Part 3

******

John ached with pleasure as he rocked slowly against Rodney, his cock nestled carefully in the warm crease Rodney’s ass provided. A slow, agonizing shuffle of hips left him gasping, face buried in Rodney's sweaty neck. It was an unhurried grind, sending sizzling bolts down his spine.

Rodney's hand clenched at his ass, pulling him closer, fingers digging into muscle  and making John gasp. In turn, he stroked Rodney's dick, warm and hard in his hand.

They moved together, a slow crawl towards ecstasy, muted groans with each measured thrust. John licked Rodney's skin, salt and hot summer days burst onto his tongue, leaving him lazy with pleasure, glad to lose himself in smell and taste and heat.

Gentle turned to insistent, and Rodney's body was warm and firm against his, straining with exertion. It felt so good, his dick twitching lazily, friction a dizzying counterpoint to the quiet, hushed pleas.

Rodney's fingers trailed town to John’s thigh, pulling  until it rested comfortably over Rodney's hip. A better angle made him shudder violently with pleasure, and then a hand closed over his dick and he gasped--

--awake. Eyes open, great gusting breaths, dick twitching violently, his hand clutching at it desperately. His other hand was still holding Rodney's, grasped loosely between lax fingers.

He squeezed the base of his cock and rolled out of bed, sliding his hand out of Rodney's, burning from the touch. Once he was on the floor, he took long breaths, before making a quick exit to the bathroom.

The shower was cold, painful, and full of ten kinds of denial. He leaned heavily on the wall, more tired than when he'd gone to bed. When he returned to the scene of the crime, with a head of wet hair, and shivering slightly, Rodney was gone leaving only a ghostly impression behind in the bed.

******

The thing about getting ahead of the curve was that there was only so far you could go before you were behind it again. More power and easier access to Earth meant more supplies, more equipment and more people, All of which led to a need for more space.

The initial urge to explore Atlantis had been dampened by their mistakes; infectious nanites that made your head explode were the scientific equivalent of a cold shower. After that, they'd all gotten well and truly distracted and the exploration of new space had taken a back seat. It had progressed, but not at the pace it should have.

Now,  instead of going offworld, John was stuck organizing exploration parties so that the newest arrivals due in a few weeks wouldn't have to bunk together.

Rodney at least, looked like he was enjoying himself. He ran around telling people what to do, what not to do, where to touch, and where not to touch, though there was a whole lot of the latters and very little of the formers.

"You! Do you want to die?" Rodney snapped. "Label the rooms, open the doors, look inside. If it's not a lab, you may enter. If it is, you are to wait for either me, Zelenka or that guy," he snapped his fingers, "tall, with the blonde hair."

John wasn't all that surprised when everyone just nodded politely. Out of reflex and maybe a little bit of nostalgia, he partnered himself up with Rodney, whose hand was still firmly bound in a brace and tucked protectively against his chest.

Rodney carried a gun, having proved that he could shoot from the hip using his left hand if necessary and it was oddly comforting to see him, dressed in a uniform complete with thigh holster, wandering around poking at his computer.

Rodney took one last look at the gathered group. "Power here is a bit iffy; we're still working on stabilizing and reconnecting everything that's been periodically destroyed over the last year and a half. If you have a problem, you have radios for a reason."

John nodded in approval, not feeling the need to add anything else.

Of course, the lack of surprise he felt when the door closed behind them and the lights immediately flickered out, was almost comforting. "I blame you," he said morosely, pointing at Rodney's shadowed form. "You’re the one who mentioned all the stuff that could go wrong."

"Oh yes." Rodney flicked on a flashlight. "Because Atlantis has ears and has a taste for irony."

They both stopped breathing.

"Sorry," Rodney said quietly, voice pitched upwards. "Um, just in case the nice flying city is actually sentient after all, please feel to enjoy all the irony all you want."

John looked up into the shadowed ceiling. "Yeah, it's funny." He forced a laugh.

They waited for a beat.

"Okay," Rodney sighed. "That was ridiculous."

"Ignore him, baby." John patted the wall. "He loves you too, he just has a funny way of expressing it." He lowered his voice to a stage whisper. "It's not his fault, he's Canadian."

"You can shut up now." Rodney's shadow moved to the darkened panels, hovering in front of them for a few seconds. "Completely dead," he said as he slid to the floor. "You're the hero, you call for help."

