchid almost in bloom, and you must nurture him." He tipped back the last of the wine and sighed. "He is like the Anemone nemorosa, waiting for the warm sunshine and soft winds before it unfolds." He looked intently at John. "One rough, impetuous bee can destroy the bloom."
Lorne took his wine glass away. "Come on, buddy. I think you've had enough. Get out of the garden for once."
"Lorne--" John growled, while several others shushed him as well.
"Okay, okay," Lorne said, twisting Parrish's glass in his hands. "Rodney's more like Rosemary, anyway, which is a pretty hardy plant."
Parrish turned to stare at Lorne, his eyes wide. "You listen when I talk about plants?"
"Sometimes." Lorne flushed scarlet and shifted down in his chair.
Teyla, who tended to sing if she had more than a couple of glasses of wine, started in on the opening lines of "Scarborough Fair," taking Sam's hand in her own.
"That's lovely," Parrish said, still looking at Lorne. "I think...I think I have to go now." Head down, he turned and headed for the back door, while Lorne turned and joined Teyla in song.
Soon, most of the group had joined in, and the music had progressed to old camp-style songs. John listened for a bit, but what Parrish had said began to weigh on him. He needed to understand what it was that Parrish had been trying to get at.
The others ignored him as they sang loudly and robustly, even if not in key, while John headed out for Parrish's bungalow. It was too dark out to see the numbers clearly, but he knew Parrish was in six, so he simply counted, using the first cabin as number one.
He didn't bother knocking, trying the door and entering when he found it open and the lights out. "Parrish?" He heard the rustle of cloth and quickly added, "Please, don't turn on the light. I needed to ask you something that's rather...personal, and I'm not sure I could manage if I saw you." He took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm going to guess that what you were talking about was a little personal for you, too, and while I...understand what you were talking about in relationship to flowers, I can't help but think that it has to be different with people. We're more resilient and...."
Shoving his hand in his hair, John paced to the other side of the room. "I'm a bit bolder than you are, Parrish, and, well, I've already sampled the flower so to speak, but that isn't going to hurt us, is it." He rubbed his hands together. "The fact is, I'm in love. I want take him in my arms and hold him, kiss him when the sun sets and when the sun rises again. I can't just go gently, not when I think about him every waking hour. I thought I could control this, that if I just approached it logically, I could manage my...interest. But I can't. I've lost it, Parrish. I can't think about my work or language or the article I am supposed to be writing. All I can think about is him."
A shaft of moonlight struck the bed, and John could see Rodney there, staring at him. "Damn it, Sheppard," he growled, and launched himself off the bed into John's arms, kissing him. It wasn't the kisses they'd shared in the library, which had been fun and playful and teasing; this one was needy and wanton, and just a little bit desperate.
Hell, a lot desperate, and John was just as desperate back. His fears over what Parrish had said where completely tossed away, as Rodney pressed in close to John, shoving him back against the door, hands scrabbling to rip at John's tie, loosening it.
With his head pressed against the wood, the faint rumbling beyond the doorway formed into words; Carson was calling, "Sheppard? Professor Sheppard?" Carson had to be checking bungalow by bungalow looking for John.
"I have to go," John said, pulling away from Rodney. "Carson's calling for me."
"Are you sure?" Rodney pressed himself had against John's thigh. "I can think of a lot more interesting things to do than talk with Carson."
"Yeah, so can I." The smile in John's voice was clear as he gave Rodney one last kiss. "I'll come back and we can try a few of them, if you'd like."
"If I'd--Oh, oh God, John." He shuddered, a little noise of need and want escaping his lips. "What you do to me," he said softly. John thought he heard the shower start as he closed the front door behind him.
"Carson! Over here," he yelled, spying a dark figure two cottages away. "What is it?"
"Oh, there you are." Carson's face was pale and sweaty. "You need to come back to the dining room right away. Something's come up and we--" He wiped his hand across his forehead. "I think they better tell you."
"Who tell me what?"
"Four gentlemen arrived, looking for--" He swallowed hard. "They can explain. Please." He walked quickly back to the main dining area, and John followed him; the moment they stepped into the bright lights, John blinked at the haze of smoke, finally making out a squat man leaning against the dining room table. His suit was designer, his brown shirt made of silk, and his shoes were from Italy; it looked like he'd spent a lot of money trying to look sophisticated, but it did nothing to hide the aura of menace that surrounded him.
Beckett scrambled around him to sit with the rest of the professors at the table behind the stranger, all of their hands resting clearly on the table top. Lorne and Sam wore matching glowers, while Parrish and Radek looked as white as Carson did, now that John saw him in the light. Teyla was apparently assessing the situation, her eyes gauging the men ranged around table.
John pressed his lips together tight. He didn't like the look of the fellow in front of him, a smug, condescending look sketched on what could be seen of his face.
"Well, well, well," the man said, tipping his hat back so he could look directly at John. "So you're Sheppard. I'd expected you to be older, more the aging hippy type, with a beard and stains on your shirt." He made an audible 'tsk' sound. "I'll have to tell Rodney his description was lacking."
"Who are you?" John growled, his hands bunching into fists at his side.
"Rodney hasn't told you about me? Well, that's mighty smart of him. He always was a bright boy." The man tilted his head slightly. "We never planned on having a professor in the family," he said, his smile cruel, and John's stomach tightened into a knot; he wanted to pound that mocking smile right off of his face and wished he'd followed his own father into the military so he'd be able to do just that.
"You're not his father," John said coldly.
"No, I'm the one who keeps him. Everything Rodney has, I paid for, from the clothes on his back to the theater his band played in." He slowly stood and walked over to John. "And I don't like poachers."
He slammed his fist into John's stomach, and oh, god, that hurt. Doubling over, John's eyes started watering as the deep ache spread through him. He could hear the shouts of the others, and the men at the walls telling them to 'knock it off' and 'quiet down.'
"Get him a chair," the man snarled, and the tall henchman with the ponytail shoved something hard against the back of John's knees, forcing him to sit. "That's better. And here I'd been counting on Rodney to tell you the score. He always has his own best interests at heart." The man brushed off the arms of his suit.
"The wedding's a lie," Sam growled out. "The whole thing was faked to get McKay here."
"Oh, there's going to be a wedding all right, and Rodney will be getting married." The man's mouth twisted into an unpleasant smile. "Only I'm the one he'll be wedded to." He reached around and pulled out his wallet, throwing a Canadian fifty on the table. "I do appreciate the way you work. Rodney would never have gotten across the border without you."
"We were duped," Radek said.
"Yeah," said Lorne. "McKay had no interest in us at all."
"You're wrong," John said, catching his breath. "Rodney--"
"You really thought Rodney was going to marry you, with your Professor's salary and miserly room and board? He spends that much just keeping his piano in tune. He's selfish and egotistical, and a petty little tyrant about the tiniest things, like the type of wood used to stretch his shoes before he wears them." He walked around behind John, and placed his hand on each side of the ladder back, so he could lean over and speak softly in John's ear, making John wince. "Rodney's a demon in bed, though, so it's worth it to put up with the way he pouts and sulks and whines if the seams on his shirt are frayed and catch on his skin." He must have seen something in John's expression, as he pulled away then. "You don't believe it, do you?" He gestured for John to stand. "All right, then, go tell Rodney that Cowen is here, and watch him come running." Cowen's face tightened into a threatening mask. "The rest of 'em will stay here while you do. Kolya! Kavanagh! Make sure none of 'em move."
Casting a glance at his friends, John left, hoping--praying--that he was right.
***
Watching out of his bungalow window as John entered the dining room, Rodney got a glimpse of someone whose height and distinct profile made him hard to mistake: Kavanagh. His heart plummeted, and he had to grip onto the footboard of the bed to keep himself steady.
This was it. He was completely and utterly fucked. Knowing that John loved him, and that this wasn't just a good time for either of them, Rodney knew he couldn't marry Cowen. Chills shook him, and for a moment, Rodney thought he might be violently ill. Pressing a hand to his stomach, he eased himself onto the bed, his mind a whirl of thoughts. He knew he should run, now, while he had the chance, but this place was so isolated he wasn't going to be able to get far without Cowen tracking him down.
