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Rodney startled himself awake, the tightness in his shoulders letting him know just how inappropriate the position he’d fallen asleep in was for his body. With a gentle rubbing of his neck, he leisurely got out of bed – and suddenly noticed the time. “Nine twenty?” he muttered, glaring at the clock like it personally offended him, “How the hell did I sleep through...” It was then that he’d noticed his watch was dead, along with any alarm he’d had set.
So much for starting the new school year with new habits.
Years before, Rodney McKay, PhD, PhD, landed a prestigious job at Atlantis University, one of the foremost technically focused universities on the West Coast. Sure, MIT, Harvard, and Carnegie Mellon dominated their fields on the East Coast. Still, after 75 years of being a small liberal arts college, Atlantis University made a bet on STEM in the 1960s with the advent of computing. Their forward thinking made them a top-tier school and left similar universities in the dust. The fact that they’d hired Rodney as chair of the physics department just proved how forward-thinking the university was. Well, at least that’s what Rodney believed.
After rushing through a shower and yelling at his coffeemaker to hurry up, Rodney threw a few things into his backpack, then made his way to campus. He’d just stepped around a few hooligans playing something called ‘Ultimate Frisbee’ on the quads when he ran into the Dean.
“Elizabeth,” Rodney said, then sidestepped her to continue to his office.
“Rodney?” Elizabeth Weir asked, though Rodney blew her off with a curt smile and nod. “Rodney!”
Rodney turned, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes as he considered Elizabeth. “Yes?” he finally asked, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. “I’m very busy, Elizabeth.” Weir raised an eyebrow, her expression telling him something was up. “Yes?”
“You got the memo, yes?”
“Well, I haven’t exactly been to my office yet,” he said. He’d initially questioned how Elizabeth Weir had become Dean. Her specialty had been linguistics – hardly a degree that qualified her to run a STEM-based university. But he’d watched her sharpen her negotiation skills between departments and even between the university and governmental organizations, proving she could hold her own. “And unless there’s something I need to know,” he added, then nodded toward the physics building and his office.
Elizabeth sighed. “Of course you didn’t,” she said. “You probably haven’t even talked to Doctor Zelenka since summer break?” she asked, then took Rodney by the elbow and turned him until he was facing the physics building. A building Rodney thought he knew – but now was suddenly surrounded by reams of yellow “CAUTION” tape. And were those plywood boards over the east-wing windows?
“What in the...” Rodney looked around the building – his home away from home for the last few years. Now all he could see was destruction, including soot above the windows on the second floor. Rodney finally tore his gaze away from the building. “What happened?”
With a sickly-sweet smile, Elizabeth took a sheet of paper out of her ever-present day planner and handed it to Rodney. “As I mentioned in my memo to the entire physics department,” she said, not failing to hide the snark in her voice, “due to the explosion and fire two weeks ago by some of Zelenka’s grad students.” She gestured toward what Rodney now realizes is mostly the skeletal remains of the physics building, “Your classrooms and offices have been relocated.”
“To where?” Rodney asked, hoping the answer wasn’t anywhere near the old liberal arts building.
“Mathematics and Life Sciences building,” she said, then pointed across the quad. “And before you ask, yes, everyone is having to share.” She handed over a set of keys, selecting a copper-colored, “DO NOT DUPLICATE” key from the jumble. “You’re with John Sheppard from the Mathematics department. You each will share office 221, along with Sheppard’s assistant,” she looked at the memo before handing it over, “Laura Cadman.”
Rodney instantly frowned at the mention, but couldn’t remember why, and an odd sense of uneasiness at the mention of Cadman’s name. Rodney didn’t often get people, but then again, most people didn’t understand him either. It’s one of the reasons why he’d never been able to keep an assistant in the past. Maybe Cadman had been one of his former assistants before slumming it with the Math department.
Something tickled in the back of his brain as he squinted at Elizabeth. “Wait – blew up? Zelenka’s grad student?” he asked, then paused as all the facts tumbled into place in his brain. “Oh god – was it Kavanagh?” He sighed, not giving her a chance to respond. “It was Kavanagh, wasn’t it?”
