Title: Class of 2005
Author: Coreopsis
Pairings: multiple. mostly John/Rodney
Dates: January 21, 2005 to December 21, 2005
Rating: NC-17
high school AU written mostly for Nemo and Sin because they encourage crack.
Disclaimers: The characters do not belong to me. Well, the various parents but that's about it. Some dialogue copied over from Rising in the Epilogue. I had several wonderful betas over the course of the parts--I want to especially thank Barb G. and malnpudl for making it better than it would have been. (some parts weren't betaread so that's why it might be kind of uneven). Feedback is always welcome at jb7811@comcast.net or coreopsis@gmail.com

Story note (8b): SRO = School Resource Officer, a police officer or sheriff's deputy assigned to a specific school. Besides being a security presence, he or she will also do occasional lessons in various classes on staying drug free, not smoking, resolving issues without violence, how the police use the scientific method to solve crimes, etc. A high school with more than one building might have an officer assigned to each building.

***

"Hey, John. John!" Rodney ran to catch up with John Sheppard, almost tripped over his shoelace, then caught himself on the locker next to John's. "Have you given any more thought to joining the Algebra Club? We could really use someone with your grades, and it's fun." He started to grin winningly, but John had already begun shaking his head, so Rodney just stared at him.

"Can't. It meets while I'm at football practice." John finished exchanging his books, then he looked around as if to make sure nobody else was listening. When he spoke again, it was in a very quiet voice. "Look, just because math is easy for me, doesn't make it a hobby."

"Oh. Okay, yeah, sure, I understand," said Rodney as John smiled at him and closed his locker door. He smiled at Rodney and it was just as wonderful as the last two hundred and twenty-three times he'd done it.

"See you later," John said, and then he joined a couple of his buddies as they walked off toward the English classroom. Bates looked over his shoulder at Rodney and then said something that made John shrug and Stackhouse laugh. Rodney could probably guess what a jock would have to say about someone like him.

Rodney realized he was still staring when somebody cleared his throat loudly. "Can I get in my locker now? Or do you need to moon over Sheppard for a little while longer?"

"Shut up," said Rodney absently, still distracted by that smile. Stepping out of Kavanagh's way, he started to go to the library, which is where he'd been going before he'd gotten distracted by John Sheppard. Again.

But Kavanagh stopped him. "You know he's never going to like you back, don't you?"

"You don't know." Rodney tightened his grip on his notebook. "You're not friends with him."

"No, but my locker is right next to his," said Kavanagh with his usual lipless, joyless grin that meant he was about to say something Rodney really didn't want to hear. "And I know he's taking Teyla Emmagan to the homecoming dance."

"Great. Good for him. I'm sure they'll make a lovely couple." Rodney walked away, thinking that it really wasn't fair. Teyla did everything already--soccer, softball, basketball, and she even competed in karate tournaments on the weekend. Did she have to do John too?

***

Rodney walked home from his piano lesson that afternoon thinking about John again. He thought about John a lot, although he would not classify it as 'mooning' like stupid Kavanagh called it. He just found John to be an interesting puzzle, and Rodney had never been able to resist solving a puzzle. There was something going on with John, something that gave Rodney the feeling that John Sheppard, All Around Jock and Nice Guy, wasn't the real John. Or at least, not all of him.

Rodney turned the corner onto his street and almost tripped over a fire hydrant when he saw John walking down the sidewalk toward him. John was all alone and carried his gym bag in his hand and his backpack hitched over one shoulder. Rodney was a two strap backpack wearer because he usually needed both hands free for reading a book while he walked. Today, he carried a portfolio of sheet music that slipped from his suddenly sweaty hand and spilled onto the pavement just as John walked up and smiled at him again. Two hundred and twenty-five. Rodney sighed and dropped to his knees to pick up the papers, but John got there first and their hands bumped as they both reached for a bit of Chopin.

"Oh sorry, I didn't mean to. Wait, you don't have to do that. I'll get them, no, really--" Rodney could hear his voice babbling on but couldn't stop it to save his life, until John looked up at him and laughed.

Rodney had been laughed at plenty of times, but it never sounded like this. So soft and inviting, asking him to come and laugh too because wasn't this all so funny? It really wasn't funny, but Rodney found himself smiling back at John as he gathered his things together and got back to his feet.

"Um. So." Rodney straightened the sheet music with more care than it probably needed before looking back at John. "Where're you going?"

