Okay, so in trying to write John's POV of the last chapter, I actually write a sequel. Still in Rodney's POV. Clearly I suck.

Not as much sexxing in this one, kiddies, so sorry to disappoint. And I don't know if I'm actually continuing this or if this is a one-off chapter. And now I'm gonna go leave you to it.

Disclaimer: me no own.

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Breaking Up and Making Up

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Rodney's always thought of himself as winner of the Most Fucked-Up Family Award. After all, he spent his entire childhood wondering why other kids called their parents 'mom' and 'dad' instead of by their names, and his sister says things like you are a horrible person and I hope you enjoy being an asshole more often than she says things like I love you and I miss you. And she's supposed to be the sensitive one. Still, he's willing to admit that John beats him hands-down when the man shows up on his front porch, eyes dark and expression shuttered, and says he's leaving town for a little while. Turns out his father died a few days ago, and John got the questionable pleasure of finding out via the eleven o'clock news.

It occurs to Rodney that John knows next to nothing about his family and he knows even less about John's. It hasn't mattered before now. With Carson and Zelenka and Ronon and more recently Teyla, Rodney just kind of unconsciously adopted his own family, and John was shanghaied into it when he wandered too far into Rodney's sphere of influence. That either of them actually has blood relatives comes as something of a muffled shock to both of them.

Which is how they end up with John standing on Rodney's porch, hands in his pockets and body slouching almost aggressively. It's not quite midnight, the best time of day for a vampire, and Rodney's been lazily planning things he wants to do, most of which involve a bed and all of which prominently feature John. Except then the man himself is there and almost challenging Rodney with this new information. He's pissed as hell, at his father for dying, at his brother for not calling, at the world for existing. Rodney's just more conveniently located.

"Oh," Rodney says in return to the sudden informational ambush. And then he says nothing else, because he's not going to make such an easy target of himself. Instead he watches the non-emotions slip across John's carefully designed mask and listens to the crickets chirp and the rain patter softly.

He considers asking how long a 'little while' will be. John's on the off-again part of the on-again-off-again relationship he has with gainful employment and his landlord is already on the edge of evicting him. Technically speaking Rodney's the only thing he has to come back to, and right now that isn't looking too reassuring. He's afraid to open his mouth, though, because whenever things get tense like this nothing good happens when he lets himself speak.

John's waiting for something. Probably the rest of Rodney's reply- he's never been a fan of monosyllabic grunts. That's Ronon's area. Rodney can't quite meet that artificially blank gaze, so he lets his eyes wander, focusing on the street past John's shoulder. The streetlamp throws off a harsh orange glow and the moisture from the rain rises off the summer-hot pavement in a thin, hazy fog. In the distance thunders rumbles, sounding like a contented lion.

"Okay," Rodney offers, managing to keep it from becoming a question. John ducks his head and starts to say something, then turns and walks away.

John Sheppard has the attention span of a goldfish and can't hold a grudge for longer than five minutes. When he still hasn't called after double that time, Rodney knows he's done something genuinely unforgivable this time, and he can't think of what it is to save his own life.

The next morning, while he's half-heartedly abusing Simpson for her wrong wrong wrong so horribly wrong hypothesis, he gets a text message saying that the plane ride was uneventful and to expect an actual phone call at some ambiguous, undefined 'later'. Rodney wonders if this is John's way of breaking up.

He thinks he kind of hates Patrick Sheppard for dying.

-

The ambiguous, undefined 'later' turned out to be twenty-three hours later- not that Rodney was counting or anything, he just has a mind for numbers and organization. The call is terse and short and almost painful and after it's over Rodney makes Miko- resilient, worshipful Miko- break down into tears and slam the bathroom door in his face. It takes two hours and four people to coax her out, not that Rodney notices since he's banished himself into the corner room in the basement by then, writing out equations that consume whole whiteboards and throwing heavy things at anyone who dares try to enter.

Zelenka tries anyway and succeeds by grabbing up one of Rodney's previous missiles- a stapler- and chucking it back at him, then slipping in and cementing himself into the chair in the corner while Rodney bitches.

