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sga_flashficChallenge: Harlequin (Mills and Boone, whatever)
Title: The Convenient Husband 1/2
Spoilers: Not really.
Rating: Adult or NC-17
Author: Brighid
Summary: A marriage of convenience has some very incovenient complications for Rodney, as he deals with the fact that he's still in love with John Sheppard.
Note: Oh, god. AU, AU with some nods to canon. Uh. Oh god. *hangs head in shame*
The Convenient Husband
By Brighid
Rodney watched the water move slowly towards the dock, the subtle tides of the lake eddying forward and back. He'd been coming to his family's cabin at Rockwell Bay on Harrison Lake for most of his life, and it seemed odd to think that this might be the last time. In all honesty, he wasn't sure if he wanted to sell it, even though Jeannie had already listed the small property she'd inherited in Penticton; perhaps he was the more nostalgic of the two of them. He snorted, because really? That was pretty sad, all things considered.
Still. The cabin had good memories for him; they'd had good times there before his parents had become stiff and angry with one another, before the constant, stilted arguments that would be the hallmark of their marriage right until they both died in a car crash five blocks from their North Vancouver home.
"Hey! Hey!" and Rodney looked up from his quiet contemplation of the water to the next dock, where a tall man in jeans and a windbreaker was waving at him. "Holy shit. Rodney?"
"John?" Rodney stood, squinting, and yeah, okay, maybe it had been ten years but there was no way in hell he was forgetting that hair. "John Sheppard?"
"Yeah. Heh. What the hell are you doing here?" He still stood like he had when he was eighteen, legs apart and hands thrust in his back pockets, oddly defiant looking. Rodney swallowed hard and thought ruefully that it had exactly the same effect now as it had then. John had always been far too pretty for Rodney's own good.
"I'm trying to figure out if nostalgia is worth the yearly tax bill," he replied. "You?"
John shrugged. "Family's making me nuts. Same old stuff, really."
Rodney snorted. "Funny how that works. Listen, do you want to come over? Have a beer?" He waved up towards the cabin, and felt a peculiar sort of rush of fear and hope when John nodded.
"Sounds good. See you topside?" And then John was loping up the steep path to the wooden palace that his family had thought was a cabin. Rodney looked up at the cozy A-frame he'd inherited and sighed. At least he had good beer in the fridge.
)0(
John was waiting for him on the front porch, and Rodney was wrong, he wasn't exactly the same as he'd been at eighteen. There were subtle lines around his mouth, and threads of silver in his hair, and his eyes were far more shuttered than they'd been the last time they'd seen each other.
It didn't stop Rodney from wanting to lean in and kiss him, taste him. He tried to remember the first time he'd wanted to kiss John Sheppard, but it had become blurred into his overall adolescence: too much New Wave and stealing his sister's eyeliner and at least one football player who played a totally different game under the stands. He swallowed a sigh and waved John in ahead, took his windbreaker and then got them each a beer. "So. How's the Air Force?"
"Done. I got kicked out," John said, twisting the beer top off and taking a hearty gulp. He sprawled comfortably back into the futon, legs stretched out wide, and Rodney had to admire him in all his unstudied elegance; only John could look so completely natural in jeans that probably cost a couple of hundred dollars and a black cashmere sweater that made him look downright pettable. "Although I lasted a hell of a lot longer than anyone expected." He didn't seem particularly pleased about it though. "Still too damn smart for your own good?" John asked, fingers plucking at the handmade afghan on the back of the futon.
Rodney shrugged and sat down in the battered leather recliner that had a good view of the lake. Today it was mostly grey skies and forbidding water, but that suited his mood just fine. He wasn't sure he could have handled bright sunshine. "Yeah. I've been working on contract down in the states, actually. Not too far from the Air Force Academy. Just ended. I haven't decided what offer to take up next. UBC wants me, and they're campaigning pretty hard, but really? The stupid of undergrads might kill me." He shrugged. "I've got plenty saved, so I figured I might as well spend some time up here, maybe get to know my nieces. They're not stupid," he added, "despite their father's genetic contributions."
"So how far did you go, anyways? School-wise?" John asked. "Because shit, last time I saw you, you already had one degree down. Physics or math or something?"
"Astrophysics, mostly. I have two doctorates, but that's the one I'm working in. I'm the foremost expert in things very few people on this planet could even begin to understand, which sort of takes some of the fun out of it, when you think about it. But I'm still the smartest person you'll ever meet, most likely. You'll just have to take it on faith." He shrugged. "How far did you get before, uh ..." he waved his beer bottle meaningfully.
"How... oh, Major. Which means, yes, I went post-grad as well. Aeronautical engineering." He smiled thinly. "Now I'm a full time jet-setting playboy." At Rodney's raised eyebrow, he shrugged. "Well. I do pretend to manage my family's aeronautical design company, too. But that's just flagrant nepotism. Honestly, most of the time I'm joyriding test models and seducing women of easy virtue with large trust funds," he said blithely, with just a hint of bitterness. "How's the family, anyway? Your mom and dad still making each other miserable?"
"Possibly. Probably," Rodney said wryly. "That's why I'm here, really. They died in a car crash a couple of months ago, and I've been up here sorting their estate out." John winced, and shifted on the sofa to look out the big picture windows.
"That sucks," he said, carefully not looking at Rodney, trying to follow some bullshit guy code that made no sense because Rodney hadn't cried when he put them in the ground, so he sure as hell wasn't going to get teary-eyed now. And then he did look at Rodney, his hazel-green eyes sympathetic and he said, "Even if they fought, they were still your parents, huh? They make you crazy and you still keep on caring. Totally fucked up." Suddenly, surprisingly, Rodney's throat tightened, like the only time he'd eaten oranges. He thought, perhaps, that he was allergic to emotion. It would explain a lot.
He tilted his bottle in acknowledgement, and wondered, suddenly, why they'd sort of fallen into hanging out as kids; he always thought that they shouldn't have had much to say to each other. He'd never been quite in John's league. John had been the cute kid, then the handsome guy, the popular one everybody had always liked and Rodney ... Rodney had had asthma and liked books better than people. It was just that John had kept showing up at the door, inviting him along, like he didn't understand the dichotomy between cool kids and geeks. Like he sort of ... liked Rodney.
"Well," Rodney said finally, and not without irony, "this is a hell of a trip down memory lane, isn't it? Maybe we can go out on the lake again and you can half-drown me for old time's sake?"
John shot him a sideways look. "Yeah, because I did that on purpose. Christ, I was, what? Seven? and you were six?"
"Five and a half," Rodney corrected.
"Whatever." John waved his hand negligently. "Still. We had some good times, all those summers? Didn't we? I seem to remember torturing your sister a lot, and then, when we were seventeen, that two-four and those girls on the beach?" He grinned at Rodney, the first real smile since his greeting on the docks below.
"Yeah, that was fun," Rodney agreed. "Even if my parents did ground me for the rest of the summer and argued about whose side of the family was responsible for my incipient alcoholism, and, oh yeah, did I mention the grounding?" But he was smiling at the memory, all the same.
"Like that stopped you," John scoffed. "How come," he said, after awhile, "how come we never kept in touch?"
Rodney wanted to say, because you were the jock and I was the geek and oh, yeah, I fell in love with you when I was five and never really got over it, but he just shrugged instead. "We grew up, I guess."
"Growing up sucks," John said, and the vehemence in his tone surprised Rodney.
"Parts of it, maybe," Rodney agreed. "Other parts are all right. Coffee. Beer. Staying out all night." He grinned. "Which sounds a lot like my adolescence, upon reflection. So how long are you here for?"
"Forever," John said. "I'm running away from home." He downed the last of the bottle. "Thanks for the beer. I need to run into town, get my groceries. Hey, d'you still like the Canucks? Because they're playing tomorrow, and I've got satellite."
Rodney smiled. "Yeah, I still like the Canucks, and yeah, I 'd love to come over and watch. What time?" He stood and took John's empty bottle.
"Uh, seven. So maybe six-thirty. I'll have food. Hey, you're allergic to stuff, right?" he said thoughtfully.
"Citrus," Rodney agreed. "Don't serve me lemon chicken and we should be okay."
"I was thinking frozen pizza," John confessed, and Rodney nodded.
"Yeah, that's a food group I know well." They walked over to the front door, and Rodney felt like he was fourteen again and walking a girl to the door and he fucking hated himself for it, but John was still John and Rodney ... Rodney hadn't changed nearly as much as he thought he had. "See you tomorrow, then?" and he was ashamed at how relieved he felt when John nodded, smiling a little.