Elizabeth just smiled, deflecting a group of marauding students with just a glance. “I can neither confirm nor deny that allegation.”
“Tsk tsk,” Rodney said as he rolled his eyes. “That Czech bastard and his hooligan students...” He took the keys from Elizabeth’s outstretched hand, then looked back at the husk of the Physics building with a longing sigh. “And I’d just gotten my office the way I liked it before summer break.”
~*~*~
Rodney walked into the second-floor office, his eyes landing on the foreboding-looking desk that stood before two impressive wooden doors. The desk almost looked like a battlement, and the woman who sat in the oversized chair looked like a military general about to let loose the hounds of war. “McKay,” he said, pointing to himself. “Which one is mine?”
“I am well, Doctor McKay, thank you for asking,” she replied. Her tone was enough to cool the blood in Rodney’s veins. She smiled at him with entirely too many teeth, then hiked her thumb over her shoulder. “You’re in office A,” she said. “Sheppard’s in B,” She nodded her head toward the second door, “because he was here first.”
Rodney decided not to hold her gaze. “I’ll just,” he said, then shuffled his way into his office.
“Mind the smell,” Cadman called over her shoulder.
The fact that Rodney’s nose curled up in anticipation of whatever Cadman was talking about set a cold feeling in his stomach.
A few minutes after settling in, a shadow crossed Rodney’s door – and didn’t he close it when he’d escaped Cadman? He must have. But now there was a...a bohemian-looking guy with directionally-challenged dark hair and a smirk on his face, filling the doorway. “McKay?” the bohemian asked.
There was no way this was some new assistant, unless he’d returned to college for a midlife crisis. And he couldn’t be one of the physics department faculty – he knew them all, and had even made most of them cry. “Yes?” he finally settled on.
“Sheppard,” the bohemian man replied. “John Sheppard. Sub-chair of the Mathematics department, and,” he pointed somewhere to his right, “your office mate.”
“Sheppard?” Rodney asked. In the short while he’d been settling, he’d done a bit of research on John Sheppard, PhD. Sheppard, who had already had a career in the United States Military before going back to school and getting his PhD, had minored in Russian Literature. The dude Rodney read background on made it sound like Sheppard was some octogenarian professor – the complete opposite of the far-too-attractive man who lounged at his door.
Rodney stood, immediately placing his hands over his crotch like he was some fifteen-year-old asked to explain a problem on the board in front of the whole class instead of the tenured professional that he was. “Well, I, uh,” he said, then pointed outside. “Class,” he said as he neared Sheppard, whose hips seemed to have a mind of their own. Sheppard’s hips were like a painting with weird eyes that followed you around a room. Except these were slinky. And when Rodney got close enough, he could see tanned skin peeking out from the top of Sheppard’s pants, dark, coarse hair spilling into view.
With his throat suddenly parched, Rodney pointed toward the main office door. “Class,” he repeated, then forced his eyes to the carpet and fled his office. He got all the way down the unfamiliar hall before he had to turn back. Back in his shared office, he locked eyes with Cadman. “Schedule?” he asked.
Cadman held out a folder, then gestured him to the door as she turned her body towards the dual monitors that looked entirely out of place on such an ornate wooden desk. “You’re late for a department meeting,” she said, fingers already streaking across the keyboard.
“What?” Rodney asked, then looked at his still-dead watch. “When? Where?”
“Started ten minutes ago,” she said, her eyes never leaving the computer screen. “Seventh floor, auditorium F, next to Zelenka’s office.” Before he could balk, she added, “And you should have left twenty minutes ago since the elevators are out.” Her saccharine smile was almost enough to stop Rodney from complaining. Almost.
“You think maybe you should have told me this, like twenty minutes ago, maybe?” Rodney turned to leave the office, confident that Cadman didn’t bark back at him. Seriously, what was her problem? He’d have to ask Sheppard about her – as long as he could manage not fleeing next time Sheppard was near.