"Problem?" the Czech asks, when Rodney looses steam some twenty minutes later.

"No," Rodney snaps back, keeping his back to the irritating little fuzzball since he can't lie worth a damn. "There's no problem. Why does there need to be one? I remember when you were all perfectly happy with my being a bastard without needing a cause."

"We were not happy. We lived in fear of your wrath." And Zelenka can say those sorts of things with a straight face and unaffected voice and leave Rodney wondering if he's being serious or witheringly sarcastic. After a moment, he adds the kicker: "You do know he loves you."

"Oh my god, seriously?" Rodney blurts, and now he has to look at Zelenka in order to properly mock him. "Is this why you came down here, to- to-" He can't even express his thoughts, can't organize them fast enough to put the sharp edge on them and cut Zelenka down. It's a common problem for him. "You think you're a teenage girl, is that it? You want to swap stories and giggle over magazine pictures and take that godawful relationship quiz in Cosmo and talk about feelings. Which one of us is gay, again?"

"I have girlfriend," Zelenka offers, tone calm and rife with don't go there warnings. Rodney goes there anyway.

"Really? That explains this, then. She's got you totally whipped. Are you two going to wait until the wedding or have you already started counseling?"

It's not his best work, not even close, but it's a sensitive subject and it takes very little to set Zelenka off. By the time he storms out Rodney's learned three new insults in Czech, has a growing bruise from a three-ring binder, and knows that they'll be all right.

-

The troll-in-the-basement routine becomes old fast and at sunset on the dot Rodney bolts for home. He's desperately grateful that Ronon and Teyla have both vanished- they'd asked him if he wanted to come along but on the words 'camping trip' he'd inhaled part of a donut and they all got to find out firsthand that Ronon does, in fact, know the Heimlich maneuver- since he doesn't think he can deal with them right now. All the same, he hopes they get back first, because Ronon may have warmed up to John but it only takes a single pleading glance from Rodney before the gargoyle is back to physically removing John from his presence.

Unfortunately, this leaves only Carson in his pathetic little family. He starts to call before remembering that Carson's proposing to Laura again tonight, again meaning he's chickened out three times now and never manages to get to the actual proposing part and is doubtlessly confusing the hell out of the woman. He's promised many painful things if Rodney interrupts or, god help them all, GPS-stalks him again, and since he's a surgeon with access to many sharp objects and heavy drugs Rodney keeps his distance.

Rodney skulks into the bedroom and wriggles under the covers and scowls at the walls. So much for the vampire's wild night life. He pulls out his phone again, starts to dial John's number, and switches over to a text message.

You have completely ruined my life and I hate you.

He hesitates for a long moment, then sends it. The worst John can do is call him and tell him to stop bothering him and let go already, can't he just see that the whole father-dying thing is just a useful cover to hide the fact that John's bored and wants to move on? Rodney drops his phone onto the table and curls up under the blanket and allows himself an extravagant ten minutes of panic. Then he orders a pizza he only picks at and falls asleep feeling sorry for himself.

-

Actually, the worst John can do is ignore him, which is exactly what he does. The next morning there's no missed calls or new messages, no e-mails. Nothing. Now Rodney's worried about something happening to John on top of everything else.

Patrick Sheppard's death is news, the second-page-above-the-fold sort of news, so Rodney has no problem tracking down the pertinent details. Dead at sixty-two from cancer, survived by two sons. Retired Air Force major general. He'd started his own aeronautics company, both designing and flying, and Rodney suddenly gets why John had to go. He's seen how John watches the planes that fly by, knows John has a pilot's license and nothing to pilot. It's a choice between Rodney and flying and Rodney's pretty sure no plane has ever sent John a text message saying I hate you.

He composes a long, rambling apology that never quite manages to actually apologize. He has to send it in three parts. Thirty seconds after he sends the last one, he gets a reply.

Jesus mckay quit freakin out i know what you meant

Which isn't exactly reassurance, but it's not a stop-talking-to-me-you-freak either, so Rodney decides to leave it be.