"Yeah. That'll be cool. Nice seeing you again, Rodney," and John's eyebrow went up and he sort of jerked his head up the lane and then he was walking away. Rodney watched him from the front porch, despite his better judgement.
)0(
The next day was wet, which was pretty much par for the course for early May in British Columbia, so Rodney spent some of the morning going through the boxes in the storage cupboards behind the wall in the loft bedroom, sorting through stacks of home movies, photos, a bunch of broken crockery and an early VHS that turned out to be soft core porn. He fervently hoped that it was there from one of Jeannie's college parties and not some relic of his parents' sex life because ... ewww.
The afternoon he spent sprawled on the loft bed under a blanket reading through journals and making mocking notes in the margins, because it appeared most of his peers were Christless idiots, and yes, he'd had the advantage of the top secret data from the Stargate program, but still?
Christless idiots.
He grabbed his laptop and started drafting a series of scathing letters while the old stovetop percolator made his second pot of very bad coffee for the day. By the time he'd finished the pot off he'd gotten through about half his letters, and he noticed the shadows were lengthening over the lake, so he went and showered and changed into clean underwear and his "Entropy Happens' long-sleeved T-shirt. And he didn't wear cologne, because it wasn't a date, but he did gargle because two pots of coffee and leftover stir-fry probably required that much at least.
He was at John's door by 6:15, the first time he'd been early for anything in almost ten years. John didn't appear to notice, though, just pressed a beer into his hand and showed him into the living room. He could smell pizza heating in the oven, and there were taco chips and salsa on the table. John pointed at the salsa. "Vegetables," he said, grinning.
"Well, nice to know we won't be getting scurvy anytime soon. And hey, when did you start watching hockey?" Rodney asked, sitting down and helping himself to a chip.
"I haven't, not really. It's just I figured hockey would probably be better than lawn bowling, you know? Although we could switch, if you want?" He sat down on the couch next to Rodney, all loose-limbed sprawl and he, Rodney noticed, had worn cologne.
"Thanks, no. I had a traumatic lawn bowling experience as a kid, involving my grandmother and a little old lady who wore short skirts with no panties and ... yeah. Scarred for life." Rodney's hands rose and fell to express the full scope of the terror.
John laughed suddenly, spewing a bit of taco chip and Rodney had to thump his back a couple of times. "Jesus. Yeah. We'll stick to hockey." The screen flickered on when John hit a couple of remotes and then they just talked about Bertuzzi and Iginla and why the little laser-pointer puck on Fox had been beyond lame. The pizza was ready about halfway through the first period, and they each put away about half of it, with Rodney snagging the last piece.
By the time the second period had started they were on their second beers, and sprawling over the overstuffed couch and shouting catcalls at the refs, though Rodney had to explain half of what John was shouting at. And then the second intermission came and Rodney found John looking at him, far too intently for two guys watching hockey.
"Hey, I gotta ask you something," John said, muting commentary. "Are you still gay?"
Rodney sputtered his beer all over his "entropy" shirt. "What the hell?"
John went into the kitchen and came back with a wad of paper towels. "Yeah, sorry about that. But you are gay, right?"
Rodney glared at him. "Aren't you supposed to, I don't know, not ask questions like that?" he snapped, and John raised his hands placatingly.
"Not so much after you get kicked out. I mean ... I sort of figured it out when you were fifteen, and I got you drunk that one time, at the beach party? because ... well, you said some stuff on the way home. Not about the girls, either."
Rodney dropped his head into his hands. "Oh, god. Just kill me now. And I'm not gay, I'm bisexual, technically. I just ... skew a little higher on the Kinsey scale is all. I always liked the bigger numbers." He raised his head. "I'm assuming you have a reason for asking this?"
"Well. I've kind of got a problem, and seeing you again yesterday got me thinking, and you guys legalized gay marriage up here, right?" John's voice was almost scarily intent, and Rodney nodded.
"Yeah, it's legal up here. And again, I assume you have a reason for asking me this that doesn't involve some godawful hidden camera show?" Rodney took the towels up again and dabbed ineffectually at his shirt just to have something to do.
"Well, I kind of need to get married, and I was thinking ... maybe you might just be the guy for me," John said finally, and Rodney started laughing so hard he fell off of the sofa.
)0(
"Okay, let me get this straight: you need your grandmother's inheritance, which includes about 25 percent ownership of the family business, to get yourself in a position to run Ashlynn Aeronautic Design. And your grandmother has a section in her will that says you can't inherit unless you're married, and have been for a year at least, otherwise it reverts to your cousin?" Rodney sighed. "Your family is nuts. Really. Completely whacko. I'm going to need more beer. And, uh, hello? Would the will even recognize the marriage since it's not even legal in the US?"
John went into the kitchen and brought another two beers out. "Yeah, that's part of what makes you such a great choice. Grandma was from Vancouver. Canadian citizen. So's my mom. That's why we have the cabin up here," he said twisting the top off the bottle before handing it to Rodney. "I mean, look at it, my cousin Alex is going to try and get it overturned any way he can, so some quickie marriage to the babe of the week isn't going to cut it. He'll be all over it with his lawyers. Not to mention ... well. It's a lot of money, and that makes for a whole other set of problems once all the legal stuff is settled. But an unknown childhood sweetheart, and a guy at that? That might explain why it never came up, and we do have the history to pull it off. Plus? I know you Rodney. Practically my whole life. You wouldn't be interested in my money or my company. You've got a big enough bank account that mine won't be that tempting, and you're all about the science anyway, right?"
"Uh, yeah. That's me, the science guy. But there's a potential flaw in your cunning plan, and it's pretty small so I can see how you might have missed it but ... you're not gay!" Rodney knew his voice was getting shrill, but Jesus. "I mean, seriously. If we have to prove we're in love to your cousin and lawyers and a whole bunch of people, I really think the not liking dick aspect might cramp your performance."
And that, right there, was a tactical error, because John's gaze got really focused and then he was leaning in and kissing Rodney with a single-minded intensity that made Rodney's toes curl. It was hard and wet and it took no prisoners. Rodney moaned around John's tongue, shifted so he could push back, push closer, sink his fingers into the dark, messy hair that had been the focus of far too many jerk-off fantasies in his late adolescence.
Finally, John pulled back, wiping his wet mouth on the back of his hand, panting slightly. "I've always considered myself a flexible guy," John said, his eyes gleaming. "I've been really ... flexible, once or twice. Come on, Rodney. I'd owe you one." He smiled winningly, the same damn grin that had gotten Rodney into far more kinds of trouble than he might have figured out on his own.
"You'd owe me a lot more than one," Rodney said with some asperity. "You'll be owing me until the day you die and three years after that, too. And, uh, if you want a divorce, later? You have to be a Canadian resident for at least a year, you do know that, right?"
John shrugged. "I don't have a problem with that, really. I was already planning on opening a branch of the company up here, that's part of the reason why I need controlling interest. C'mon, for old time's sake? Unless you don't find the idea of regular sex with me appealing?"
Rodney sighed. "You know, you got me into far too much trouble when I was a kid. Shouldn't that, just maybe, be over with now that we're old?"
John grinned. "So that's a yes?"
Rodney dropped his head into his hands and he knew this was probably the dumbest thing he'd ever done or ever would do, including the whole Carter thing, but: "Yeah. That's a yes. But I get the house, after. I hate moving."
)0(
After that, everything just sort of snowballed. Within a month he found himself standing in his sister's bedroom, with her in green silk and him in a navy suit jacket with grey slacks, while his oldest niece picked out which of the three ties he'd bought he should wear. In the middle of all the bustle his younger niece ignored them in favour of sprawling over the settee in the corner and reading the novel he'd loaned her.
After three attempts at getting the white carnation on his lapel, he had to give up and let his sister take over. However, that might not have been such a good idea since Jeannie had really, really sharp grey eyes and at the moment it seemed like they were trying to see through the front of Rodney's skull right into his brain. She'd always been far too good at that kind of thing. "I still don't remember any torrid romance when we were kids," she said, sliding the boutonniere into his suit jacket. "I mean, he always liked you more than any normal human should, but I don't recall any overt PDA's."
"Because of course we'd have held hands and carved our names into the picnic table, right?" Rodney said. "Oh, god. I think I'm going to puke."
"You're not going to puke," Jeannie said firmly, her long fingers grasping his chin. "Miri!"