And in the meantime, Cowen would get angry, and Rodney really didn't want to take the chance that he might take his anger out on Lorne, or Radek, or Carson, or Teyla, or...John.
He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together as hard as he could, afraid if he opened his mouth, some strange low keening might come forth, like an animal in pain. He wasn't sure his pride could take that sort of blow. Cowen and the men before him could buy anything, but it was all stuff--clothing, jewelry, dinners out. They never bought--him.
No, that he gave away for free to the first man that valued him for what he thought.
John didn't bother to knock. "There's a Mr. Cowen waiting for you in the dining room."
"Yeah," Rodney said softly, not really looking at John. Because if he looked, he might say something that both of them would regret.
When Rodney wouldn't meet his eyes, John straightened. "Don't worry about us. We won't tell the police where you are, or notify the Mounties or whatever you do here in Canada. You can just...slip away, in the middle of the night. Same as you arrived."
"Shep--"
"Don't say anything." Even in the dark, Rodney could see the tension humming through John's body. "I should be thanking you for the lesson you taught us, on why we shouldn't accept anyone at face value." John shook his head. "And you charged so little, too."
Tired and hurting, Rodney lashed out. "You're not the only one who paid."
"For pushovers like us? A day or two, and I'm sure you won't even remember the cost. Cowen will buy you a new shirt or take you to Rio or something, and you'll forget all about the silly, foolish--stupid--professors that you left behind."
Twisting his hands together, Rodney could feel the ring--John's ring--heavy on his hands. He ripped it off and shoved it at John. "Here, you'll want this."
"Why?" John shoved his hands deep into his pocket. "My grandmother was wrong. It didn't bring me good luck after all."
Rodney pushed past him and out the door, without bothering to pack. The sooner they were on the road, the better. It wasn't like he would miss anything that he was leaving behind.
***
The dining room was quiet the following morning, no one so much as looking at anyone else. A cold breakfast had been set out--pastries, cereal, yogurt, fruit and coffee--but little had been touched. John looked the buffet over and sighed wearily, setting coffee, a small bunch of grapes and a toasted bagel on a tray.
"White bread just doesn't taste right," Carson said, dropping his toast back on the plate. "How's the porridge?" He glanced across the table at Radek, who was watching a glob drip off of his spoon into his bowl.
"Perhaps you would like it." Radek shoved the bowl in front of Carson as John joined them both.
"Listen." John cleared his throat, and gestured for the others to gather around him. "I wish to apologize for everything that has happened this past week. I made an ass of myself, and we all know it."
"John--" Teyla started to speak, but John held up his hand, stilling her.
"Don't be kind. What happened...can't be undone. It was my fault he arrived, my fault he stayed. And I am sorry for what he did to you." John shoved his plate aside. "I am also sorry for what I must do to you now. Because of my...indiscretion, we are a week behind in our work. We will need to work an extra two hours a day for the next month to get back on schedule."
"It's all right." Carson patted John's hand. "It could have been any of us."
"Thank you. So let us all return to our home and our work, and let his name never be uttered again."
"Oh!" Parrish scurried forward and took a crumbled handkerchief from his pocket. "As long as we are burying his memory, here." He untied the corner. "Rodney said to give this back to you, when you were more calm." He cleared his throat. "I found him standing on the back porch, just staring off into the night, and was quite concerned about him. I was afraid he might be...chilled." He lifted a ring out of the napkin, and held it up into the light.
"What is that?" John stared at the huge diamond on the ring. "He's bribing us?"
"No, no. He said it was your ring, and that you should have it back."
"No one in my family would be caught dead with a ring like that."
Radek picked up the right and held it into the light. "So it's not yours?"
"No." John shoved himself away from the table and walked over to the window, turning his back on the whole thing.
"Fascinating," Radek said carefully. "Yet this is the ring he wanted to return."
"Is that significant?" Lorne asked.
"No," John said, turning to look at the group. "Not at all."
"Teyla, you wrote the section on psychology." Carson nodded toward her. "What do you think?"
She thought for a moment, her eyes darting among the group, then over to John. "There are many interpretations that could be given to this, among them that this ring is symbolic of the relationship Rodney wishes to give away."
"He kept Sheppard's ring, and gave back the other guy's." Lorne whistled.
"Ergo, Rodney was not as unaffected by the relationship as he attempted to imply." Radek pressed the ring into John's hand and folded his fingers over it.
"He loves you," said Sam.
"Oh, I do hope so," said Parrish, stepping closer to Lorne.
"That's bullshit." John stepped forward and grabbed the ring. "I--"
"Good morning," Elizabeth's voice cut through the bickering of the ragged group like a bell across water. Shocked, everyone turned to look at the dining room entrance, where she stood in jeans and burgundy T-shirt, Ronon behind her. "I hope I am not interrupting anything? I received an email that you had rented a car and gone to Canada, along with a copy of an accident report."
"Oh, Dr. Weir. Here." John gestured at the large table while he tried to put aside his anger. He was supposed to be charming for Elizabeth. "Won't you join us?"
"Coffee, please." Elizabeth sat in one of the open chairs. "Actually, this isn't a pleasant visit. I wasn't the only one included on the email." She rubbed her hand across her forehead. "I have rented a vehicle that can carry everyone back to the foundation, but at that point, I'm afraid you must start making other arrangements for employment. The project is being terminated."
"What...?"
"Oh, dear, you can't--"
Everyone spoke at once, and it was hard to tell what exactly anyone said. John clicked his tongue imperiously, and they all fell silent.
"Elizabeth," he said, stepping forward, "this is entirely due to misconduct on my behalf. Don't drag the others through this. I'll be happy to pack up and leave, but you should let the others stay."
"I'm sorry, but the email was the last straw. I don't have anything that I can use to keep this project afloat. I--"
"Well, well, well. Good thing we got up early, Kavanagh. Looks like we're just in time for breakfast." Kolya, the pocked-faced man from last night, shoved his way into the room, brandishing a gun.
Kavanagh nodded, and snagged John's uneaten bagel from the plate. "Everyone line up against the far wall, like you were have your picture taken."
"Only with you, Sheppard, in the foreground," Kolya added.
Radek's face paled as he whispered something in Czech.
***
To Part Three
John said good-bye to the rest of the collaborators, a little puzzled on why Rodney had never returned. He could hear music coming faintly from the library, though, along with laughter and the Carson's occasional high-pitched squeal. Ronon was lounging around outside of the room, and glanced over at John. His look clearly said "You have no idea what you've gotten into."
"What is it? What's going on?"
"Fun." Ronon hitched a thumb at the library door. "Your McKay could make whole nations tumble, I bet." Ronon patted John's shoulder in passing. "I gotta check on dinner. Tell McKay I liked the music."
The library door was open a crack, so Ronon could watch; John jerked it the rest of the way open, staring at the sight of the whole group lined up in two rows, following Rodney's lead. "You're teaching them the time warp?"
"Among other things, yes," Rodney said, as they wound through the furniture. "This isn't the time warp, though. This is the cha-cha." He gave a wiggle, throwing his head back, and John felt himself blush. "Come on," Rodney said, grabbing John's wrist and tugging. "Sounds like I need to teach you a thing or two, along with the rest of 'em."
"I'm not. I can't--" John was going to say he couldn't dance, but not thirty seconds after he'd opened the door, Rodney had him joining in on a conga line.
For one brief instant, it was perfect--Rodney's hands on his waist, the two of them swaying to the music together, and John smiled, twisting around to catch Rodney's eye.
God, Rodney was gorgeous, and with that thought, John knew he was in over his head. They all were. And Elizabeth had just been here a few days ago, telling them that the money was running out. He felt a knot form in his stomach. He knew he hadn't been working as hard as he should have, but it looked like everyone was in the same boat. He pulled himself away and walked to the CD player, turning it off.