As he strided out the door, he heard Cadman say, “Guess I’m not really that good an assistant,” then muttered something Rodney barely heard that sounded like the nonsensical word 'durak'.
Rodney was about to turn around, but the meeting called. Besides, all that he heard from his new shared office was Sheppard, his laugh reminiscent of a braying donkey.
~*~*~
After Rodney got over his initial misgivings about sharing an office – Sheppard was actually an interesting individual, and honestly, who doesn’t have inappropriate dreams about the person they spend an inordinate amount of time with – and fell into a new routine. Sure, he still had to teach classes, grade papers, and advise his graduating students. But stealing time with Sheppard seemed to be something they both enjoyed, be it a moment between classes or just a quick hello for a refill from Rodney’s custom coffee machine. After a few weeks of their routine, they’d even grabbed lunch together – or rather, Sheppard showed up in his office with food, and Rodney stopped whatever he was doing at least long enough to eat.
So it shouldn’t have been a surprise to him when Sheppard asked him out to dinner one night. Even the tips of Sheppard’s elf-like ears seemed to be red.
Just as Rodney opened his mouth to speak, his stomach growled. And because Sheppard’s office was bigger, the sound seemed to echo off the walls. “I could eat,” he said, then glanced at Sheppard, whose pinched expression caught Rodney off guard. “What's this? What’s happening?” Rodney asked, fingers pointing at John’s different features.
“It’s just a meal, Rodney,” John said, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone. He reached back and grabbed his coat, the hem of his shirt coming untucked from his waist, entertaining Rodney with the faint image of tanned, furry flesh. John startled Rodney out of his stupor with a, “Hello?” and then, “Well, go get your coat, dumbass.”
A faint, “Durak,” came from Cadman, whom Rodney’d completely forgotten was still there. And suddenly it clicked.
“Wait,” Rodney said, voice breathy with a hint of anger. “Is that?” he started, then marched into his office, his fingers quickly flying across the keyboard. “Durak is Russian for ‘dumbass’?” he asked. He’d wondered what it was that Cadman occasionally muttered under her breath at him. “Seriously – how are you a real person?” he asked, eyes trained on Cadman.
If John’s laugh hadn’t dragged him out of his thoughts, the feeling of Rodney’s jacket hitting his chest and falling to the floor would have. “What?”
“Jacket, Rodney – it’s cold outside,” John said, then helped Rodney into his jacket and guided him with warm hands on Rodney’s shoulders out the door. “And maybe if you’re a good boy, I’ll tell you why Cadman hates you.”
“Aww, don’t give away all my secrets, Boss!” Cadman called. John just laughed in reply.
~*~*~
“Wait. I failed her?” Rodney asked.
John smirked, and Rodney would have appreciated it more if he hadn’t been so distracted by John pressing his leg against Rodney’s in the darkened booth they shared. John had taken Rodney to one of Rodney’s favorite burger joints. It was away from campus, so they didn’t have to worry about running into anyone from the university, much less students.
“Not just failed her,” John replied. “You changed her degree path.” When Rodney squinted his eyes at him, John added, “Well, she changed her degree path. But failing your Quantum Physics course got her to rethink her degree, and she ended up with a BS in Mathematics.” He took a breath as his eyes raked over Rodney’s face and chest. “She’s in her Master's program now, going for an Applied Analytics degree with a specialty in machine learning.”
Rodney was aghast. “But. But – she’s just an admin!” When John pulled back, he added, “Isn’t she?”
“Who do you think I got to teach my vector calculus class last Thursday when you came into my office ranting about students and having to go to that alumni fundraiser for the physics department?”
Rodney remembered that day – all too fondly. He’d been set off by some first-year student whose parents had called him, asking him to “take it easy on their child,” and it’d just devolved from there. Rodney’d apparently continued to rant until Sheppard got up from his desk, reached into his desk where he kept what seemed like a never-ending supply of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, and shoved one directly into Rodney’s mouth between gripes.
“Seriously?” John asked as he seemed to scoot every so slightly away, Rodney missing the warmth that surrounded him when John was close. “How is it you don’t notice things? Like, everything going on around you?”