About a minute later his fourteen-year old niece was there holding a steaming thermos with an herbal tea bag in it. "Ginger tea," she said. "Don't breathe through your nose, just take really big swallows. It helps. And don't even try arguing, because it just isn't worth it."
Rodney grimaced but downed half the mug in one big swallow. "That's really terrible." But his stomach eased up. "However, since I'm not barfing in the garbage can, I guess it works."
"D'you think John is puking?" Nessa asked from her seat on the couch, looking up from her copy of "American Gods". "Does everyone puke at weddings?" She was twelve, and the image of her mother at that age, right down to the same auburn hair and grey eyes. There was a hint of smile in them now as she winked at Rodney's reflection in the mirror. "Because if puking is required, I'll stay single."
"It's not required, it's just an added bonus," Rodney said. "Why don't you go see how John's doing? He might just need some of that tea." Nessa nodded and closed her book and went out of her mother's bedroom. "How much longer?"
"Ten minutes. And really, it's not that big of a deal. We've got the marriage commissioner, and two witnesses, and your nieces. It's not like you've got to stand up in front of two hundred people and then shove cake in one another's face. But," she said, her voice softening. "It's still a big day. Are you sure about this?"
Rodney wanted to say no, wanted to say that he wasn't sure at all. Jeannie was a good big sister, if a bossy one, and he knew she'd go out there and send everyone packing if he wanted her to. Instead, he said, "He's the first person I ever fell in love with."
Miri snorted, something Rodney had a sneaking suspicion she'd picked up from him. "Relax, Mom. Have you seen the way he looks at John? I'm going to go tell Mrs. Mackleroy to get ready, okay?" She came up, pinched Rodney's shoulder. "And you relax, Uncle Rodney. I've seen how he looks at you, too. It's all googly-eyed and really gross for people your age. If you don't get over it soon I'll be drinking ginger tea willingly."
And then Rodney was alone with Jeannie still looking at him like she could see right through his forehead. "Okay then. Let's get you married. And, uh ... if you do puke? Lean away from me, because I plan to wear this dress again."
)0(
It was odd that something so goddamned terrifying should take twenty minutes, and be over before he'd even realized it had happened. One minute the little old lady with grey hair was reading through the ceremony they'd picked out, and then there was a silver ring on his left hand, and then John was kissing him in front of Jeannie, John's lawyer and Rodney's nieces. It wasn't like the kiss at the cabin, just a firm brush of slightly open lips, but it still made his body run hot and cold and his fingers curl tightly into John's biceps.
And then he blinked, and they were at dinner at The Five Sails, and then he blinked again and they were in a pretty fancy room with a hell of a view and a single, king-sized bed. "This whole day feels like a really wacky hallucinogenic trip," Rodney said, sinking into one of the room's overstuffed chairs.
John grinned at him. "How many wacky hallucinogens have you taken, Rodney?" and all of a sudden Rodney started shaking quietly in the chair, fingers going white knuckled on the arms because he was, he suddenly realized, in a hell of a lot of trouble. "Hey, what's up?" John's hands were broad and strong, and the silver glint of the wedding ring made Rodney's stomach flip over. "Are you feeling okay?"
Rodney nodded. "I ... too much wine at dinner, I think. I got light-headed. I probably just need to brush my teeth, drink a couple of gallons of water and then get to sleep."
John's thumb rubbed gently over Rodney's knuckles. "Yeah, probably a good idea. Stake out which side you want, okay?" He stood, rummaged through his case and then Rodney's for their toiletry kits. Rodney took his into the marble bathroom and got everything laid out how he liked it, and then started brushing his teeth. He almost choked to death when John walked in half-naked and started the shower running.
"I can't thank you enough for this," John said, stripping his suit pants off and then his striped silk boxers and oh, Houston, we had nudity. Rodney hastily bent down and spit into the sink, keeping his head down and running through Planck blackbody equations in his head until he heard the shower curtain close. "Nice. The massage settings actually work. And hey, speaking of massage," John said, "did you notice they've got a spa in here? Wanna see if we can score appointments tomorrow? Unless you'd prefer a pedicure?" He stuck his head out briefly and winked at Rodney, who just nodded. "Cool. Then maybe a couple of days doing the touristy-honeymoon thing. Umm. Somewhere in there we need to meet with the lawyer, get stuff rolling. And then I guess we need to look at real estate, huh? Something local for us both."
"Yeah," Rodney agreed. "Well. Uh. I'm going to go get some water, and then get some sleep if that's okay?" John's hand waved at him over the shower curtain rod.
Rodney crawled between the Egyptian cotton sheets, very carefully positioned on his side of the bed. He full well expected to be awake all night but he'd had enough wine at dinner, after all, and he was out like a light before he even heard the shower shut off.
)0(
He woke up warm and tangled in the middle of the night, half-hard and moving against John's hip. He stopped, mortified, and started to pull away, but John reached over, pulled him in tight. "Don't stop. Feels nice." His voice was rough with sleep and his eyes were nothing more than a faint gleam in the darkened room. "I mean, we never really talked about this in detail, but ... I wasn't kidding when I said I was flexible. And I like you, and you like me, and we're going to spend a lot of time together convincing people we're together and ... this is one hell of good way of making it realistic." His hand trailed down Rodney's arm, then dropped to his waist and slid over the small of his back. "Do you want to?"
"God, yes," and John laughed and pulled him in tight and kissed him, almost sweetly at first, but sweet soon disappeared, burnt up in the sudden heat that flared in Rodney. He pulled John over, on top of him, and got his hands under his boxers, grabbing his ass and grinding up against him as his mouth slipped from John's lips to his jaw and then down to where his neck met his shoulder.
"Shit," John hissed, twisting to expose more throat, pressing down against him. "God. Can we have a little more skin here?" Rodney loosened his grip enough that John could skin out of his boxers, then help Rodney get rid of his. "God, yeah," he sighed as their cocks lined up, slid against one another, and then he kissed Rodney again, deep and piercing, his tongue fucking into Rodney's mouth as they ground against each other.
"I want to suck you," Rodney said thickly, shifting to nip at John's jaw, and he felt John's body shudder in response. "Can I suck you off?" and John rolled off, onto his back, legs spread. Rodney shifted to kneel between his legs, working his way slowly, deliberately down, exploring every inch of bare skin with teeth and tongue and finger tips until he came to the wet tip of John's cock. He licked it once, a broad swipe with the flat of his tongue and then he sucked him into his mouth. John thrust shallowly up with a rough, broken sigh, in response. After a few moments Rodney slipped a hand under him and stroked his balls, then along his perineum, then a ghost of fingertips along the edge of John's asshole, all the while rising and falling and sucking so hard it hollowed his cheeks until John came with a muffled grunt.
Rodney swallowed, then slid up the bed and kissed John, hard and wet. "Oh, God," John said, and then he reached down and took Rodney's dick in his hand, started jerking him with firm, brisk strokes, letting his thumb catch and slide along the head with each upstroke, twisting slightly on the down stroke. "How's that?" he asked, still panting, and Rodney just nodded, biting his lip, because, Christ, he was right there, right on the edge. One last pull and his hips arched up off the bed as he came in one, two, three slow, wet pulses, striping John's hand and ribs.
They lay beside each other, just breathing heavily for a few minutes, and then John licked his fingers tentatively. "Interesting," he said, and smiled, and then kissed Rodney one more time, deep and searching. "And nice, too. Very nice." He reached around and found his boxers to wipe himself up a bit, and then he curled up against Rodney. "This honeymoon thing could be kind of fun," John said, yawning, and Rodney fell back asleep to the feel of John's fingers stroking against his hip.
)0(
The curtain opened in the middle of the shower and John was smiling at him. "I got us in for noon, an hour and half of massage. And then I thought we'd check out the Aquarium. I haven't been there since I was twelve." He joined Rodney under the spray. "You know, somebody got me all messy, and I'm thinking somebody ought to help me clean up."
"I could call maid service, if you'd like?" Rodney asked, and oh, god, he was stupid, but he'd spent his whole life being too damn smart for his own good, so maybe he could be allowed this, just this once. He leaned into John, kissed him hard, and thank God they were in a hotel because it took them a good forty minutes to get out of the shower again.
)0(
Rodney's feet hurt. He was cranky, hungry and seriously thinking about pitching a fit. It was the fifth place that day, the twentieth in the last week, the thirty-second in the last two weeks and as far as Rodney was concerned he was ready to move in right now. It had four bedrooms, a great room, a finished basement, a hot tub in the back and it was halfway between UBC and the airport. It was also well within their budget, since he'd sold his condo in Colorado and had the money from it sitting in a high interest account.
