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The mission goes sour fast and with no warning. It should be something that John expects but somehow, he never does. The panic, however, is deeply familiar as is Rodney’s labored breathing beside him. Somehow amidst the rifle and alien weapons fire, he manages to find a rocky alcove in which to hurl both of them in for cover.
He grunts with pain, looking down to see his side has been hit. He’s losing blood fast.
“We didn’t even get to negotiate! Why were they so hostile??” Rodney is ranting, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “This isn’t exactly the best hiding place, Major."
“Sorry about that, not exactly at the top of my game right now” John replies. He tries to stay upright but he finds himself falling to his knees.
Rodney turns to him, his look of irritation turning to horror.
“Oh, God” he says panicked, rushing over. Quicker than John expects, Rodney catches him before he hits the ground.
“How you manage to get yourself into these situations every time. Oh, that’s a lot of blood.”
He takes off his tactical vest, trying to staunch the blood flow with little success. John knows he must be feeling close to passing out as he stares quite blatantly at Rodney's forearms. Closer to consciousness he would feel the need to avert his eyes. But Rodney isn’t paying attention anyway, trying to contact the rest of the team on his radio. He props Sheppards head in his lap. Even in his daze, John feels the gentleness of his touch. He wishes it were under any other circumstances but this.
“Stay with me, Major” Rodney says but John feels the need to close his eyes. Everything is fuzzy and sliding out of focus. He feels the pull of unconsciousness.
“Hey, Sheppard. What are you doing??”
Rodney ineffectually tries to stop him from flailing his arms, his bloody hand trying to grasp at his dog tags.
“Take them off” Sheppard says, his grip loosening.
“Fine! But stop moving."
McKay carefully manages to get the dog tags off, placing them in Sheppard's palm. He lets his fingers linger and Sheppard closes Mckay’s fingers around them.
John looks up at the piece of sky he can see from the ground. He can still make out muffled gunfire, and sees smoke billowing overhead.
“Don’t let them give these to my father” he mumbles. Rodney stills for a moment before realization hits him.
“Shut up, Sheppard! You’re making it out of this. You’re going to be just fine” he hisses at him.
“Promise…me”. He’s losing grip over his fingers but the look in his eyes has McKay nodding.
“I promise” McKay whispers.
With the last bit of energy he looks up and says-
“Because if…I don’t make it…I want you to know something-”
“I said shut up, John!” Rodney barks out.
“Hey…you called me John,” Sheppard says, smiling with blood on his teeth. He loses consciousness.
✧
The wound doesn’t end up killing him. It’s not nearly as bad as he thought although it causes much hemming and hawing from Carson. His side is badly bruised and lined with stitches. When it heals, he’s sure to have a long scar. He refuses to stay in the infirmary for longer than a week. It's bad enough that he's forbidden to travel through the gate. He spends most of the recovery time reading for lack of anything to do and makes a note to explore other areas of Atlantis that might have a library. Otherwise, he’s badgering Ronon to practice shooting with him, a failed attempt.
“It’s stationary! I don’t have to move…much.”
“Pretty sure the doc would kill me. Go find Mckay” Ronon says and ruffles his hair, annoying John to no end.
He tries to wheedle Teyla into sparring with him but she only looks at him with a raised brow and he realizes it’s a gentle rebuff.
“Perhaps Rodney would like your help in the lab” she says, steering him gently away from the training barracks.
John snorts. That’s the last place Mckay would probably want him but the thought sticks out in his mind. He parts with Teyla, trying to gather his scattered thoughts.
He actually hasn’t seen Mckay around lately. Usually they spend lunch or dinner together and he realizes since he got hurt, Rodney has been avoiding him. So why are both Ronon and Teyla telling him to see him?
He’s allowed to go for sedate walks now that he’s off bedrest and he’s never been more grateful that Atlantis is so spacious. He frowns thinking about the problem. It must have been something he said before he passed out on Mckay.
But then the answer comes to him when he goes to habitually touch his neck. His dog tags are missing. In all the confusion and hospital rest combined with the stress of the mission, he’d forgotten about his last request to McKay. He stops to rest, placing his hand on the wall, feeling the gentle pull of Atlantis trying to calm him.