“Notice what?” Rodney asked.
John just gave him a curious look, then shook his head. “Never mind,” he said, then gestured for the waiter. “I’m starving,” he said, turning all his attention to the menu. By the time the waitress appeared, Rodney was thoroughly confused.
After their orders, Rodney glanced at John, who seemed to have some stoic façade for an expression instead of his regular face. He’s not sure exactly what’s going on, but takes a chance. He moves his knee to the left, brushing his knee against John’s leg, happy when John seems to freeze for a second, then relaxes.
“I notice enough,” he said, then busied himself with his glass of water. He’s not exactly sure what just happened, but at least he hasn’t managed to make it worse.
~*~*~
The thing about hanging around with John is that Rodney’s in his orbit enough to know probably a lot more about his friend than normal people would. For instance, after dinner one night when John had asked him to take a stroll along the creek that cuts through campus, he’d learned how John had lost his mother early. John was the eldest, born into a well-to-do family, but he got kicked out when he signed up for the Air Force at 18. “I really wanted to fly,” he’d confessed.
John might as well have said, “I need oxygen to live,” by the way he reverently talked about flying - about the freedom of slipping the bonds of Earth. Watching John reminisce about flying and telling Rodney what he could about missions he’d taken in the military was akin to watching a village elder pass along stories from the distant past.
I’d buy you a plane if I could is what Rodney wanted to say. But instead, he asked, “Do you get to fly often?” He smiled when John reached out and touched Rodney’s elbow.
“My brother stores a couple of his company’s jets nearby,” John replied, a genuine smile on his face. “I don’t get to go up too often. I like to save it for, you know,” he said, and there was that blush at the tips of his ears again, “special occasions.”
Rodney just studied John for a second. How is this man still single? He’s one of the most imperfectly-perfect men Rodney’s ever met.
“Maybe you’d like to come take a flight with me?” John asked, something husky stuck in his voice. “Special occasion?”
But before Rodney could say yes, a troop of Atlantis’s coed diving team came screaming out of a frat-house, followed seconds later by the baseball frat. Apparently, it was a yearly scavenger hunt, and one of the pictures required was with at least two university teaching faculty members. The fact that John and Rodney were walking together along the quad was just a bonus.
Two hours and what seemed like seventeen thousand flashes passed before the last of the students were retreating. Rodney looked startled for a minute because he stood right next to his car. He hadn’t even noticed John guiding them to the parking lot, all the while talking to each and every student that came their way. It’s part of what made John such a great teacher.
“Well,” Rodney said, then nodded. “Thanks.”
John reached out and touched Rodney’s elbow again. “’night, Rodney.”
When Rodney crawled into bed that night, he lay there for hours before his pulse slowed enough to close his eyes.
~*~*~
After a particularly grueling set of office hours, Rodney waited until his last student left the anteroom and strode to John’s office. He walked in on John, who leaned against his desk like a boneless cat, his full attention on an old chalkboard that Rodney’d never seen before.
“And I’m telling him that if he thinks PHY-293 is hard, his next class...” When John didn’t turn from the chalkboard, Rodney asked, “What is this?”
Finally acknowledging him, John only took his eyes off the board for a second. “One of Hilbert’s Problems,” John said. “This particular one is the one with the Kronecker’s...” He shook his head, as if releasing himself from a stupor. “What’s up, Rodney?”
Rodney looked at John, back to the board with half a dozen unfinished or partially erased mathematical formulas. After a second, he turned back to John. “Are you teaching this in one of your classes or something?” He goes over John’s teaching schedule in his head, wondering what class it could be. “Is this for one of your grad-level courses or something?”
“This?” John asked, then shrugged. “Not really,” he added, then sighed. “Just something to keep my brain busy while I’m trying to relax.”
“No wonder you like to keep your personal life quiet around the students. “ They find out about this,” he said, pointing to the chalkboard, “you would definitely lose your ‘Cool Professor’ status.” That was enough to earn a chuckle from John, who really was private when it came to students and even most of the faculty. But Rodney was close enough to know the real John. “And anyway, who said math was relaxing?” Rodney asked.