"Okay. We've each got our own office, we've got room for our shitload of electronics, we've got room for my cat and a yard for your dog and hey, there's a fireplace. The inspector says it's in great shape. Either we make an offer or I'm going to go get my own apartment and you can come visit me on alternate Sundays because I am done. Done." He waved his hand imperiously when John opened his mouth. "Done. Seriously. I have a syllabus to draw up. So. Done!"
"You know," said John, adrift somewhere between amused and annoyed, "I'd forgotten this part of your personality."
"Well, that was very stupid of you, because my sister reminded you, as did my nieces, several times before the wedding," Rodney replied. "Perhaps it was the oral sex that made you forget?"
In the next room, the realtor dropped her clipboard. John started giggling uncontrollably. "The hardwood floors will be hard on the knees," he said finally, eyebrow skewed upward. "Not to mention the tile in the bathrooms.
"Rugs can be bought," Rodney said. "C'mon. There's a deck. You can barbecue. And did you count the jets in the master suite bath? Seriously. You're just being paranoid. It's not like we're going to buy this place and then suddenly the perfect house is going to spring up out of nowhere and taunt us, okay? Besides which, your family will probably start showing up in a few weeks, and I think it'll look better if we're, oh, I don't know, actually cohabitating."
"It's a pretty cool place," John conceded. "So. We're making an offer?"
"Yes!" Rodney. "God, yes. Finally. Mrs. Singh? We want to make an offer. And we'll pay extra to close early."
"Hey!" said John, but Rodney pointed at him warningly. "Okay, not the pointy finger of doom. Jesus." He looked over at Mrs. Singh, smiling with thinly contained amusement. "Apparently we'll pay extra to close early, if that's doable?"
"So I heard," she said. "The family has already moved, so I don't think that'll be a problem. They have had a couple of bids already, so ..." she shrugged meaningfully.
Rodney rolled his eyes. "What do you think it'll take to get us in here?"
"A little over 480 thousand," she said.
"Done. Good. Let's go do paperwork. I'm hungry." Rodney picked up his laptop satchel and slung it over his shoulder. "We can do this over dinner, right?"
Mrs. Singh smiled at him, and Rodney could see the dollar signs in her eyes. "Yes, we can most certainly do that."
)0(
Rodney's stuff in storage in Colorado arrived about nineteen hours before John's truck from California came into town so they spent about forty-two hours straight awake and then about eleven straight asleep, only to be woken by the front doorbell.
Rodney shrugged into his robe and peered blearily through the peephole, then opened the door. "Hi. Is it tomorrow already?"
"Yep," said Nessa, holding the cat carrier in front of her while her mom and sister each had a couple of small boxes. "You promised us movies, and barbecue."
"Yeah, we did," John replied, coming down the stairs in a pair of pyjama bottoms that Rodney hadn't even known he owned. "The laundry room, back of the kitchen is where we've got Fenster's box set up. It's got a door and everything, so he can stay in there for a day or so while he's getting used to stuff." He reached out and took the carrier out of Nessa's grasp. "C'mon. Let me show you."
"Uh, I'm going to go shower and stuff, I'll be right back down, okay?" he said. "There should be coffee, I think. I set the timer. It's that way," he pointed the way John and Nessa had headed. "Help yourself to whatever's in the fridge if you're hungry. I think we've got doughnuts."
Two minutes into his shower John was in there with him, both of them in a hurry but taking the time to share a couple of sleepy kisses. "Your nieces are unpacking your books. You alphabetize your books by genre and by author?"
"Yeah. You don't?" and John just grinned at him. Rodney's heart flip-flopped lazily in his chest. He knew this was a disaster, waiting to happen, that nine months from now it might all be done with but he just couldn't bring himself to pull away. A marriage of convenience, a friendly favour, with some downright incendiary fringe benefits, but still ...
not love.
At least, not on John's part.
He found his nieces neatly fitting John's books into his own organizational system. "You guys have lots of books," Miri said, sticking a section up on a bookcase shelf. "Although, you do have two copies of a lot of stuff, including your comic books."
"Graphic novels," Rodney corrected. "Where's your mom?"
"In the car, getting supplies. She says she's lining your shelves and stuff, because men are too stupid to know better," Nessa replied. "Hey, can I have some of the duplicates?"
Rodney shrugged. "Take my copies. They have my name in them." He figured he could always replace them after this was all done with. "Check with me, first, though. Some of them have explicit sex and I'm going to make damn sure your mother knows first so she's not coming after me with a hatchet later."
Nessa rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Right. I've put condoms on bananas at school. I don't think any of your books will scar me for life."
"I'm not afraid of scarring you for life, I'm afraid of your mother scarring me for life," Rodney retorted. "I'm going to get coffee, say hello to Fenster and then I'm going to start hooking up the electronics."
"What do you want me to do?" John asked, coming down the stairs, tugging at black cotton T-shirt that was well worn and soft and ghosted teasingly over the planes and angles of his lean torso.
"You get to put the barbecue together," Rodney said. "Try not to blow the place up in the process, because I'm not going through house hunting with you again."
John scratched his nose with his middle finger and then wandered off towards the kitchen. "And don't you dare take the last of the coffee, either," Rodney shouted after him.
"I may not be in Mensa, but I'm not stupid," John shouted back.
"So. That's love?" Miri asked, midway through setting up another row of books. "Not much like the movies, is it?"
"Very little is," Rodney said wryly.
END PART ONE
Title: The Convenient Husband 1/2
Spoilers: Not really.
Rating: Adult or NC-17
Author: Brighid
Summary: A marriage of convenience has some very incovenient complications for Rodney, as he deals with the fact that he's still in love with John Sheppard.
Note: Oh, god. AU, AU with some nods to canon. Uh. Oh god. *hangs head in shame*
The Convenient Husband
By Brighid
Rodney watched the water move slowly towards the dock, the subtle tides of the lake eddying forward and back. He'd been coming to his family's cabin at Rockwell Bay on Harrison Lake for most of his life, and it seemed odd to think that this might be the last time. In all honesty, he wasn't sure if he wanted to sell it, even though Jeannie had already listed the small property she'd inherited in Penticton; perhaps he was the more nostalgic of the two of them. He snorted, because really? That was pretty sad, all things considered.
Still. The cabin had good memories for him; they'd had good times there before his parents had become stiff and angry with one another, before the constant, stilted arguments that would be the hallmark of their marriage right until they both died in a car crash five blocks from their North Vancouver home.
"Hey! Hey!" and Rodney looked up from his quiet contemplation of the water to the next dock, where a tall man in jeans and a windbreaker was waving at him. "Holy shit. Rodney?"
"John?" Rodney stood, squinting, and yeah, okay, maybe it had been ten years but there was no way in hell he was forgetting that hair. "John Sheppard?"
"Yeah. Heh. What the hell are you doing here?" He still stood like he had when he was eighteen, legs apart and hands thrust in his back pockets, oddly defiant looking. Rodney swallowed hard and thought ruefully that it had exactly the same effect now as it had then. John had always been far too pretty for Rodney's own good.
"I'm trying to figure out if nostalgia is worth the yearly tax bill," he replied. "You?"
John shrugged. "Family's making me nuts. Same old stuff, really."
Rodney snorted. "Funny how that works. Listen, do you want to come over? Have a beer?" He waved up towards the cabin, and felt a peculiar sort of rush of fear and hope when John nodded.
"Sounds good. See you topside?" And then John was loping up the steep path to the wooden palace that his family had thought was a cabin. Rodney looked up at the cozy A-frame he'd inherited and sighed. At least he had good beer in the fridge.
)0(
John was waiting for him on the front porch, and Rodney was wrong, he wasn't exactly the same as he'd been at eighteen. There were subtle lines around his mouth, and threads of silver in his hair, and his eyes were far more shuttered than they'd been the last time they'd seen each other.
It didn't stop Rodney from wanting to lean in and kiss him, taste him. He tried to remember the first time he'd wanted to kiss John Sheppard, but it had become blurred into his overall adolescence: too much New Wave and stealing his sister's eyeliner and at least one football player who played a totally different game under the stands. He swallowed a sigh and waved John in ahead, took his windbreaker and then got them each a beer. "So. How's the Air Force?"