He goes to work, because if he doesn't he'll only mope around at home all day long. His minions scatter when they see him coming. Miko preemptively locks herself into the bathroom again. Zelenka's still spitting mad about yesterday and only comes close to Rodney once, to give him the latest copy of Cosmo, the page with the relationship quiz tagged with a sticky note.

It's the universe's idea of a sick joke that the quiz is titled Is He Trying To Break Up With You? Rodney thinks he might have to kill someone for this.

-

John's not feeling any more chatty that night but at least he responds in a timely fashion, obviously having figured out that Rodney's inclined to panic if left to his own devices.

I'm hungry, is Rodney's first message, and it's surprisingly true. He's been living off powerbars and caffeine for two days now. Last night's pizza is in his fridge, missing only one piece, which is still sitting half-gnawed on the counter.

then eat something comes a minute later. Rodney sneers at that.

Not that kind of hungry. Because that's also true, and that kind of hunger is harder to deal with. John doesn't reply for a full ten minutes and Rodney catapults himself off the bed and into the air with an embarrassing shriek when his phone suddenly beeps shrilly.

You want permission or something, Rodney? And the sudden use of proper grammar is as good a sign as any. Rodney can easily imagine the cold gaze, the smirking voice.

"Jerk," he says to the phone, and throws it down onto his bed. "Would you at least tell me what I did to piss you off?"

His hands are shaking. He ignores this. Real food he can play fast and loose with for weeks, he's done it before- his entire college career being a prime example- but he's a vampire and unfortunately there are certain requirements that go with it. He calls Carson and finds out that he's at work and not in a good position to help. Ronon's still gone and wouldn't let Rodney feed on him anyway and even if she were here he'd never be able to look Teyla in the eye again if he even thinks about asking her.

So he heads out to a bar instead, figuring that if he could manage it once, he could certainly do it again.

-

The next morning is a nightmare. He wanders around the house, lapping the perimeter of every room twice, swaying and stumbling and occasionally jerking away from things he knows aren't there, babbling nonstop about things that make no sense even to him. He's not even sure what language he's speaking.

He makes it to the bathroom just in time to throw up what little he's eaten in the past twenty-four hours, and spends the morning shivering in a ball on the floor. During the worst point he calls Sam, because she still genuinely gives a fuck, and he sounds broken and scared and desperate enough that she drops everything she's doing and manages to be at his house in an impressive twenty minutes. She stays in the hallway, because they have the sort of relationship that can only improve with distance and physical contact is strictly taboo. Still, she's there, and she calls Carson as soon as she sees him and covers him with a blanket and tells him she's got a pretty good idea of what's wrong with him, and it's not his fault, and it'll go away soon.

The problem, it turns out, is drugs. Sam's guess is Ecstasy, although it doesn't really matter since it amounts to a form of food poisoning all the same. Trust Rodney to be the only vampire dysfunctional enough to feed on a junkie. Sam and Carson stay until it wears off mid-afternoon, mostly sitting in his kitchen, occasionally getting up to guide him back to the bathroom whenever he starts his wanderings again. They talk about things that have nothing to do with Rodney and pretend they both aren't blaming John for this.

When Rodney finally starts coming down, he curls up on the couch with a thermos of coffee and a blanket and spends the afternoon hating himself. Sam goes back to work with an apology and a promise to call and check up later. She can deal with him when he's sick and not quite himself. Carson, however, has seen him at his worst and still sticks around, and his worst certainly describes his current mood. The doctor takes the abuse calmly, sometimes taking a shot of his own if he feels Rodney is getting too out of line. Rodney considers asking for his cell phone, then decides that Carson really doesn't need to know and asks about Laura instead. Carson sighs and touches a hand briefly to his pocket.

Rodney wonders distantly if any of them are ever going to have a real, healthy relationship.

-

That night, when Carson's asleep on the couch because there's no way in hell he's leaving his drugged-out friend on his own, Rodney calls Laura. It's an idea that has so much potential to go so horribly wrong but he does it anyways. This whole proposing thing isn't going to happen without someone giving Carson a swift kick in the ass and Rodney's happy to oblige.

"Do you love him?" he demands the second Laura picks up. She sputters but recovers quickly- she's spent enough time around Carson to be adjusted the McKay Whiplash Syndrome.