John smirked.
Rodney searched his mind for what "regular" people did in their downtime. The answer was a lot of what his time spent with John looked like, and he sighed. “Why don’t you - I don't know - drink beer like a normal person?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Rodney. Maybe some of us like to take care of our brain cells instead of killing them with alcohol.” He smiled, “And don’t tell me I haven’t caught you asleep at your desk with a red pen in one hand and a scientific journal in the other.”
The gaze that Rodney leveled at him could have felled any other man. John just smirked, then walked back to his chair.
“Fine,” Rodney complained. “To each their own. But the sentiment still stands – beer?”
“My place or yours?” John asked, and that was new. While they typically hung out together, it was usually a local watering hole or off-campus restaurant. He thought about his own apartment and how it was probably messy, and grimaced. When he glanced at John, a hint of that façade appeared, so he shook his head. “Come on. Let’s go to Mission Control. It’s close enough to exams that there shouldn’t be too many students.” He glanced at his watch. “And if we get there soon, we’ll still hit happy hour.”
John just sighed, then turned to Rodney with a smile. “Fine – I’m in.” After a brief pause, he asked, “Who’s driving?”
“Good,” Rodney replied, but gave John a quizzical look when he’d grabbed his jacket. “Wait, is it raining or something?”
John leveled a glazed-over look at Rodney. “Did you not check the forecast before you came in this morning, Rodney?” He walked to the window and opened the blind where dark splotches of rain pelted the glass. “Winter storm warning.”
“Oh, like weather forecasting is some sort of real science,” Rodney said with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”
When John approached him, he shrugged out of his black leather jacket (which made John unfairly attractive – how was he still single?) and put it on Rodney’s shoulders. “Here,” he said, then grabbed an Atlantis hoodie from his coat rack. Rodney was only partially distracted when John raised his arms, his shirt becoming untucked from his pants as Rodney snuggled into the warm, plaid-padded lining of John’s leather jacket. It felt ridiculously large on him, but it smelled like John, which made him unreasonably happy.
“Your car,” Rodney says. “It’s...” He trailed off, knowing he needed to pick his words carefully lest he upset John by saying the wrong thing. “It’s got four-wheel-drive to deal with apparent nonsensical weather like this,” he said, pointing to the window, “but yet it’s still dark and sleek. Almost lithe.” He smiled at John. “And it responds like it’s an extension of you, so I know I’ll be safe.”
A quick blush was there and gone, disappearing from John’s face almost as fast as it’d appeared. “Yeah, sure, Rodney,” John said, then grabbed Rodney by the bicep and pulled him out of the office. “I’ll drive.”
The fact that John pulled Rodney close when they ducked out of the Math and Life Sciences building was a bonus. Rodney was just glad that, after a brief glare of light as they climbed into the cabin, he was able to hide his erection by folding his hands in the pockets of John’s leather jacket and leaning forward. He dared a glance at John, who just smiled back at him before turning the engine over and making the quick trip to the bar.
~*~*~
While Rodney and John’s relationship only seemed to bloom, his relationship with Laura Cadman was still like a slippery ship’s deck in a rainstorm; he could usually make his way, but there were occasional stumbles that set him back.
Much like the one that he’d just stepped into.
After his final class of the day, Rodney returned to his shared office to find Laura Cadman and John Sheppard chatting amiably with a third person that Rodney didn’t recognize. He glanced around the room, then tried to make a beeline for his office when Cadman called out to him. “No, sir,” she said, beckoning him with an outstretched hand. “This is the interview for the Atlantis Gazette that I scheduled for you.” After a second, when Rodney had finally begun to approach them, she added, “You and Sheppard.”
“What is this about?”
The fresh-faced reporter looked at Rodney like most first-year students did – with a bit of fear and a tiny bit of awe, which was good. He usually only had that kind of power around his students. “What is this about?” he asked, automatically rolling his hands like he wanted to hurry up the entire process.