"I came to see you, but there was nobody home." John tilted his head toward Rodney's house over a block away and they both started walking in that direction.

"Oh, yeah. I was at a piano lesson." Rodney gestured with the portfolio and added, "Obviously."

"Yeah. Can you really play those songs? They look pretty complicated."

"Yes, I can play them. Not very well. I mean, I get all the notes right, but there's something missing. My last teacher told me I should quit, and I did. But I just quit him, not playing." Rodney shrugged and once again, wished he could not talk quite so much whenever John was around. Something about the way John watched him with those weird hazel eyes made him just say more than he meant to. "Why did you come to see me?"

"I wondered if you were interested..." John paused and Rodney longed to scream 'yes', but he knew that John probably didn't mean what Rodney really hoped he'd mean. "Well, see...I was thinking about getting some guys together to play the new Metal Gear Solid at my house this weekend while my folks are away. My dad and I just installed this new graphics card that's like ten times faster than our old one. But I didn't know who else to ask to come. Most of my friends only want to play Halo 2 on X Box, and that's cool, but... you know."

Rodney wasn't sure he did know, since he didn't really play those kinds of games on his computer or own an X Box. But an excuse to go to John's house? No way could Rodney pass that up. "Sure, I'll come." He hoped that came out as easy and cool as he'd intended because inside he was jumping around and pumping his fist in the air.

John looked...relieved? Weird, but Rodney was in no mood to question it.

But as they approached his house, he felt another question tripping over his tongue trying to get out and before he knew it, he heard himself say, "So I hear you're taking Teyla to the homecoming dance."

"Yeah. Well, you know, it's kind of tradition for the quarterback to take the homecoming queen to the dance. I don't know why it is, but everyone's telling us we have to go together." John shrugged and glanced at Rodney out of the corner of his eyes. "She's okay, but she's really not my type."

"Athletic and pretty and makes decent grades. Yeah. I can see why you'd want to run away from that." Rodney hated this conversation and he even though he usually liked Teyla quite well, right now he hated her a little bit too.

"That's not what I was thinking, but never mind." John stopped in front of Rodney's house and looked up at the windows on the second floor. "Is one of those your room?"

Rodney nodded and pointed at the one on the left. "Why?"

"No reason. Just making conversation." Shifting from one foot to the other, John crossed his arms and his gym bag banged against his hip. "You...um...you kind of make me nervous sometimes."

"Oh." The power of speech pretty much deserted Rodney at that point, but for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn't feel like he was in imminent danger of tripping or knocking something over. "You want to come in for a Coke or something?"

"Sure. Thanks." John smiled--two hundred twenty-six--and Rodney tried to remember that just because John agreed to a Coke, didn't mean that he wanted to go up to Rodney's room and make out until one of Rodney's parents got home from work and walked in on them and had a fit because their son was less than straight and then called up John's parents and got him into trouble and then... Rodney stopped that runaway train of thought dead and led John around to the back door so they could go directly into the kitchen, removing the temptation of the staircase leading to Rodney's room.

***

Peter Grodin had only been home from school for a few minutes when he heard a car pull up outside. Actually, it pulled into the Becketts' driveway next door, he realized, and ran to his window in time to see Carson getting out of the back seat of a cab. He tore out of his room and ran downstairs. He paused to take a deep breath and smooth his hair down before he walked out the door, trying to look as casual as possible. He didn't want Carson to know he was stalking him.

Carson was a whole two years older than Peter--a college man. And Peter had wanted him ever since the Beckett family had moved in several years ago. Peter had wanted him before he'd ever even known what it meant to want someone, certainly before he knew what guys actually did together. Now, through the magic of gay porn and the internet, he knew all about it and he wanted to do it all with Carson.

Peter walked out his front door as the cab backed out of the drive. He glanced casually toward the Beckett house and contrived to look surprised when Carson waved at him from the porch. He waved back and walked over to say, "Oh hey, Carson. Home for the long weekend?"

"Yes." Carson finished unlocking the door, and shoved his suitcase inside. He turned back to Peter with a smile. "How's it going?"

"It's going. I was on my way to the mall. Wanna come?" Peter bit his lip when he realized that just saying something so innocent made him think dirty thoughts. Carson...coming...with him...naked...oh yeah, very dirty.

"Oh, I would, but I can't." Carson's apologetic voice snapped Peter out of the lusty haze he'd drifted off into. "Gotta go to my gran's for dinner tonight with my mom."