John did as ordered, and let the Radek know where they were and why they were stuck.

Radek's muffled laughter didn't exactly give him the warm and secure feeling he was looking for, but he promised he'd get on it right away.

"We're never going to hear the end of it," Rodney moaned. "I can hear Radek's mocking laughter right now."

"Of course you can." John took a seat on the other side of the door. "He laughed through most of my explanation."

Rodney made an indistinct sound, which mutated into a quiet hiss.

"What's the matter?" John shuffled over to Rodney, to see him cradling his still-healing hand.

"Pressure change," Rodney muttered. "Probably going to rain later."

"Ah," John said, watching the shadows move as Rodney rubbed at his aching hand. Without thinking he reached for it, feeling Rodney stiffen as his fingers hit the brace. "In the joints, or is it muscular too?"

"Muscle cramps," Rodney said faintly.

John nodded, carefully tracing the taut lines of Rodney's palm. The skin under the hard edges of the brace was slightly sweaty, giving him just enough slickness to feel the small knots.

Something tight gave under John's fingers and Rodney gasped, high pitched and needy. John flushed all over, a segment of dream flashing behind his eyes.

"There's only so much heat and stretching can do," Rodney said, a catch in his voice. "Oh yeah, to the left."

Swallowing hard, John moved as asked. "You tell that to Beckett?"

"Pain is part of healing." Rodney was obviously quoting. "I can't have my own personal masseur following me around at my beck and call." He sighed. "At least that's what they tell me."

John made a sound that might have meant agreement. He concentrated on finding the next little bump of muscle under his fingertips.

"So is this how it works?" Rodney sounded resigned, head titled back, shadows darkening around his eyes. "I don't think I've ever practiced this level of denial before, and this is coming from a man who hit on Samantha Carter like there was no tomorrow."

Heart hammering, John stopped his fingers. "Rodney…" he croaked.

"I just --" Rodney didn't move his injured hand, but that didn't stop his free one from flailing around. "I need some parameters. I need to understand because you're all over the map. When I agreed that we should be friends, although I'm pretty sure I was very high when we had that conversation, because usually I have more fight in me than that, I thought I knew what the definition of friendship was."

John stared at the hand cradled in his, fingers curling loosely around each other, becoming a small nesting of jointed braches. "You came to me," he accused.

"You told me to sleep in your bed," Rodney accused right back. "And last time I checked we weren't two fourteen-year-old girls."

Frowning in confusion, John finally looked up, "Two fourteen-year-old girls?"

"I was trying to avoid the obvious lesbian overtones anyone older would have invoked." The corners of Rodney's lips pointed down. "You obviously have certain repressed homoerotic issues to deal with."

John flinched at the word 'homoerotic'. "That's very kind of you, Rodney," he said dryly.

Rodney made a disgruntled sound. "I ask again, is this how it's going to be, actions without words? Willful ignorance of exactly what we're doing?"

"When did you get so self-aware?"

"I spent six weeks in a hospital bed before they'd let me even think about doing work again," Rodney snapped. "Even someone as dense as I am can come to a few conclusions in that amount of time!"

"What do you want me to say? That the elephant in the room hasn't just been sitting there?" John's voice was rising to match Rodney's. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't care what you say!" Rodney yelled, leaning into it. "Just follow through with it!"

"I can't!" Just like that, John deflated. "I can't," he said again quietly.

"So we play the game where I pretend you weren't seconds from coming all over my back that morning, and we studiously participate in the right hand doesn't know what the left hand is doing!" Rodney was right in his face, breathing hard.

"Yes!" John answered. "That's what we do! That's how we survive!"

"That's unbelievably stupid!" Rodney grabbed John's chin and forced him to look at him. "Are you listening to yourself?"

"Rodney," John pleaded. "All I can see is you going down in a hail of gunfire or spears, or some large grunt holding a gun to your head, demanding things I can't give!"

"And that's different now?" Rodney asked incredulously. "At this very second those things don't scare you to death?" He raised an annoyed eyebrow. "Because seriously, that's the sort of shit that should always worry you. I'm very important to this expedition, and you should quake in your boots at the thought that I won't be around to help save all of your asses next time around!"

All the breath John had in his chest came whooshing out. "I'm not scared you won't be here to save us. I'm afraid of what I'll do before that. An irrational man with a gun is not what we need." John's fingers found their way to Rodney's face, mirroring Rodney's hold on him. He stroked gently.