"Done. I got kicked out," John said, twisting the beer top off and taking a hearty gulp. He sprawled comfortably back into the futon, legs stretched out wide, and Rodney had to admire him in all his unstudied elegance; only John could look so completely natural in jeans that probably cost a couple of hundred dollars and a black cashmere sweater that made him look downright pettable. "Although I lasted a hell of a lot longer than anyone expected." He didn't seem particularly pleased about it though. "Still too damn smart for your own good?" John asked, fingers plucking at the handmade afghan on the back of the futon.
Rodney shrugged and sat down in the battered leather recliner that had a good view of the lake. Today it was mostly grey skies and forbidding water, but that suited his mood just fine. He wasn't sure he could have handled bright sunshine. "Yeah. I've been working on contract down in the states, actually. Not too far from the Air Force Academy. Just ended. I haven't decided what offer to take up next. UBC wants me, and they're campaigning pretty hard, but really? The stupid of undergrads might kill me." He shrugged. "I've got plenty saved, so I figured I might as well spend some time up here, maybe get to know my nieces. They're not stupid," he added, "despite their father's genetic contributions."
"So how far did you go, anyways? School-wise?" John asked. "Because shit, last time I saw you, you already had one degree down. Physics or math or something?"
"Astrophysics, mostly. I have two doctorates, but that's the one I'm working in. I'm the foremost expert in things very few people on this planet could even begin to understand, which sort of takes some of the fun out of it, when you think about it. But I'm still the smartest person you'll ever meet, most likely. You'll just have to take it on faith." He shrugged. "How far did you get before, uh ..." he waved his beer bottle meaningfully.
"How... oh, Major. Which means, yes, I went post-grad as well. Aeronautical engineering." He smiled thinly. "Now I'm a full time jet-setting playboy." At Rodney's raised eyebrow, he shrugged. "Well. I do pretend to manage my family's aeronautical design company, too. But that's just flagrant nepotism. Honestly, most of the time I'm joyriding test models and seducing women of easy virtue with large trust funds," he said blithely, with just a hint of bitterness. "How's the family, anyway? Your mom and dad still making each other miserable?"
"Possibly. Probably," Rodney said wryly. "That's why I'm here, really. They died in a car crash a couple of months ago, and I've been up here sorting their estate out." John winced, and shifted on the sofa to look out the big picture windows.
"That sucks," he said, carefully not looking at Rodney, trying to follow some bullshit guy code that made no sense because Rodney hadn't cried when he put them in the ground, so he sure as hell wasn't going to get teary-eyed now. And then he did look at Rodney, his hazel-green eyes sympathetic and he said, "Even if they fought, they were still your parents, huh? They make you crazy and you still keep on caring. Totally fucked up." Suddenly, surprisingly, Rodney's throat tightened, like the only time he'd eaten oranges. He thought, perhaps, that he was allergic to emotion. It would explain a lot.
He tilted his bottle in acknowledgement, and wondered, suddenly, why they'd sort of fallen into hanging out as kids; he always thought that they shouldn't have had much to say to each other. He'd never been quite in John's league. John had been the cute kid, then the handsome guy, the popular one everybody had always liked and Rodney ... Rodney had had asthma and liked books better than people. It was just that John had kept showing up at the door, inviting him along, like he didn't understand the dichotomy between cool kids and geeks. Like he sort of ... liked Rodney.
"Well," Rodney said finally, and not without irony, "this is a hell of a trip down memory lane, isn't it? Maybe we can go out on the lake again and you can half-drown me for old time's sake?"
John shot him a sideways look. "Yeah, because I did that on purpose. Christ, I was, what? Seven? and you were six?"
"Five and a half," Rodney corrected.
"Whatever." John waved his hand negligently. "Still. We had some good times, all those summers? Didn't we? I seem to remember torturing your sister a lot, and then, when we were seventeen, that two-four and those girls on the beach?" He grinned at Rodney, the first real smile since his greeting on the docks below.
"Yeah, that was fun," Rodney agreed. "Even if my parents did ground me for the rest of the summer and argued about whose side of the family was responsible for my incipient alcoholism, and, oh yeah, did I mention the grounding?" But he was smiling at the memory, all the same.
"Like that stopped you," John scoffed. "How come," he said, after awhile, "how come we never kept in touch?"
Rodney wanted to say, because you were the jock and I was the geek and oh, yeah, I fell in love with you when I was five and never really got over it, but he just shrugged instead. "We grew up, I guess."
"Growing up sucks," John said, and the vehemence in his tone surprised Rodney.
"Parts of it, maybe," Rodney agreed. "Other parts are all right. Coffee. Beer. Staying out all night." He grinned. "Which sounds a lot like my adolescence, upon reflection. So how long are you here for?"
"Forever," John said. "I'm running away from home." He downed the last of the bottle. "Thanks for the beer. I need to run into town, get my groceries. Hey, d'you still like the Canucks? Because they're playing tomorrow, and I've got satellite."
Rodney smiled. "Yeah, I still like the Canucks, and yeah, I 'd love to come over and watch. What time?" He stood and took John's empty bottle.
"Uh, seven. So maybe six-thirty. I'll have food. Hey, you're allergic to stuff, right?" he said thoughtfully.
"Citrus," Rodney agreed. "Don't serve me lemon chicken and we should be okay."
"I was thinking frozen pizza," John confessed, and Rodney nodded.
"Yeah, that's a food group I know well." They walked over to the front door, and Rodney felt like he was fourteen again and walking a girl to the door and he fucking hated himself for it, but John was still John and Rodney ... Rodney hadn't changed nearly as much as he thought he had. "See you tomorrow, then?" and he was ashamed at how relieved he felt when John nodded, smiling a little.
"Yeah. That'll be cool. Nice seeing you again, Rodney," and John's eyebrow went up and he sort of jerked his head up the lane and then he was walking away. Rodney watched him from the front porch, despite his better judgement.
)0(
The next day was wet, which was pretty much par for the course for early May in British Columbia, so Rodney spent some of the morning going through the boxes in the storage cupboards behind the wall in the loft bedroom, sorting through stacks of home movies, photos, a bunch of broken crockery and an early VHS that turned out to be soft core porn. He fervently hoped that it was there from one of Jeannie's college parties and not some relic of his parents' sex life because ... ewww.
The afternoon he spent sprawled on the loft bed under a blanket reading through journals and making mocking notes in the margins, because it appeared most of his peers were Christless idiots, and yes, he'd had the advantage of the top secret data from the Stargate program, but still?
Christless idiots.
He grabbed his laptop and started drafting a series of scathing letters while the old stovetop percolator made his second pot of very bad coffee for the day. By the time he'd finished the pot off he'd gotten through about half his letters, and he noticed the shadows were lengthening over the lake, so he went and showered and changed into clean underwear and his "Entropy Happens' long-sleeved T-shirt. And he didn't wear cologne, because it wasn't a date, but he did gargle because two pots of coffee and leftover stir-fry probably required that much at least.
He was at John's door by 6:15, the first time he'd been early for anything in almost ten years. John didn't appear to notice, though, just pressed a beer into his hand and showed him into the living room. He could smell pizza heating in the oven, and there were taco chips and salsa on the table. John pointed at the salsa. "Vegetables," he said, grinning.
"Well, nice to know we won't be getting scurvy anytime soon. And hey, when did you start watching hockey?" Rodney asked, sitting down and helping himself to a chip.
"I haven't, not really. It's just I figured hockey would probably be better than lawn bowling, you know? Although we could switch, if you want?" He sat down on the couch next to Rodney, all loose-limbed sprawl and he, Rodney noticed, had worn cologne.
"Thanks, no. I had a traumatic lawn bowling experience as a kid, involving my grandmother and a little old lady who wore short skirts with no panties and ... yeah. Scarred for life." Rodney's hands rose and fell to express the full scope of the terror.
John laughed suddenly, spewing a bit of taco chip and Rodney had to thump his back a couple of times. "Jesus. Yeah. We'll stick to hockey." The screen flickered on when John hit a couple of remotes and then they just talked about Bertuzzi and Iginla and why the little laser-pointer puck on Fox had been beyond lame. The pizza was ready about halfway through the first period, and they each put away about half of it, with Rodney snagging the last piece.
By the time the second period had started they were on their second beers, and sprawling over the overstuffed couch and shouting catcalls at the refs, though Rodney had to explain half of what John was shouting at. And then the second intermission came and Rodney found John looking at him, far too intently for two guys watching hockey.
"Hey, I gotta ask you something," John said, muting commentary. "Are you still gay?"
Rodney sputtered his beer all over his "entropy" shirt. "What the hell?"