"Hey!" Rodney said, stalking over.
John stood in front of him, blocking access to the CD player, and crossed his arms determinedly. He had to get this over with quickly, like pulling off a band-aid. "Would you mind leaving the room, McKay?"
"We were just having a little fun. You have something against that?" Rodney said, hurt creeping into his voice, his eyes betraying his confusion; his eyes hardened at whatever look was on John's face. "Oh."
John cleared his throat, glancing down at the carpet and then back to Rodney again. "The group and I need to have a private conference. So would mind leaving, please?"
"Fine." Rodney rolled his eyes, and sauntered across the room. "Get whatever it is out of your system. I'll be in the kitchen."
"Now, if everyone can show me what they have written in the past three days--"
***
As Rodney headed toward the kitchen, he heard someone knocking on the terrace door. Ronon wasn't around, and Rodney headed cautiously toward the door, catching sight of Kavanagh's distinctive outline through the door's window.
"It's about time," Rodney said, darting through the door and closing it quietly behind him. "I thought you'd forgotten where you'd parked me." Furious, voice low and quiet, Rodney jerked his head at the door. "You left me on the doorstep, just like a baby in a basket. It was going to only be for one night," Rodney said, sticking his index finger in the air.
"Now sugar--" Kavanagh said, and Rodney stiffened.
"You don't get to pull that 'sugar' stuff. I only let Cowen do that, and he isn't here. So you wanna tell me what's going on?"
"Fact is," Kolya said, "you're hot and it's getting hotter. Police are working to get this whole town sealed up, have the feds out here and everything." He glanced at Kavanagh. "There's even a grand jury getting involved, talking about political corruption.
"That's insane."
"Yeah, but it's an election year, so they want to look like they're trying to clean house." Kolya smiled, and Rodney swallowed hard. "And you, McKay, are the key to their whole plan. Without you, they ain't got nothin'."
"Wait here. I'll grab my things and be out in two seconds flat."
"Just a sec. We got a surprise for you," Kavanagh said and smiled.
"You aren't leaving, not yet." Kolya grabbed Rodney's arm.
"I'm not?" Rodney could feel his heart racing. "Cowen's out, isn't he? And, uh, he still wants me to stay with him, right?"
"Right now, he wants you to stay here."
"Okay, see, that's not going to work--"
"Give him the treat." Kolya lounged against the wall of the house, but his eyes never left Rodney's face, and Rodney could feel himself starting to sweat.
"What treat?"
"Put on your sunglasses, McKay," Kavanagh said, bringing out a small jewelry box. "The boss wanted to make sure you knew you were special." He flipped open the lid, and Rodney felt his mouth drop open. That was the biggest diamond he'd ever seen.
"It's worth 10K. Your daddy's taking care of you."
Ignoring the comment, Rodney couldn't help taking the ring out of the box and putting it on. "Cowen didn't have to bribe me."
"It's not a bribe," Kolya said.
"It's an engagement ring."
"An engagement ring?" Rodney glanced up at the two of them.
"Sure." Kolya straightened upright. "You're from Canada, right?"
"So? Cowen made sure it was legal for me to be here."
"The boss figures the two of you get married, and it'll take forever to sort out whether you can testify against him or not."
Shaking his head, Rodney stared at the ring. "It takes the DA to finally get him to ask me. But who cares? It's results that count, right? And this is gonna to kill my dad when he finds out."
"This goes with it." Kavanagh held out a large black backpack for Rodney to take. "Cowen says you should stay in the ice chest, and wanted to give you a little more dressing."
"Not yet." Kolya stuck his hand in front of the backpack. "We need your signature first, on the application for a marriage license."
"Doesn't that have to be notarized or something?" Rodney asked, signing when Kolya pointed.
"We'll take care of it." Kolya nodded to Kavanagh, who handed the pack to Rodney.
The pack was pretty hefty. Had to be another change of clothing or something in there. "I can't believe that all this is because of a pair of pajamas."
Kavanagh snorted. "The best investment you'll ever make."
"Keep your head down and don't cause trouble," Kolya said. "I know you're probably busting to get outta there, but it's got to be this way until the boss gets everything settled. So keep your Bluetooth hot, so we can call."
"The cell doesn't work here, so you'll have to use the landline." Rodney shouldered the bag. "I--" He glanced through the door, and saw that the Professors were finally leaving the library. "The guys go to bed early, so have Cowen ring me around ten. I'll be the only one up." He slipped into the door and slid the backpack behind the entry table, hoping no one would notice. "Hey, what's up?"
Whatever it was couldn't be good. None of the others would look at him. "Professor Sheppard wants a word with you, in the library," Lorne finally coughed out.
Rodney patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about me. I'm sure Shep and I can work something out." He snapped his fingers and pointed. "I'm on top of it."
***
As he stepped into the library, John called out, "Close the door, please."
"Sure," Rodney said, strolling into the room as the door swung shut behind him.
John felt distinctly uncomfortable, tugging at his shirt collar and smoothing his bow tie. "Take this chair, will you Dr. McKay?"
Rodney glanced around. The closest one was the big, overstuffed chair he'd sat in the first night; the one that tended to eat visitors. "Okay." Rodney shrugged and relaxed into the chair. "What's this about?"
John rubbed the back of his neck. Damn but he hated this. He didn't even know where to being. "How are you feeling, Dr. McKay?"
"Pretty good, other than a slight twinge in my back." Rodney rubbed at the sore spot. "I could use a good massage."
Clearing his throat, John glanced down and away from Rodney, speaking to the carpet to put the image of Rodney's naked back out of his mind. "And your throat, how is that feeling? Any soreness at all?"
"No, nothing." Rodney shook his head, watching as John paced the length of the room. "I feel better than I have in days. Must be all the good food and rest around here." Rodney obviously knew something was up. He shifted in his chair, lacing and unlacing his fingers, clenching his hands. He looked in utter agony, but John still couldn't bring himself to do what he needed to do.
Looking out the window, John sighed. The weather was particularly gorgeous today. He really had no excuse for putting this off. Turning around, John left his perch by the window to stand by Rodney's chair, resting his hand along the back even though his fingers itched to stroke Rodney's neck. "I just checked and the sky's clear today. If you're feeling as good as you say you are, then...I think it's time for you to leave."
"Why?" Rodney blinked up at him.
Okay, John hadn't been expecting that. He put his hands behind his back. "Your participation in the project has been most helpful--"
"Yeah, it's been a ton of fun."
"Rod--Dr. McKay, that's exactly the point. The foundation that is paying us for our encyclopedia expects us to work on it." John rubbed his hand across his forehead, and paced across the room. "And for the past four days--the four days that you have been here--we've, well, we've lost our way. The compass no longer points north, it points...well, at your...wherever you want it to point."
Rodney rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Look, if it's bothering you so much, I'll stay out of the way. I'll sit in my room and read, or hang out with Ronon in the kitchen."
"It's too late for that. You've got to leave, Rodney. I--" John cleared his throat. This really was going as badly as John had expected "You have to go."
"You don't mean that." Rodney jumped out of the chair, his hands whirling in the air. "What about your work, your slang research?" He strode over to the dictionary and tapped its cover. "You know that the rest of them can't break it down for you like I can."
"That's true." John shook his head, walking over to Rodney. He'd already rehearsed the answer for this one in his mind. "I will just have to work twice as hard with the others."
"Ah, but you'll miss my keen mind," Rodney said, and smiled. It trembled a little around the edges.
"You're right, Rodney. I will." John turned his head away. "Unfortunately, it seems to be connected to an extremely...disconcerting personality, and a very attractive...body."
"Really? Huh." Rodney blinked. "I think that's the longest speech I have ever heard you make." He waved John off. "All right, you win. I'll leave sometime tomorrow."
"No tomorrow, right away. I don't know what it's like for the others, but I can't hear myself even think around you."
"Any special reason?" Rodney's smile firmed under John's gaze, becoming more knowing, practically smug.
