Work Text:
John bumped shoulders with Rodney as they piloted their radio-controlled cars. “Don't try to distract me!” Rodney grumbled. John brought his car inside on the turn of the track they’d laid out, but Rodney's surged, perhaps a bit faster than should be possible.
“Did you soup yours up?” John asked, glancing over.
“Maybe?” Rodney kept his gaze on the cars, and John’s inattention caused his to graze the wall. More than graze; a wheel rolled down the corridor. Rodney snorted. “I was going to say that I needed the advantage going up against your pilot reflexes, but that seems like an unnecessary concern.”
“Very funny,” John said, jogging down the hallway to retrieve his wheel. “Maybe when we repair this you can soup mine up, too?”
“Here you lads are,” Carson called, coming toward them. “Come with me,” he said as he swept past them.
John turned to follow immediately and behind him Rodney asked, “Where?”
“Come on,” Carson said, picking up the pace. “Don’t want to miss it.”
John heard Rodney trot to catch up. They emerged onto a balcony with a brilliant array of color streaking from the distant horizon to the darkening sky overhead.
“The weather’s been a bit different,” Carson remarked. “We don’t usually get clouds like this.”
“Or sunsets like this,” John said, truly appreciating the pinks and oranges, shot through with darker purples and pale blue sky.
The planet tended toward thin high clouds or clear skies, at least over the ocean. A sunset like this was one of the things he most missed about California, and Carson knew it. John wanted to kiss the man for making sure he didn’t miss this, but it would have to wait until they were in private. As it was, he looked at Carson, fond and maybe just a little stupidly in love, hoping he could see how much John appreciated this, just as Rodney stepped up to Carson’s other side looking over and asking, “What did you want to show us?”
John schooled his face immediately, adding a bit of smirk to cover a small spike of adrenaline at having maybe been caught with a sappy expression on his face. “Want to explain the physics of the pretty colors, Rodney?"
Rodney’s eyebrows were down, as if he were trying to puzzle something out. “Ah the sunset,” he said. “Yes. Yes, very nice,” He looked away and then clearing his throat, stepping around Carson. “Here, give me your car and I’ll take it back to the lab.”
John handed over the car, and Rodney took it, his arms barely able to hold the cars and controllers. John placed the runaway wheel on top.
“I didn’t think he’d hate a sunset,” Carson said, watching Rodney walk away. “I mean, the man’s not got a romantic bone in his body, but still.”
John turned back to look out over the water, setting his hands on the balcony railing. The colors really were spectacular and had changed even in the moments he’d looked away. “Thank you,” he said to Carson.
Carson put his own hands on the railing, his right hand next to John’s, fingers barely touching. He spoke softly. “You’re welcome, love.”
They stood for a while, watching the colors change and start to fade as night took over. Without preamble—because he’d talk himself out of it if he said anything more—John turned to Carson and said, “You’re right. We have to tell him.”
“Who what?” Carson asked, looking at John with his eyebrows adorably scrunched, the way he looked when John interrupted a chain of thought that had Carson a thousand miles away.
“Rodney. About us. You’re right.” With those words his heart started to pound, but Carson’s face lit up.
“You’re sure?” John nodded, not really sure but resolved. “Finally!” Carson said and drummed on the railing. “Today then, after supper.” He bounced a bit on his toes, and John knew that he was holding back the desire to sweep John into a hug and swing him around for joy.
=====
“You.. You… You’re both my best friends!” Rodney sputtered. “How could I not know? All this time you’ve been sneaking around behind my back and I never figured it out! “
“Smartest man in two galaxies, huh?” John drawled softly, hiding his tension. If this didn’t go well, he and Carson could be completely screwed. But in that moment on the balcony, he was sure Rodney had seen something. So here they were after having finished dinner in the mess hall, sitting in the rooms he shared with Carson, taking the risk.
“How long has this been going on?” Rodney paced the room, either ignoring John’s comment or having missed it while ranting. “Wait, let me guess. You were imprisoned together in that tower. That’s like, every story ever. Or was it after John turned into a bug?”
“Rodney,” Carson said, glancing at John and frowning slightly because John couldn’t hide anything from him. Just because John had finally agreed to this didn’t mean he liked it.
But he was all in. He had to be. He and Carson had started talking about life after Atlantis, after John’s military career. “Rodney, sit down, please,” John said.
Rodney pulled out a chair, sat, and crossed his arms, expression sullen. “I do not like feeling stupid. You both fooled me.”
“Fooling you was not the intent, Rodney,” Carson said softly. “You are our best friend. And if you didn’t see it, no one else does either. It has to be that way.” Carson looked at John again, his expression both sad and full of love, then back to Rodney. “For John’s career.”
John armored himself for Rodney to go off about the stupidity of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, using it to avoid his own thoughts on the matter, but Rodney deflated, putting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. Slightly muffled, he said, “So why tell me now? I hate secrets.”
Carson huffed a small laugh. “You’ve always had a higher security clearance than me.”
“Not those kinds of secrets,” Rodney said to the table, then sat up again. “Secrets about people I care about.”
John was too good at those kinds of secrets. Always had been, drilled into him from childhood. Carson was good at them too, but that was based on his skills in maintaining patient confidentiality.
Rodney looked at both of them, “I’m not even sure I see it.” He sat up straight. “You’re not pulling my leg, are you?” He jumped from the chair and started pacing again. “Because if this is some sort of joke I will…I will… Neither one of you will have hot water for the rest of your lives!”
Carson got up and led Rodney back to the table, to the chair he hand abandoned and then re-took his seat next to John, placing his hand over John’s and curling his fingers. John tensed at the display of affection and closed his eyes, fighting the fear of being so exposed, but not wanting Carson to feel like John didn’t want his touch. He very much did, and he flipped his hand so that they were palm to palm, fingers entwined.