“I’m okay,” he says out loud. He’s never felt foolish for talking to Atlantis, knowing full well that it hears him. What he’s feeling foolish for is giving his dog tags to Rodney. And he remembers, most embarrassingly, that he almost told Rodney he has feelings for him which would have been disastrous.
He’s wanted Mckay, if he’s being honest with himself, since first coming to Atlantis. Rodney is brash and terse and would fight with a two year old but inexplicably John feels drawn to him. He loves arguing with Mckay, he loves spending time with Mckay, he feels like everyone can see it. But he’s painfully aware that Rodney is straight. How many times has he had to smile or nod along to sentiments he’d rather roll his eyes to.
He can only guess that Rodney is embarrassed that he still has the dogtags but couldn’t he have returned them when John was unconscious in sick bay? Nothing that he knows about Mckay could account for why he’s avoiding him like this. Whatever the reason, he needs to find out.
He grabs them both coffee from the cafeteria. It’s something he wouldn't hesitate to do before but now he’s wondering does any of the rest of the team do this? Especially for Rodney?
Teyla would tell him he’s overthinking it. It’s just a cup of coffee.
✧
The lab is always buzzing with activity. Rodney, of course, is a force of nature. Constant motion, focus, and snapping of fingers. John doesn’t know these people as well as some others. Still, he gets some friendly smiles, some curious looks. John slouches by the doorway, observing until he’s spotted.
“Oh, thank God” Rodney says, when John shuffles closer. He grabs the coffee from his hand, sipping greedily. Empty paper cups and lids litter the surface of Rodney's work space.
“You’re welcome” John says, amused.
Rodney doesn’t look abashed.
“I knew it was for me,” he shrugs then smiles at John lopsidedly. Sheppard's stomach swoops like he’s doing a maneuver in the puddle jumper. He steps closer to the computer and Rodney.
“Soooo” he drawls. “Haven’t seen much of you lately.”
“Busy” is all Rodney says, bustling around his space.
“Too busy to have dinner with me?” He stumbles and then hurriedly adds “I mean, with me and the rest of the team?”
Rodney makes a gesture that in other circumstances, and if John did not know him so well, wouldn’t have noticed. He touches his throat with nervous, wavering fingers. He’s never seen McKay make a gesture like that before. A thought crosses his mind then but surely he’s jumping to conclusions. Because why would Rodney be wearing his dog tags?
He leans closer. Unlike John, Rodney keeps his shirts mostly buttoned up.
Rodney looks up at him sharply.
“Why are you hovering, Major?”
The honorific jolts John out of his perusal. Was he being too obvious?
“You’ve heard of the poll they’re taking for the music in the cafeteria”?
Now that things are as settled as they get at Atlantis, the tech minds have found a way to access the speakers in the area they deemed as the cafeteria.
The change of topic is abrupt but McKay only nods.
“Why? I can only guess you want me to vote for the same thing as you? I’ve already cast my vote. Three words. Carly Rae Jepson.”
“What? You didn’t vote for Johnny Cash?”
Rodney sticks his finger in the air.
“She’s Canadian.”
“That’s the only thing you care about? Her nationality??”
“Look, Sheppard. Not all of us want to hear country music. That caterwauling from the man in black.”
“He’s an icon!” John stutters
“So is she!”
“This is the dumbest argument I’ve had on Atlantis and that’s saying something.”
John notices that the lab technicians are giving them both the Look. The Look that says “get out of here now”.
“Productivity always goes down when you’re in the lab” Rodney snipes.
“Am I distracting you?” John says, smiling.
“I didn’t say that.”
Again, Rodney's hand goes to touch his throat but he notices it this time, and stills his hand.
“How about I make you a mix and then you make me one and we’ll trade” John suggests. He doesn’t really care about Rodney's music taste but he’s sure he can sneak in something good into his mix.
Rodeny looks at him skeptically.
“You want us to make each other mixtapes like teenage girls do?”
“You could tone down the judgement, buddy.”
Buddy, John grimaces inwardly, I just called the guy I want to fuck “buddy”.