"Maybe I'll see you around tomorrow," Peter said casually, starting to walk backward through the yard toward the sidewalk so he could keep his eyes on Carson for as long as possible. University really agreed with Carson. His body had filled out and he'd matured and gained a confidence that made him even sexier than Peter had thought he was before.

"Sure. Bye, Peter." Carson went into the house and shut the door.

Peter walked down the sidewalk at a steady pace until he got to the corner, then instead of heading toward the mall, he turned to go around to the next street over. He picked up speed until he was full out running by the time he reached the house directly behind his. He darted in between houses and climbed over a fence, scrambling into his own backyard and hoping Carson didn't happen to be looking out a window. He dashed into the kitchen, letting the door slam shut behind him, and ignored his mother's cry of annoyance as he pounded up the stairs.

Once in his room, Peter stationed himself by the window and parted the blinds just enough that he could look across the way into Carson's bedroom. The Beckett house had curtains and as soon as Carson came into his room, he went right over to pull them apart and open the window. Peter gave himself a little figurative pat on the back for knowing his quarry so well. Now he could watch Carson puttering around his room, dumping all the clothes from his suitcase into a basket on the floor of his closet, taking some CDs and books out of his backpack and moving out of Peter's view.

If it had been anyone else, all this would have been terribly boring, but it was Carson and that meant Peter watched every prosaic event with rapt fascination that started to pay off when Carson stopped puttering and glanced at his watch. Peter watched as Carson locked his door, pulled a magazine out of his backpack, and lay down on his bed. After a few seconds of flipping through the pages, Carson folded the magazine in order to hold it in one hand and then reached down and unzipped his jeans. Peter crammed his knuckles against his mouth to contain the laughter bubbling up in his throat.

The laugh turned into a stifled moan when Carson raised his hips and shoved his jeans and underwear almost down to his knees and started to leisurely play with his dick and balls with one hand while he stared at the magazine held in his other. Peter was instantly hard at the sight of that bare slice of Carson's body. He thought it was probably just as well that Carson hadn't stripped down completely naked or Peter would have come without even touching himself, which wouldn't have been near as much fun as dropping his own jeans and copying every movement Carson made.

Pretending his hand was on Carson's dick and Carson's hand was on his, Peter watched Carson carefully, memorizing what he seemed to like most even as Peter mirrored those movements to see how they compared to how he usually jerked off, which was generally fast, messy, and silent. He realized that Carson was humming rather tunelessly and the faster his hand moved the louder his voice got, and that's when Peter lost it. He came all over his hand and grabbed a tissue from the box on his desk to clean up with. All the time he watched Carson who'd dropped the magazine, stopped humming, and was really going at it. His hand almost a blur as his hips arched, pushing his dick further into his grip.

Peter pressed his face against the window frame, his breathing erratic and shaky as he watched Carson quickly approaching orgasm. He was so fucking gorgeous, it was unbelievable. Peter wanted to be over there with him so bad, wanted to be able to touch him and kiss him and feel his body shudder with pleasure. Just as Carson appeared to be about to come, a knock on his door scared the crap out of Peter. He jerked his jeans up and tried to sound normal as he asked who it was. It was only his mother telling him to gather up all his dirty clothes and bring them down to the laundry room.

When he looked back through the blinds into the room next door, Carson had already finished and was shoving the magazine under his mattress. Disappointed that he'd missed seeing Carson come, Peter turned away and started to pick up the dirty clothes scattered all over his room. Dragging a sock and two t-shirts out from under his bed, Peter started to plan on getting into Carson's pants before the weekend was over. And Peter knew he had a shot now because he'd caught a glimpse of the page in the magazine that Carson had jerked off to.

It was a naked man with black hair and dark skin, lean and built like a swimmer. Just like Peter himself.

***

Rodney knew it was silly but he couldn't help letting his fingers brush against John's as he handed him a can of Coca-Cola out the refrigerator. He'd had fantasies about John's hands before so the chance to touch--however briefly or "accidentally"--was too good to pass up. Watching John lick the bubbles of soda off his fingers after he opened the can was an unexpected bonus that would provide even more fantasy material for a long time to come.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, Rodney took a sip of his own Coke and wished he could offer some cookies or chips or something, but his mother didn't allow them in the house. She didn't like having soda around either, but Rodney's father bought it just to irritate her.

"Do you...uh, do you need to call home or anything?" Rodney waved at the phone on the wall, but John shook his head. "Oh, okay. How was practice?"

