Good For

Mar. 2nd, 2008 04:05 pm

Fandom: SGA

Characters: Regan Sheppard, John, Rodney

Rating: G

Warnings: Pre-slash?

Disclaimer: Not mine!

Summary: John's father thinks about Rodney and John.

Author's Note: More fic responses! fiordeligi requested John's father from Sophomore Slump musing on Rodney, along with John's relationship with Rodney. Missing scene from part four.


Regan watches the two teenagers lounging in the living room and wonders if Rodney McKay only smiles around his son. Rodney is sprawled on his stomach on the couch, John sitting in front of it, leaning his head back against Rodney's hip. Rodney is watching John, expression soft and private, mouth twitching up in the corners.

Regan leans in the doorway, coffee cup forgotten in his hands, and watches them. John is tipping his head back, laughter booming out as he watches the cartoons on television jump around, and Rodney is staring at him. Every now and then Rodney's hand twitches, a movement towards John's hair that he keeps aborting, over and over.

Rodney still looks too pale, there are lines of pain around his eyes and Regan remembers too well how the boy had looked the night they had went to pick him up from the hospital. He'd been swallowed up by the hospital bed, and started to push himself up as soon as he'd seen John. The nurses had provided them with a wheelchair to get Rodney out to the car, but they hadn't used it.

Regan can remember John being shy about his powers. The summer they'd developed, the summer that he'd watched his son get hit by a tractor trailer and walk out unscathed, John had done everything in his power to pretend nothing had changed. John hadn't talked about it, or lifted things. The few times he'd forgotten himself and accidentally closed a car door hard enough to send the car slamming across the parking lot he'd been so embarrassed it had been painful to watch.

Regan isn't sure when that changed, but there'd been no hesitation when John bent over and just scooped Rodney out of the bed. Rodney's arm had curled automatically around John's neck and John had turned to look at them expectantly. John had either ignored or been completely unaware of the stares they got walking through the hallways.

That had been almost a week ago, and Regan hasn't really seen the boys apart since then. Not that he saw them apart very often before that. But now John is always touching Rodney, a hand on his shoulder or back, a knee resting against his at meals, head leaning against him now.

There's a part of Regan that wants to freak out over this. There's a part that wants to put his foot down over the way Rodney looks at his son and the way John looks back. There's a part that wants to protest the fact that he knows they sleep curled together like puppies. But it's a very small part.

Six months ago Regan would have wanted John to be dating the captain of the cheerleading squad. But then again, six months ago he never would have expected his son to climb up the back of a giant mutated bear and kill it. Six months ago he didn't know that his son would be mature enough to make himself an outcast by going against the viewpoint of his peers about something that they all felt so strongly about.

Six months ago Regan hadn't met Rodney McKay, and neither had John.

In the room John twists his head back, grinning up at Rodney and saying, "Come on, this is funny. Don't you think this is funny?" Rodney shrugs, expression tightening when even that tiny movement hurts, and Regan watches the way his son immediately sobers, turns all his attention onto Rodney.

John reaches up, bracing the back of his hand across Rodney's forehead and saying, "You want some more milk?" Regan still doesn't understand why exactly milk is supposed to help, but after the first two gallons he has to admit that Rodney's color markedly improved and he stopped whimpering every time anyone touched him.

On the couch Rodney shakes his head, his cheeks staining pink, "I'm swimming in milk. Sit down and watch your cartoons."

John sighs, but resettles. His attention doesn't return to the television, though, instead he keeps tilting his head back and to the side, looking at Rodney. Rodney responds by focusing all his attention on the brightly colored cartoons.

Regan can feel his own mouth curling up into a smile. This might not have been what he would have chosen for his son, but it's impossible not to see that it's what John's chosen for himself. And it's no bad thing, this affection that he can read between them as obviously as though they were shouting.

John finally looks back at the television, and like clockwork Rodney turns his attention to John. There's such naked softness in Rodney's expression it's almost painful to see. Rodney's fingers twitch again, hesitate, relax.

Regan is still watching them when Marion slides her hand up his back. She smells good, always smells good, and the press of her breast against his arm is warm and soft and promising. She says, her chin resting on his shoulder, "John is good for him."

Regan turns, sliding his arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her hair is arranged back, tamed for once for this work dinner tonight. Regan thinks about trying to get out of it again, but she'd made it clear that they had to go several times already and so instead he counters with, "He's good for John."

Marion hums, her lips curling up into a smile, "That too." Then she sighs, leaning away far enough that she can look back into the living room. She sounds worried, "Do you think we should stay with them tonight?"

"They'll be fine," they've proved time and again that they're good at taking care of each other.

Marion nods, but still looks doubtful when she pulls away, patting his chest as she walks over to her purse. They call their goodbyes, which is echoed somewhat distractedly by the boys, and Regan opens the car door for her.

She says, as she slides the car out of the doorway, "I can't wait for you to meet Doctor Weir."

::go to 'April Eighteenth' —>::

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