"What the hell, Rodney?" she snaps, and he wonders if maybe he isn't still a little bit high. Too late now.

"Do. You. Love. Him? Only, he's been trying to propose to you for weeks and every time he chickens out and I'm tired of his moping."

"Oh my god, McKay, mind your own business," Laura orders, except she's giggling like a little girl. In the background another woman asks what's happening.

"So next time he takes you out to some fancy restaurant for no reason, don't let him leave until you've got the ring," Rodney tells her, then hangs up as she starts squealing.

-

It's kind of embarrassing and absolutely classic Rodney, the whole finding-out-Teyla-is-his-neighbor thing. For six months the woman shows up in the neighborhood just about every day and Rodney never spares a thought as to why. He simply assumes that she's some groupie of Ronon's, since the two spend a lot of time together. It isn't until John actively points out her house that Rodney realizes she actually lives directly across the street.

Two days after the whole best-forgotten drug thing, Teyla comes home and immediately makes a beeline for Rodney's house. It's like she can sense something's wrong. She lets herself in and finds him sleeping on the couch, the pizza still untouched in the fridge, powerbar wrappers scattered like confetti, and a dozen messages on his answering machine.

The messages include: Carson's three calls, best described as death threats; Zelenka's two twenty-minute rambles on goings-on in the lab; Sam's quick and cautions 'just checking up on you'; the verbal equivalent of junk mail. Nothing from John on either phone.

Teyla, clever girl that she is, cottons on immediately and merely murmurs a soft 'oh Rodney' and sinks down on the couch beside him, pulling him upright and tucking his head against her shoulder. It's the only human contact he's had since John left and it breaks something in him.

He doesn't cry or anything, because he's still a guy and gay doesn't mean flamboyant. He doesn't tell her about the drug thing. He only skims over the whole John problem, trying to make light of it. Teyla reads between the lines, though, because she's good at it and Rodney fails miserably at hiding those things. She makes him change into clean clothes and takes him out to the small corner cafe that she likes so much and calmly informs him that it's nothing to worry about, most men are pigs. He wonders what Ronon did but doesn't ask. Instead he asks if she needs help disposing of the body.

Their table is almost in direct sunlight and Rodney enjoys the new-old feel of warmth on his skin, ignoring the tingling burn just below the surface. Teyla orders soup and tea for him before he can protest. The soup is good and not too hard on his still-queasy stomach. The tea is sharp and bitter and he doesn't like it until the waitress brings over some honey.

Ronon is home when they get back. Rodney watches from his own porch as Teyla corners him, talking fast and low and often gesturing towards him. He feels like he's in sixth grade all over again, his most emphatically divorced parents only willing to talk to each other because, hello, their son had built a nuclear bomb in the garage and took it to the science fair.

He hopes John does come back. Watching Ronon kick his ass might almost be worth all this melodrama.

-

The next day he's back at the lab and all is well again. He considers simply moving in here, since he's so obviously screwed up every other part of his life. Then John's landlord calls and he once more has to acknowledge the existence of That Utter Bastard.

You're being evicted, what do I do with all your crap?

And, two hours later: put it in your garage ill get it later

Rodney recruits Zelenka, because he's got a car with actual trunk space, and Ronon, because someone has to do all the heavy lifting. The two scientists sit up front and argue over directions. Ronon actually gets them there and intimidates the landlord when he balks at letting them in. There's not a lot of stuff to pack up and they manage it in one trip, which Rodney is personally grateful for since the landlord is staring at them with a flat unblinking gaze. The man's not as tall as Ronon but is heavier- both in muscle and fat- and Rodney wonders skittishly how anyone could live here with that snake-glare. He'd be booby-trapping his door with sirens and a shotgun.

Teyla helps with the organizing once the boxes are in the garage. She's still quite pointedly not speaking to Ronon, whose normal communicative methods leave him at something of a disadvantage in this game. It's hard to notice the guy not talking to you when his version of talking is mostly limited to grunts and stares. Zelenka, previously unaware of the dissension between the happy couple, spares Rodney a please-save-me sort of look when he suddenly finds himself cast in the role of barrier. Rodney, who'd had to do a good deal of fancy footwork to avoid that, merely laughs.

