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They'd met in a late night convenience store near to the university. There’d been a Little Debbie emergency - Rodney’s TA had chosen exam week to go down with a truly disgusting stomach flu and there was no way that he could face all that grading without huge quantities of highly processed sugar. In his haste to stave off idiot-induced hypoglycaemia, he’d managed to knock right into some guy as he juggled his way to the checkout. The first thing he'd noticed was the guy's hair - it was spectacularly tousled in a way that should have been plain messy and not so damn sexy, if there was any justice in the world, anyway - and the second had been how seriously - no, seriously - hot the guy was. It was while he'd been trying to stop gaping at the hotness that the guy had smiled at him and said, 'Hi, I'm John' - and that had pretty much been it.
John was an ex-USAF pilot who ran his own flying school. As well as going faster than two hundred miles an hour, he liked surfing and skiing and all the kinds of things that Rodney hated. Except, maybe now not so much. Rodney had never had time for hobbies - every spare moment had been devoted to his work - but he found that it was fun to do stuff with John. He liked watching John at the beach, wearing those scruffy old cut-offs and riding the waves like some kind of spray-slicked Adonis and then grinning like a madman when he wiped out. Or letting John drag him to the bowling alley and, of course, Rodney turned out to actually be good at it - it was all just physics and bad shoes, after all. Or going to rundown old honky tonk bars that played - in Rodney's opinion - terrible country music with some guy wailing on about how only his dog loved him, but that served really, really great steaks. John was sexy and funny and bright - 'they do like a little more than a GED if they're gonna let you fly their jets, Rodney' - and best of all, he seemed to like Rodney too.
And then, of course, there was the sex. Rodney had never had so many truly mind-blowing orgasms in all his life and John’s inventiveness, and downright flexibility, often made his eyes roll back in his head and his I.Q. plummet exponentially. He knew that he’d never be able to look at a tub of Phish Food again without getting instantly hard, that was for sure. Then, one night as they'd lay twisted together in a post 'wow, that was really incredible' sex haze, John had brushed a soft kiss to the pillow of Rodney's shoulder and murmured 'I love you'.
So that was when, the very next day, the military had contacted Rodney to say that the project he'd been consulting on for the past five years had been given the green light. In the space of twenty-four hours, Rodney's apartment was mothballed, his doctoral students transferred and he found himself on another continent entirely.
He hadn't even had chance to say goodbye to John. He'd just left a hurried message on his machine saying that he was leaving to work on The Atlantis Project.
And that was it.
~
Sometimes getting what you thought you wanted really didn't turn out the way you imagined it would. The project had been a disaster from the offset. There were power issues and containment issues and just too many damn issues to make the whole thing feasible. So, after struggling for eleven months to make it work they finally had to admit defeat. There was no blame to be attached - sometimes things just didn't work out - and so the military, after consultation after long consultation, decided to pull the plug. Strangely enough, Rodney found that he wasn't that disappointed.
So, nearly a year after his hasty departure, Rodney found himself back firmly where he'd started. His apartment had been aired out - thank god for military efficiency - and the Dean was arranging Rodney's schedule so that he could pick up where he left off at the university. All in all it was like he'd never been away. Except for John.
Rodney hadn't tried to contact John while he was in Antarctica - communications were difficult but the real reason was that he just hadn't known what to say. That feeling had only worsened as the months had ground by and before he knew it, it had been almost a year. He had no idea what John had been doing while he’d been away - if he was seeing someone new. Rodney didn’t like to dwell on that thought.
He'd been back a week when he finally hit that last digit of John's number. The phone rang out, three interminable rings and then a familiar click as the answering machine picked up. Rodney squeezed the handset just a little tighter as he heard John's low, soft drawl for the first time in so long.
'If you're calling about the carve board; I sold it. If it's Tuesday night; I'm at the driving range. If you're selling something, sorry - I'm not buying. Anybody else; wait for the tone - you know what to do.'
Rodney couldn't help but smile - despite the ache that was inexplicably twisting his chest - the whole thing was just so very John. Then his eyes widened as the message finished.