“Oh god,” Rodney said. Breathed really. Rodney knew him better than anyone but Carson. They'd had whole conversations without John ever saying a word, Rodney reading his face and answering his unspoken thoughts. He didn't guard his face now, trusting Rodney to see it, that John and Carson were together, to see the depth of John’s feelings, of John’s fear. “I guess…” Rodney started. John opened his eyes to find Rodney’s expression softened, like when he looked at pictures of his cat. “Yeah, okay.” Rodney would never deny the data in front of him. “So this is why you never see it coming? With women?” Rodney asked.
John nodded, cracking half a smile, and forcing himself to say it aloud. “Kind of gay.”
“I knew Carson was, you know, bi. In theory at least.”
“Very much in practice,” Carson said, leaning over to kiss John on the temple.
“So now you know,” John said, looking at their twined hands, Carson’s hands so delicate in surgery, so demanding on John’s body.
“So how did you— I mean when—”
“You want the meet-cute story?” Carson said. Rodney flapped his hand in a get-on-with-it gesture, eyebrows up.
“He tried to shoot me out of the sky with a drone in Antarctica.” It was the obvious answer, in keeping with how he usually bantered with Rodney, but John regretted it instantly as Carson tensed beside him.
“Not on purpose,” Carson said, the defensiveness exaggerated to cover how real it was. “And besides, we hadn’t actually met yet.” But John knew what was under the attempted humor.
Rodney rolled his eyes. “Only you would bond over ordinance, Sheppard.” John shrugged, feeling his shoulders starting to relax. This was going far better with Rodney than he had feared. “No, really,” Rodney said. “How?”
And that was the tough thing. John didn’t want to talk about the drone incident because of what it stirred up in Carson. And for some reason the two of them hadn’t talked about what to tell Rodney. “It just did,” he said, remembering how Carson's private apology raised sparks they hadn't acted on for months. He lifted their joined hands to his lips and kissed Carson’s knuckles, breathing calm onto his skin.
He felt Carson take a breath. Normally, Carson could move through his emotions about drones, and having to fire them on sentient beings when he needed to, but John sensed he was using most of his reserves for this conversation with Rodney. “We wanted you to know, but you also know that it can’t get out.”
“Then why tell me?”
John looked at Carson. This had been his idea, after all. “We wanted to invite you in,” Carson said softly.
Rodney sat back. “I don’t, I mean, that’s not… No.” He stopped himself, looking at John in confusion. “Not sex. With either of you. That would be weird.”
“That wasn’t exactly what we meant,” Carson said, glancing toward John.
“Friends, Rodney,” John said. They’d talked about whether Rodney might want more and John was relieved that Rodney didn’t seem to want to sleep with them.
Carson started, “We—” John interrupted by squeezing his hand. The idea of telling Rodney had started with Carson, not both of them, not initially. But Carson squeezed back and insisted. “We were starting to feel like you not knowing was putting a strain on the friendships. From our side. Like you said, we're best friends. If we waited longer, or if something happened and you found out, it would be worse for having hid it so long. You’re important to us, Rodney. We wanted you to know.”
Carson reached toward Rodney with his other hand, sliding it forward on the table. He squeezed John’s hand so John mirrored him on the other side, his shoulders tensing up again and his heart suddenly slamming in his chest. “We wanted you to see us as we really are,” Carson said. “That’s the only thing we ask. You’re already our friend. We want you to be our friend, too.”
Rodney glanced rapidly back and forth between their hands. “I don’t know what this means.”
John didn’t either, and he fought the urge to draw his hand back. Carson was the one who could talk about emotions, and John appreciated that Carson just seemed to understand him without a lot of words. But sometimes Rodney needed words. “We’ll figure it out,” John said. “See how it goes.” He flexed his hand, inviting, even thought John really wasn’t sure what he was inviting Rodney to do. Or be.
Rodney gave John a long look, and John tried to put the invitation on his face, too, and hoped he was hiding his apprehension. When Rodney turned his gaze to Carson, John looked over, too. Carson looked hopeful, open, and utterly unafraid, and John loved all of that about him. Rodney took a breath, then reached across the table with both hands to take the offered connection.
John didn’t know what he expected, but there was no sudden shift, just a sense of warmth. John felt Rodney’s fingers tighten briefly before he let go, leaning back in the chair. “So now what?”
Carson answered. “You free for dinner tomorrow night?”
“I eat with you two all the time. I mean sure.”
“Dinner here, Rodney, in our quarters,” Carson said.
Rodney whirled on John. “You live here? I mean, that makes the tiny quarters far from everyone else makes sense, but how are you always there when I knock on your door?”
“I’m not always there,” John said. And Atlantis did generally let him know when someone was at his door, which helped.
Rodney glared. “You picked that room because it has a transporter right next to it. You said it was for urgent situations.” Then he turned to Carson. “Wait. You picked this room because it has a transporter inside it. For medical emergencies. Oh, I hate you both, you sneaky, sneaky people.”
This was Rodney back to normal. Carson and John shared a glance, then burst out laughing.
“So,” Carson said. “Dinner?”
“Can you make that not-haggis stuff?”
“Sure.”
Rodney drummed on the table with both hands and said, “Well, this has been interesting and I need to get back to the lab.” He rose, and John and Carson both got to their feet as well, used to their friend’s abrupt manner. But Rodney paused on his way out and looked over his shoulder, almost as if he couldn’t quite face them. John could see that Rodney was blinking rapidly. Softly, he said, “Thank you,” and went out the door.
John didn’t know what to say or do, but Carson did. He took John in his arms and kissed him. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
John put his forehead against Carson’s, shook his head and breathed out, “No.” And the more he let it sink in, the lighter he felt.
They had let Rodney in.
=====
Rodney didn’t go to the lab. He went to his room and thought through all the things he might have seen and missed before he’d caught the look on John’s face on the balcony, the look John had banished in a microsecond. But there wasn’t anything else, not even when John had come in injured. Not even when John had turned into a bug. Well, maybe that time, but Rodney had seen Carson go all out for any member of the expedition. Huh. Maybe John had been bitchy at Hoff because of that woman scientist. Carson and John… Carson and John. Carson and John. Carson and John. He had to both wrap his head around it, and act like there was nothing to know.
And there was no one he could talk to about it except them. The trust they had placed in him was almost overwhelming.