John went into the kitchen and came back with a wad of paper towels. "Yeah, sorry about that. But you are gay, right?"
Rodney glared at him. "Aren't you supposed to, I don't know, not ask questions like that?" he snapped, and John raised his hands placatingly.
"Not so much after you get kicked out. I mean ... I sort of figured it out when you were fifteen, and I got you drunk that one time, at the beach party? because ... well, you said some stuff on the way home. Not about the girls, either."
Rodney dropped his head into his hands. "Oh, god. Just kill me now. And I'm not gay, I'm bisexual, technically. I just ... skew a little higher on the Kinsey scale is all. I always liked the bigger numbers." He raised his head. "I'm assuming you have a reason for asking this?"
"Well. I've kind of got a problem, and seeing you again yesterday got me thinking, and you guys legalized gay marriage up here, right?" John's voice was almost scarily intent, and Rodney nodded.
"Yeah, it's legal up here. And again, I assume you have a reason for asking me this that doesn't involve some godawful hidden camera show?" Rodney took the towels up again and dabbed ineffectually at his shirt just to have something to do.
"Well, I kind of need to get married, and I was thinking ... maybe you might just be the guy for me," John said finally, and Rodney started laughing so hard he fell off of the sofa.
)0(
"Okay, let me get this straight: you need your grandmother's inheritance, which includes about 25 percent ownership of the family business, to get yourself in a position to run Ashlynn Aeronautic Design. And your grandmother has a section in her will that says you can't inherit unless you're married, and have been for a year at least, otherwise it reverts to your cousin?" Rodney sighed. "Your family is nuts. Really. Completely whacko. I'm going to need more beer. And, uh, hello? Would the will even recognize the marriage since it's not even legal in the US?"
John went into the kitchen and brought another two beers out. "Yeah, that's part of what makes you such a great choice. Grandma was from Vancouver. Canadian citizen. So's my mom. That's why we have the cabin up here," he said twisting the top off the bottle before handing it to Rodney. "I mean, look at it, my cousin Alex is going to try and get it overturned any way he can, so some quickie marriage to the babe of the week isn't going to cut it. He'll be all over it with his lawyers. Not to mention ... well. It's a lot of money, and that makes for a whole other set of problems once all the legal stuff is settled. But an unknown childhood sweetheart, and a guy at that? That might explain why it never came up, and we do have the history to pull it off. Plus? I know you Rodney. Practically my whole life. You wouldn't be interested in my money or my company. You've got a big enough bank account that mine won't be that tempting, and you're all about the science anyway, right?"
"Uh, yeah. That's me, the science guy. But there's a potential flaw in your cunning plan, and it's pretty small so I can see how you might have missed it but ... you're not gay!" Rodney knew his voice was getting shrill, but Jesus. "I mean, seriously. If we have to prove we're in love to your cousin and lawyers and a whole bunch of people, I really think the not liking dick aspect might cramp your performance."
And that, right there, was a tactical error, because John's gaze got really focused and then he was leaning in and kissing Rodney with a single-minded intensity that made Rodney's toes curl. It was hard and wet and it took no prisoners. Rodney moaned around John's tongue, shifted so he could push back, push closer, sink his fingers into the dark, messy hair that had been the focus of far too many jerk-off fantasies in his late adolescence.
Finally, John pulled back, wiping his wet mouth on the back of his hand, panting slightly. "I've always considered myself a flexible guy," John said, his eyes gleaming. "I've been really ... flexible, once or twice. Come on, Rodney. I'd owe you one." He smiled winningly, the same damn grin that had gotten Rodney into far more kinds of trouble than he might have figured out on his own.
"You'd owe me a lot more than one," Rodney said with some asperity. "You'll be owing me until the day you die and three years after that, too. And, uh, if you want a divorce, later? You have to be a Canadian resident for at least a year, you do know that, right?"
John shrugged. "I don't have a problem with that, really. I was already planning on opening a branch of the company up here, that's part of the reason why I need controlling interest. C'mon, for old time's sake? Unless you don't find the idea of regular sex with me appealing?"
Rodney sighed. "You know, you got me into far too much trouble when I was a kid. Shouldn't that, just maybe, be over with now that we're old?"
John grinned. "So that's a yes?"
Rodney dropped his head into his hands and he knew this was probably the dumbest thing he'd ever done or ever would do, including the whole Carter thing, but: "Yeah. That's a yes. But I get the house, after. I hate moving."
)0(
After that, everything just sort of snowballed. Within a month he found himself standing in his sister's bedroom, with her in green silk and him in a navy suit jacket with grey slacks, while his oldest niece picked out which of the three ties he'd bought he should wear. In the middle of all the bustle his younger niece ignored them in favour of sprawling over the settee in the corner and reading the novel he'd loaned her.
After three attempts at getting the white carnation on his lapel, he had to give up and let his sister take over. However, that might not have been such a good idea since Jeannie had really, really sharp grey eyes and at the moment it seemed like they were trying to see through the front of Rodney's skull right into his brain. She'd always been far too good at that kind of thing. "I still don't remember any torrid romance when we were kids," she said, sliding the boutonniere into his suit jacket. "I mean, he always liked you more than any normal human should, but I don't recall any overt PDA's."
"Because of course we'd have held hands and carved our names into the picnic table, right?" Rodney said. "Oh, god. I think I'm going to puke."
"You're not going to puke," Jeannie said firmly, her long fingers grasping his chin. "Miri!"
About a minute later his fourteen-year old niece was there holding a steaming thermos with an herbal tea bag in it. "Ginger tea," she said. "Don't breathe through your nose, just take really big swallows. It helps. And don't even try arguing, because it just isn't worth it."
Rodney grimaced but downed half the mug in one big swallow. "That's really terrible." But his stomach eased up. "However, since I'm not barfing in the garbage can, I guess it works."
"D'you think John is puking?" Nessa asked from her seat on the couch, looking up from her copy of "American Gods". "Does everyone puke at weddings?" She was twelve, and the image of her mother at that age, right down to the same auburn hair and grey eyes. There was a hint of smile in them now as she winked at Rodney's reflection in the mirror. "Because if puking is required, I'll stay single."
"It's not required, it's just an added bonus," Rodney said. "Why don't you go see how John's doing? He might just need some of that tea." Nessa nodded and closed her book and went out of her mother's bedroom. "How much longer?"
"Ten minutes. And really, it's not that big of a deal. We've got the marriage commissioner, and two witnesses, and your nieces. It's not like you've got to stand up in front of two hundred people and then shove cake in one another's face. But," she said, her voice softening. "It's still a big day. Are you sure about this?"
Rodney wanted to say no, wanted to say that he wasn't sure at all. Jeannie was a good big sister, if a bossy one, and he knew she'd go out there and send everyone packing if he wanted her to. Instead, he said, "He's the first person I ever fell in love with."
Miri snorted, something Rodney had a sneaking suspicion she'd picked up from him. "Relax, Mom. Have you seen the way he looks at John? I'm going to go tell Mrs. Mackleroy to get ready, okay?" She came up, pinched Rodney's shoulder. "And you relax, Uncle Rodney. I've seen how he looks at you, too. It's all googly-eyed and really gross for people your age. If you don't get over it soon I'll be drinking ginger tea willingly."
And then Rodney was alone with Jeannie still looking at him like she could see right through his forehead. "Okay then. Let's get you married. And, uh ... if you do puke? Lean away from me, because I plan to wear this dress again."
)0(
It was odd that something so goddamned terrifying should take twenty minutes, and be over before he'd even realized it had happened. One minute the little old lady with grey hair was reading through the ceremony they'd picked out, and then there was a silver ring on his left hand, and then John was kissing him in front of Jeannie, John's lawyer and Rodney's nieces. It wasn't like the kiss at the cabin, just a firm brush of slightly open lips, but it still made his body run hot and cold and his fingers curl tightly into John's biceps.
And then he blinked, and they were at dinner at The Five Sails, and then he blinked again and they were in a pretty fancy room with a hell of a view and a single, king-sized bed. "This whole day feels like a really wacky hallucinogenic trip," Rodney said, sinking into one of the room's overstuffed chairs.
John grinned at him. "How many wacky hallucinogens have you taken, Rodney?" and all of a sudden Rodney started shaking quietly in the chair, fingers going white knuckled on the arms because he was, he suddenly realized, in a hell of a lot of trouble. "Hey, what's up?" John's hands were broad and strong, and the silver glint of the wedding ring made Rodney's stomach flip over. "Are you feeling okay?"