Rodney's eyes softened. "It's like twenty years too late for that, isn't it?" He shook his head. "We're already there, whether we have a--" he stuttered over the word, "r-relationship or not."

John closed his eyes, leaning into the hand on his cheek. "It will blow up in our faces, and I'll have to go back to Earth with a dishonorable discharge and if I'm lucky, no time in Leavenworth."

Leaning in closer, touching John's forehead to his own, Rodney whispered, "At this rate, it'll blow up in our faces anyway."

Then they were kissing, soft and desperate, clinging to each other tightly. John made a needy sound that was swallowed by Rodney's blistering mouth as it covered his own.

Rodney was everywhere, grasping and stroking, pulling them tightly together. John just went with it, sinking into the kiss with all the energy he'd spent previously avoiding it. He reached for Rodney's injured hand, cradling it to his chest and then bringing it close to his lips so he could scatter small kisses along the parts he could reach. Rodney peppered kisses down John's neck, warm, moist patches working their way to his collar bone.

They curled around each other. John drew Rodney's face back up for another long kiss, smooth and satiny, He opened his mouth, drawing Rodney's tongue inside, sucking on it carefully. Savoring the feeling of freedom in allowing himself a little of this, heat bloomed in John's chest as Rodney's lips teased his.

"Colonel Sheppard."

They jumped apart with a wet sound as John's radio buzzed. Gasping quietly, he gave himself three seconds to gather himself together. "Sheppard here. What's the situation?"

Radek's voice buzzed in his ear. "I am about to connect a temporary power source to the doors. It is quicker than attempting to fix the greater problem."

Rodney was already tugging at his shoulder, moving them away from the door which opened with an anticlimactic hiss. Radek smiled and gave a jaunty wave. "If you are done being lazy, we still have nearly fifty percent of the designated search grid to cover."

Rodney muttered something about ungrateful lab assistants, brushing past John, with barely a nod. He was out the door before he realized John hadn't followed. He turned back and offered a withering look. "Colonel? You coming?"

John swallowed, double entendres sucked. "Yes, mother," he called, moving out of the room.

******

Atlantis was an opportunity hog. The moment you needed a chance to breathe, you didn't get it. New personnel, new pretty trinkets, new everything, and it all needed to be put away and tucked into bed. If John maybe took on a little more responsibility than usual, no one noticed, except for Lorne, who had a new and improved understanding of the confidentiality and respect one should afford their commanding officer.

Especially if one didn't want their coffee rations cut in half.

Sometime around day two of 'The Chaos That Shall Hence Forth be known as Bob and Never Spoken of Again' -- John would never understand the science department -- he tried not to be disappointed when he realized he hadn't even had to duck quickly around a corner to avoid Rodney.

Radek slumped down next to him at dinner, blowing an errant bit of hair off his face. "Bob is dead, long live Bob," he muttered, before clutching at his cup of coffee like it might try to run away when he wasn't looking.

"New stuff all stowed away?" John asked, pulling his dessert closer in case Radek decided to do something rash.

Radek nodded. "And new people safely locked out of the system until McKay can teach 'How not to blow yourself up before I have my twelve cups of coffee 101'.

John nodded around a mouthful of freshly mixed powdered mashed potatoes. "So then I can sleep soundly tonight knowing there won't be any accidental emergencies."

"I'll be sure to arrange a small fire in someplace remote, just for you, Colonel." Radek glared at him over his cup.

Ronon cleared his throat loudly. "On my world, we used to say that you shouldn't sell your children before they are born."

John listened as Radek choked on his coffee and he closed his eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please tell me that's an old wive's tale or something?"

"My mother told it to me as young one, if that's what you mean." Ronon looked more perturbed by the rest of the table's reactions than his own words.

"Yeah, Ronon," John said faintly. "That's exactly what we meant."

Shrugging, Ronon went back to eating and Radek slid surreptitiously closer to John.

Sleep that night was fitful. John was restless and irritated, annoyed with himself for being upset that Rodney, who had argued so adamantly, had been too busy to make sure the old ball and chain hadn't jumped ship.

The water was looking mighty fine from his vantage point. Less court-martials down there.

He gave his pillow another punch, and rolled over for the dozenth time, falling into a restless sleep.