The look freed John's mind from its current focus on Rodney's lips, and mentally, John grabbed for the first things he could think of. "For example, when you brought me a cup of coffee yesterday morning, I couldn't help but notice how the cut of your shirt sleeve emphasized your biceps when you set the cup down. And later, when you were at the white board, I couldn't help but notice the way that your jeans accentuated the curve of your...bottom. And then you looked over your shoulder at me, and the way the light hit your eyes--" He swallowed hard. "It was very disconcerting."
"So...you like my ass?" Rodney's smug smile turned amused and self-satisfied, and his eyes sparkled with amusement. "I've been told it's one of my best features."
"Yes, well.... If I'm staring at your ass, I'm not getting any work...oh, no. None of that. Don't." John's voice became very strained as Rodney turned around deliberately, walking over to the bookcase on the far wall, and propped his foot up on the lowest shelf and looked over his shoulder at John.
"Why do you think I came here in the first place?" Rodney said, posing carefully in the sunlight.
Really, when Rodney stood like that, John could barely think. "To help with the research, of course." John tugged at the collar of his shirt. It was suddenly very warm in here. Very, very warm.
"You are an idiot, aren't you?" Rodney shook his head, and left the window, stalking forward to run his hand over John's arm; John couldn't look away. "It wasn't so much the research as the researcher that I was interested in, if you catch my drift."
"McKay!"
Rodney grinned, obviously enjoying how…discomfited he made John feel. "I thought you were...." his eyes tracked down John's body, and back up to capture his gaze, "fit. And pretty." He ran a finger down John's jawline, and John reflexively jerked away, his pants growing excessively, uh, tight.
"Pretty?" John glared at him.
"Uh-huh," Rodney said, pushing forward again, his lips almost brushing John's. "A regular yum-yum type."
"Yum-yum?" John said, wrapping his arms around Rodney's waist.
"Don't you know what that means?" Rodney was practically laughing at him, and John had never felt like such a clumsy, awkward fool.
But he didn't want to leave, and anyway, he wasn't sure he could. Rodney was like one of those old serpent-charmers, and John was mesmerized by his movements, how he spoke, how he looked. Feeling dazed, John shook his head, trying to clear it while his body demanded that he press in close. "No, uh, No. We...we never got to that."
"Here, let me demonstrate then." Rodney slid his hand up and around John's arms. "Here's yum." Rodney gave John a quick peck on his lips. "And here some more yum." John was relaxing now, his lips softening under Rodney's. "And here's some yum-yum."
As they kissed, John felt himself relaxing against Rodney, as a tingle built up in his hands, feet and spine. He felt Rodney's hands press into his ass and moaned softly, sliding his arms around to stroke Rodney's back as well. He licked and nipped at Rodney's lips, mouthing his ear and neck, loving the taste and feel of Rodney's skin.
Warning bells went off in his mind. He couldn't, shouldn't do this. Not now. Quickly, he pulled away and straightened himself out, his face flushed, hands trembling. He ran up the stairs two at a time, and hit the door of the bathroom; flicking on the cold water, he splashed it over his face and the back of his neck until he finally felt like he had cooled down enough to keep himself back under control.
Rodney was sitting in the overstuffed chair once again. "What did you mean, running out on me like that," he huffed, glaring at John. "And why is your hair wet?"
"These past few minutes have merely...confirmed my hypothesis, that your presence in this house ensures that no one will get any work done. I've asked Ronon to call you a taxi, and you must get me out of your mind, just as I must get you out of mine." John put his hands on his hips and smiled shyly. "I would still like to keep in touch, though. When the encyclopedia is done in three years or so, I would love to see you again"
"Sheppard, I--" Rodney rolled his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face. "Teyla and Sam aren't celibate, you know. So why should you be?"
"It's not that, it's just--" John scrunched up his face. "When this project was started, as our room and board is a part of our compensation package, we all agreed that we would not have...long term guests in the house. Ronon is the only one who wouldn't agree to the terms, and he lives off-site. And this book is my obsession, my brain child. I have to finish it. I need to be obsessed with my work and not with--" he waved a hand at Rodney's body, "well, you."
"Obsessed?" Rodney perked up. "I prefer the term focused, myself."
"Me, too, actually." John's voice was rough and raspy, and he couldn't tear his gaze away from Rodney...and Rodney seemed unable to tear his gaze from John. The realization was a heady thought, and it made John feel invulnerable. He stepped forward, ignoring the little tiny voice inside him that tried to remind him that this was a bad idea; Rodney stood and slid his arms around John's neck, leaning his forehead against John's. This felt right, more right than anything he'd done in the last ten years, since before he'd taken this job.
He curved his hand around the back of Rodney's neck and sighed, his breath mingling with Rodney's in the small space between them. "Before you go, maybe...just one more kiss?"
This time, Rodney's smile was wicked.
***
Waking up next to Rodney felt amazing. John ran his chin lightly over Rodney's bare shoulder, smiling at the grumbled 'mmmerm' as Rodney buried himself under the pillow. "Are you hungry?"
"'m always hungry."
"I'm going to sneak down and get us something," John said softly, pulling on his pants. "Ronon's gone, right?" He glanced at the clock: nearly ten. Yeah, Ronon would be long gone by now. "Back in a bit."
John couldn't help whistling as he made his way into the kitchen. He flicked on the light, and gave a small startled cry at discovering Parrish and Lorne present, yesterday's bread out and on the cutting board before them. "Do you guys do this every night?" he asked, padding into the room, the tile flooring cool under his bare feet.
Lorne gave a wry half-smile and nodded. "Pretty much, yeah." His hair was sticking up at all angles, and his flannel robe hung open, leaving his chest exposed, and there was a dollop of blackberry jam on the side of his mouth.
Parrish still had one of his fingers stuck in his mouth. He hurriedly licked it off, then wiped his hands with a napkin. "Well, I couldn't eat all the jam myself, could I?"
"Actually, I think you could." John dug around in the cupboards, moving aside the flour and sea salt, and reaching around behind the vanilla to pull out a spice grinder. He lifted the lid on it and took a sniff, nodding to himself. Yeah, this was the right one.
"Hey," said Lorne, staring at the dark powder encrusted on the lid. "That looks like coffee."
"That's because it is coffee." John puttered over to the refrigerator, and sorted through the boxes of soy delicious until he found the peanut butter and chocolate one. "Ronon keeps some coffee on hand in case he needs it for something." He pulled off the lid and brought out the small bag of roasted beans. "But you have to grind it yourself."
"I don't care. I think that's the prettiest thing I have seen in months. Ow." Lorne rubbed his arm where Parrish had hit him. "I was talking about the coffee!"
"Don't let Ronon know I told you." John pulled the tiny one-cup sized French press out from behind the mixing bowls and set it one the counter. "Would you mind turning the kettle on?"
Parrish stretched over and checked the water level, then flipped the switch on the kettle to 'on.' "I take it you had a pleasant evening?"
"Hmm, yes." John couldn't help smiling.
"I take it McKay will be with us for awhile."
"No, I--" John dumped beans in the grinder and pressed the switch, pulsing the blades until the beans were coarsely ground and shiny with oil. "You know he can't."
"You could hire him," Parrish suggested.
"As what?" John sighed heavily and poured the ground coffee into the press. "He told me he never went to college, that 'doctor' was a part of his act. And you know that Elizabeth was just after us about budget--" Frustration made him growl as he spoke, and John made himself take a deep breath and look around, rather than sinking any further into no-win scenarios. "Hey, mind if I make some toast."
"Knock yourself out," Lorne said, swinging a ladder-backed kitchen chair around so he could sit on it backwards, straddling it, arms crossed over the back. "Even if money weren't an issue, you know there would be a problem with that whole boss/employee thing."
"It really is too bad you can't marry him," Parrish sighed. "That would solve the whole thing.
John glanced up sharply at Parrish. "You are a genius," he said, waving the butter knife in Parrish's face. "An incredible genius."