But it did all settle in over time, and that dinner was the first of many, Rodney sliding neatly into their coupledom and treating it like anything Top Secret. When he was with other people, it simply didn’t exist. When he was with them, they all relaxed and dropped all the masks. And sex never came up again. John and Carson didn’t even allude to whatever bedroom life they had, which was fine with Rodney. For all the he’d over-performed the whole dumb blond thing, he’d made failing at getting dates into a high art and a smokescreen he didn’t actually need any more. He’d even kept it up with John for years, but now he could let that go.
Rodney liked orgasms fine, and sometimes he needed one. He just didn’t like other people’s bodies and the messiness of sex. So much more convenient to handle it himself, ideally in the shower where the smell and mess would wash away. Not that he would tell anyone that. In the days before the SGC he’d indulged in anonymous cybersex, but Atlantis was such a small community, so Rodney had never gone near the chatrooms he knew existed.
But seeing into John and Carson’s life, being part of it? It was like being able to experience a relationship, maybe even be in a relationship. There; he’d said it. He loved his friends, and he loved seeing how they loved each other. He could say it to himself, but not to them. He basked in the warmth of their very private time together, John completely without his public mask, with Rodney trying to reflect some of it back, taking part in the casual and affectionate touching, even developing the habit of returning Carson’s kiss to his temple.
=====
They hit the wormhole hot, Ronon ahead carrying John like a bride, Teyla burst firing to cover Rodney and the two of them falling through together, landing on their backs with Teyla’s last shot hitting the ceiling just before the gate guards pulled them the rest of the way through so the shield could snap up. Rodney heard a patter of projectiles on the shield, then the shuuuup as the wormhole disconnected.
“Medic!” Ronon roared as the guard let go of Rodney’s collar and helped him to his feet, Teyla already up and turning toward him. Rodney reached out and made sure she was okay, patting her shoulders, upper arms, forearms, before tangling with the P90 she still held. “I am fine,” she said, then inclined her head pointedly toward where the medical team always on duty just off the gate room were swarming in, pushing a gurney, alert and looking for injuries and blood.
John’s leg was drenched it blood from where he’d dropped into a pit-trap. It was a miracle that the stakes at the bottom had missed anything vital. Or had maybe missed. Ronon had tied a tourniquet at the top of John’s thigh the second they got him out, so Rodney feared that maybe one of the sharp spikes could have nicked the femoral artery. Then he took a breath and forcibly stopped himself from going through what Heightmeyer called his “Litany of Disaster.” This wasn’t something he could be responsible for, and catastrophizing wouldn’t help.
Ronon placed John on the gurney as carefully as possible, and Rodney could hear him giving the sitrep with a calm cadence, as if he hadn’t just escaped a firefight. Rodney could see the medical staff nodding, one already radioing the infirmary to get a surgical suite ready. Rodney moved to follow the gurney, eyes on John’s pale face, but one of the medics put out a hand to stop him. Rodney pulled up short. He’d never tried to follow before when a team mate had been injured, but the pull not to leave John’s side was strong, as strong as the desire to be there for Carson.
But he couldn’t, so he shut down his face and turned for the gear room. He’d need to get checked over in the infirmary, of course, after he put everything away, and that would give him the excuse. Teyla followed him in. She’d taken to wearing the expedition’s uniforms for off-world work, and she put down her P90 and pulled off her tac vest, going through the pockets to remove any perishables, pulling out the extra power bars everyone on AR1 carried for Rodney.
“He will be fine,” she said. “He is in the very best hands.” Rodney nodded, but didn’t reply. He had no idea what to do with himself in this situation. “There has been a change,” Teyla said, glancing around as if to assure herself that they were alone. Rodney looked at her. “In your relationship with Colonel Sheppard,” she explained in a very soft voice.
Shit. Rodney sat on a bench and looked at his hands. “Not the way you may be thinking,” he said. “We’re just friends but yes, we have been getting…” He trailed off, unsure, rubbing his thumb into the opposite palm, and then chose the easiest word. “Closer.”
“We will go together to the infirmary,” Teyla said. “No one can mistake your concern when it is our concern.”
Her balance of nuance and declaration should not have surprised Rodney. Teyla was a master of negotiation, of understanding people and finding the right words, and she knew the U.S. military’s view on same-sex relationships. And yet he instantly felt less at a loss, fearing for John and worried for Carson having to deal with serious injuries to the man he loved, while never letting his concern seem more than ordinary. These were new feelings for Rodney, new concerns. Teyla held out her hand and he stopped wringing his own, taking the offer. “Thank you,” he said as she pulled him up from the bench.
When they reached the infirmary, Rodney asked the closest medic where John was. “Dr. Beckett and Dr. Keller are working on him now.”
“Can we—?” Rodney didn’t know what he wanted.
“They’re in the main operating suite. There are observation windows. If you’ll excuse me.” The medic bustled off, and Rodney turned toward the stairs that would lead them to the observation gallery, Teyla on his heels.
He couldn’t see John’s face, covered as it was by the oxygen mask. He was surrounded by the surgical team, the two doctors working on his leg, nurses on the other side handing instruments. Dr. Keller must be the tiny one that wasn’t Carson, stitching carefully in a spot under the tourniquet, Ronon’s T-shirt and stick improvisation replaced with proper wide surgical tubing. Carson was working on John’s lower leg. Rodney wondered at first why he hadn’t taken the more serious wound, but then remembered him talking over a last glass of wine about the wunderkind trauma surgeon who had arrived a couple of months ago. The two of them working together would make the work go twice as fast so they could release the tourniquet sooner and save John’s leg.
He took in a breath, fighting against the constriction in his chest. Teyla put her left hand over his right where it gripped the hand rail, a soothing touch on his white knuckles. “He has the best chance now,” she said.
He could only nod in response, trying to sort his fear for John and his worry for Carson having to stitch up John, his John, like he was any other patient. And Rodney couldn’t share this burden with anyone, and Carson couldn’t get support from anyone but him. He looked at Teyla’s hand on his, and released his left hand’s death grip on the bar to place it gently over hers. “Thank you.”