The faint whispering of air and quick change of light startled him back awake some time later. Rolling over, he spotted a shadow along his wall and was halfway to his sidearm when the familiar shape of his visitor made it through his sleep-fogged brain. "Rodney?"

Rodney made a shushing noise, raising his index finger to rest on his lips, the universal 'don't speak' motion.

Confused enough to play along, John nodded mutely.

Feet shuffling about, Rodney struggled a bit until two loud thunks reached John's ears. Shoes probably. Then Rodney stalked across the room – or what would have been stalking if he hadn't tripped over the chair and ended up hopping, one foot clutched in his hand, making high-pitched hissing noises of pain.

Out of respect, John muffled his laughter.

Rodney fell onto the bed with a loud "whumph." He rubbed his foot for a few more seconds before turning determined eyes on John.

John swallowed as his heart began beating rapidly. "Rodney?"

"Sssh." Rodney swung his legs up onto the bed and flipped onto all fours, hobbling a bit as his right hand moved automatically to support himself. He shuffled up John's body,  limbs splayed, holding himself above him. Heat suffused into John through the air and he gasped, just as Rodney's lips met his in a bruising kiss.

John palmed the back of Rodney's head, fingers gliding through short and surprisingly soft hair. It was good enough to make him forget all of his objections, the slide of Rodney between his lips, slick and agile. He tried to pull Rodney closer only to have Rodney's lips curve against his. Rodney gave his lower lip one last suck and pulled away, leaving John breathing heavily.

He trailed his mouth down John's shirtless chest. Hot trails of pleasure followed Rodney's long sucking kisses and wandering hands. John’s nipples were licked and sucked, making his back arch and his hips seek some sort of contact.

His cock grazed against Rodney's stomach, the brief contact shocking in intensity. A breathy chuckle sounded from around his midsection, and the brace-laden hand on his sternum pushed lightly. "You will not distract me from my master plan," Rodney whispered into his skin, free hand skimming along the waistline of John’s boxers. He mouthed along the sensitive skin, following the elastic as it slid over John's hips. Easing it over his aching cock, Rodney nuzzled its base, licking in small circles.

John's eyes crossed as he tried to watch before he fell back to bed, breathless. Then the most amazing, hot, mind sizzling thing happened as Rodney let the tip of John cock slide past his lips; warm and wet, hot and slick. Rodney's hand was where his mouth wasn’t, pumping lazily as John slid in and out.

One of John’s legs fell to the side, offering Rodney more room to work. His lips slid fractionally lower, then up again, and John couldn't think past the ungodly amazing feelings coming directly from his cock. Rodney did something with his tongue and John could feel the tension rise fast and excruciatingly good.

He felt like one large raw nerve, twitching all over and --oh god-- Rodney was sucking, cheeks hollowed and flushed in the darkness of the room. Rodney's hips moved restlessly against the blankets even as he sucked harder. John broke out in a sweat as every muscle in his body clenched and shuddered and burned with pleasure.

Breath caught in this throat, he came in long trembling pulses and Rodney swallowed around him making it go on and on until finally he whimpered, boneless and completely spent. With one last obscene pop, Rodney let him go, eyes shining and hips still moving impatiently.

Catching his breath John made a flopping gesture with his hand, which was supposed to say 'Come here.' It probably was closer to 'mnugh, brain puddle of come.'

Rodney seemed to understand him anyway, because a few seconds later he slithered up John's body, rubbing the entire way. "Please," Rodney whispered into his mouth. "Won't take much."

John nodded, kissing Rodney hard, lips wide and open, tongue delving into Rodney's panting mouth with abandon. His hand found Rodney's pants already open, and he dove inside with the same enthusiasm, palming the hard cock in his hand.

Tearing away, Rodney buried his face in John's neck, panting heavily. "Please, John," he said over and over, the words melting together into one long incoherent babbling plea.

He thrust erratically, sliding the wet head of his cock over John's sweaty palm. John rolled them slightly, so he could pin him down as he finally got his hand wrapped firmly around Rodney, pulling in long possessive strokes.

The cadence of Rodney's lips against his shoulder changed. "…faster, faster, please, faster…"

John obliged, shortening his strokes, forehead braced on the tip of Rodney's shoulder, breathing deeply, dizzy with the smell. "Come on, Rodney…" He was on the verge of losing himself -- oh god how someone could smell so good? It boggled the few brain cells John had left, and his cock gave a little twitch of agreement.

