(For anyone wondering who Paul Daniels is, he's a magician from the Saturday night TV of my youth and Debbie McGee is his wife/assissant.)
Second, I have the best job ever. My boss took Thursday off, and apart from answering three phone calls I had nothing to do. So I wrote a tag for 3x15 The Game.
Spoilers: Quite a lot for The Game.
A/N: HUGE thank you to apple_pi for managing to be both super-quick and super-good when beta-ing this. She is awesome and her request fic is absolutely the next thing on my to-do list.
[Disclaimer: Really, really not mine. But if anyone's wondering what to get me for Christmas...]
When it was all over and Baden and Nola had gone back to their homeworld (amazingly without doing serious injury to each other or Elizabeth's nerves), John went back to his quarters and realised he had absolutely nothing to do.
He stood in the doorway, looking at the guitar he didn’t want to play, the computer he only powered up for movies and mission reports, the surfboard he couldn’t use without going to the mainland and the golf clubs that were no fun on his own.
He’d never realized how much spare time he had. Sure, he was military commander of a multinational force in another galaxy, but the workload wasn't actually all that heavy. He had Lorne to take care of the paperwork (a luxury he did not exploit no matter what Rodney said); no senior officers to kiss up to; and a very lax idea of which rules should be enforced, all of which left him with hours to kill when he wasn't offworld or they weren't being attacked by Wraith, Genii, Replicators or all of the above.
He also hadn't realised how much time he spent playing the Game that wasn't a game, not until right now when he couldn't play it any more. He wasn't stupid - they'd nearly done a lot of damage, he didn't want to play it again - but that didn't stop the vague itchy feeling that had settled under his skin, his inability to settle, the desire to hurl War and Peace across the room. Okay, so that last one wasn't unusual but the restlessness was; John was the kind of guy who was almost always at least superficially content wherever he was, whatever he was doing.
Frustrated and annoyed, he turned around and walked back out of his room. He wasn't surprised when he ended up back at the Game room; it had become habit when he needed to get away from everything else, but he wasn't sure how much good it’d do him; Zelenka and Lorne had done a damn good job of turning off, locking down and generally erasing everything they could find.
The door was slightly ajar, not noticeable to anyone passing, just an inch gap between the door and frame. He frowned; Elizabeth had ordered the room sealed and from the way Lorne and Zelenka were jumping guiltily around her, John didn't think they'd forget.
He dropped his hand down to the 9 mm he'd shoved into the waistband of his pants, pushed the door open with his foot and slid stealthily around the doorframe into the room.
"What are you doing? Playing James Bond?"
John jumped, banging his elbow against the wall. "Ow. Shit. Ow. What the fuck, McKay?"
Rodney was sitting at his usual place, leaning back in his chair, arms folded on the table top. He was grinning.
"Colonel, if you're going to go all Rambo, you'll have to try better than that."
"Thought I was Bond," John groused, rubbing his elbow and dropping down into his own chair. He didn't add that he'd prefer to be Bond, but from the way Rodney's grin widened, he thought that was probably obvious.
"What are you doing here?" Rodney asked.
"What are you?" Because John didn't actually have an answer.
Rodney shifted, looking uncomfortable. "Well, you know, uh." He trailed off.
"Yeah," John agreed, swinging his legs up onto the desk top and crossing his arms.
They sat in silence for a while. It was comfortable in here, soothing, even without the Game to play. The chairs were the most comfortable they'd found anywhere and it was relaxing just to sit here and think his own thoughts. John tried not to decide if that was weird.
"So," John said at last, not realizing he was about to speak, just following on from a thought he'd had. "Did you realize we hadn't told anyone about this place?"
He heard Rodney clear his throat; it was pretty dim in here now they'd shut the door again, the only light coming from the balcony outside, but he thought he saw Rodney's eyes flick away from him. "Well, no. It wasn't as if it was deliberate, just a slip of memory on both our parts. And really, with the amount of other things we have to worry about, it's hardly surprising we forgot, is it?"
"No, Rodney," John agreed, because while arguing with Rodney was one of his favourite things to do ever, he actually had another point to make. "Lorne said Zelenka found more countries, not just Hallona and Geldar. Did you miss them or something?"
John saw Rodney's mouth open, then close, then open again. No sound coming out at any point. He smiled to himself; Rodney was in a quandary: He could either admit to having lied to John, or he could admit that Zelenka had found something he hadn't. John folded his hands behind his head and waited.
"Fine," Rodney said quietly.
John frowned. He'd expected blustering, but Rodney sounded… defeated. "Pardon?"
"Yes, I knew that there were other worlds in the database, and yes, I deliberately didn't tell you or anybody else."
John let his feet fall back to the floor. That hadn't actually been the answer he'd expected. "Why not?"
Silence, then quickly: "Because I didn't want to have to wait my turn to play, of course. If we'd let everyone have a shot, we'd never have gotten another turn."
John shook his head. "No, that's not it." He was guessing, but he'd also learned to read Rodney pretty well.
This time the silence was unbroken.
"You spar with Teyla," Rodney said at last, voice low and awkward-sounding. "And you run with Ronon. And you and Ford had your macho mutual orgasms over things that go boom. This was our thing." His hands waved vaguely on the last word.
"Aw, Rodney," John drawled, "I'm touched." And strangely, he really was.
"Oh, shut up."
"No, c'mon, Rodney, you can admit you like spending time with me, I won't tell anybody." John was having way too much fun with this, the itchiness under his skin finally making sense; it wasn't so much the Game he missed, it was this, baiting Rodney, teasing Rodney, hanging out with Rodney, and he was relaxing for the first time in days.