“Yes, well. Hmm. As long as you don’t put any country music on it."
John grins.
“I make no promises.”
✧
With the help of people probably a decade or more younger than them, John and Rodney make mixes for each other. John has only ever had walkmans and cd players. It’s weird to be able to fit an ipod into his pocket but he has to admit, it's very convenient. He slips it into his pocket and puts on his headphones.
He’s been cleared for more strenuous walking which he takes in stride, chomping at the bit to be able to run again. He’s missed exploring Atlantis.
“Before you came into my life I missed you so bad. I missed you so so bad” John can admit that it’s a catchy fucking song. Rodney was right. He hates how relatable the lyrics are. John realizes quickly as he’s listening that all the artists are Canadian. He rolls his eyes but admits, only to himself, it's pretty eclectic. Leonard Cohen, Joni Mitchell, Rush, Neil Young, The Guess Who, Sarah Mclachlan. He really likes it although he’ll pretend to be more cavalier about it when asked.
He wonders, slowing down, around the lab if he had put just a little too much yearning into his own playlist. Should he have put so many Bob Dylan songs? Were "Make You Feel My Love" and "You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go" a bit too on the nose?
He’s saved from worrying too much about it as dinner time rolls around. As many times before, he walks with McKay after dinner. Most of the time, it’s to get Rodneys after dinner coffee. Atlantis’ ambient lighting guides their path, a soft haze of blue and white. The corridors outside the central rooms are quieter. John likes these times most of all, he thinks. When he can listen to Rodney ramble and talk about anything and everything with him. So of course he has to fuck it up.
“Are you wearing my dog tags?” he blurts out.
“I- yes. I am” Rodney almost sounds….defiant.
“Oh, wow. I wasn’t really expecting you to cop to it” John says, a bit unsteady.
“Don’t worry about it, Sheppard. I’ll give them back. I don’t even know why-” he cuts himself off.
He starts unbuttoning his shirt frantically, which in any other situation would have John's full attention, except he’s doing it manically, fingers moving too fast.
“Wait, McKay-”
“I can understand why you find it strange but I almost saw you die. You were unconscious for so long! And then I didn’t have time to give them back. I realize now that it’s not exactly the most heterosexual thing to do. And believe me, I’m aware that you are one hundred percent heterosexual what with all the women throwing themselves at you, ancient or otherwise. Can you put me out of my misery here?” He almost yells the last part, his hands still unable to grasp the chain that has twisted itself around his fingers.
John wants to say “you idiot, I’m gay” or something more articulate and less reactionary but what comes out is:
“I like how it looks on you,” John says, his voice rough.
Rodney gapes a little bit, mouth closing and unclosing.
“Perhaps...I didn’t read too much into your playlist then” he says, hoarsely.
John’s heart gives a little lift.
“No, you did not.”
They’ve drifted closer to each other, unconsciously. He’s watching Rodney’s mouth openly, tongue coming out to wet his lips.
“And I’m not misreading the situation…”
“John, if you don’t kiss me this very moment I’m going find a way to shave your head or! blast the entirety of Celine Dions musical catalogue in your room at all times or-”
He’s cut off by John pulling him close, a bit more aggressive than he was planning, palming at Rodney’s hip. It feels so good to have Rodney’s body close to him.
It’s even better than he imagined it would be when he kisses him softly, deeply. Rodney tastes like coffee and after dinner mints. It's so quintessentially Rodney that John smiles into the kiss. He breaks it to lean his forehead against the other mans.
“So all those times you called me Captain Kirk were you just jealous?” he whispers then laughs when Rodney’s brain comes back online.
“Oh, here we go. I barely start to delve into my feelings-” He’s making his usual gestures and John loves that he’s made no effort to cover the dog tags up.
Rodney goes to move away but John catches him by the belt loop, bringing him back. He can’t stop grinning and pressing kisses on Rodney’s face, cheeks, neck.
“You’re not always going to win arguments this way” Rodeny says, but John can tell he’s breathless.
“Maybe not but I’m always gonna try.”
He holds out his hand and Rodney takes it, no hesitation.