"It was okay." John shrugged and Rodney wasn't sure if the movement of his mouth counted as a smile. "We did some drills and ran sprints, so I'm kind of tired."

Rodney realized he was making John stand in the kitchen, and before he could suggest "chairs" or "living room" or anything else that was at all safe, he heard his own voice saying, "You want to go up to my room? It would be more comfortable than standing around here."

In the second before John answered, Rodney died a thousand deaths, but then John smiled--two hundred twenty-seven. "Sure."

Picking up his back pack in his free hand, Rodney motioned at John's bags. "You can leave them down here if you want. My mother won't be home for another hour and a half." And Rodney would make sure John was long gone before that happened.

John followed Rodney through the hallway and up the stairs, and Rodney concentrated hard on every step he took so as not to trip or drop something or do anything else embarrassing in front of John. He opened the door and stepped into his room with the same sense of relief that he always did, even though John Sheppard, of all people, was right behind him. He felt safer here than anywhere else on earth, except maybe the labs at school.

Dumping his backpack on the floor, Rodney sat down on the bed and motioned for John to take the chair at his desk, but John sat down on the bed next to him. Rodney's heart felt like it was trying to pound its way out of his ribcage, so he took a sip from his can before setting it on the bedside table. The way his hands were shaking, he was afraid he'd spill it all over himself or on John. But then, his treacherous imagination whispered, if he spilled it on John, he could offer him a clean shirt and John would have to take off the wet one and Rodney would get to watch. He glanced at John who was looking around Rodney's room like it was a museum display that he might be quizzed on later.

"Who's that?" John pointed at a small poster over Rodney's desk.

"Stephen Hawking."

"I didn't know they made posters of scientists." John pointed at another poster on the wall opposite the bed. "And what's that?"

"That's a celestial planisphere. It's like a map of stars."

"Neat. So you're interested in space, then?"

"Yeah. Like my geekhood wasn't blinding enough already."

"I wouldn't say you were a geek. Just...you know, smarter than most people."

"Well, yes." Rodney was aware of it, and he knew most other people were, but he didn't mind telling them if they weren't.

"That sort of confidence is either really annoying or kinda sexy."

"I've already been told how annoying it is in great detail, thank you," said Rodney, swallowing nervously. He hadn't seen John move, but he seemed much closer than before. And then he was leaning into Rodney's personal space, his arm brushing Rodney's chest as he set his can on the nightstand next to Rodney's. Every nerve in Rodney's body was humming with fear and excitement just from being that close to John.

Rodney jerked his gaze away from John's floppy hair and sleepy eyes and glistening mouth because he was getting hard just looking at him. He knew his face was turning red, but he couldn't help it. He started to babble, telling John all about the time he pissed off his chemistry teacher by correcting one of his equations in front of the whole class. He'd have kept telling any stupid story he could think of, anything to release this horrible tension, but John put his hand on Rodney's knee and Rodney's mouth went so dry he couldn't have said another word if his life depended on it.

John's hand slid up Rodney's thigh ever so slowly and he said again, "Or kinda sexy."

Certain that John was just messing with him, Rodney whipped his gaze back to John only to discover that not only did John seem serious but he was leaning closer, his lips parted just a little bit. Rodney froze, letting John's mouth brush against his. He knew in theory what to do, but he'd had no practice and he just couldn't make himself do anything.

John leaned back and pulled his hand away from Rodney's leg. His face was as red as Rodney's felt and he couldn't seem to look Rodney in the eye, which was fine because Rodney couldn't seem to look any higher than John's nose himself. It was a nice nose, but not really worthy of intense scrutiny.

John cleared his throat. "I guess I read the signals wrong. Sorry."

"Signals?" Rodney met John's eyes then. "What signals?"

"I thought that you maybe, you know, liked me." John's eyebrows bobbed up and down. "Liked me."

"Oh." Rodney wondered what kind of signals he'd been giving, but for now he was more concerned that John must have gotten the wrong impression. "Well, I do like you. I just didn't...know...what to do. I can't believe I just admitted that."

John gave Rodney smile number two hundred twenty-eight. "In that case, just relax and go with it."

And before Rodney could think of what to say to that, John's hand was back on his thigh and John's lips were closing in on his mouth. After a terrifying moment of indecision and fear and lust, Rodney parted his lips and kissed back.