“Well, after physics professors Zelenka and math professor Grodin stumbled upon a new interpretation of Beauchamp’s theorem, there’s been a lot of buzz about the two departments working together. And someone recently told me that you and Doctor Sheppard have been spending a lot of time together, and we were wondering if you might be working on something like Zelenka and Grodin.”
“Oh,” Rodney replied. “Oh, nothing like that,” he said. “I mean, he and I were working on one of Hilbert’s Problems recently, but didn’t make a lot of headway on it.”
“As I remember,” John said, a smirk on his face, “someone wanted to go drink beer instead of working on one of the most fascinating theorems from the last hundred years or so.” He dared to look smug.
And that devolved into backhanded, comical insults between the two for far too long. John almost looked fond as he insulted Rodney with, “People go into physics when they just don’t have a good handle on basic math.”
“Hey!”
“Kidding, Rodney,” John said, then gave Rodney a wink. He turned to the reporter and said, “I’m happy to report Rod-, Doctor McKay takes his math seriously. He even deleted the calculator app from his phone.”
“This one,” Rodney said, “always the joker.” He smiled, trying to come up with other gentle jabs he could make at his and John’s expense. “Hey,” he said, eyes landing on the reporter. “You want to solve an age-old question? How about answering why this man,” he said, pointing a finger at John, “is still single?” Rodney laughed, but when he turned to John, he found an almost pained expression painted on John’s face – there for a second, but quickly replaced by the fake façade that Rodney hadn’t seen in a while. “I mean...”
Rodney’s face went red. But not as red as John’s.
John was suddenly standing, fumbling his keys from his pocket. “Umm, I’ve got to go,” he said as he hiked a thumb over his shoulder. “Forgot I was supposed to meet with one of my class’s study groups.” He glanced around like there was a sudden spotlight just on him. “I’ll uh,” he said, then grabbed his coat. “See ya.”
An instant later, he was gone.
Nobody moved until the reporter stood, her nervous eyes glancing between Rodney and Laura Cadman. “Well, I should go,” she said. She closed up her notebook, grabbed her backpack, and escaped almost as quickly as John had.
“You’re an idiot,” Cadman said, her voice quiet.
“I beg your pardon?” Rodney asked. Her accusation had caught him off guard, and he was sure he didn’t deserve it. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Laura Cadman studied him, her eyes raking over him as if taking in every single minute detail. The silence stretched taut between them until she sat back in her chair, sounding exhausted. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“Don’t know what?”
“Jesus,” Cadman said as she stood. She grabbed a few papers from around the office and dropped them on her desk. “Good night, Doctor McKay,” she said, then walked out of the office. Rodney stood in silence, a quiet exclamation of, “Durak,” filling the void usually filled by lighthearted banter.
~*~*~
Rodney paced his office for at least an hour before he could come up with something to explain what he’d just been through. But when he came up empty, he figured out a way to hopefully get him closer to an answer.
When Laura Cadman showed up the next morning at just after 6 AM, he walked out to her desk, arm thrust out, offering a handful of papers for her to take. “Here,” he said when she just stared at him.
“Oh, look,” Cadman said, her voice sounding completely nonplussed. “My final paper for that class you failed me.” She leveled her gaze at Rodney, and if Rodney were a weaker man, he might well feel concerned. Instead, when Cadman didn’t take the digitized replica that he’d taken time to find and print from his class archives, he dropped them on her desk.
“I re-read your paper, and it’s clear that you,” he said, but wasn’t quite sure what he’d wanted to say. “It’s clear that, while your hypothesis would fail in this universe, that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t work in another universe where...physics has different rules.”
Even Rodney knew that he’d messed that up.
“Look,” he finally said when Cadman just sat, silently judging Rodney, “I know I’m an ass sometimes, and fully admit that humans are...” He searched his brain for the exact word, “Difficult,” he decided on, “to completely understand.”
The fact that Cadman was stock-still and gave him a blank expression unnerved him more than it should. “Like, if you can explain to me how your hypothesis might work,” he said, pointing to the paper, “in a way that I understand it, maybe you can help me understand what I did wrong.” He let out a breath and glanced at the floor, picking a piece of lint off his shirt. “Because with John, I...”