Suddenly the body underneath him tensed. Rodney's lips went wide against his skin and then he shuddered violently and curled around him, hips pushing, actually dislodging John from his place on Rodney's side.

Finally Rodney collapsed against him, breathing still uneven and raspy. "So," he whispered in John's ear. "Wow. That was completely worth the broken toe."

John kissed Rodney's forehead, deeply grateful for the inanity of his comment. He reached over the side of the bed for the shirt he'd discarded before going to sleep. "Your toe is not broken."

"It better be." Rodney took the shirt and wiped himself down. "There was talk of making me exercise tomorrow."

"The horror," John said dryly, skimming his hands down Rodney's sides, feeling less softness than he'd imagined. "You need the muscle mass, don't complain."

Rodney pushed himself under the covers. "I was stuck in bed for two months, what did you expect?" He flung an arm over John's stomach, showing no inclination to move. "What's wrong with regaining what I lost, in a more traditional manner?"

"We're still rationing food, Rodney," John said sleepily. "Now it's time for all good little scientists to pass out. One of us is going to freak out in the morning, and we'll need to be well rested for that."

That made Rodney push up, hand skimming across John's stomach, the edge of the brace irritating John’s over sensitized skin. He looked John in the eyes, a worried gaze peeking out from behind a flushed and satisfied face.

John brushed a lazy finger down Rodney's cheek. "Please, Rodney, just sleep?" He sighed, bone weary and more sated than he remembered being in years.

"Fine," Rodney grumped. "But you better save your freak out until after I've had at least five hours of sleep, or I'm really not going to care all that much."

"Deal," John muttered, eyes already closing.

******

John's freak out was superseded by a small rebel contingent of Genii soldiers trying to sneak some explosives in with the latest trade shipment from what had used to be a nice little planet with a pleasant little farming community.

He did have a brief moment of terror when he realized Rodney was still heavily asleep in his bed -- which that could cause all kinds of trouble -- as he zipped up his vest and checked his P90.

On the other side of the gate, Lorne gave him a tired nod and then threw him to the ground as some artillery exploded nearby. "Thanks," John yelled above the noise.

"Not a problem, sir. I just broke you in." Lorne crawled behind the makeshift barricade. "Would be a waste of manpower to let you die now, sir."

Lorne was turning into a real smartass, and John was really okay with that. "It's not the camaraderie that keeps me in the Air Force, but the respect of my peers." More shots were fired and John sent a few back for good measure. "How many do they have?"

"Three villagers, Lieutenant Bennett and Dr. Parrish," Lorne said tightly. "They don't sound inclined to give them up so easily."

John nodded, inching the periscope around the edge of the overturned wagon. "You got any Intel on their positions?"

Lorne drew a diagram in the dirt, outlining the nearby buildings and possible positions of the Genii soldiers He circled a lopsided square on the right. "That's where we think the hostages are."

John studied the makeshift diagram, taking quick peeks at the actual village to orient himself. "Okay, so, any idea what they want?"

Lorne looked away and fidgeted. "Well, sir, they were actually pretty clear about it."

Blinking widely, John gave him an incredulous look. "And you didn't think that'd be useful information to send through before?"

"Well." Lorne shrugged. "Considering what happened last time…"

A light dawned, and John wondered if there was some sort of genetic anomaly in the Pegasus galaxy that made their enemies gluttons for punishment, and ungodly unimaginative. "You're kidding me."

Lorne shook his head.

"They want McKay?" John felt the need to clarify, because, come on.

Lorne nodded, appearing to be braced for something.

John's laughter apparently was not it and Lorne gave him a surprised look. Shaking his head, John pointed to various places on the makeshift map. "Okay, I'll do the usual song and dance, while Lorne, you take two men and sneak around the large barn and those cottages over there and get our people."

Everyone took their positions and John tilted his head so that he could yell over the wagon. "So I hear you've got a crush on one of my scientists!"

The lack of gunfire was very satisfying, the lack of anything else was less so.

"Look," John went on. "You want him? I mean seriously, have you thought this through? They had to have told you the stories right? Koyla must've bitched about McKay till his face turned blue." They probably wouldn't mind the great blow jobs though -- and didn't that just make his heart beat hard and his hands feel jittery. Oh right, freak out on hold. He opened his mouth to start in on the benefits of some sort of timeshare, when the unmistakable sound of a bullet reached his ears from off in the left.