With what little bit of his brain that didn't automatically shut down, Rodney decided that he'd always count this as his first kiss with John, instead of that earlier brief brush of lips, because this was everything he'd always thought a first kiss should be--tender and hot and just clumsy enough to reassure him that John wasn't exactly an expert either. John opened his lips wider and Rodney took it as an invitation to slip his tongue into John's mouth, and now he'd never be able to drink Coca-Cola again without thinking of John because the two tastes were inextricably linked.

When his fingers started to cramp, Rodney realized he'd clenched his hands into tight fists, so he relaxed them both and tentatively reached for John. Not knowing where was the expected place to put his hands made Rodney hesitate, then John reached down and moved them to his waist. Rodney shuddered with a weird mix of relief and longing at finally touching John, feeling John's lean body under his t-shirt, running his fingers over the edge of the boxers sticking up out of the loose waistband of John's jeans, all the while tasting John's mouth and learning the shape of his kisses.

John wrapped his fingers around the back of Rodney's neck and Rodney thought he was going to come right then with no other provocation. He closed his mouth and pulled back from John, and stared at him in wonder. John stared back with eyes that seemed to be all pupil, and Rodney couldn't help noticing his breathing was just as erratic as Rodney's was. John's hands slid away from Rodney's neck, slowly slipping across his shoulders and down his arms. Instinctively, Rodney gave John's waist a little squeeze before letting go.

"I...umm...that was..." Rodney gave up trying to articulate any of the crazy mix of thoughts and feelings swirling around in his head.

John seemed to be okay with that because he smiled and nodded. "Yeah, it was."

Rodney thought maybe he would stop counting the times that John smiled at him and start counting all the times John kissed him. He certainly hoped this wouldn't be the only one.

"Wanna do it again?" John asked, and Rodney wondered if John was reading his mind or if Rodney was just that obvious. Either way, he leaned in to kiss John again and just before his lips made contact, he heard the front door slam.

Rodney leaped off the bed and grabbed John's hand, pulling him to his feet and saying, "My mother's home early. You've got to get out of here. Come on."

John followed but said, "What's the hurry? Are you gonna be in trouble for having company or--"

Rodney stopped at the door and listened carefully. Footsteps on the stairs meant that his mother was keeping to habit and going to her room to change clothes first, so she hadn't been to the kitchen yet. Rodney held a finger to his lips until John nodded, still looking confused. When he heard the other door shut, he whispered, "Be quick but quiet, okay?"

John nodded again and they crept out into the hall and down the stairs. When they reached the kitchen, Rodney let out a breath and picked up John's gym bag and backpack and shoved them into his arms. He opened the back door and walked outside with John, feeling angry at his mother for ruining this thing, this moment he'd been having with John, but also scared that she'd find out what he was doing.

"I'll see you tomorrow," said Rodney as they walked down the driveway to the street. "At school."

When they reached the sidewalk, John tilted his head to one side and looked at him. "Rodney...are you gonna be okay?"

"What? Yeah, of course. I'll be fine." Rodney glanced up at the house and shrugged as he turned back to John. "I am fine."

John smiled. "Okay, cool. Then I'll see you tomorrow."

Rodney watched John walk all the way down to the corner where he turned out of sight. Then he went back in the house.

***


Radek Zelenka walked into his new school filled with nerves and apprehension. When he saw the girl assigned to show him around, the apprehension became fear. Lizzie Weir looked like she could beat him up, and would do it if he stepped out of line. She didn't look like the girls at his last school. They'd looked mostly like Hilary Duff and Raven and the rest of the girls on those Disney Channel shows his little sister was always watching. Lizzie had hair shorter than his, big black boots, and piercings in her nose and eyebrow. But the scary part was the way she looked at him, like she'd already sized him up, found him lacking, and was never going to let him forget it.

"So why'd you trade down?" asked Lizzie as she strode off down the hall.

"What?" Radek had to nearly run to keep up with her as she pointed out the library and cafeteria and then headed for his locker.

She looked at him as if wondering if he spoke English, and he was so used to that look that he didn't even bother to be offended. He didn't let it bother him that she started to speak more slowly to him either. "You went to private school before this, right? Why'd you transfer to public?"

"Oh. They revoked my scholarship because I got caught hacking into the computer system."

Lizzie laughed. "To change your grades? That's classic."

"No, I already had straight As." Radek shifted his backpack and adjusted his glasses. "I just wanted to see if I could. And now I know how not to get caught."

"Hmmm." She looked at him with a contemplative expression on her face that made him feel like a mouse cornered by a cat. "I might have use for you after all."