"Parrish?" Lorne said skeptically, "Come on, Shep, you know--"
"Ah-ha!" John waved the knife at the two of them, then placed the toasted bread on a plate as it popped. "I know it's a little...corny to rush into things like this, but Rodney is just--"
"I don't want to know," Lorne sighed. "All right, okay, so let's say you are going to be this stupid and ask him to marry you. Then what happens?"
John put the plate of toast on a wooden tray, and covered it with a lid. "Nothing, really. Rodney stays here, and if anyone asks Elizabeth what is going on, we tell her about the wedding plans." He added the coffee, creamer, and sugar to the tray and stared at it a moment, trying to think if he had everything. "Any more jam?"
"You're crazy. You've never done anything like this in your life--" Lorne scraped the last of the jam onto his bread and defiantly popped it into his mouth. "And no, there's no more jam."
"I say it's very romantic," Parrish interjected. "Here." Parrish plucked a flower from the kitchen vase, and putting it on the tray. "Now you can go. And you," he glared at Lorne, "could learn to be a little more spontaneous in your life."
"Aw, David...."
Parrish huffed and swept out of the room, Lorne two steps behind him.
Carrying the tray up the stairs was difficult; John was afraid he would spill everything before arrived. But he managed, balancing the tray in one hand so he could open and close the door.
It was worth it, though. Rodney was sitting up in bed, the covers pooled around his waist, revealing his bare chest. John felt a deep, visceral shiver run through him at the sight. What they had just done--He had to shake himself, and set the tray on the bed.
"Oh, coffee," Rodney said with a sigh. "How'd you manage that?"
"Ronon keeps some for guests. I had to use the French press to make it." John poured him a cup, then reached for the milk pitcher.
"Just java," Rodney said, pulling the cup to him and taking a drink before John could do anything else. "It's perfect. Thanks."
"I made toast, too." John put his hand on the dish to life the cover, but Rodney wrinkled his nose.
"I don't really like toast. Unless you have jam. Do you have any strawberry jam?"
"I'm afraid we're out."
"Never mind. I'll stick with the coffee and can dig a bar out of my bag later."
"A bar?"
"You know, energy bars? Packed with nutrition and protein. I practically live on the stuff." He must have seen something in John's face, though, as he followed it up with, "But maybe I could...eat toast." His smile was half-hearted. "I don't suppose you have honey, do you?"
John tapped the ceramic honey-pot. "Would you like me to put it on the toast?"
"Sure, knock yourself out," Rodney said with an airy wave. "God, I can't get over you. You're all--what's this?"
John had taken the cover off, and the small jewelry box could clearly be seen. Rodney gingerly pricked it up, as if it was a bomb that might go off any second.
"Open it," John said eagerly, sitting down on the bed next to Rodney. "It was my grandfather's ring." He shrugged. "My grandmother gave it to me when she found out I was gay. Said she hoped it would bring me as much luck with men as it had brought her."
"Did it?"
"You're the first man I've ever given it to. If it doesn't fit, we can call a jeweler and get it resized." John toyed with the covered on the bed, straightening them out. "If you say you'll marry me, then you wouldn't be a guest. You could stay while we figured out the arrangements."
Staring at it, Rodney pushed the ring down onto his finger. "I don't know what to say."
"Say yes." John slid his hand over Rodney's. "Once one has admitted how one feels, it's the only logical step to take." He leaned back and threw and arm over his chair. "People like me, married to their work and their books...well, it's like dust piles up around their hearts, and it takes a strong breeze to blow it away."
"Hurricane McKay, that's me." His face was an odd combination of things, and John couldn't tease out what the look meant. "I just never wanted to destroy anything about you."
Someone pounded on the door right then, and Carson's voice could be heard from the landing. "Rodney! Rodney! There's a phone call for you."
"A phone call? What time--? Crap." Pulling on his borrowed pajamas, Rodney wrapped his robe around him and dashed past Carson, and barreled down the stairs to the nearest extension.
"Who is it?" John asked.
"He said he was Rodney's father," Zelenka replied.
"McKay senior, huh?" John shook his head. "That's peculiar. Rodney said his father threw him out of the house when he was younger."
"Maybe they have reconciled?" Teyla said. "Family is very important in many cultures."
"How did it go, Sheppard?" Lorne asked quietly. "With the, you know, the ring thing."
"He seemed...a little startled. Overwhelmed."
"Well, that's to be expected," Carson said. "I know I would be, swept off my feet by a handsome young lad."
Lorne really was the team's worst gossip. He must have told everyone about the ring. "Carson, you are two years younger than I am. Stop being an old biddy."
"Before I married," Radek said, "I had to discuss the matter with her parents."
"I can't imagine asking anyone other than Rodney for their permission." John scratched at his chest, and Parrish blushed.
"Not permission, perhaps, but maybe offer them a chance meet you," Radek said.
"Perhaps take a trip with Rodney to Canada." Parrish looked over at Lorne, who nodded and added, "You could get married there."
"Yeah, Sheppard. And you could honeymoon someplace other than a library." Sam grinned at him, and leaned against Teyla. "Maybe they have a cabin up in the mountains someplace that they'd lend you."
"Not all Canadians have mountain cabins, you know," John said.
"But you like to ski, yes?" Radek said. "I would love to ski again. My late wife and I went skiing for our honeymoon twenty years ago."
"You're all daft," Carson said. "I prefer golfing myself."
John edged around them and headed down the stairs, he could hear the strain in Rodney's voice as soon as he stepped on the landing. "I can't--Listen, I'm not--Fine." He took a deep breath. "Any other news, Dad? How are the crops doing?" He waved at John, and held the phone close to his chest. "I won't be long. Just wait in the library."
"Is everything all right?" John asked. "I know you said things were difficult between you."
"Oh, yeah. Sure, sure. Everything's fine. Dad's excited to have a star in the family." Rodney made shooing motions to the crowd gathered around him. "I'll just be a minute."
"Do you mind if I have a few words with him?"
"What? Are you--I mean, why?" Listening to the phone, Rodney visibly swallowed, and rolled his eyes. "Sure. Sounds great. Dad would love to talk to you, too."
Pale and trembling, Rodney handed the phone over to John. Really, John thought, he'd gotten here just in time. They had obviously been well on their way to another blow-up. "Mr. McKay? I'm Dr. John Sheppard, and I trust that Rodney has already told you about my, ah, interest in him."
"Yeah, he has. Are you crazy, taking an interest in a loose cannon like him?"
"No, no. I'm not crazy, sir. He's just one of the most intriguing people that I've ever met." He braved a smile at Rodney, who paled and looked away, his arms wrapped tight around his chest.
"Lived a sheltered life, have you?" Mr. McKay said.
"I am a researcher, if that's what you mean. I was a member of the faculty at the University of Washington for several years, before I accepted my current position. I would love to have the opportunity to come visit you with Rodney, if that was acceptable."
"I was thinking along those lines myself. We never planned on having a professor in the family, but if that's what Rodney wants.... We've spent too many years apart as it is."
"Oh, I understand, sir."
"So would you have any objection to bringing Rodney up to Vancouver tomorrow, so we could all meet?"
"I was going to suggest that very thing myself," John said, smiling and playing with the phone cord. "I would love to meet you all."
"Wonderful! Now listen, Rodney's mother can't travel, and it would break her heart not to see Rodney married, to see her little boy settle down."
"If my mother were still alive, I'm sure she would feel the same way."
"In that case, you wouldn't object to having the ceremony here, would you? So we could do it up nice and proper?
"Why, no, Mr. McKay. That's an excellent thought."
"Fine, then. Would you mind putting Rodney on?"
John grinned and gave Rodney the thumbs-up signal, before handing him the phone. "It's better than I hoped for," he said, and turned to the rest of the team who had been shamelessly eavesdropping. "They want us to come see them tomorrow, and have the wedding there."
"Umm-hmm. Maybe there's some other way." Rodney shook his head. "I really don't want to take anyone for that kind of a ride."
"Oh, that's okay." John said, stepping forward and putting his hand on Rodney's shoulder. "I'll take a couple of days off."
"We all will!" said Parrish.