“Rodney,” Cadman finally said, sounding uncannily like John for some reason – and she rarely called him by his first name. She must be trying to tell him something. “I don’t care about the paper – failing grade or not. Or even that class.”
Rodney wanted to balk, but suppressed the urge. “But it’s four credits that would go onto your transcript. And since you’re going for your Master's, those four credits might help get you there faster.”
With a sigh, Cadman’s face softened ever so gently. “Sometimes, Rodney, it’s not about the destination – it’s about the journey, and who we share it with. And while I will be glad to finish my master's and get out of here someday, I will forever be grateful for not only every experience I’ve had, but also grateful for every person that came into my life during my schooling.” She leaned forward, making sure to hold Rodney’s gaze. “Especially those that I enjoyed spending time with. And those who enjoyed spending time with me.”
“But what does-“ Rodney started.
“Think about it, Rodney,” Cadman said. “Why would it be more about the journey and not the destination?” She got closer and put a hand on Rodney’s knee, her voice warmer than her usual ‘admin’ voice. It was like a signal that he was talking to Laura and not Cadman. “And why would John, a very private person who has been part of your life’s journey since you moved into this building, be upset about something you said to a reporter?”
“About him being single?” Rodney asked. “What does that...”
“A very private person,” Laura replied. “Who has opened himself up to you, and who has spent countless hours with you when he could be doing literally anything else?”
Rodney studied her for a minute, her expression still soft enough to encourage him, but still sharp enough to cut him to the bone if he said the wrong thing.
“So, he...” Rodney started, but once again, was at a loss for words.
“Just talk to him,” Laura said.
After chancing a glance at Sheppard’s office, Rodney asked, “It’s Thursday, so he still comes in later for his two evening classes, right?”
“He should still be at home,” Laura said, slipping back into her ‘admin’ persona. He watched as she turned around and signed into her computer, starting her day. He turned around to head out, but Cadman called over her shoulder, “Don’t forget your jacket. It snowed.”
“Thank you,” Rodney replied. He grabbed his jacket and keys and decided to drive to John’s house before he could talk himself out of it.
~*~*~
“Of course he’s not home,” Rodney said as he walked back from the door. John’s truck was still in the driveway, covered in a couple of inches of snow, but for whatever reason, he wasn’t answering. After a momentary debate about whether to wait in his car or go back home, Rodney looked and spotted John, kitted up in cold-weather running gear, coming down the hill. Seeing him gave Rodney a warm flush, giving him at least part of a clue to what he should be doing.
For his part, John looked like he was in some zone and didn’t notice Rodney standing on the covered porch until he was making his way up the stairs. His expression seemed to go blank, replaced by the well-worn professional face that Rodney recognized as one saved for donors and overbearing parents. “Rodney,” he said. He gave Rodney a nod, then went to the door, pausing only after he swung the door open. “Would you like to come in?”
“I’d like to talk,” Rodney replied.
With a nod, John shut the door, leaving them out on the porch.
“Inside,” Rodney added, his voice impatient.
“Of course,” John replied. He rolled his eyes as he took off the headband, leaving his hair a mess, the tips of his ears bright pink from the exposure.
Once they were both inside, John put down his key and earbuds on a side table, then turned to Rodney. “Listen, I-“
“No, you listen,” Rodney said, cutting him off. “I know that while I may be brilliant at certain things,” he started.
“And modest,” John replied. “Don’t forget modest.”
“Shut it!” Rodney said, though there was absolutely no heat to his voice. “Now listen. While I may have a mind for abstract concepts, I often don’t get things that are, well...” He gestured between himself and John, “Like personal.”
“Duly noted,” John said. And even though there was a hint of a smile on his face, Rodney could tell it wasn’t real. Because John’s genuine smiles always reached his eyes, and this one didn’t even come close.
“Anyway, have been going over it in my head, and I don’t get it. And because I’m a man of science, I need some sort of – I don’t know,” he said, then blew out a breath. “I need some help here.”