"Ummm...I can't get kicked out of this school too because the next school is three bus transfers away and my parents would be very angry and...no."

"No? I haven't asked you to do anything yet."

"Okay, but just for future reference, the answer is no."

"Whatever."

Radek walked a bit taller until Lizzie left him in front of his locker with his class schedule, a stack of books, and a slip of paper bearing the combination to his lock. She was supposed to have spent more time with him, but he wasn't going to argue with her when she said she'd done enough. The rooms were numbered so how hard could it be to find his first class?

Of course, finding his classes wouldn't be a problem if he never managed to get his locker open so he could store all his extra books. He sighed in exasperation and then spun the dial again, hoping the third time would be the charm. The lock apparently did not believe in superstition because it didn't budge.

"You have to give it a good hard whack," said a voice near Radek's left ear. He glanced over to see a good-looking boy smiling at him. He had long-lashed brown eyes, an almost girlish mouth, and dimples. He was a couple inches taller than Radek and wiry. Radek swallowed hard and hoped that he didn't embarrass himself in front of this beautiful creature.

"A wh-whack?" asked Radek.

"Yeah, it sticks if you don't." The boy reached over Radek's shoulder and slammed his palm against the door of the locker just above the lock. "Now try it."

The door opened as easy as anything, and Radek grinned at the boy. "Thanks. I'm Radek. Radek Zelenka."

"Peter Grodin. Welcome to Central." Peter opened up the locker next to Radek's and got a book out, while Radek checked his schedule to make sure he had the books he needed. "What have you got first?"

Radek consulted the paper even though he'd already memorized it. "Chemistry with Mister Jonas."

"Really? Me too." Peter slammed his locker shut and smiled again. "Come on. I can show you where the room is. Are you any good at chemistry? My lab partner's out for the next six weeks with mono."

"Well, I'll be needing a partner, I guess," Radek said with a sinking yet exhilarating feeling in his gut. Peter was both good-looking and nice to him, so Radek didn't stand a chance. All his crushes started out the same way. Nothing would ever come of it because Peter would have a girlfriend and even if by some miracle he didn't, Radek would be too shy to find out if he might be interested in boys. Eventually Radek would stop fantasizing about Peter and be content with being his friend. All his crushes ended the same way too.

***

After several days of thinking about John even more than he had been before--not that he was obsessed or anything--Rodney decided he'd finally worked up his nerve to say something, ask John out or whatever people did after unexpectedly making out with someone. He walked into BC Calculus and took his usual seat, front row center. As he flipped open his notebook to the previous night's homework, he looked over his shoulder to find John watching him from his seat in the back corner. Since it was such a small class, there was nobody in between to get in the way of Rodney and John staring at each other. Rodney only turned around when Peter Grodin came in and sat down behind Rodney. Some boy Rodney had never seen came in next and took the seat on Rodney's right.

Rodney looked over at him. "Who are you?"

The boy looked over at him with a startled expression. "Radek Zelenka. I just transferred here. Who are you?"

"Rodney McKay." Rodney studied Radek carefully. "What'd you get kicked out of your old school for? Hacking?"

Radek's eyes widened and then narrowed. "Lizzie told you."

"No, I just guessed." The t-shirt with binary on the front was the first giveaway. No wonder he got caught. "You look like the type."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. You should join Algebra Club. We have a meeting this afternoon after school."

"Maybe," Radek said and turned to face forward as the teacher came into the room.

Rodney glanced over his shoulder again, but instead of catching John's eye, he caught Peter's smirk. Rodney turned back and paid attention to the lesson for the rest of the hour.

As soon as the bell rang, he shot out the door and lurked around the corner until John came out of the classroom alone. Rodney fell into step with him as they walked down the hall. "I have a thing after school," he said, "but--"

"Algebra Club," said John with undisguised amusement in his voice.

"Yes, yes, I'm the president and king of geeks. Could we move on?" Rodney huffed out a breath and the nervousness he'd been feeling before annoyance drove it away came back in full force. John kept looking at him and Rodney couldn't stop thinking about kissing him and how it had felt. He kept replaying the whole thing in his mind and wondering if he'd dreamed it because it was too perfect--almost--to happen in his real life.

"What do you want, Rodney?" John stopped in front of his locker, but didn't open it.

"Oh, ummm...yeah. I wondered if you wanted to...do something...together. With me." Rodney hitched his shoulders up around his ears and added, "Not math related."