"Oh, yes!" said Carson. "I haven't been to a wedding for years."
"I can call around and rent us a van or something," Sam added.
"It is an excellent idea." Teyla agreed.
While they were all talking excitedly to one another, Rodney hung up the phone. His mouth was a tight line, and John noticed that his hands were gripped into fists before he tucked them under his arms. John could see the tirade building, and stepped in close, laying his hand on Rodney's arm.
"What's the matter?"
"Oh, the...." John saw his eyes flicker and dart away as Rodney extracted himself fro John's touch. "He's always so controlling. Everything has to be his way."
"In this instance, it's my good fortune." John smiled, trying to catch Rodney's eye, though he left his arms at his side. He could see how upset Rodney was by the conversation, and given that John himself hated to be touched when he was angry, it only made sense for Rodney to withdraw as well. And if this was how Rodney reacted just from a phone call with his father...well, it was no wonder that Rodney decided on leaving the country. "It's going to be okay, Rodney. You'll see. The sooner we get married, the better, right?"
"I guess."
Something jiggled the front door, and then Ronon stepped inside. He looked around at the assembled group and lifted an eyebrow. "You can't all be after the jam."
***
Ronon made tea while the rest of the group settled down in the library to plan the wedding. Books on marriage customs were investigated, but everyone agreed that nothing was really suitable, and Teyla insisted on writing the ceremony herself. Parrish wanted to be a bridesmaid, but Carson pointed out that no one was really a bride in this instance, which led to Lorne wondering about where they might be able to get tuxes or if their regular suits would work.
As one, everyone stopped and looked around at each other: John had no suit. Tension thrummed loud and hot as a powerline, until Sam shouted out, "The Internet!" Immediately, she bolted from the room, Lorne, Teyla, and Radek right behind her.
Rodney noticed that Carson had apparently fallen asleep on the library settee.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. Fuck. This was all so screwed. The longer he was here, the more he realized the compromises he'd made with Cowen and the way he'd turned a blind eye to things. Cowen probably was involved in a murder, and now he'd put everyone here at risk: if he didn't show up for the 'wedding,' then Cowen would come after him, killing anyone who tried to intervene.
But Rodney had a practical streak to him, and figured if he followed through, everyone stayed alive. Oh, sure, it would break John's heart when he found out that Rodney had used him like this, but he'd get over it. A guy like that, smart and fun and charming--not to mention sexy as hell--he'd find a new distraction within a week. He didn't need Rodney around at all.
The fact that it would also break Rodney's heart was really no more than he deserved. Before heading to bed, he stopped in the hallway to pick up the backpack that Kolya and Kavanagh had given him earlier, only it wasn't where he had left it. Puzzled, he mentally retraced his steps, but he couldn't remember taking it anywhere after he and John had kissed. He wandered into the library again, just to make sure he hadn't misplaced it.
"Hey," he said, tapping on Carson's shoulder. "Have you seen my backpack?"
Carson's eyes silted open. "Ronon took it upstairs, I think."
"Thanks." Rodney grabbed the afghan from where it had slipped off Carson's shoulder, and tucked it in around his neck. "You're gonna hurt like hell in the morning. Don't blame me for the fact that you feel asleep in an odd position."
"Yes, Rodney," Carson's said, burying his head in what looked like a scratchy, century- old pillow.
Shaking his head, Rodney headed up the stairs. He was going to miss all of them.
***
When Rodney opened the door to his room, Ronon was sitting on the bed, with Rodney's suitcase and backpack beside him, both of them open. The pack seemed to have contained power bars, a new silk shirt, and note which Ronon held in his hand. He arched an eyebrow the moment that Rodney entered. "Sugarpuss?"
"Hey, that's private!" Rodney said, jerking the paper out of his hand. "It's nothing you need to know about anyway."
"This is." Ronon tossed the newspaper in front of Rodney. "Not that good of a picture."
God, he'd forgotten about that. "Well, you blow them up like that, and they get grainy." Rodney sank onto the bed, almost sort-of happy that he didn't have to hide any more, that it was all out of his hands. "I suppose I better get my things together and high-tail it down the back stairs."
"You gonna marry Sheppard?"
"No."
"You gonna marry any of 'em?"
A sick, half-broken laugh escaped Rodney's lips. "No. They all deserve better."
"Okay." Ronon patted his thigh and stood, stretching. "Pack yourself, McKay. I gotta lay in supplies."
"What--? You're not going to call the police on me?"
"Rather not. I figure, break their hearts here or break them in Canada, doesn't really matter." Ronon shrugged. "When they get back, they'll be hungry, those of 'em that are eating."
"I don't get this. Why are you letting me go?"
"Do you want to leave?"
Rodney didn't have the heart to lie. "No." It sounded a lot softer than he intended.
"But you have to."
Rodney nodded.
"I thought so." Ronon stabbed a finger at Cowen's name in the article. "Before I took this job, I'd been on the run awhile. And this guy, he's bad, McKay. You go, he gets what he wants, and he leaves the professors alone. You stay, or I go to the cops, and...."
"Yeah." Rodney's mouth twisted on him. "At least this way, everyone gets out alive."
"Pretty much." Ronon tapped the paper. "You'll be okay?"
"I'm getting Cowen," Rodney said, folding the paper up and laying it in the bottom of his trunk. "That should be more than enough for a guy like me, right?"
Ronon just grunted, picked up one of the power bars, and shut the door behind him, leaving Rodney alone.
***
It wasn't Carson's fault that the deer jumped out of the brush at them on their way to Vancouver and they ended up in a ditch near Surrey, having to walk into town and get a tow to the nearest garage. They found rooms at a run-down, cottage-style hotel, which may have once been a working farm at some point in the last century. They had dinner in a large, family-style dining room, and then John insisted that Rodney call his father.
"You were nervous the whole drive," John said. "I was afraid you'd throw up when we got to the border. We'll just spend the night here and see your parents tomorrow. We can't get a new car until then anyway."
"Yeah, yeah, I guess," Rodney said distractedly. "You just don't know how...disappointed he'll be." He went out to the reception area to use the phone, while John headed back to the dining table.
Using several equations scrawled on the backs of paper napkins, Radek was explaining to the group how it wasn't Carson's fault that the deer hit him, while every else laughed. "I can prove it," Radek said carefully. "It's simple physics."
"For that, you should have some more wine," Carson said, topping off Radek's glass and his own. "Anyone else?"
"I'll have some." Lorne held out his glass.
"And me," Parrish said, mirroring Lorne.
"You might as well just top everyone off, Carson. I don't think anyone's abstaining." John gestured at Rodney's plate.
Sam snorted and giggled simultaneously at that. "Abstinence. He's right, no one's abstaining around here."
John ordered another bottle, and by the time Rodney got back, most of that one was gone. "I think I'll head to bed," he said. Big day tomorrow." He circled his hand in the air. "You know, wedding and that."
"Good idea. We'll be leaving early. Seven thirty, all right."
"Oh, I'll be awake all right." Rodney picked up his glass rolling his stem between his finger a moment, before looking at everyone and lifting his glass. "Here's to you, kids."
"To all of us," Parrish said, standing.
"Agreed," Carson added, standing up beside him, until the whole table was on their feet.
"Sheppard," Rodney said, and seemed to freeze for a moment, before turning to look at the rest of the group. "You guys still have time to change his mind, you know. He doesn't have to marry me."
"No one's changing my mind," John said, taking Rodney's hand in his own. "And I want to marry you."
"You are such an idiot," Rodney said, a little breathlessly, laying his hand on John's chest. It felt good there, right, and John relaxed into the moment, letting all the warmth and affection he felt for Rodney bubble up from inside of him to where Rodney could see. He knew he looked a little goofy, but he didn't care. This was going to be worth it.
For a moment, they breathed together, then Rodney shook his head and pulled his hands away. "At least they can give you a proper bachelor party, before you settle down." He drained his glass and set it down on the table. "Anyone remember which cabin is mine?"
"Six, I think," said Carson.