Well shit. "Come on, guys, we were just getting a nice dialogue going!" Two more bullets and John grabbed his P90, heading off in the direction of the hostages.

He took only a small amount of pleasure in the shots he landed on the way, annoyed at the number of times he had to duck and cover, their aim was getting better. Lorne and company were heading in his direction, and laying cover fire in leap frog successions, they made it back to the gate.

Dialing was the most perilous part of a mission, but there were about seven people with guns spreading more cover, and John managed to press the symbols in record time.

They ran, John waiting for the last of them to go through before shooting one more batch of suppression fire and turning tail and running himself. At the last second, something pushed him from behind, making him lose his balance and land on his knees on the other side with a stinging pain in his thigh.

He remained bowed on the floor, catching his breath. The idea of standing up was a bit nauseating. Lorne was just a few feet in front of him and clutching his arm, blood dripping through his fingers.

"You okay, sir?"

"Um." The pain was slowly radiating outward. "Probably not." His hand came away from his outer thigh slick and red. "Make that definitely not."

Lorne nodded. "Medic! Over here!" Two generic beige and yellow clad people swarmed to Lorne. John looked around for Beckett, wondering why the doctor hadn't already-- oh, Parrish was on the floor too, looking pale and unhappy.

Lorne shooed the medics over to John, who was starting to gray out a little. They pushed him to the ground and there was a tearing sound -- his pants, John realized belatedly.

Someone yelled out, "Gunshot wound! Through and through!"

They hurried him onto a gurney ,and just as the needle broke the skin John had the fleeting thought that if he survived, Rodney was going to kill him.

******

"So normally I'd be pretty upset about a lot of things right now, but the fact that you got shot in the ass mitigates most of it."

John groaned, momentarily unhappy to be alive. He cracked his eyes open to see Rodney hovering over him, face grim and posture stiff. John had the feeling his own glare at that moment was less than effective.

"No really, I laughed a lot," Rodney continued, lips pursing and voice lowering. "It was hysterical to wake up alone, stumble around trying to look casual, and then hear that call over the radio." He shrugged. "But like I said, a bullet in the ass makes up for a lot."

"Thigh," John protested, his voice raspy.

Rodney offered him the straw from the cub clenched tightly in his hand. "Ass."

John sipped, bliss seeping through him as the water wet his parched mouth. "Thigh."

Clucking his tongue, Rodney pursed his lips and got that far away 'I’m thinking of important things' look. "One could almost say that it's a real world manifestation of your own personal issues," he said conversationally.

Right about then would be a spectacularly wonderful time for him to die in a horribly tragic and almost never unheard of gurney accident. The kind that happened for no discernable reason, but was always quick and painless.

Rodney crossed his arms and frowned. "Also, I had my first round with my new set of exercises, and I’ve decided that Carson secretly has a membership at the Atlantis branch of Paddles."

Oh yeah, that horrible gurney accident could happen at any time now. He was suddenly very tired and Rodney's voice faded into the background. Sleep overtook him with a ghostly  hand squeeze, relaxing him into the black.

******

Beckett confirmed that John had indeed been shot in the upper thigh, but apparently it had been fairly close, and he still had to watch how he sat down. Most of the time he ended up leaning to the left,  eventually with one shockingly numb cheek.

Rodney appeared once a day, no matter where John was. He stayed just long enough to say something scathing, do something that made John's knees suspiciously weak and disappear again before John could find the right words to say.

Not that he had any idea what they'd be when he thought about it later.

His appointment for final wound care found John listening outside a closed door to Rodney's raised voice.

"…I can't, Carson! So just get off my back!"

Rodney stormed out the door and past John so fast that John nearly lost his balance, his leg still not quite up to par.

Beckett followed him out, looking tired and stressed.

"Everything okay, Doc?" John asked, following Beckett to the nearest exam table.

"Par for course," Beckett sighed, "Rodney's just caught up with the fact that there may be no miracle cure and he's letting it hold him back from any progress that could be made."

"Why sweat the pain?" John asked, already familiar with the concept.

"Exactly," Beckett nodded.

It was around then that John realized he wasn't exactly an invalid anymore and was able to use those tracking skills the Air Force had spent all that money teaching him.