It feels both completely right and totally wrong, moving John's stuff into his house. John himself should be here, cracking jokes about his adding to Rodney's already intimidating sci-fi collection and making a big deal about being hot and taking his shirt off.

Zelenka flees at the first opportunity after learning that the three others all live close by and no one will be needing any rides. Ronon says something to piss off Teyla, Rodney isn't paying enough attention to know what, and she huffs and storms off in her Teyla-esque way, which means graceful and serene and very much with touch-me-and-die undertones. Ronon himself growls and heads off to his own house. Rodney stands in his garage, studying the rain-heavy clouds that were rolling in, the day's last sunlight filtering weakly through the trees.

He calls Carson and starts to fumble his way through an apology. Carson cuts him off, short and brutal, telling when what doors will be unlocked at the hospital, and hangs up. He calls Sam, just to see if he can get her to go from mildly friendly to homicidal in ten seconds or less, but she seems determined to be nice to him. Feeling mildly disappointed in his failure, he heads inside and closes up the house in preparation of the coming rain.

-

There's the familiar feeling of skin on skin, knowing fingers sliding up his ribs, ghosting over sensitive areas, gently digging into tense muscles. Rodney mutters sleepily and lazily arches up into the touch, opening one eye wide enough to see the familiar, if tired, smile. It's nice to be touched again, nice to have someone there, and the soul-deep ache Rodney hasn't realized he's been feeling fades.

Then reality catches up, and Rodney's suddenly very, very angry. Anger is good. Anger is an old friend of his. He twists and kicks out and catches a startled John on the hip, propelling him right off the side of the bed where he lands with a yelp and a satisfying thud.

Two seconds later John's head pops up in a surprisingly good meerkat impersonation. Rodney scoots himself towards the other edge of the mattress and scowls firmly at the man.

"What the fuck, Rodney?" John demands, as if he has any right to be getting mad, which he does not.

"What do you want?" he snaps, short and brittle and he's going to break if this conversation lasts much longer.

"I was just thinking about how I missed my daily dose of raging hysteria," John shoots back. "How about you? What's inspiring this little spazz-episode?"

"I don't know, besides the fact that you broke up with me."

"I- you- what?" John rocks back onto his heels, blinking stupidly. He tilts his head to the side slightly, as if literally seeing things from a different angle will help. "Broke up with you when?"

"Little five-word conversation on the porch ring a bell? No?" Rodney leans over to seize his cell phone and brandish it like a weapon. "How about the fact that you didn't call and it was like pulling teeth just to get you to respond to my- hey! Don't touch me! You don't get to touch me!"

Except John really doesn't seem to care. He plants one knee on the mattress, hooks his arm around Rodney's neck, and collapses forward, pinning Rodney to the bed with his weight. His face burrows against Rodney's collarbone and his hair tickles Rodney's face.

"I've had one of the worst weeks of my life, so can we just... not? Right now?" he says plaintively, voice muffled by Rodney's skin, and Rodney feels like an ass. The guy's father just died and it never occurred to him to cut him a little slack. Then he remembers the junkie, and Teyla and Ronon, and Carson's stony silence even though the ungrateful bastard is engaged now thanks to Rodney's intervention.

"No, we can not just not right now! I have had a crappy week and you're not allowed to snuggle up to me because you've been an utter bastard and you broke up with me and you haven't even apologized for any of it! Carson hates me and Zelenka just subscribed me to three years of Cosmo and Sam thinks I'm an incompetent idiot who can barely keep from getting himself killed and my minions nearly blew up the lab four times while I was gone and Ronon and Teyla are sharpening their knives as we speak in preparation of killing one another and, oh yeah, my boyfriend broke up with me for absolutely no reason! Get off!"

John has gone from snuggling to bodily holding Rodney down, keeping him pinned with one of his military moves that's normally hot as hell and currently very infuriating. Rodney has to stop struggling because he's naked under the very light blanket and his very understandable reaction to John's closeness is not the sort of impression he needs to be making right now.