Rodney nodded. "I ... too much wine at dinner, I think. I got light-headed. I probably just need to brush my teeth, drink a couple of gallons of water and then get to sleep."
John's thumb rubbed gently over Rodney's knuckles. "Yeah, probably a good idea. Stake out which side you want, okay?" He stood, rummaged through his case and then Rodney's for their toiletry kits. Rodney took his into the marble bathroom and got everything laid out how he liked it, and then started brushing his teeth. He almost choked to death when John walked in half-naked and started the shower running.
"I can't thank you enough for this," John said, stripping his suit pants off and then his striped silk boxers and oh, Houston, we had nudity. Rodney hastily bent down and spit into the sink, keeping his head down and running through Planck blackbody equations in his head until he heard the shower curtain close. "Nice. The massage settings actually work. And hey, speaking of massage," John said, "did you notice they've got a spa in here? Wanna see if we can score appointments tomorrow? Unless you'd prefer a pedicure?" He stuck his head out briefly and winked at Rodney, who just nodded. "Cool. Then maybe a couple of days doing the touristy-honeymoon thing. Umm. Somewhere in there we need to meet with the lawyer, get stuff rolling. And then I guess we need to look at real estate, huh? Something local for us both."
"Yeah," Rodney agreed. "Well. Uh. I'm going to go get some water, and then get some sleep if that's okay?" John's hand waved at him over the shower curtain rod.
Rodney crawled between the Egyptian cotton sheets, very carefully positioned on his side of the bed. He full well expected to be awake all night but he'd had enough wine at dinner, after all, and he was out like a light before he even heard the shower shut off.
)0(
He woke up warm and tangled in the middle of the night, half-hard and moving against John's hip. He stopped, mortified, and started to pull away, but John reached over, pulled him in tight. "Don't stop. Feels nice." His voice was rough with sleep and his eyes were nothing more than a faint gleam in the darkened room. "I mean, we never really talked about this in detail, but ... I wasn't kidding when I said I was flexible. And I like you, and you like me, and we're going to spend a lot of time together convincing people we're together and ... this is one hell of good way of making it realistic." His hand trailed down Rodney's arm, then dropped to his waist and slid over the small of his back. "Do you want to?"
"God, yes," and John laughed and pulled him in tight and kissed him, almost sweetly at first, but sweet soon disappeared, burnt up in the sudden heat that flared in Rodney. He pulled John over, on top of him, and got his hands under his boxers, grabbing his ass and grinding up against him as his mouth slipped from John's lips to his jaw and then down to where his neck met his shoulder.
"Shit," John hissed, twisting to expose more throat, pressing down against him. "God. Can we have a little more skin here?" Rodney loosened his grip enough that John could skin out of his boxers, then help Rodney get rid of his. "God, yeah," he sighed as their cocks lined up, slid against one another, and then he kissed Rodney again, deep and piercing, his tongue fucking into Rodney's mouth as they ground against each other.
"I want to suck you," Rodney said thickly, shifting to nip at John's jaw, and he felt John's body shudder in response. "Can I suck you off?" and John rolled off, onto his back, legs spread. Rodney shifted to kneel between his legs, working his way slowly, deliberately down, exploring every inch of bare skin with teeth and tongue and finger tips until he came to the wet tip of John's cock. He licked it once, a broad swipe with the flat of his tongue and then he sucked him into his mouth. John thrust shallowly up with a rough, broken sigh, in response. After a few moments Rodney slipped a hand under him and stroked his balls, then along his perineum, then a ghost of fingertips along the edge of John's asshole, all the while rising and falling and sucking so hard it hollowed his cheeks until John came with a muffled grunt.
Rodney swallowed, then slid up the bed and kissed John, hard and wet. "Oh, God," John said, and then he reached down and took Rodney's dick in his hand, started jerking him with firm, brisk strokes, letting his thumb catch and slide along the head with each upstroke, twisting slightly on the down stroke. "How's that?" he asked, still panting, and Rodney just nodded, biting his lip, because, Christ, he was right there, right on the edge. One last pull and his hips arched up off the bed as he came in one, two, three slow, wet pulses, striping John's hand and ribs.
They lay beside each other, just breathing heavily for a few minutes, and then John licked his fingers tentatively. "Interesting," he said, and smiled, and then kissed Rodney one more time, deep and searching. "And nice, too. Very nice." He reached around and found his boxers to wipe himself up a bit, and then he curled up against Rodney. "This honeymoon thing could be kind of fun," John said, yawning, and Rodney fell back asleep to the feel of John's fingers stroking against his hip.
)0(
The curtain opened in the middle of the shower and John was smiling at him. "I got us in for noon, an hour and half of massage. And then I thought we'd check out the Aquarium. I haven't been there since I was twelve." He joined Rodney under the spray. "You know, somebody got me all messy, and I'm thinking somebody ought to help me clean up."
"I could call maid service, if you'd like?" Rodney asked, and oh, god, he was stupid, but he'd spent his whole life being too damn smart for his own good, so maybe he could be allowed this, just this once. He leaned into John, kissed him hard, and thank God they were in a hotel because it took them a good forty minutes to get out of the shower again.
)0(
Rodney's feet hurt. He was cranky, hungry and seriously thinking about pitching a fit. It was the fifth place that day, the twentieth in the last week, the thirty-second in the last two weeks and as far as Rodney was concerned he was ready to move in right now. It had four bedrooms, a great room, a finished basement, a hot tub in the back and it was halfway between UBC and the airport. It was also well within their budget, since he'd sold his condo in Colorado and had the money from it sitting in a high interest account.
"Okay. We've each got our own office, we've got room for our shitload of electronics, we've got room for my cat and a yard for your dog and hey, there's a fireplace. The inspector says it's in great shape. Either we make an offer or I'm going to go get my own apartment and you can come visit me on alternate Sundays because I am done. Done." He waved his hand imperiously when John opened his mouth. "Done. Seriously. I have a syllabus to draw up. So. Done!"
"You know," said John, adrift somewhere between amused and annoyed, "I'd forgotten this part of your personality."
"Well, that was very stupid of you, because my sister reminded you, as did my nieces, several times before the wedding," Rodney replied. "Perhaps it was the oral sex that made you forget?"
In the next room, the realtor dropped her clipboard. John started giggling uncontrollably. "The hardwood floors will be hard on the knees," he said finally, eyebrow skewed upward. "Not to mention the tile in the bathrooms.
"Rugs can be bought," Rodney said. "C'mon. There's a deck. You can barbecue. And did you count the jets in the master suite bath? Seriously. You're just being paranoid. It's not like we're going to buy this place and then suddenly the perfect house is going to spring up out of nowhere and taunt us, okay? Besides which, your family will probably start showing up in a few weeks, and I think it'll look better if we're, oh, I don't know, actually cohabitating."
"It's a pretty cool place," John conceded. "So. We're making an offer?"
"Yes!" Rodney. "God, yes. Finally. Mrs. Singh? We want to make an offer. And we'll pay extra to close early."
"Hey!" said John, but Rodney pointed at him warningly. "Okay, not the pointy finger of doom. Jesus." He looked over at Mrs. Singh, smiling with thinly contained amusement. "Apparently we'll pay extra to close early, if that's doable?"
"So I heard," she said. "The family has already moved, so I don't think that'll be a problem. They have had a couple of bids already, so ..." she shrugged meaningfully.
Rodney rolled his eyes. "What do you think it'll take to get us in here?"
"A little over 480 thousand," she said.
"Done. Good. Let's go do paperwork. I'm hungry." Rodney picked up his laptop satchel and slung it over his shoulder. "We can do this over dinner, right?"
Mrs. Singh smiled at him, and Rodney could see the dollar signs in her eyes. "Yes, we can most certainly do that."
)0(
Rodney's stuff in storage in Colorado arrived about nineteen hours before John's truck from California came into town so they spent about forty-two hours straight awake and then about eleven straight asleep, only to be woken by the front doorbell.
Rodney shrugged into his robe and peered blearily through the peephole, then opened the door. "Hi. Is it tomorrow already?"
"Yep," said Nessa, holding the cat carrier in front of her while her mom and sister each had a couple of small boxes. "You promised us movies, and barbecue."
"Yeah, we did," John replied, coming down the stairs in a pair of pyjama bottoms that Rodney hadn't even known he owned. "The laundry room, back of the kitchen is where we've got Fenster's box set up. It's got a door and everything, so he can stay in there for a day or so while he's getting used to stuff." He reached out and took the carrier out of Nessa's grasp. "C'mon. Let me show you."