He found Rodney on a small balcony outside of the science labs, coat pulled taut over his shoulders, shivering slightly in the evening breeze.

"That can't be good for your hand," John said, slipping fully into the cold night air.

Rodney jumped, spinning wildly before focusing on John. His back stiffened and his shoulders gained a stubborn set. "It can't possibly hurt any more than it does at the moment. So I think I'll stay."

John shook his head, stepping close enough feel the small movements in the air from Rodney's shivering. Incremental changes in the heat John could feel along his side elicited a strong craving to curve himself along Rodney's flank, soak up that heat before it escaped into nothingness.

Instead he sidled up next to Rodney's right hand and pulled it gently away from its protective place against his chest. "The worst part of physical therapy is not that it hurts," he said quietly, concentrating on uncurling Rodney's fingers. "It's that you don't know where the finish line is."

Rodney made a noise that could have meant anything and John pressed the pad of his finger into the soft flesh just under the thumb. The muscle was tense and unyielding and Rodney's breath caught as John rubbed in tight circles.

When Rodney finally spoke, his voice was rough with emotion. "I miss the stupidest things." His hand flexed in John's. "It's not just the white board, because that's actually slowly coming back. A large marker doesn’t require all that much finesse." He hissed as John shifted his grip, moving onto the next tense muscle. "I miss pen and paper. I miss being able to get down more than one sentence at a time without my hand feeling like it was folding into itself in an effort to replicate some pathetic doctoral thesis on n space."

John carefully released the Velcro holding the fabric and plastic against Rodney's hand. The inside was slightly damp; a day's wear and tear on enclosed skin. Running his fingertips over the warm skin, John felt small prickles of goose bumps rise at exposure to the cool air.

"Sometimes it shakes," Rodney admitted, voice hushed. "It's just a tremor, but fine motor control is important when building a nuclear bomb, you know." He finished the sentence off with a small laugh, subtly shifting closer to John, their legs brushing against each other.

"Just because the universe is headed towards entropy is no reason to think that it won't get better." John traced the muscles from the base of Rodney's wrist all the way to his elbow, letting his thumb dig in just enough to feel the line of tension all the way up.

"The best part?" Rodney sighed, his arm flexing. "I think my dick misses my right hand."

John's fingers squeezed just a little too tight and Rodney flinched. "Sorry," John murmured.

"At first it's exciting, you know?" Rodney said, warming up to the subject. "You can imagine it's someone different, and the fact that it's my less dominant hand just adds to the fantasy, the clumsiness, the pressure just a little bit off." The timbre of his voice lowered, and he pressed further into John.

One long pull down Rodney's arm brought a gasp of pleasure to John's ears, and he smiled past his own hazy thoughts, enjoying the faint pressure of Rodney’s body against his. He wanted to pull Rodney the rest of the way, to lose himself in the warm press of Rodney's body, feel every gasp. Rodney's lips would open for him easily; John’s kisses would be met with single-minded determination that would narrow the world down to nobody else but them.

He wanted to push Rodney against the wall until one of them couldn't breathe in without the other breathing out. He wanted to hear Rodney gasp his name, breathless and pleading and he wanted to do the same for Rodney.

Instead, he squeezed Rodney's arm gently, slowly breaking up a large knot near its base.

He spent long minutes listening to Rodney's breathing, hearing the pitch and timber sway as he found the places of highest tension and rolled them around under his fingers.

"I'm scared," Rodney said eventually. "I can work with uncertainty in small doses. Will I be his lunch? Will that spear penetrate my aorta? Does this bruise mean internal bleeding? Long-term is a bit more problematic."

John nodded his understanding. At that moment he couldn't think beyond the next crisis, beyond keeping the presence of Atlantis a secret and the fact that Rodney had somehow wormed his way under John's skin until John was pretty sure he wouldn't know what to do without him there now and that if anyone found out he was beyond screwed. He dealt with Rodney one moment at a time, one possible slip at a time. Anything larger just made his brain hurt.

His hands moved down Rodney's arm, pressing firmly at the tendons. "One step at a time," John advised. "Break it down." Rodney's hand moved under his, stopped being pliant, and caught John's in a tight grip. "The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step and all that jazz." He turned to Rodney, giving him a lopsided smile.

Rodney's grip lightened almost immediately, his hand didn't have the stamina. Nevertheless, Rodney's lips twitched into the shadow of a smile. "I want to kiss you," he whispered, leaning in. "Badly."