"Okay, I was planning on moping around all day feeling sorry for myself, but you know what? Change in plans." John says. "What the hell has been going on around here? Did you people just wait for me to leave before falling apart?"

Rodney huffs in disdain and turns his face away, refusing to answer. If John were really interested he would've bothered actually attempting to keep in touch. The aggravating man sighs and drops his forehead on Rodney's shoulder, briefly, then pushes himself up. Rodney has enough time to sit up before the lamp on the bedside table snaps on, assaulting his light-sensitive eyes.

"Fuck, Rodney," John breathes, staring at him. Rodney can easily imagine what he looks like- pale and drawn, shadows under and in his eyes. He hasn't really eaten anything except the cafe soup and powerbars the whole week long, and he's still not fully recovered from the vampire equivalent of chugging Draino, so yeah, he pretty much fell apart in a most spectacular manner this week.

Rodney jerks his chin up and glares at him, challenging him. In return John narrows his eyes- challenge accepted- and almost savagely yanks his clothes off. Thanks to his military training, he's completely naked before Rodney organizes his thoughts enough to protest that John still isn't allowed near him, even if he's naked. Stripping is not a viable argument strategy.

John seizes a double handful of the blanket and jerks it away, then launches himself across the mattress. Rodney puts up a fight and John will have bruises for a week or so, but ultimately John wins. Rodney complains bitterly about John's caveman methods right up until John kisses him.

It's casual and lazy and sexy as hell, everything that John is in Rodney's mind, and Rodney's body is well-trained to respond even if his mind is gibbering uselessly. When John finally pulls away, most of the fight has left Rodney and all he does is glare insolently at the man.

"First of all, I? Did not break up with you. I was pissed and not really fit for human contact and I took it out on you even though you didn't deserve it, and I'm sorry. You? Completely overreacted. Next time try calling before having your meltdown and maybe we can avoid this in the future."

Rodney opens his mouth to protest and John kisses him again. It still shuts Rodney up, every single time. After almost a year he should be used to John kissing him by now, should be able to form coherent speech immediately after, although by now he's given up on it.

"Not that there's going to be a next time, because now I know better. Second of all, try trusting me a little. I'm not that big an asshole that I'd do something like that to you." He pauses, waits for Rodney to protest, then continues. "And third, where did you go and what's Sam got to do with any of this?"

Rodney mutters under his breath for a moment. Now that he's not completely bent out of shape over everything, he can see that the whole week is basically one mortifying moment after another. The last thing he wants to admit is that he screwed up big, or that he still goes running to Sam over every little freakout. When it becomes apparent he's not willing to share, John smirks a little.

"I can call her and ask, you know," he says, and Rodney lets out a nervous little laugh.

"I wouldn't suggest it. She's not very happy with you right now." He pauses, considers that. "Actually, no one is. Except Zelenka- he's too scared that Ronon and Teyla will start fighting with him stuck between them again."

"Ronon and Teyla? What's their problem?"

"Seeing as to how I first found out about it when Teyla was going off on a men-are-pigs screed and had a bowl of hot soup to use as a weapon, I didn't really ask. And you don't seem too surprised to hear you're persona non grata right now."

"I kinda figured I'd be on Ronon and Carson's shit list, since you were really convinced I dumped you. Little surprised you're there with me, though. What'd you do to Carson?"

"Got him engaged, not that he deserves it, the miserable, thankless bastard."

John snorts and shakes his head, because really, only in Rodney's twisted little world could things like this happen. Then he dips his head once more for a long, leisurely kiss and Rodney manages to squirm a hand free and wrap it around the back of John's neck, fingers twisting into thick soft hair.

"So am I allowed to continue this time, or am I gonna get kicked out of bed again?" John murmurs, and Rodney grumbles and pulls his other hand free and wraps both arms around him, yanking them together with an oof.

"I need..." Rodney begins, stroking two fingers over the sensitive skin of John's collarbone. He needs to feed, desperately, this time on a healthy addiction-free person.