"Well, as long as it's not math related, then sure." John looked at Rodney perfectly seriously but Rodney knew that inside he was laughing at him. This realization did not bother Rodney nearly as much as it might have because John had not turned him down. "Want to meet me by the gym around four?"

Rodney nodded and said, "I should go and get my books."

"Might be a good idea." John arched an eyebrow and Rodney nearly forgot where he was supposed to go. He'd be happy standing here all day.

"Get a room, McKay," Kavanagh said snidely from behind Rodney's back.

Rodney moved out of the way. "Bite me." He didn't look back at John as he turned to go to his own locker.

***

As soon as the Algebra Club meeting was over, Rodney gathered his stuff, shoved it into his backpack, and hurried out the door. He usually hung around and talked to the other guys after the girls left, but today he didn't even bother to say goodbye. Peter and Kavanagh were so busy talking to the new guy--Ze-whatever his name was--that they didn't even notice that he was leaving.

He walked out of the building and headed toward the gym. He was a little early, but he could read while he waited. When he started to turn the corner to the place where he expected to meet John, a loud bark of laughter brought him up short. He peeked round the corner and saw Aiden Ford laughing at something John had said. Watching from this distance, Rodney noticed something seemed phony about Ford's manner, as if he was laughing not because what John was saying was funny but because John was saying it to him. Rodney had noticed Ford following John around like a puppy before, and he'd even teased John about having his own freshman mascot a couple times.

Rodney watched John lounging against the wall, looking so good, even if his jeans were two sizes too big and his messy hair hung in front of one eye. Rodney felt a flash of jealousy when Ford just kept talking to John and John just kept not sending him away. Had he forgotten that he was waiting for Rodney? Had he forgotten they had plans today? Nebulous and vague, yes, but still they were plans.

Rodney got a hold of himself and shook off the jealousy. It was just Ford, anyway. He walked around the corner and smiled as he approached John. He ignored Ford's existence which was right and proper behavior toward a freshman.

John straightened up. "Hey, Rodney. We got out of practice early."

"I hope you haven't been waiting long," Rodney said, trying not to stare too much.

"Nah. Ford's been keeping me company."

"Great." Rodney smiled insincerely at Ford and wished the kid would go far, far away.

"How goes it in geekworld?" Ford asked with an irritating smirk on his face.

"We're making progress on Schroedinger's Equation and April Bingham's out with mono." Rodney crossed his arms and tilted his head back a little, the better to stare down his nose at Ford. "How goes it in jockworld? Do you think you'll actually get to play this week?"

"Yeah, maybe," Ford muttered and deflated a bit.

John just watched it all with an amused air and then shoved his hands in his pockets and said, "Come on, Rodney. I got my car back. See you, Ford."

Walking with John toward the nearest parking lot, Rodney asked, "How come you didn't have your car the other day? I was wondering why you were walking to my house, but I...I forgot to ask." His face felt warm as he remembered why he'd forgotten. He'd mostly been too busy kissing John to think of anything else.

"Had a fight with my dad, lost driving privileges for a week, got 'em back this morning. It's no big deal." John pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the passenger door first. "Just toss your bag in the back with my stuff."

Rodney carefully placed his backpack on the floor next to John's backpack, which looked as if it had been hurriedly dumped on top of his skateboard, then climbed into the passenger seat. He'd only ridden with John one time last year when Rodney had missed his bus and was walking home in the rain. John had come by and stopped, giving him a ride the rest of the way home. That had been when Rodney had decided that John, who had just arrived at Central because his dad had been transferred to the military base in town, was much more than just another good-looking jock. He was actually a nice person, which shouldn't have come as such a surprise but Rodney had already started developing a cynical view of humanity.

As they were pulling out of the parking lot, John said, "So where you wanna--

Just as Rodney asked, "So what did--"

They grinned at each other, and Rodney said, "I was going to ask what the fight was about. What were you going to say?"

"I told my dad I'm going in the Air Force instead of the Army, which is what he's been expecting my whole life. It just slipped out." John shrugged and looked over at Rodney as they stopped at a red light. "I was trying to ask where you wanted to go."

"Oh, wherever. I don't care, as long as I'm home by six." Rodney waved that off and got down to more important business. "But...seriously? You're going into the military? What about don't ask, don't tell?"

John shrugged. "What about it? If they don't ask, I won't tell."

"But you'll have to live a lie or at least cover up all the time. Do you really want to go through your whole career like that?"