She placed her other hand on top. “I do not need to know details,” she said. Rodney looked at her, and her expression held more compassion than worry. “You are not alone,” she said.
And that was the crux of it. He wasn’t alone any more. He was part of whatever it was that Carson and John had let him into, and he’d come close to losing John, once again, but this time it would have meant losing Carson-and-John and would have devastated Carson.
Teyla’s face softened further. “He will be fine. You are not alone,” she repeated, with emphasis.
Why would she say this now? She’d said she knew something was different, and Rodney wasn’t stupid enough to try to hide everything from her, but he could let her think it was only about John. Rodney closed the last inches to touch foreheads with her, and after a moment of breathing together, they both turned back to the window, leaning against each other. Rodney didn’t believe in prayer, but he could pretend that quantum entanglement meant Carson could feel the support he was trying to give, something Rodney could do because Teyla stood by, supporting him. He wasn’t alone.
=====
John woke muzzy to the sound of tapping. He knew that sound, pen on a clipboard. For all the technology in Atlantis, Carson still took notes on paper and when he had nothing to write and was thinking, he tapped. Even in the haze of coming out of the good drugs and with his eyes still closed, he could guess what Carson was thinking. John said swallowed past the dryness in his voice and croaked out, “I’m fine, right?”
He heard the huff of Carson letting out a breath, like several sighs with different meanings trying to exit at once. He felt Carson take his hand, putting his fingers on John’s pulse, probably looking at the watch on his other wrist, counting. But John could feel the slight trembling of Carson’s fingers, the way he moved his thumb feeling each of John’s hand bones before putting it down on John’s chest. It was the most they could risk. John didn’t know who was in the room, so he said, “Didn’t mean to scare you, Doc.” He hid behind Carson’s title, hoping that Carson heard what John really meant.
“Aye,” and the drawing out of the word, the slight hesitation held what John wanted to hear. “We were scared, and it took me and Dr. Keller both to save your leg. But it’s not out of the woods yet.” John was pretty sure that no one else—or maybe Rodney now, too—could hear the extra layers in Carson’s voice.
He heard him move to the door and send for Dr. Keller, then John could feel the warmth of him standing next to the bed, a light touch on his shoulder. John didn’t want to open his eyes, but he had to see Carson’s face. It was medical calm, bedside-manner kind, only an extra crinkle around the eyes. Carson keyed a radio that he didn’t usually wear in the infirmary and turned away slightly as he spoke. “Beckett to McKay: He’s awake.” Message sent, he took it off his ear and put it in the pocket of his coat.
“What are we up against?” John asked, hearing the rasp in his voice—not ventilator bad, but too much dry oxygen bad.
Carson’s bedside manner lost none of its kindness, none of its professional distance, but he offered John water as he spoke, something John had seen many times before—Carson distracting the patient from something that wouldn’t be pleasant. But all he said was, “Dr. Keller’s the one here.” John sipped, the cool water quenching his mouth and a longer drink moving cool relief into his bones. Except for his left leg.
John heard a delicate clearing of a throat, and Carson stepped away. A small blond woman took his place. “How are you feeling? How’s the leg doing? Pain?”
John decided not to be stoic. “The opposite of pain.”
Keller nodded. “There’s something called post-tourniquet syndrome, and you had that thing on your leg for almost four hours between Ronon bringing you through the gate and the one we had to use in surgery. It saved your life, but there’s a lot to watch for. The prolonged pressure might have pinched a nerve, but we won’t know that until the wounds are healed enough to get you walking. It wasn’t on long enough for actual tissue necrosis, I don’t expect, but that’s almost the worst of it and unlikely.”
“What’s the worst?” John asked, hazily wondering if he might lose his leg.
“Yes,” Rodney said, coming into the room. “What’s the worst? Is it the worst?” He stopped at the foot of John’s bed, reaching his hands toward John’s feet, then tucking them almost into his armpits like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.
Keller glanced over to Rodney. “The worst we don’t know yet.” She turned back to John. “Can you move your toes?”
John tried. He could feel his right toes against the sheet, but he wasn’t sure he could feel more than some kind of pressure on his left toes.
Rodney took one of John’s feet in each hand, the grip firm enough that his right foot didn’t feel tickled. His left foot only felt a dull pressure. “Can you feel my hands?” Rodney asked.
John didn’t have the energy to describe it. He pointed at at his right foot. “Yes.” The IV in his arm pulled as he pointed with his left hand. “Mostly.”
He tried to flex his thigh, but Keller’s hand came down. “You need at least a full day flat in bed for the vascular sutures to set and then you can sit up in the morning for more pressure to promote healing. After that we can get you walking and start physical therapy.”
John dropped his head back as Rodney said, “You will absolutely follow doctor’s orders. I’ll make sure of it.” Rodney’s hands were still warm on his feet, and John realized he liked it. It was like Rodney providing the physical comfort that Carson couldn’t.
John looked at Carson, who had stepped away and was looking fondly at Rodney, more affection than he could show for John in public. John felt his eyes sting and blinked away the evidence. It must be the drugs that swirled his hatred of DADT with some sort of deep appreciation for Rodney and Carson able to show what John could not. Not that he would in public—his upbringing was too strong. He just wanted the option.
Keller cleared her throat again, and touched John’s arm above the IV. “Tomorrow we’ll put on some compression bandages, but for now, sleep as much as you can.” With that, she turned to go. Carson stepped forward after she was gone and gave a squeeze to John’s arm, his look holding everything he couldn’t say. John nodded, felt cold when Carson pulled his had away. He watched Carson pause next to Rodney and place a hand on his shoulder.
Rodney let go of John’s feet and took Carson’s arm. “I’ll stay with him.”
Carson nodded and glanced back at John, letting some of his worry show. “I’ll have the lab send you a laptop.”
“Yeah,” Rodney said with a nod, bringing his other hand up to Carson’s shoulder for a brief moment. “I won’t leave him.”
“Thank you,” Carson said and walked out.
Rodney took the infirmary chair next to John, just as he had done more than a few times before. John had often found it annoying in the past, feeling that he didn’t need a damn babysitter, but this time it made John feel safe, and he let himself drift off.