The look John gave him didn’t seem to boost his confidence. He gestured to the nearby sofa, where they both sat. Still, the silence stretched between them until John finally sighed. “I’m not ashamed of you, you know,” John said.
“Why would you be?” Rodney asked.
“Why would you,” John asked, a sharpness to his tone, “tell that reporter that I was single?”
“Because you are?” Rodney replied. “I mean, I thought...”
“You thought what, Rodney?”
Suddenly, Rodney’s brain felt like it was ablaze. The last few months' worth of outings with John replayed across every synapse in his brain, including the way John looked at him. The way John used a gentle hand on Rodney’s back to keep him from walking into walls or away from a group of oncoming people. The way John squeezed his elbow when they were together, sharing secrets.
“Oh my god,” Rodney said. He was suddenly petrified. “Were those,” he began, then swallowed. Hard. “Were those dates?”
“Why yes, Rodney. It upset me that you were telling people I was single – and probably telling people you were single – when we’ve been dating like 5 months.”
“We were dating?”
John crossed his arms, his eyes cut to slits. “I thought we were,” John replied, his voice so full of venom that Rodney was sure he might be poisoned should he say something else wrong. Not giving Rodney a chance to respond, he added, “I thought we were.”
Rodney didn’t mean to laugh, but the almost hysterical cry that left his lungs could only be described as a laugh. “In what world is Rodney McKay something even more than a blip on the radar to John Sheppard?”
“Well, now you’re just insulting both of us, McKay,” John said. He stood, but Rodney reached out, urging him to sit once again.
When he finally did, Rodney asked, “So like every time we went to dinner, it was a date?” he asked.
Instead of responding, John seemed to freeze up.
“No, no – don’t do that,” Rodney replied. “But like every dinner? Every time we went for a beer?”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Rodney,” John said, “but yeah. We’ve been dating for like months.”
“Were you going to tell me?” Rodney asked.
“I thought you-“ John started, but stopped himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What does it matter now?” he asked. “I was clearly in one place in this relationship, and you were... Hell, you weren’t even in the same city.” And while it was the most John had said in the conversation, each word was tinged with heat.
“But you never tried to kiss me!” Rodney said. “Never tried,” he said, then shrugged, “anything!”
“I thought we were taking things slow!” John accused.
“Oh, that’s great. So a hot guy takes an interest in me, and expects me to-” he said. Then, when John stood, he added, “No, no, no!” A hot guy – someone who is completely out of my league – asks me to go out for a meal and the occasional beer, expects me to understand that we’re actually dating, but never once tries to make a move? Like I’m not as hot as you, Sheppard – I get that. But like if I’m dating someone, I expect them to stick their tongue down my throat at least.” He looked at John, a mischievous look on his face. “At least.”
“Shuddup, Rodney,” John replied. He reached out and pulled Rodney to him, and hello, Rodney suddenly had two hands full of a Lycra-covered John Sheppard. And even though it was long overdue, Rodney still shook in anticipation as John’s fingers cradled his chin. When John’s wind-chapped lips finally touched his, Rodney heaved out a sigh and smiled.
“Well, now that that’s out of the way,” Rodney said, two hands pulling John closer as he leaned in, kissing John’s neck.
“Hey, wait a minute,” John said. It was then that Rodney realized just how little the Lycra managed to hide how invested he was in that kiss, and he still pulled back. “I just finished a ten-mile run to try and get you out of my head.”
“Yeah, so?” Rodney said, not hiding an ounce of his annoyance. He leaned forward and sucked on John’s neck while a free hand roamed down Sheppard’s muscular back, finally landing on John’s waistline.
“I stink,” John replied. “I’m tired, I stink, and I desperately need a shower.”
Rodney smiled, then reached out and took John’s hand. “Can I at least help peel you out of these clothes?”
John smiled, then kissed the tip of Rodney’s nose. “Only if you join me in the shower afterward.”
“I can handle that,” Rodney said, then chased John up the stairs, pinching his butt at every opportunity.