Jul. 31st, 2008
Series: Parallels 'Verse
Disclaimer: Not mine!
I swear, I tried to make this porn. Really alot. But it just didn't want to be. I don't know what happened, and feel horribly guilty.
John has no idea what the natives of MMC-00M gave Rodney and Teyla to smoke, but he's pretty sure he wants some. By the time Ronon and he find the missing two members of their team, Rodney and Teyla and huddled together, giggling and whispering to each other.
John exchanges a look with Ronon, who snorts and stuns the guard outside the prison tent again, before stepping in. Rodney and Teyla look up at the sound of Ronon's blaster, blinking, all big eyes and soft, open expression. They're both smiling huge, and Teyla points at John before collapsing sideways in a fit of laughter. John decides not to ask.
Instead he says, "Well, I'm glad to see that at least some of us were having fun," following Ronon over to the pair and doing his best to pull Rodney up. Ronon already has Teyla cradled to his chest, where she's swinging her legs and making what John thinks are choo-choo train noises.
Rodney laughs, and then his expression goes serious. His voice is grave when he says, "The only reason you don't have fun is because you don't want to."
John rolls his eyes, "That's right, buddy. I'm a stick in the mud. C'mon," luckily, Rodney isn't fighting him at all. It's easy enough to get one of Rodney's arms over his shoulder, and he appears capable of walking on his own, though not on his own in a straight line.
Rodney pokes him in the side, lying his head heavily on John's shoulder and informing him, "It's true. Like. Meredith. Did you want to fuck Meredith an' me?"
For a moment John freezes, his brain jamming up from the thought. He's no where near skilled enough at deluding himself to believe that wouldn't be insanely hot, but at the same time... John shakes his head, pulling Rodney towards the door, certain that he doesn't even want to know where this came from, "No, Rodney. I didn't want to have sex with you and Meredith."
Rodney sighs huffily, "See. Your own fault you don't get to have fun."
John starts to roll his eyes, and then stops. Rodney is humming happily, and John is aware that there might be a certain moral quandary to asking him anything while he's in this condition. And then John shifts his grip, and tries to keep his tone even when he asks, "Did someone else want to have sex with you and Meredith?"
Rodney snorts, and then takes a brief detour into the land of giggles before managing coherence again, "You did. Other you. You know what I mean. More than just wanted." And John feels something in his gut go tight and furious.
He grits out, "And when was this?" ignoring the sharp, confused looks that Ronon keeps shooting him.
It takes two days for the drugs to work their way out of Rodney's system, and another before he's released from the infirmary. John is waiting for him when he gets back to his room, and Rodney looks pleasantly surprised to find him there, smiling and saying, "I thought you were working late on—"
John snaps, "Were you ever going to tell me?"
Rodney blinks, kicking off his boots and looking puzzled when he says, "Can I buy a vowel or something here?" stepping over to John and stepping between his knees. Rodney starts to bend down and John grabs him, twisting and slamming him down onto the bed. Rodney shouts, and John is on him, pinning him down and scowling.
John grinds out, "You, what, didn't think that I'd care if you fucked some other version of me? Or just thought you'd never tell me? That's a shitty thing to do to a person, Rodney."
For a moment Rodney just stares up at him, and then he goes pale, whispers, "Oh, shit."
John snarls, "Yeah, 'oh, shit' is right." He has to close his eyes for just a moment, hurt and anger rising in his chest. He forces it down, because he'd promised himself he was going to be something at least resembling calm about this, "What, is one of me just not enough? Am I not the one you want? I don't—"
Rodney cuts him off, sounding upset, "No! John, it wasn't... That's not how it is." John just stares down at him, eyebrows raised. Rodney rallies, shifting his shoulders around on the bed, "She asked me for a favor. And I owed them. After—after what happened," Rodney still can't talk about Joan without stuttering, and it makes John flinch, "I don't think I would have made it through without him coming along when he did. I just—I owed them, John."
John can't think of a damn thing to say. He'd, actually, expected Rodney to deny it. And the aching sadness in Rodney's expression, the way he's not fighting back at all, the defeat, isn't what he'd been prepared for. John shifts, and sighs, "It's just kind of bizarre, thinking of you fucking a different me."
Rodney shrugs, "I got used to it," and for a moment all John can do is stare at him, sure that the explanation his brain is providing can't be what Rodney actually meant.
When, after a moment, Rodney doesn't elaborate, John is forced to ask, "How many other mes did you fuck?"
Rodney looks deeply upset again, mouth pressed thin and tight, and John feels a rush of hot emotion up through his gut. Rodney shrugs, "How long were you gone for? One per day? Minus a few that I managed to fend off. You're a stubborn bastard. And not all of you seemed aware that no meant no."
John stares down at Rodney until Rodney looks away, and then laughs hoarsely. And then he rolls out of the bed, hands balled into tight fists when he storms his way out of the door. Rodney doesn't try to call him back, and John doesn't turn around to look back. He goes to find Ronon, because he needs something to hit, right now.
It takes John the better part of a week of avoiding Rodney to finally make his peace with the entire situation. And by that point he's still pissed off, and irritated, but not so much as Rodney. He can't really blame Rodney, seeing as when he'd been bounced from Rodney to Rodney, none of them had made a move on him.
When John finally settles himself enough to deal with it, he goes right to Rodney's room. Unfortunately it's about four in the morning, and Rodney is sleeping, curled up in his blankets, looking broken down and small. John sighs, kicks off his shoes, and slides in beside him.
Rodney makes a soft sound in his sleep, shifting towards John's warmth, wrapping around him, and John holds on to him and stares at the ceiling.
Rodney finally wakes up close to three hours later, going from soft and pliant against John to stiff and tense. He jerks up, voice confused and rough with sleep, "John? What's going—is something wrong?" And Rodney is almost out of bed by the time John manages to grab him, pulling Rodney back against his chest and holding on. "John?"
John rolls his eyes, "Yes, it's me, relax." For a moment Rodney stays tense, and then he relaxes all at once, letting himself settle back against John. John doesn't relax his grip around Rodney's chest, holds on tight and tries to remember the words that go here.
In the end, what he says is nothing like what he planned, "I don't want you to fuck anyone but me ever again. Not even, no, especially not the other mes." And he hadn't meant his voice to be low and hard like that either, but it is.
Rodney tries to turn to look at him and John tightens his grip, "I mean it, Rodney. I can't—I don't share well."
For a long moment Rodney is silent, still twisting a little, and then he sighs. "Okay, okay, believe me, that's not a sticking point, or anything, I just," he waves a hand, a complicated little gesture that makes John smile and eases some of the tension in his chest.
John says, "Yeah," and presses his face against Rodney's neck.
After a second Rodney echoes him, snuggling back against his chest, and squeezing John's hand.
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