=====
Rodney buried himself in work, the way he always did to avoid feelings. He couldn’t help looking up the potential complications, which he added to the “Litany of Disaster” he was diligently avoiding in his head.
He’d been aware of John the whole time, the occasional interruptions of nurses taking vital signs every half hour, asking John if any part of his leg had acute pain. Each time they left, Rodney put his hand briefly on John’s and whispered, “Go back to sleep.” Keller came in once, brusquely examining John’s bandages. Carson stopped by once, just inside the door for only a moment to tell Rodney his shift was over, his eyes never leaving John. At one point Rodney closed his own eyes to think, his hand on John’s arm.
The smell of food snapped him into the here and now, sitting up quickly and snatching his hand away. Rodney looked up to see Teyla, Ronon behind her bearing a tray. “You missed dinner,” she said.
“I… I hadn’t noticed.” Usually his stomach was much more insistent, and at the sight of the tray and the scent of stew, it gave a growl.
“Eat,” Teyla said. “We will sit with John.”
Ronon gestured with the tray to another chair and Rodney closed his laptop and rose, his back stiff and not just from his time in the chair. He tried to stretch and felt a deep discomfort, ache rather than pain. “I must have gotten hurt on our heroic exit through the wormhole.”
“Yes, Rodney,” Teyla said, taking his abandoned seat. “You were very brave.”
He heard the teasing in her voice, but he let it go, sitting in the other chair and putting the computer down on his lap to make a flat space for the tray. It had many of his favorites, and he tackled the stew without shame.
“Carson says hell be fine,” Ronon said.
Neither Keller nor Carson had not actually said that in Rodney’s hearing, but Rodney found himself saying, “Thank you,” around a mouth of stew. Then something in Ronon’s voice hit him, a comfort and a care that Rodney had rarely heard in that bass rumble. And Teyla’s Something has changed between you from the gear room. Oh, no. This could only mean that Ronon and Teyla thought that John and Rodney were now together and the Rodney needed extra support in the face of John’s injury. But Rodney was by John’s side because Carson couldn’t be, not in the way he wanted.
Rodney put his spoon down in the bowl and opened his mouth to protest, but another thought struck him. This was a way he could maybe protect John and Carson. He took a breath and spoke softly. “You know about his military’s rules.” They both nodded. “Please don’t speculate,” he said. Ronon grunted and Teyla tilted her head.
He looked back to his stew and started to eat again. He wasn’t good with people. He didn’t really try, so he didn’t have experience in how to handle this. Teyla would know how to give comfort and support to Carson. Right now all Rodney could do was to stay with John in his stead. But he couldn’t say any of that. He looked over at Teyla, who was holding John’s hand, and Ronon, who stood by Teyla with a hand on her shoulder like she was some kind of conduit for his concern.
This was how it had to be. And when they offered to take it in shifts, Rodney didn’t say no. He was exhausted, but before going to is room he stopped by Carson and John’s quarters.
Carson opened the door looking as tired as Rodney felt. “Can I come in?” He was terrible at things like this, so he thought about what Teyla would do as he shouldered his way inside. He turned to Carson and stumbled out, “Would you, I mean I’m not, but, anyway, would you… Would you like a hug? Would that help?” He lifted his arms in invitation, unsure if he was overstepping.
Carson’s only answer was to turn from the door and wrap himself around Rodney, face on his shoulder, and Rodney held on as the shudders ran through him. Carson’s grip reminded him that he’d fallen on his way through the wormhole and was probably bruised, but this wasn’t the moment to complain. He stayed, rubbing Carson’s back in what felt like awkward strokes for several long moments. He’d seen John and Carson hug, and he couldn’t melt bonelessly like John did—although always after John’s slight hesitation—but he could offer the touch that Carson seemed to want so often from John. He let his arms drop when Carson finally pulled back, wiping at his eyes. He didn’t quite look like he’d been crying, but Rodney surreptitiously reached for his shoulder and found it dry.
“Thank you,” Carson said. “I needed that.”
“Anytime,” Rodney found himself saying, and really it hadn’t been bad, that hug, even if the reason was awful. Maybe it could be even nicer if he weren’t feeling like a John substitute. ”Will he be okay?”
Carson swallowed and glanced away. “There’s a lot to watch for.” Rodney didn’t ask for explanations, he’d looked them all up. “I’m most concerned about the loss of feeling. It’s probably from compression on the nerve. It could be temporary, or…” Carson trailed off.
Rodney felt a cold wash over him. ”And if it’s not? Temporary, I mean.”
”They might invalid him home.”
Rodney didn’t say what he was thinking, that if John left the military he and Carson could actually be together. But he also knew what losing his career that way would likely do to John. “We won’t let that happen. He’ll be fine.”
“Thank you, Rodney,” Carson whispered, and turned away. “Dr. Keller’s got his care under control. I’ll see him when I round in the morning.” Rodney stood awkwardly another moment, and Carson turned back. “Get some sleep, Rodney. Thank you. I’ll be fine.”
=====
John lifted his head to look around the dark infirmary. Night then, and the sound of breathing next to him.
“Hey, Sheppard,” Ronon said.
“Chewie,” John croaked. Why was Ronon on watch? “Thanks for getting me out of that pit.”
“No problem. Kind of want to go back and toss a few of them in it.”
It was a typical Ronon thing to say, even though John realized that such declarations were more habit these days than real feeling.
“How’s everyone else?”
“Fine.” Ronon kept his voice low. “Teyla and McKay laid down suppression fire and covered us to the gate. McKay’s not even complaining about falling on his back through the wormhole.”
“Fancy that,” John said, trying to figure out what was off about Ronon’s tone.
“We sent him to bed,” Ronon said, something soft in his quiet tones. “Told him we’d take shifts. He… He didn’t want to leave you.” John didn’t say anything, trying to figure out what Ronon’s voice meant. Into his silence Ronon said, “We, me and Teyla, we’ve got you covered.”
John had no clue what Ronon was on about. Ronon patted him gently on the shoulder. “Go back to sleep.”