"No, that one is mine," said Parrish, elbowing Carson. "You're in number nine, Rodney, It's the sixth one on the left hand side."
"Right." Rodney paused and patted John's chest. "I really--If I were ever trapped on a desert island, I'd want to take all of you with me." He cleared his throat. "Goodbye, kids."
"Goodnight!" Teyla called out, as Rodney headed quickly for the door, the rest of the group adding their 'good nights' as well. He hesitated a moment on the doorstep, then reached up and swatted the nose of the moosehead hanging over the door. "For luck," he said, coloring brightly, and closed the door behind him.
They talked for a while about the upcoming marriage, and what it was that made for a good relationship. Radek ended up banging on his water glass to get everyone's attention. "Please, you are all speaking on a subject that you know very little about. I am the only one here who has been married."
"Hey!" Sam yelled. "While we haven't tied the knot, I wouldn't say we're chopped liver in the relationship department."
"Perhaps there is another way to phrase that, Doctor." Teyla arched her eyebrow and gave Radek a level, icy stare.
"I'm curious, though. How long were you married for?" Sam asked.
"Five years. I came to America after." Radek cleared his throat and looked away. "She was an artist, gifted with finding the beauty in the most desolate landscapes. She died sketching an abandoned building when it collapsed." He sighed and took a sip of water. "I have spent many hours reliving our happiness, and Sheppard, if you should ever need it, I would be happy to give you advice."
"Thank you, Radek, but that would be unnecessary. Rodney is an open book, his emotions are written in his expressions and his voice and his language."
"That's just it, don't you see?" Parrish banged his hand on the table. "Rodney is a fragile creature, like...like...like an orchid almost in bloom, and you must nurture him." He tipped back the last of the wine and sighed. "He is like the Anemone nemorosa, waiting for the warm sunshine and soft winds before it unfolds." He looked intently at John. "One rough, impetuous bee can destroy the bloom."
Lorne took his wine glass away. "Come on, buddy. I think you've had enough. Get out of the garden for once."
"Lorne--" John growled, while several others shushed him as well.
"Okay, okay," Lorne said, twisting Parrish's glass in his hands. "Rodney's more like Rosemary, anyway, which is a pretty hardy plant."
Parrish turned to stare at Lorne, his eyes wide. "You listen when I talk about plants?"
"Sometimes." Lorne flushed scarlet and shifted down in his chair.
Teyla, who tended to sing if she had more than a couple of glasses of wine, started in on the opening lines of "Scarborough Fair," taking Sam's hand in her own.
"That's lovely," Parrish said, still looking at Lorne. "I think...I think I have to go now." Head down, he turned and headed for the back door, while Lorne turned and joined Teyla in song.
Soon, most of the group had joined in, and the music had progressed to old camp-style songs. John listened for a bit, but what Parrish had said began to weigh on him. He needed to understand what it was that Parrish had been trying to get at.
The others ignored him as they sang loudly and robustly, even if not in key, while John headed out for Parrish's bungalow. It was too dark out to see the numbers clearly, but he knew Parrish was in six, so he simply counted, using the first cabin as number one.
He didn't bother knocking, trying the door and entering when he found it open and the lights out. "Parrish?" He heard the rustle of cloth and quickly added, "Please, don't turn on the light. I needed to ask you something that's rather...personal, and I'm not sure I could manage if I saw you." He took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm going to guess that what you were talking about was a little personal for you, too, and while I...understand what you were talking about in relationship to flowers, I can't help but think that it has to be different with people. We're more resilient and...."
Shoving his hand in his hair, John paced to the other side of the room. "I'm a bit bolder than you are, Parrish, and, well, I've already sampled the flower so to speak, but that isn't going to hurt us, is it." He rubbed his hands together. "The fact is, I'm in love. I want take him in my arms and hold him, kiss him when the sun sets and when the sun rises again. I can't just go gently, not when I think about him every waking hour. I thought I could control this, that if I just approached it logically, I could manage my...interest. But I can't. I've lost it, Parrish. I can't think about my work or language or the article I am supposed to be writing. All I can think about is him."
A shaft of moonlight struck the bed, and John could see Rodney there, staring at him. "Damn it, Sheppard," he growled, and launched himself off the bed into John's arms, kissing him. It wasn't the kisses they'd shared in the library, which had been fun and playful and teasing; this one was needy and wanton, and just a little bit desperate.
Hell, a lot desperate, and John was just as desperate back. His fears over what Parrish had said where completely tossed away, as Rodney pressed in close to John, shoving him back against the door, hands scrabbling to rip at John's tie, loosening it.
With his head pressed against the wood, the faint rumbling beyond the doorway formed into words; Carson was calling, "Sheppard? Professor Sheppard?" Carson had to be checking bungalow by bungalow looking for John.
"I have to go," John said, pulling away from Rodney. "Carson's calling for me."
"Are you sure?" Rodney pressed himself had against John's thigh. "I can think of a lot more interesting things to do than talk with Carson."
"Yeah, so can I." The smile in John's voice was clear as he gave Rodney one last kiss. "I'll come back and we can try a few of them, if you'd like."
"If I'd--Oh, oh God, John." He shuddered, a little noise of need and want escaping his lips. "What you do to me," he said softly. John thought he heard the shower start as he closed the front door behind him.
"Carson! Over here," he yelled, spying a dark figure two cottages away. "What is it?"
"Oh, there you are." Carson's face was pale and sweaty. "You need to come back to the dining room right away. Something's come up and we--" He wiped his hand across his forehead. "I think they better tell you."
"Who tell me what?"
"Four gentlemen arrived, looking for--" He swallowed hard. "They can explain. Please." He walked quickly back to the main dining area, and John followed him; the moment they stepped into the bright lights, John blinked at the haze of smoke, finally making out a squat man leaning against the dining room table. His suit was designer, his brown shirt made of silk, and his shoes were from Italy; it looked like he'd spent a lot of money trying to look sophisticated, but it did nothing to hide the aura of menace that surrounded him.
Beckett scrambled around him to sit with the rest of the professors at the table behind the stranger, all of their hands resting clearly on the table top. Lorne and Sam wore matching glowers, while Parrish and Radek looked as white as Carson did, now that John saw him in the light. Teyla was apparently assessing the situation, her eyes gauging the men ranged around table.
John pressed his lips together tight. He didn't like the look of the fellow in front of him, a smug, condescending look sketched on what could be seen of his face.
"Well, well, well," the man said, tipping his hat back so he could look directly at John. "So you're Sheppard. I'd expected you to be older, more the aging hippy type, with a beard and stains on your shirt." He made an audible 'tsk' sound. "I'll have to tell Rodney his description was lacking."
"Who are you?" John growled, his hands bunching into fists at his side.
"Rodney hasn't told you about me? Well, that's mighty smart of him. He always was a bright boy." The man tilted his head slightly. "We never planned on having a professor in the family," he said, his smile cruel, and John's stomach tightened into a knot; he wanted to pound that mocking smile right off of his face and wished he'd followed his own father into the military so he'd be able to do just that.
"You're not his father," John said coldly.
"No, I'm the one who keeps him. Everything Rodney has, I paid for, from the clothes on his back to the theater his band played in." He slowly stood and walked over to John. "And I don't like poachers."
He slammed his fist into John's stomach, and oh, god, that hurt. Doubling over, John's eyes started watering as the deep ache spread through him. He could hear the shouts of the others, and the men at the walls telling them to 'knock it off' and 'quiet down.'
"Get him a chair," the man snarled, and the tall henchman with the ponytail shoved something hard against the back of John's knees, forcing him to sit. "That's better. And here I'd been counting on Rodney to tell you the score. He always has his own best interests at heart." The man brushed off the arms of his suit.
"The wedding's a lie," Sam growled out. "The whole thing was faked to get McKay here."
"Oh, there's going to be a wedding all right, and Rodney will be getting married." The man's mouth twisted into an unpleasant smile. "Only I'm the one he'll be wedded to." He reached around and pulled out his wallet, throwing a Canadian fifty on the table. "I do appreciate the way you work. Rodney would never have gotten across the border without you."