A flash of heat prickled over John's skin. Hot then cold, instantly half hard at the thought. "Not out here," John rasped, panicked. "Rodney, you had to know that there would be things that I-- that we--"

"Yes, yes," Rodney interrupted with a knowing tone. "Even holding my hand is an insult to the institution you call a career. I understand." He pushed against John with his hip. "That doesn't mean I can't dream of a utopian society where I could pin you up against that wall and try my best to lick your tonsils."

John ducked his head. "I hardly think that's what More was talking about." The image flashed behind his eyelids, vivid and shadowed, and heat tingled up his spine making it hard to think.

Rodney's hand still laid limply in his own. Full of daring and obviously brain dead from lust, John lifted the hand to his lips, kissing each scar, feather light, just enough pressure to feel the puckered skin.

Rodney gasped faintly, pushing his hand closer, his thumb skimming under John's top lip. They had to stop before it got out of hand. Need thrummed under John's skin and his mouth opened up just enough to let the thumb slip past his teeth.

"That's not making that kissing urge disappear." Rodney was inches away, his nose grazing John's neck. "Oh god, you make me so-- I can't even describe it." He sucked carefully at a patch of skin just under John's ear.

Sparks that made him tremble zipped along John's nerves, the rough feel of stubble against his skin adding to the good sensations.  He groaned low, sucking Rodney's thumb deep into his mouth for long, tantalizing seconds before pulling it gently away. "Stop, Rodney."

Rodney's movements slowed without argument. His lips pulled back, but they stayed bowed together, foreheads touching for a moment. "Right, we maintain the horrible cliché, and stick to locked rooms and small dark closets."

"Right," John agreed, doing his part to move away, albeit slowly.

They returned to their original positions, two friends standing on a balcony, staring out into the horizon, shivering in the night.

******

Because John knew that quiet conversations and stolen moments on balconies were a little like New Year's resolutions -- sincerely meant but quickly forgotten in the light of day -- he dug out the small overfilled crate and sorted through the contents of Rodney's booty. He'd shoved it away in a corner and forgotten about it weeks ago, but he'd assessed the situation early, and known that it'd come in handy later. One wrapped Hershey bar was tucked neatly into the corner. Smiling, John nabbed it and stuffed it deep into his pocket. Perfect.

He caught Rodney between destinations. John poked his head out of the shadows and 'pssst'd.

Rodney stopped abruptly and looked around, head swiveling.

"Over here," John stage-whispered, purposefully lounging against the wall in a James Deanesque sort of way. "Rumor has it you're looking for something to get you through the day."

"Excuse me?" Rodney eyed him warily.

"First one's free." John slipped open the flap of his pocket just enough so that the foil could reflect off the light in the corridor. "It's the real deal, good stuff."

Rodney studied him, momentarily confused before shaking his head and putting his hands up in what he probably thought was a non threatening manner. "Have you hit your head? Can you point to where it hurts?"

John smacked the hands away. "Calm down before you get us busted." He pulled the flap of his pocket up further, stretching the fabric away just a bit. "Now do you want in or not? I'm sure I can find another buyer. Parrish looks the type."

"Waitaminute!" Rodney leaned closer into John’s personal space, grabbing the edge of the pocket and pulling. "Chocolate?"

Making frantic shushing noises, John smacked at the hands again. "You want?"

"Of course I want!" Rodney's eyes narrowed. "What do I have to do?"

"For this one?" John slipped the bar out of his pocket and into Rodney's. "Nothing."

Patting himself down, Rodney's hand traced the outline of the bar inside his clothes, still looking suspicious. "There's more?"

John nodded smugly.

"What's the catch?" Rodney's entire face was a frown, but his hand still hadn't left the slight bulge in his pocket.

"Nothing too difficult."

"What. Do. I. Have. To. Do?" Rodney edged closer, making threatening gestures.

"Two complete sessions with Beckett." John waited for the inevitable explosion.

It never came.

Instead, Rodney looked at him curiously. "Huh. I thought the word blowjob was going to come into play."

John swallowed thickly and shook his head.

Rodney smiled widely. Shark-like. "Oh, well then," he said deceptively lightly. "Deal." He turned on his heel and walked off whistling.

Oh, John was so screwed.

******

Go on to part 4