=====
“Sorry to wake you, Colonel, but it’s time for your vitals.” John recognized the voice as one of the nurses, a small man who had been with the expedition from the beginning.
“I’ll get it,” John heard from the doorway, and he looked over. Carson’s voice sounded warm but clinical, his face in what John thought of as his professional mask. Carson was right there. How could John miss him so suddenly?
John closed his eyes, offering up his arm for the blood pressure cuff, following Carson’s instructions. John could feel Carson’s hand sliding down his forearm, taking his pulse, then some considered humming noises, a sound John associated with Carson making dinner and winging it without a recipe. It seemed so out of place here. When it was done, he opened his eyes, but Carson wasn’t looking at him as he put the cuff away. “Dr. Keller says you should be up to walk tomorrow, and I’ll guess you’ll probably start light running in eight weeks or so, if slowly at first.” There was pressure as Carson squeezing his foot, but everything felt a bit muffled.
John didn’t want him to leave, and blew out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding when Carson walked around to the other side of the bed, picked up a laptop from the bedside chair, one of Rodney’s, and sat down so they were eye level. “Any questions?”
John had too many, and he was too conscious of being on pain medication and of the nurse in the room to speak.
“Oh, hi,” he heard Rodney from the door. “Sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. I just had to, you know.” He walked over and took the laptop from Carson. “Teyla will be here in a few.”
“You all don’t need to be here twenty-four seven,” John said.
Rodney put his hand on Carson’s shoulder, and Carson glanced up, then back at John.
“It’s really okay,” John said, his eyes on Carson’s face, speaking as much to him as Rodney. “Maybe not every minute, all right? You all have things to do. I get it.” It was more than that. John hated anyone seeing him like this, especially Carson, which he knew was weird given the time John had spent in the infirmary even after they’d gotten together. But this was his worst injury and the need for personal care was mortifying. He hated bedpans..
=====
John tried to roll over, and realized just how much you used your legs to do it when his left leg exploded in random electric shocks and he made an involuntary noise. Not pain actually, but just weird. It woke him completely. He’d been in the infirmary enough to know its rhythms. Right now it was dark, and maybe no one had heard his embarrassing squawk. At least his team had finally agreed that he didn't need an overnight minder.
No luck. A nurse came in. “Colonel, are you all right?” John tried to say yes, but at a look from the nurse he made an attempt to describe the weird electric feeling. “Oh,” she said. “I’ll let Dr. Keller know when she comes on shift, but I think it’s a good sign.”
“I’m all for good signs,” John said, and took the offered pain meds. Finally the team weren’t wasting time sitting next to him. That was good. Well, it should be good, but he’d gotten used to the company, especially Rodney who would touch him occasionally. John wasn’t all that physical a person, or he hadn’t been before Carson, but he’d come to appreciate touches that weren’t just clinical.
He missed Carson. Sure, he’d seen him, but always at a professional distance. The softness John fell into when they were alone seemed so out of reach.
It didn’t help that Teyla and Ronon were acting weird. Why did they keep bringing up Rodney? Rodney was being weird about checking on him more than any other time John had been in the infirmary. He couldn’t ask them about it here, where anyone could hear, and when he’d tried obliquely with Ronon, he’d gotten a conspiratorial grin, but that was all. He’d have to wait to find out when Dr. Keller let him go home.
But he wouldn’t be going home. He’d be going back to the poky room he kept as his quarters, not the space that he and Carson had created. John let his head fall back to the pillow with a sigh. This whole thing sucked. Maybe he should let Ronon go back and throw some of those people into their own pit trap.
=====
Rodney could tell John was getting impatient with the discharge instructions. Carson was standing by the door, Keller taking the lead because, as he’d told Rodney, she was highly competent and Carson was conflicted. “That electric shock feeling was an excellent sign that you’ll get all the feeling back. Your leg will be very bruised for at least two weeks,” Keller was saying. “You’ll need to walk a bit every day, and we’ll send a physical therapist to your quarters to try to minimize the muscle loss.”
“McKay’s quarters,” Ronon said.
Keller blinked up at him and blushed slightly. Rodney had been watching this dance every time the two of them were in a room together.
“What?” John said, scrunching his eyebrows at Ronon.
“Rodney’s quarters are larger than yours, colonel,” Teyla said her face that serene mask that Rodney was still learning to read behind. This one seemed to have something smug in it, almost sly. “And Dr. McKay can help take care of you.”
“I don’t need taken care of,” John said, his eyebrows down in puzzlement.
“And I can’t play nursemaid. I have work to do!” Rodney said. Having John in his room would be a disaster.
Teyla tilted her head slightly toward Rodney and raised her eyebrows. His heart sank. She and Ronon were trying to provide what they thought would be support, support for him and John, as a couple. But John would be better off in his own room next to the transporter that would take him to Carson’s room. Or Carson to him. Ronon had that mulish expression, though. Oh, this was getting to be a mess.
“John’s room is fine!” Rodney said and tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice.
“Aye,” Carson said, “he’ll not need watching over like that.”
“We insist,” Teyla said. “We will help care for him.” She looked pointedly at Rodney
“No!” Rodney said. “I’m not giving up my room.”
“And I don’t want to stay there!” John added.
Rodney caught Ronon rolling his eyes as he muttered, “Fine.”
“Fine!” John shook his head and Rodney could tell he was confused.
The next day, Rodney was on the treadmill. He didn’t like training, but with all the exertion in the field, he knew he couldn’t let his condition falter while John was in recovery. He had also discovered that the treadmills were a good place for his mind to wander and solve lab problems, so he was sweating and trying not to think about anything and let his subconscious do the work. But his thoughts kept coming back to the way that Ronon and Teyla, by trying to help “John and Rodney”, were actually keeping John and Carson apart. And through all this Rodney needed to check on Carson, substituting for John there, as poor a substitution as he might be. And there it was, the Litany of Disaster in his head.