"Fuck you," Rodney snapped.
John grinned. "Well you can admit you wanna do that too if you like." It was the sort of shit the guys used to shoot in the barracks, that Mitch and Dex used to bait him with. It wasn't something he'd ever said to Rodney, though, and he stuttered the moment it was out of his mouth, knowing he’d gone way too close to the truth they’d both always ignored. "Uh," he said.
"You wish," Rodney said, and it sounded a little false, a little faked, but at least he was playing the part. John could take the out and they could rapidly backtrack from the danger zone he'd led them into.
Except. "Rodney," John said, then stopped.
Rodney held up a hand. "Don't."
John blinked, wondering where he’d gone wrong. "Rodney?"
Suddenly, Rodney stood up. "This is typical of you!" he snapped, and he sounded angry.
"Hey," John soothed, standing up too. "I'm sorry. Look it was post-fake-battle adrenaline or something. Forget I said anything."
If anything, Rodney glared harder. "That is even more typical of you."
"Okay," John drawled, holding his hands palm up and backing away slowly. "Shall I just save us both time and apologize for everything I've ever done more than once?"
“Two years, Colonel." Now Rodney sounded tired. "We've been doing this for two years. We've never told anyone, we've never invited anyone else and I've lost count of the number of times we've brought dinner and smuggled beer in. And it takes you until it's over to realise they were dates?"
The twelve-year-old part of John's brain wishes he'd been drinking; the spit-take would have been amazing. "What?" His voice didn't squeak, but it was dangerously close. "Dates?"
Rodney nodded. He was wearing his you are an imbecile, please stop breathing my air as soon as possible look. "I'm afraid so, Colonel." His voice was scathing, but his arms were crossed defensively tight.
"Wow." John scratched the back of his neck. "Two years? So… you're a bit of tease, huh?"
Rodney spluttered, going a truly impressive shade of red. "Excuse me?"
John shrugged. "Well, we've been dating two years and you haven't put out once."
Rodney's mouth dropped open in a way that really wasn't all that attractive for a moment, before he rallied. "Well, neither have you."
John held up a finger, making sure both it and his smile were as irritatingly smug as possible. "But I didn't know they were dates. If you'd put out I would have clued in."
Rodney snorted. "That I doubt," he said. Then his voice got quieter, more uncertain. "Colonel, do…"
"Yeah, Rodney," John said.
"You don't even know what I was going to say."
John shrugged again. "Doesn't matter. The answer's still gonna be yes."
He moved closer to Rodney, finally able to see him clearly in the dim light. Rodney's expression was open, and amazed, and happy in a way that made John need to look away and down.
"Colonel?" Big, gentle fingers on his jaw made him lift his head. Rodney was frowning slightly, happy expression faltering, and that wasn't what John wanted at all. He lifted his own hands, cupped Rodney's face between them, stroked his thumbs over smooth skin. Rodney shaved in the evenings, John had been sort of subconsciously aware of that; but he hadn't known just how smooth, how vulnerable, how good Rodney's freshly shaved skin would feel.
"Colonel," Rodney whispered, voice catching. "If you don't kiss me within the next ten seconds, I will make sure you don’t have hot water for the next month."
John grinned and then brushed his grin against Rodney's mouth. "Can't have that," he said before letting his lips relax, flicking his tongue across them quickly, and leaning in for a more thorough kiss.
Rodney returned the kiss haltingly at first, uncertain and unexpectedly shy, then he let out a sigh and relaxed against John, chests pressing together, his arm coming up to wrap around John’s waist. John let his mouth open, inviting, and Rodney licked inside, flicking his tongue over John’s teeth, John’s tongue, pulling back to suck softly on John’s bottom lip.
“Oh,” John said when they pulled apart for air. He hadn’t expected it to be quite that good.
Rodney’s grin was nothing but smug. His hand slid from John’s chin, fingertips gliding down his throat, over his chest, across his stomach, then trailed down to cup John’s cock through his pants. John tried not to gasp but failed, mostly, pushing his hips forward into Rodney’s palm.
Rodney laughed quietly. “A tease, eh?” he asked, his thumb moving back and forth, catching the head of John’s cock.
“God,” John moaned, dropping his head down onto Rodney’s shoulder. Rodney’s hand squeezed and his other arm wrapped tighter around John’s waist. John felt lips brush his ear. He lifted his head, just about to suggest they move this somewhere else, when Rodney stiffened, hand leaving John’s cock.
“What?” John asked, confused.
Then Rodney lifted the hand to his ear. “Yes, Radek,” he said, “I’ll be right there.”
“What?” John said again.
“Power’s gone along the north pier. If they’d just brought in the rolling blackouts like I suggested, this never would have happened.” Rodney looked from John to the door then back again. He sighed, biting his lip and looking utterly miserable.
“Hey,” John said, leaning his forehead against Rodney’s and trying not to think about his own raging hard-on. “It’s okay. We’ve been dating two years; we can wait one more day.”
Rodney glared, but he did look happier. “Don’t try to rewrite history and pretend you knew we were dating.”
John smiled. “Rodney,” he said, straightening up. “Go.”
“Right.” Rodney turned to go, then ducked back, kissing John quickly. “So," he said.
"Yeah," John agreed.
"Same time tomorrow?"
"Sure," John said, and grinned as he watched the awkward way Rodney walked as he hurried out the door.
1.Yes, I know, no porn, but the story didn't seem to want any. Besides, I'm not sure I've written a fic all year than did not end with two people in a bed; I'm trying to ring the changes. That's not to stop anyone else writing one though ;)
2. Is this a tag or a coda? And what's the difference?