"We were duped," Radek said.
"Yeah," said Lorne. "McKay had no interest in us at all."
"You're wrong," John said, catching his breath. "Rodney--"
"You really thought Rodney was going to marry you, with your Professor's salary and miserly room and board? He spends that much just keeping his piano in tune. He's selfish and egotistical, and a petty little tyrant about the tiniest things, like the type of wood used to stretch his shoes before he wears them." He walked around behind John, and placed his hand on each side of the ladder back, so he could lean over and speak softly in John's ear, making John wince. "Rodney's a demon in bed, though, so it's worth it to put up with the way he pouts and sulks and whines if the seams on his shirt are frayed and catch on his skin." He must have seen something in John's expression, as he pulled away then. "You don't believe it, do you?" He gestured for John to stand. "All right, then, go tell Rodney that Cowen is here, and watch him come running." Cowen's face tightened into a threatening mask. "The rest of 'em will stay here while you do. Kolya! Kavanagh! Make sure none of 'em move."
Casting a glance at his friends, John left, hoping--praying--that he was right.
***
Watching out of his bungalow window as John entered the dining room, Rodney got a glimpse of someone whose height and distinct profile made him hard to mistake: Kavanagh. His heart plummeted, and he had to grip onto the footboard of the bed to keep himself steady.
This was it. He was completely and utterly fucked. Knowing that John loved him, and that this wasn't just a good time for either of them, Rodney knew he couldn't marry Cowen. Chills shook him, and for a moment, Rodney thought he might be violently ill. Pressing a hand to his stomach, he eased himself onto the bed, his mind a whirl of thoughts. He knew he should run, now, while he had the chance, but this place was so isolated he wasn't going to be able to get far without Cowen tracking him down.
And in the meantime, Cowen would get angry, and Rodney really didn't want to take the chance that he might take his anger out on Lorne, or Radek, or Carson, or Teyla, or...John.
He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together as hard as he could, afraid if he opened his mouth, some strange low keening might come forth, like an animal in pain. He wasn't sure his pride could take that sort of blow. Cowen and the men before him could buy anything, but it was all stuff--clothing, jewelry, dinners out. They never bought--him.
No, that he gave away for free to the first man that valued him for what he thought.
John didn't bother to knock. "There's a Mr. Cowen waiting for you in the dining room."
"Yeah," Rodney said softly, not really looking at John. Because if he looked, he might say something that both of them would regret.
When Rodney wouldn't meet his eyes, John straightened. "Don't worry about us. We won't tell the police where you are, or notify the Mounties or whatever you do here in Canada. You can just...slip away, in the middle of the night. Same as you arrived."
"Shep--"
"Don't say anything." Even in the dark, Rodney could see the tension humming through John's body. "I should be thanking you for the lesson you taught us, on why we shouldn't accept anyone at face value." John shook his head. "And you charged so little, too."
Tired and hurting, Rodney lashed out. "You're not the only one who paid."
"For pushovers like us? A day or two, and I'm sure you won't even remember the cost. Cowen will buy you a new shirt or take you to Rio or something, and you'll forget all about the silly, foolish--stupid--professors that you left behind."
Twisting his hands together, Rodney could feel the ring--John's ring--heavy on his hands. He ripped it off and shoved it at John. "Here, you'll want this."
"Why?" John shoved his hands deep into his pocket. "My grandmother was wrong. It didn't bring me good luck after all."
Rodney pushed past him and out the door, without bothering to pack. The sooner they were on the road, the better. It wasn't like he would miss anything that he was leaving behind.
***
The dining room was quiet the following morning, no one so much as looking at anyone else. A cold breakfast had been set out--pastries, cereal, yogurt, fruit and coffee--but little had been touched. John looked the buffet over and sighed wearily, setting coffee, a small bunch of grapes and a toasted bagel on a tray.
"White bread just doesn't taste right," Carson said, dropping his toast back on the plate. "How's the porridge?" He glanced across the table at Radek, who was watching a glob drip off of his spoon into his bowl.
"Perhaps you would like it." Radek shoved the bowl in front of Carson as John joined them both.
"Listen." John cleared his throat, and gestured for the others to gather around him. "I wish to apologize for everything that has happened this past week. I made an ass of myself, and we all know it."
"John--" Teyla started to speak, but John held up his hand, stilling her.
"Don't be kind. What happened...can't be undone. It was my fault he arrived, my fault he stayed. And I am sorry for what he did to you." John shoved his plate aside. "I am also sorry for what I must do to you now. Because of my...indiscretion, we are a week behind in our work. We will need to work an extra two hours a day for the next month to get back on schedule."
"It's all right." Carson patted John's hand. "It could have been any of us."
"Thank you. So let us all return to our home and our work, and let his name never be uttered again."
"Oh!" Parrish scurried forward and took a crumbled handkerchief from his pocket. "As long as we are burying his memory, here." He untied the corner. "Rodney said to give this back to you, when you were more calm." He cleared his throat. "I found him standing on the back porch, just staring off into the night, and was quite concerned about him. I was afraid he might be...chilled." He lifted a ring out of the napkin, and held it up into the light.
"What is that?" John stared at the huge diamond on the ring. "He's bribing us?"
"No, no. He said it was your ring, and that you should have it back."
"No one in my family would be caught dead with a ring like that."
Radek picked up the right and held it into the light. "So it's not yours?"
"No." John shoved himself away from the table and walked over to the window, turning his back on the whole thing.
"Fascinating," Radek said carefully. "Yet this is the ring he wanted to return."
"Is that significant?" Lorne asked.
"No," John said, turning to look at the group. "Not at all."
"Teyla, you wrote the section on psychology." Carson nodded toward her. "What do you think?"
She thought for a moment, her eyes darting among the group, then over to John. "There are many interpretations that could be given to this, among them that this ring is symbolic of the relationship Rodney wishes to give away."
"He kept Sheppard's ring, and gave back the other guy's." Lorne whistled.
"Ergo, Rodney was not as unaffected by the relationship as he attempted to imply." Radek pressed the ring into John's hand and folded his fingers over it.
"He loves you," said Sam.
"Oh, I do hope so," said Parrish, stepping closer to Lorne.
"That's bullshit." John stepped forward and grabbed the ring. "I--"
"Good morning," Elizabeth's voice cut through the bickering of the ragged group like a bell across water. Shocked, everyone turned to look at the dining room entrance, where she stood in jeans and burgundy T-shirt, Ronon behind her. "I hope I am not interrupting anything? I received an email that you had rented a car and gone to Canada, along with a copy of an accident report."
"Oh, Dr. Weir. Here." John gestured at the large table while he tried to put aside his anger. He was supposed to be charming for Elizabeth. "Won't you join us?"
"Coffee, please." Elizabeth sat in one of the open chairs. "Actually, this isn't a pleasant visit. I wasn't the only one included on the email." She rubbed her hand across her forehead. "I have rented a vehicle that can carry everyone back to the foundation, but at that point, I'm afraid you must start making other arrangements for employment. The project is being terminated."
"What...?"
"Oh, dear, you can't--"
Everyone spoke at once, and it was hard to tell what exactly anyone said. John clicked his tongue imperiously, and they all fell silent.
"Elizabeth," he said, stepping forward, "this is entirely due to misconduct on my behalf. Don't drag the others through this. I'll be happy to pack up and leave, but you should let the others stay."
"I'm sorry, but the email was the last straw. I don't have anything that I can use to keep this project afloat. I--"
"Well, well, well. Good thing we got up early, Kavanagh. Looks like we're just in time for breakfast." Kolya, the pocked-faced man from last night, shoved his way into the room, brandishing a gun.
Kavanagh nodded, and snagged John's uneaten bagel from the plate. "Everyone line up against the far wall, like you were have your picture taken."
"Only with you, Sheppard, in the foreground," Kolya added.
Radek's face paled as he whispered something in Czech.
***
To Part Three