A sudden idea made him catch his breath. He had it! He stopped the treadmill and ran to John’s quarters. When the door opened, Teyla was there playing cards with John. Before Rodney could ask her to leave, she put her hand down and said, “Hello, Rodney. I was tired of losing. I’ll leave you two alone.” She patted John on the foot and slid out of the room with a fond smile.
“Bye,” John said to her back. He turned to Rodney. “What’s going on? You look like you ran here.”
“We have to break up,” Rodney blurted. John’s eyebrows went almost to his hairline.
=====
John was pretty sure most of the drugs had worn off, but maybe not. “I’m sorry. What?”
“They think we’re a couple, and they’re trying to make sure we get time together so we can, I don’t know—” Rodney cut himself off and looked slightly pained or disgusted, John couldn’t tell which, but Rodney shook it off before barreling on. “They’re hanging around because they think they’re giving me cover to be with you more. And I’m trying to figure out how you and Carson can have time together and they keep getting in the way. So they have to think we broke up. Then they’ll leave you two alone.”
John could barely follow the speed of Rodney’s words, for all that he’d had a lot of practice. “What?”
“Right, still on drugs.” Rodney then spoke slowly. “They’re here all the time, Teyla and Ronon, so that it won’t look weird if I’m here a lot, too, because they’ve decided we’re in a relationship.” Rodney dug the thumb of one hand into the palm of the other, not looking at John, the muscles in his jaw jumping. “I mean, how much have you and Carson managed to be together since—” He broke off and gestured at John’s leg.
John took a breath. Truth was, he’d hardly seen Carson since his surgery, not in any way that counted. And now at least he knew why Ronon and Teyla were basically hovering over him unless Rodney was there, when they quickly bugged out. But he could see the flaw in Rodney’s plan. “We can’t break up,” he started, barely containing the desire to do air quotes.
McKay waved his arms, pacing. “No, I know, we just have to say we did—”
“Rodney!” John didn’t want to snap, but McKay was spinning himself up. “If you tell them we broke up, they’ll just be here more, trying to cheer me up.”
That stopped Rodney in his tracks. “Oh.”
John turned his head away, thinking. This explained the excessive protection and now that he thought about it, some of Ronon’s double entendres and Teyla’s weird smug warmth whenever Rodney arrived. He’d hoped to see more of Carson after his discharge, but they had made it impossible. “Maybe Carson can have you over for dinner and you drag me along?” He sounded pathetic to his own ears. He appreciated what Rodney was trying to do, and what Ronon and Teyla intended, but this was just too complicated.
“They’ll want to come, too?” Rodney said, the question answering itself.
“Damn it! We had plenty of dinners without them before this happened!” John brought his fist down on his thigh and instantly regretted it, a wordless noise of pain escaping his clenched jaw. Good news, bad news. He definitely had feeling back in his leg.
Rodney was instantly at his side. “Do I need to call Carson? What happened? What can I do?”
John gritted his teeth. He really did want Rodney to call Carson, but this just wasn’t reason enough. If Rodney pinged the infirmary, Keller would come, and if Carson came instead without looping her in, it would look like he didn’t actually trust her. “Just give me some time alone, okay?” He caught McKay’s glance and raised his eyebrows, controlling his breathing as the pain subsided. They never left him alone for long, but he was very lonely. He missed Carson with an ache in his chest that was worse than his leg.
=====
John’s fingers were tiring on the fretboard of his guitar. Ronon lay sprawled on the floor, listening to John play. He had no patience for card games, but he loved music and John’s not-great singing voice. And Johnny Cash’s lyrics. “They’re deceptively simple,” Ronon had said once, and treated John to a five minute lecture on poetry forms before he remembered himself and wrapped up the erudite soliloquy with, “He’s really good at it.” They rarely had enough down time for what John thought of as Ronon’s concerts on demand, but Ronon had come in as Teyla left and had handed John his guitar, asking if he was up to playing. It was better than trying to make small talk and John was really tired of cards and fielding thin innuendo about him and Rodney. After a good hour and a half, though, John’s fingers were reaching their limit and he felt a bit relieved when the door chimed.
Rodney came in at John’s invitation, Ronon curling up from the floor and hanging John’s guitar on the wall without comment.
“I’m just going to take John out for a walk,” Rodney said as Ronon headed for the door.
“Sure,” Ronon agreed, with a small smile that John now understood. Once Rodney had explained, he could see it. John had no idea how to disabuse Ronon and Teyla of the notion that he and Rodney were a couple. He’d tried with Teyla, and all she had said was, “I am not asking, John,” in a firm voice.
“Walk, huh?” John had already done his physical therapy for the day, but he swung his legs over and took Rodney’s outstretched hand and stood up. Rodney looked him over critically. John was wearing the sweats and T-shirt he’d had on since he got back from the infirmary and when he ran his fingers through his hair, he could feel the buildup.
“Can you stand up long enough for a shower?” Rodney asked with a slight wrinkle to his nose. Okay, so John probably smelled, too.
John hadn’t had one since before his injury, and the thought of cleaning up sounded fantastic, but he said, “Can’t get the bandages wet.”
Rodney raised a finger. “Stay right there,” Rodney said and left. John sat on the bed to wait for him, and in five minutes he was back with something from the lab and a roll of tape. “Take the sweats off so I can wrap your leg.”
“I’m not wearing underwear, McKay,” John said, using his last name to get some distance.
“I do not care about your junk,” Rodney said, dismissive as he knelt, pulling at the waist band in the least erotic way possible. “You’re getting cleaned up.”
“Why is this so urgent?” John grabbed at his sweats before they could go any farther.
“Because I’m getting you out of here. Stand up; it’ll be easier.”
John really did want a shower, and it wasn’t like Rodney had never seen him undress before, so he stood up. Rodney treated him like a piece of equipment, tutting over the bruising as he unwrapped the compression bandages and exposing the gauze, utterly uninterested in John’s dick other than to ask him to hold that thing out of the way. When the waterproofing was done, he waved John toward the shower. “I’ll be back in fifteen so I can help you get that off.”