Something dark flickers through John's eyes, and Rodney reminds himself that he's smarter than he looks, than he acts, and he's fully capable of getting two plus two to equal four. Then his face softens and he smiles and nods. Rodney's always careful to ask before biting John, because if their roles were reversed he's not sure he'd want John gnawing on him with no warning.

John flips them over with ridiculous ease and if his quasi-ninja military moves weren't such a turn on Rodney would have had to protest long before now. He dips his head and licks at the proper place. It's been a week, long enough for the ever-present bruise to fade away to a faint discoloration. He nips at the spot, then wraps a hand around John's dick and bites down at the same time. John gasps and bucks his hips up, and Rodney works him to the edge and over with practiced ease. He's never before thought about how healthy John has to be for this relationship and he's desperately grateful for the effort now.

He gives John a minute, then nudges at his hip until he gets the hint and rolls over. John mumbles something unintelligible and gropes for the bedside table; a moment later the lube nearly hits Rodney in the head. While he's fumbling with that, John shifts up onto his knees and turns his head to offer Rodney that same boyish smile that Rodney fell in love with a year ago.

It's hard to remember, now that he's here, gently thrusting into John's body, that twenty minutes ago he hated his life. He wraps his hands more firmly around John's hips and ducks his head, licking at the sweat on John's spine and feeling him shiver. He'd almost lost this to a problem of his own creation.

"Don't scare me like that again," he orders hoarsely, and John huffs a laugh that Rodney feels more than hears.

"I won't," he replies, then moans deep in his throat. It's the closest either of them will come to apologizing, to reassuring.

It's good enough.

-

They order pizza, because it's fast and easy and John's got that fuzzy, wrecked, well-fucked smile and there's no way Rodney's sharing that look with the rest of the world. The car pulls into the driveway twenty minutes later but the doorbell doesn't ring and Rodney goes to find out why.

John finds him in standing the driveway a few minutes later, munching on a slice of pizza, pizza boy next to him. Both have their heads tilted to the side as they regard Teyla's house across the street.

"Huh," John says, taking a slice from the box in Rodney's hands. "Are they...?"

"Made up? Looks like it," Rodney answers.

"It's like free porn," the pizza boy says.

"Think we should tell them the door's open?" John asks curiously. Rodney snorts.

"Go right ahead. I'll wait over here."

"She's really flexible," the pizza boy adds, almost reverently.

Suddenly it's not so funny anymore. Rodney gives the kid another twenty bucks and John herds him down to his car. They head inside after that. If Ronon and Teyla want real privacy, they need to learn to close the garage door before making like horny minks on the hood of Teyla's car.

-

It's Sunday the next day. The morning is gray and drizzly and Rodney decides to stay in bed. When John protests, Rodney distracts him by kissing and talking dirty, something he rarely does, and by the time John realizes that his wrists are tied to the headboard it's far too late to actually do something about it. Rodney sits back and watches smugly as John struggles and rapidly goes from amused and horny to genuinely frustrated at his inability to free himself. By the time he gives up, he's covered in a thin layer of sweat and panting.

"Very funny, Rodney. Now let me up." He's using his Superior Officer voice. Rodney smirks, because it annoys John when he shrugs off that commanding tone so easily.

"Why?" he asks, tracing one finger along the line of John's hip, and John's eyes go unfocused.

"Give me a minute, I'll think of something," he gasps.

Rodney doesn't give him a minute. Instead, he gives him a blowjob, something that's still new to their relationship- John only recently got over his my-boyfriend-has-fangs-and-they're-going-nowhere-near-my-dick freakout. John swears and whines and twists his wrists around until Rodney knows there's going to be spectacular bruising there. When he finally comes, he arches his hips and back off the bed and gives a hoarse scream.

Ten minutes later he checks back in and finds himself still tied up, which he protests loudly. Rodney merely gives him a demure kiss and snuggles up against him.

-

By late afternoon they're both sated and satisfied and all is once again right in the world. John risks having his internal organs rearranged and goes over to Ronon's house, just to check in. The ape-man lifts an eyebrow at the fast-coloring bruises on John's wrists but doesn't say anything that Rodney's aware of. Naturally the two neanderthals don't need to actually say anything. They're both well-adjusted to communicating with grunts.

