Chapter Text
“It’s almost beautiful, in a way,” Elizabeth had mused when they’d filled her in on the whole story. Teyla didn’t feel the same way; John could tell by the disturbed look in her eyes she’d carried the whole way home.
“This is what the Wraith have brought us to,” she’d whispered to herself on the flight home. John hadn’t said anything, just stared out into the evening darkness and thought about what it meant to love someone enough to let them kill you.
John didn’t say anything now either. He’d explained the situation, sure, walking Elizabeth through the theory he and Ronon had come up with about the Wraith force — they had been a small cluster, too small even for a Hive to beam people to, driven to the outskirts by the civil war. They’d been starved, which explained why they were desperate enough to go to the effort of attacking the Angerions, and how they’d been weak enough for Rodney McKay to fend off with the barrel of a P-90. But he didn’t say anything about beauty, or love, or sacrifice. He was too busy playing Telve’s words over in his head. Too busy replaying the way Rodney had screamed out as the Wraith had bore down on him. Too busy thinking about all that fear, that pain, and how much he wanted to take it away.
That’s what they did, after all, for the ones they loved.
When John knocked on Rodney’s door, it opened straight away. Rodney blinked at him — not surprised, apparently — and wordlessly stepped aside to let him in. John hadn’t been in Rodney’s room all that often. It was pretty much exactly what he’d expected. When he looked up again, Rodney was watching him expectantly. Unable to stop himself, John’s eyes dropped to Rodney’s chest, checking again for wounds he knew weren’t there. When Rodney saw where his gaze had gone, something indefinable flashed across his face, but John swore he saw the hint of a smile.
John took a deep breath. “Lemme ask you something,” he said. “Why were you really so mad about Telve?”
Rodney crossed his arms, blocking John’s view. “I think we’re done with the invasive questions today,” he answered snippily.
“I saved your life today, I think that entitles me to a freebie.”
Rodney looked away, jaw clenched. John walked a slow circle around the room, letting his fingers trace across all of the knick-knacks on the desk; a ritual of his very own. “I was thinking,” he said slowly, “that it might have something to do with you being jealous. Jealous of the idea of Telve and I.” Rodney let out a sharp breath through his nose, and John raised an eyebrow. Getting warmer then. Thank god. Getting this wrong would definitely warrant self-imposed exile to the worst gate world imaginable. “See, what you don’t realise is so funny about that,” John said, noticing how Rodney tensed, “is that Telve told me that she wasn’t interested in me one bit, ‘cause we were both already taken.” He stopped in front of Rodney. “She had this idea that you and I are soulmates.”
Because maybe Telve had been right about this, but Teyla had been right too — having this happiness, that was his to choose. He just had to take the first step.
Rodney’s head snapped his way. John watched as a flurry of emotions flashed across his face, the classic McKay brain-melt. He finally settled on...John didn’t know what. “I —” he started, “We — That…” He licked his lips nervously. “We both know that soulmates are bullshit, correct?” he said breathlessly, and finally John could see what was in his eyes; that tiny gleam of disbelieving hope.
“Sure,” John said, a grin spreading slowly across his face. “For us anyway. Real shame — I would’ve been all for this otherwise. Oh well.” He pretended as if he were making to turn and leave.
“No, no, no, wait —”
Rodney’s grasp on his arm spun John around, and suddenly there were hands fisting his jacket, and breath on his cheek, and Rodney was right there, infuriatingly close and entirely kissable. His eyes were wild as he stared at John.
“I thought you said nobody here was your type?” John asked, grinning ear to ear, only half joking.
“Well, obviously ,” Rodney hissed. “I thought you were heterosexual until about ten seconds ago.” He breathed in deep, bracing his palms against John’s chest, and John swore he could feel Rodney’s heartbeat pounding through them. “You’re not messing with me?” he asked. “You better not be — I swear, Sheppard, if you are I will not hesitate to boot you to a gate world with no oxygen, don’t think I won’t—”
And then John was kissing him.
Rodney fell silent, and John let all his bullshit fall away too, left nothing behind but his hand on the back of Rodney’s neck and the feeling of their lips pressed together. John pulled back slightly, just enough that he could enjoy the starry look in Rodney’s eyes. Rodney sighed contentedly, drumming his fingers against John’s lapels. “Ronon said this would happen,” he sighed against John’s lips.
John frowned. “...Ronon said that I would tell you we were soulmates and then kiss you?”
Rodney snorted. “Not in so many words, no. It was when we went off looking for energy readings. He asked me, uh, why I didn’t just fuck you already if I cared that much—” John’s eyebrows shot up— “and the conversation went downhill pretty rapidly from there.”
“Huh,” John said. Well, that definitely explained some of today’s weirdness. “Guess I owe Ronon a thank you.”
“Well, I haven’t fucked you yet.” Rodney smirked.
“Yeah, and the fact that you haven’t is something I’m having a hard time understanding.”
John wrapped his arms around Rodney’s neck, pulling him in for another deep kiss. That is, until Rodney broke away with a startled gasp. “Hold on.”
John wasn’t sure how many more interruptions he could take at this point. “Mm?”
Rodney’s eyes were very serious. “Did you actually fuck Zelenka?” he asked. “Because, believe it or not, I do have a few hard lines, and that is most definitely one of them.”
John laughed so hard that he almost couldn’t kiss Rodney again. Almost.
That night, John had another dream. No tent, no singing, no Wraith. Not anything, actually. Just darkness, stretching out all around him, devouring everything in its path — and a hand, reaching out through the darkness to join with his. Just from the touch of it, John knew it was Rodney’s.
When he woke, he reached out across the bed. Rodney’s hand was there too. He squeezed it, and Rodney squeezed back.