Hot water was glorious. He couldn’t really wash his left foot, but he managed everything else, distracting himself from the throbbing sense of swelling in his left leg by wondering where Rodney was planning to take him and by the pure bliss of shaving off his stubble. When he got out, he saw that Rodney had laid out boxers, joggers, and a black turtleneck. He’d managed the boxers and turtleneck when his door chimed and he heard Rodney’s voice before the door even opened.
“You need help with that?” he asked, putting something down on John’s desk and picking up the wraps. “Lie down.”
John obeyed and the sense of swelling in his leg immediately improved. “Seems like you’re on a mission, McKay. Care to clue me in?”
“Not really.” Rodney cut away the waterproofing and deftly re-wound the compression wrappings, starting at the ankle and ending up at the top of John’s thigh. He was so mechanical in his work that John barely had the time to think he should feel uncomfortable. When it was done Rodney held up the joggers, got the leg cuffs over both ankles and said, “I think you have it from here.”
John finished dressing and stood. “How far are you taking me?”
“Not far.”
He leaned on Rodney's arm for the few steps it took to the nearby transporter and watched his fingers on the keypad. Carson’s.
The door opened and the man himself stood there, hair also damp from a shower, cheeks smooth, a welcoming smile. John stepped forward, heat behind his eyes, and fell into Carson’s arms.
=====
Rodney was incredibly pleased with himself. John and Carson hadn’t even noticed him closing the transporter door and leaving them alone. He’d radio in a couple of hours and take John back to his quarters. In the mean time, he could get in some lab time.
He swung by the cafeteria to grab a snack and stopped short, spying Ronon and Teyla at a table. He started to back away, but not quickly enough. Teyla had her eyebrows up and Ronon had turned around. Rodney put a hand up to wave, wiggling his fingers and feeling stupid. He pointed toward the food line, not wanting anything now, but having to come up with some reason he was there. He went straight to the cookies, taking enough for both him and John with an extra for Carson. What was he going to say to Ronon and Teyla?
This brought home to him just how odd his situation was. He had a relationship with John and Carson’s relationship, not just with them as people. It would probably help for John and Carson to have more friends as them, as John-and-Carson, than just Rodney. And Rodney wouldn’t have to bear it alone. But it wasn’t his secret to tell.
He bit the bullet and went back by their table. “Just getting cookies.” He waved the handful of evidence.
“Where’d you leave him?” Ronon asked.
“He’s perfectly fine,” Rodney said, and left before they could say more. So much for going to the lab. He grabbed his laptop from his quarters and went to John’s room to work there. Johnny Cash glowered down at him, and Rodney stared back. What was it like to be John, projecting the image of the solitary man, hiding his love of Carson from the world, hiding who he was when he was alone with Carson? Because Rodney knew the difference now, and sitting in this room John didn’t really live in, Rodney realized he missed that man.
Was Rodney different with them than he was in the labs or the field? He didn’t think so, but he did feel relaxed with them, so maybe? Johnny Cash didn’t have an answer for him, just stared back at him like he should have the answer to his own question. And how did that one poster end up with different expressions? Rodney didn’t want what John and Carson had, not with the sleeping together part, although the hugs he’d shared with Carson as a John substitute were nice.
He ate one of the cookies and wrapped the rest, setting a timer for an hour to remind him to radio Carson. He opened his laptop on John’s desk, and checked calibration on a new naquadah generator that Kavanaugh had actually done a good job on. Rodney hadn’t turfed him out because the man was in fact a skilled engineer, for all that he was obnoxious. Rodney didn’t have a leg to stand on in that department.
And that got him thinking again about why both Carson and John were his friends. What did they see in him? The same with Ronon and Teyla and he really didn’t like lying to them. He looked back at the poster, and the solitary man looked a little disappointed in him.
=====
John sat on the couch with Carson, arm around his shoulder where he cuddled next to John, almost boneless. They’d had a very nice interlude, Carson clearly celebrating that John was getting feeling back in his leg. As they waited for Rodney, John relaxed and nuzzled Carson’s thick hair. “Don’t want you to go,” Carson mumbled.
“Don’t want to go.” John kissed the top of his head.
“Why’d it take so long?”
John sighed. So Rodney hadn’t told Carson about Ronon and Teyla. Great. He laid it out simply. Carson sat up and looked vaguely horrified. “If they keep that up, people will get ideas.” John nodded. “And they’re your team. It was one thing when no one knew, but you can’t split your team like this.” John wrapped his hand around Carson’s neck and brought him in for a kiss, briefly on his mouth and then on his forehead. Carson understood him, got to the heart of emotions in a way that John could use. Carson leaned their foreheads together. “We have to tell them.”
John nodded. “Sooner is better.”
They heard the swish of the transporter door, Rodney’s voice calling out in a silly voice, “I have cookies!”
“In here,” Carson called, sitting back. “We’ve been thinking—”
“I’ve been thinking—” Rodney said at the same time.
“You first,” Carson said, gesturing toward a chair, because he and John both knew that Rodney wouldn’t be able to wait.
Rodney put the cookies down on a table and sat, then stood and walked around to the back of the chair and braced himself on his hands. “I think you need to come out to Teyla and Ronon. Otherwise people are going to start noticing they’re acting weird about me and John, and also, I don’t like lying to them.”
“Yeah,” John said. “We know.”
Rodney deflated. “Oh thank God.” He sat back down, not so much deflated, John realized, as relieved. Then he straightened up. “What were you thinking?”
“Same thing,” Carson said, sliding his hand over John’s on his shoulder. “Let’s invite them for supper and sort this all out,” Carson said, “Let them see how it really is.”
John leaned his head against Carson’s, something in his chest loosening as he watched Rodney nod.
“Good,” Rodney said. “They should know you have someone, John, and that it’s not me. I mean, it could be me, if I wanted that sort of thing, with either of you, and I’m really a catch so either one of you would be lucky to have me—”
“Rodney,” John interrupted, feeling Carson chuckle silently against him. “We are lucky to have you.”
“And we’ll be lucky to have Ronon and Teyla, too,” Carson added.
Instead of dreading it, like he had with Rodney, John found he was looking forward to showing Ronon and Teyla how things really were. But first things first. “Did you say you brought cookies?”