"Uh, I'm going to go shower and stuff, I'll be right back down, okay?" he said. "There should be coffee, I think. I set the timer. It's that way," he pointed the way John and Nessa had headed. "Help yourself to whatever's in the fridge if you're hungry. I think we've got doughnuts."
Two minutes into his shower John was in there with him, both of them in a hurry but taking the time to share a couple of sleepy kisses. "Your nieces are unpacking your books. You alphabetize your books by genre and by author?"
"Yeah. You don't?" and John just grinned at him. Rodney's heart flip-flopped lazily in his chest. He knew this was a disaster, waiting to happen, that nine months from now it might all be done with but he just couldn't bring himself to pull away. A marriage of convenience, a friendly favour, with some downright incendiary fringe benefits, but still ...
not love.
At least, not on John's part.
He found his nieces neatly fitting John's books into his own organizational system. "You guys have lots of books," Miri said, sticking a section up on a bookcase shelf. "Although, you do have two copies of a lot of stuff, including your comic books."
"Graphic novels," Rodney corrected. "Where's your mom?"
"In the car, getting supplies. She says she's lining your shelves and stuff, because men are too stupid to know better," Nessa replied. "Hey, can I have some of the duplicates?"
Rodney shrugged. "Take my copies. They have my name in them." He figured he could always replace them after this was all done with. "Check with me, first, though. Some of them have explicit sex and I'm going to make damn sure your mother knows first so she's not coming after me with a hatchet later."
Nessa rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Right. I've put condoms on bananas at school. I don't think any of your books will scar me for life."
"I'm not afraid of scarring you for life, I'm afraid of your mother scarring me for life," Rodney retorted. "I'm going to get coffee, say hello to Fenster and then I'm going to start hooking up the electronics."
"What do you want me to do?" John asked, coming down the stairs, tugging at black cotton T-shirt that was well worn and soft and ghosted teasingly over the planes and angles of his lean torso.
"You get to put the barbecue together," Rodney said. "Try not to blow the place up in the process, because I'm not going through house hunting with you again."
John scratched his nose with his middle finger and then wandered off towards the kitchen. "And don't you dare take the last of the coffee, either," Rodney shouted after him.
"I may not be in Mensa, but I'm not stupid," John shouted back.
"So. That's love?" Miri asked, midway through setting up another row of books. "Not much like the movies, is it?"
"Very little is," Rodney said wryly.
END PART ONE
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-06 04:47 pm (UTC)Maybe you we can go out on the lake again and you can half-drown me for old time's sake?"
Rodney wanted to say no, wanted to say that he wasn't sure at all. Jeannie was a good big sister, if a bossy one, and he knew she'd go out there and send everyone packing if he wanted her to. Instead, he said, "He's the first person I ever fell in love with."
Miri snorted, something Rodney had a sneaking suspicion she'd picked up from him. "Relax, Mom. Have you seen the way he looks at John? I'm going to go tell Mrs. Mackleroy to get ready, okay?" She came up, pinched Rodney's shoulder. "And you relax, Uncle Rodney. I've seen how he looks at you, too. It's all googly-eyed and really gross for people your age. If you don't get over it soon I'll be drinking ginger tea willingly."
And then Rodney was alone with Jeannie still looking at him like she could see right through his forehead. "Okay then. Let's get you married. And, uh ... if you do puke? Lean away from me, because I plan to wear this dress again."
Sometimes I just *love* Rodney's family.
"Well, that was very stupid of you, because my sister reminded you, as did my nieces, several times before the wedding," Rodney replied. "Perhaps it was the oral sex that made you forget?"
In the next room, the realtor dropped her clipboard. John started giggling uncontrollably.
I love them!
Wonderful! On to part 2!
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-06 04:59 pm (UTC)Bring on Part 2, darlin'.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-06 05:13 pm (UTC)"Very little is," Rodney said wryly.
::sigh:: I'm so loving this. Such a perfect couple in the perfect Harlequin romance. On my way to part two, now. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-06 05:23 pm (UTC)and this:
were so spot on that I now think they're canon. Lovely story!
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-06 06:08 pm (UTC)"So. That's love?" Miri asked, midway through setting up another row of books. "Not much like the movies, is it?"
I cannot tell you how much I'm enjoying this story!! So so good. There's humor and smut and a dash of angst to spice it up. John and Rodney are absolutely wonderful. And I love Jeannie and the nieces in this story!!
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-06 07:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-06 07:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-06 10:13 pm (UTC)One) This actually sounds like the less stupid Harlequins, and still like Rodney and John anyway and I am unclear how that is even possible.
Two) Mentioning Ginger Tea. The best invention ever.
Three) Pointing out that John can't get a divorce without Canadian residency.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-06 10:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-06 11:54 pm (UTC)hee! ""However, since I'm not barfing in the garbage can, I guess it works." and by the way, *guh*. ;)
bwahah! ""Okay, not the pointy finger of doom. Jesus.""
I'm stealing bibliokat's line
Date: 2005-09-07 01:57 am (UTC)Ooh, there is so much here I love. Especially:
He was at John's door by 6:15, the first time he'd been early for anything in almost ten years. -- Loved this!
"Aren't you supposed to, I don't know, not ask questions like that?" -- Perfect!
Re: I'm stealing bibliokat's line
Date: 2005-09-07 02:21 am (UTC)I'm sticking with had, though, as Rodney's reflecting on the past, moreso than commenting on the present. The pluperfect works for that.
Thanks, though, because I completely see where you're coming from.
B
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-07 06:21 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-07 07:19 am (UTC)I got so excited about this particular challenge - and this is the reason why! Because you have indeed (as someone who I'm too lazy to go back and find out their name) managed to segue the two together and keep the integrity of both. Not to mention the characters are absolutely perfect.
Well written as well, a joy to read :D
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-07 07:22 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-07 09:55 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-07 07:59 pm (UTC)"..That two-four and those girls on the beach?"
*shakes head sadly because more often than not, I was one of those girls on the beach*
Anyway...nice premise, great story. Off to read part 2!
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-08 04:45 am (UTC)This might be an AU, but it feels so real (which is a weird thing to say, maybe, about a fictional universe and fictional people).
And oddly, even knowing the romance cliches, the misunderstandings, the whole 'he doesn't love me but I love him and hey, he really does love me' endings, I still really *feel* for these guys.
Plus, this brightened an otherwise stressful day.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-08 03:04 pm (UTC)Wow, you know how to hit most of my kinks in half a sentence, don't you? (I know it's not there just for ME ME ME, but I'm going to pretend it is.)
oh, Houston, we had nudity.
LOVE this!
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-23 01:03 am (UTC)"Okay, not the pointy finger of doom. Jesus." pretty much killed me.
Will you be posting the rest of this in your journal? I want to see where it goes...
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-23 01:05 am (UTC)Off I go.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-05 08:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-06 02:59 am (UTC)B
(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-06 03:09 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-04-10 05:16 am (UTC)It was too long to be quoting in an IM convo, but I was doing it anyway:
"You know," said John, adrift somewhere between amused and annoyed, "I'd forgotten this part of your personality."
"Well, that was very stupid of you, because my sister reminded you, as did my nieces, several times before the wedding," Rodney replied. "Perhaps it was the oral sex that made you forget?"
In the next room, the realtor dropped her clipboard. John started giggling uncontrollably. "The hardwood floors will be hard on the knees," he said finally, eyebrow skewed upward. "Not to mention the tile in the bathrooms."
Yes, I have to go read part 2 now, so if you'll excuse me?
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-10 06:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-19 01:02 am (UTC)Thank you
Smuffster
smuffster@gmail.com
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-12 09:34 pm (UTC)*scurries off to part 2*
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-25 07:15 pm (UTC)That was just so beautiful. The whole thing is great but that just killed me, in the best way.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-08 04:12 pm (UTC)Funny/sexy/sweet
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-13 01:25 am (UTC)OMG.
Found a link to this in
Loved it.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-10 01:30 am (UTC)Part 2?
Date: 2008-10-29 10:44 pm (UTC)Found it
Date: 2008-10-29 10:55 pm (UTC)http://community.livejournal.com/sga_flashfic/156233.html#cutid1
link to part 2
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-17 11:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-14 12:08 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-19 08:32 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-09-30 04:06 am (UTC)Great story, though.
Hockey
Date: 2016-06-01 05:08 pm (UTC)