'And, P.S. - if this is Atlantis? I still love you.'
Rodney fumbled the handset down, breaking the connection without leaving a message. John loved him. It hadn't just been a line falling from sex-loosened lips. No, Rodney knew better than that - had known for the last eleven months - John didn't say things that he didn't mean. Beneath the easygoing, laconic humour, John Sheppard was an honourable man, a good man. And Rodney did know that, he just hadn't realised… hadn't known how much… and now - John still loved him? Even after the way that Rodney had left? Rodney hadn't even made his own feelings clear. But that was the problem - Rodney didn't know what his feelings were. Equations and formulae, electrons and protons - that was all fine but when it came to feelings, especially his own, he really had no clue at all.
~
Rodney began to pick up the threads of his life. He only had a few classes to teach, thank god, and his office hours weren't too painful - his students knew better than to waste his time with inanities. There was also a possibility that a civilian application could be found for an offshoot of some of his research with the military and he was looking into ways of making that happen. But however much he tried to bury himself in his work, he just couldn't stop thinking about John - John who still loved him, even after all this time.
Three days later, Rodney caved in and rang John's number again. He had no idea what he was going to say but he just couldn't go on as he was. It rang out and then there was the machine again. Rodney didn't know whether he was disappointed or relieved. The lazy husk of John's voice was as welcome now as it had been in his memory all those nights in Antarctica.
'If it's Friday night; I'm at the game and first thing Saturday I'm headed out to the beach. I'll be gone all weekend but leave a message and I'll call you when I get home Sunday.'
Rodney held his breath, desperate not to miss anything else that John might say.
'And, P.S. - if this is Atlantis? I still love you.'
The tone sounded and without really knowing what he was doing, Rodney garbled out his number and then hung up without saying another word. His chest felt tight and he whooped out a long breath of air as he tried to remember how to breathe.
~
The weekend was unending. Rodney puttered around his apartment - unpacking the last of his things, rearranging his CD collection, cleaning out his refrigerator; until he realised that everything he was doing was in one ring's distance of the phone and then he purposely slammed out of the door and grabbed a double espresso from the coffee shop on the corner. He did bring it home to drink, though resolutely not looking at the phone the entire time.
By Sunday evening, Rodney still had no idea what he was going to say when John rang. If John rang - there was always the possibility that he was just completely pissed off with Rodney's behaviour, of course, and had decided to cut his losses. The only thing that Rodney was certain of was that he missed John and that he wanted to be with him - indefinitely. He wasn't sure if that was a definition of love but he just knew that he didn't want to spend even one more day without John.
~~
John dropped his keys on the table and threw his bag near the door, toeing off his sneakers as he headed for the kitchen. He pushed his fingers through his hair - it was still stiff with salt and sand and his skin had that too-tight feeling from hours spent in the sun and ocean. He'd had a good time this weekend, the waves had been perfect and Ronon and Teyla were the best kind of friends - never calling him on it when he got a little melancholy, lost in his thoughts and memories. He grabbed a beer from the 'fridge and took a long, cold pull, knocking the door closed with his hip. He really needed to shower but he was beat and the couch was looking way too comfortable. He flopped down with a sigh, cradling the beer to his chest, and then noticed the light flashing on the answering machine. He leaned over and hit play, settling back against the cushions.
There was only one message - short and extremely to the point - just a phone number, but John knew that voice, had dreamed of that voice. He put the beer down and grabbed the phone, dialling from memory. It rang out three times and then John heard…
'If you're calling about my heart; it's a little rusty but if you still want it, it's yours - always has been yours. I just didn't know it, couldn't recognise the feeling. I should've listened more closely and not wasted so much time.'
There was a pause and John swallowed, straining to hear more.
'This is Atlantis and I… I love you, too.'
He knew that was no machine but for a moment he couldn’t speak, all the words he’d been saving up for the past year sticking hard in his throat.
There was another pause and then a faint, hopeful, 'John? Are you there?'
"Rodney," John sighed, happy at last. "Welcome home, buddy. I missed you."
The end