Teyla, meanwhile, ambushes Rodney while John's gone and invites them over for dinner. Rodney can't come up a decent excuse fast enough and John comes back to find him in the hallway with a look of pure horror, which John matches when he hears that Teyla plans on cooking.

Carson calls and stiffly demands to know who Rodney's been talking to about his upcoming nuptials. When Rodney's answer is limited to one person- John- Carson suffers a minor breakdown and tells him that his mother somehow caught wind of the engagement and has already flown out from Scotland and ensconced herself into Carson and Laura's house, promptly starting World War 3. By the time they hang up, the previous offense had been traded out for the tolerable, friendly insults involving being afraid of one's own mother.

For Zelenka, Rodney goes online and orders a three-year subscription to Seventeen Magazine. When John hears about this, he rolls his eyes and says something about separate mail boxes.

-

John's thirty-seven, a little old for the whole what-do-you-plan-on-doing-with-your-life spiel they give to high schoolers now. Still, that is exactly what's been on his mind since he got back. Rodney gives him his space. Not everyone knows from age nine what they're going to be when they grow up, and John's Plan A- the Air Force- dropped him at the worst possible time age-wise and he's been a little lost ever since. He's inherited a large chunk of cash and a respectable share of his father's company, so he doesn't need to make up his mind immediately.

Which is probably why Rodney comes home one day and finds John with pamphlets and class listings for the nearby university. Rodney sneaks a look over his shoulder at the courses he's interested in and blinks.

"Aeronautical designing and engineering?" he asks blankly, and John smiles up at him shyly.

"It's something I can do," he explains. And that's all he needs to say- he has nothing to offer from the business angle and there's no way he's moving out there to be a pilot. Besides, Rodney knows him well enough to know that the first thing John did after getting his inheritance was put money down on a plane of his own.

"Huh," Rodney says thoughtfully. Sometimes it's still hard to wrap his mind around how smart John is.

"Don't worry, I fully intend to hide all my homework from you," John drawls, breaking the spell. Rodney huffs indignantly and sets off on a litany about not taking proper advantage of the genius available to him. Johns watches him work himself into a real froth with a lazy grin. Then he slinks out of his chair and ushers Rodney against the counter and pins him there for a kiss, which is still the easiest way to shut Rodney up.

-

Teyla and Ronon start breaking up and making up on a regular basis. It's frustrating as hell, since Rodney can't possibly keep track of when they're off and on. The pizza boy starts delivering to all the houses in their neighborhood, but he never gets the same show.

Carson gives up and crashes on Rodney's couch for a week and a half while his fiancee and mother go at it like pit bulls. Rodney, who isn't the one who extended the invitation, is visibly annoyed by this and refuses to be appeased by Carson's offer of best man and finally drives Carson to go back home and actually stand up to the two women. That mildly disastrous encounter ends with Carson living in a hotel for two weeks.

Zelenka carries on the magazine war with Rodney until they're both getting two dozen magazines a week. They call a truce at that point and it lasts up until the moment Rodney finds a copy of Dracula and a piece of paper advising him to 'take notes' on his desk. In retaliation, he hacks the Czech's computer and has it play 'It's A Small World After All' every half hour. John laughs himself sick at both of them.

John himself has officially moved in. He and Rodney have similar enough taste that there's no noticeable difference, except the basement becomes John's work area once he enrolls in his classes. It takes a while, but he finally coaxes the entire story of what happened that week out of Rodney. When he hears about the drugs he wraps his arms around Rodney and refuses to let go for almost an hour. Then he calls Sam and yells at her for not calling him. He talks to his brother about business- reluctantly- and occasionally tolerates Rodney nitpicking over his more mathematically inclined work. He won't, however, let Rodney call the teachers and explain to them how horribly wrong they all are.

It's life as normal in the McKay universe, and Rodney wakes up one morning, John wrapped around him like always, and abruptly realizes that he's genuinely happy. Has been for a while. It takes a minute to process this, and once he does, he nudges John with an elbow and tells him.

"Good for you," comes the murmured reply. He feels John's lips curl into a smile. "Love you too, Rodney."

And that was good enough.