"I'm already doing it now. I don't see much difference," John said, and he was starting to sound annoyed so Rodney decided to drop it for the time being. Maybe some other time he'd have a chance to talk John out of this stupid idea.

"Okay, okay. So...what to do. Hey, what would you be doing if I wasn't with you?"

"I don't know, going home or going to the skate park. I don't suppose..."

"No."

"I didn't think so." John turned the radio on and sang along with The Killers under his breath for a minute. "Oh," he said, "I know."

"What?" Rodney asked, but John just smiled enigmatically and kept driving. After a few minutes, Rodney realized they were headed for the beach, and several minutes after that they pulled into the parking lot next to the boardwalk.

John turned the car off, looked at Rodney very seriously and said, "You do play skee-ball, right? Because if you don't, I might have to rethink hanging out with you."

"I do play skee-ball," said Rodney gravely, with an equally solemn nod. He'd have probably agreed to just about anything to keep seeing John, but in this case he didn't even have to lie.

***

After half a dozen games of skee-ball, two games of Virtua Cop, and a round of Spider Stomp which they cheated like crazy on, Rodney and John traded in their tickets for a couple of handfuls of candy, bought a Coke each from the machines, and walked out to the beach. They settled down on the sand, out of the wind in a shadowy nook protected by the overhang of the boardwalk itself. The spot gave them both a bit of privacy from the few other people around and a view of the ocean, the vast blue-grey expanse stretching out to the horizon only interrupted by a few distant boats.

Rodney popped some SweeTarts into his mouth and crunched them up while he watched John rip the ends off three Pixie Stix. John tilted his head back to pour the pixie dust in his mouth, and Rodney was transfixed by the line of his throat, the bump of his Adam's apple, the faint autumn gold of his skin where his summer tan was fading into the paleness of winter. For just a split second he thought, I could love this guy if I'm not careful.

After a careful look around, John turned his head slightly and kissed Rodney, who shuddered and opened his mouth. The tart sugary powder on John's lips melted on his tongue like a snowflake, so quick he barely knew it was there and then John was pulling away again.

John looked out toward the water, his lips quirked into a half smile. "I've been wanting to do that again."

Rodney leaned closer, pressing his knee against John's thigh, warm and firm under soft faded denim. "Really? So do it some more." But he didn't give John a chance to do anything, because he kissed John again, quick and fierce and not at all sweet. When John kept his eyes closed and made a quiet sound of encouragement, Rodney brought their mouths back together for a longer, slower kiss that made him break into a sweat under his jacket. He clenched his hand on John's arm, the thick fleece of John's hoodie interfering with his ability to really feel John's muscles underneath his fingers. He wished it was summer so they'd have an excuse to have their shirts off and then he could feel John's bare skin brushing against his. But then he'd have to run into the water to hide how hard he was getting, so maybe summer wasn't the best idea.

The bark of an approaching dog made Rodney sit back and put a few inches between him and John. He opened his Coke and took a long sip while a lady walked by with a poodle on a leash. He glanced at John out of the corner of his eye and saw that he was doing exactly the same as Rodney, which made him wonder if John was also as nervous and turned on as he was. He hoped so, because there was no way he wanted to feel like this all alone.

When the lady had walked a way down the beach, Rodney screwed the cap back on his drink, looked after her and, for lack of anything better, said, "She's not supposed to have that dog down here."

"No, but the cops don't come around as much at this time of year," John said, offering Rodney some of his Pixie Stix. "That's why I figured we'd be okay."

Rodney took a green Pixie Stix and nodded. "You're always thinking, huh?"

John laughed and shrugged. He nudged Rodney's foot with his and said, "I think about you."

"You're very slick. Do you practice this stuff?" Rodney nudged John back and ripped the end off the stick. He poured the contents into his mouth and almost choked on powdered sugar when John pushed him over, knocking him on his back and lying half on top of him.

Licking at Rodney's open mouth, John slid his hand up the inside of Rodney's thigh and then...yes. His fingers danced up the length of Rodney's erection, and he hummed a little, murmuring something into Rodney's mouth that sounded like, "Sweet."

Rodney groaned and slid his hand under John's hoodie, letting the smooth skin of John's back warm his chilly fingers. John shivered but didn't complain, and in just a minute Rodney's hand was as warm as John's back and Rodney was trying to get it inside John's waistband but his belt was too tight. John's fingers were moving all over the place, exciting and teasing and sending little bolts of pleasure all through his body. Rodney finally just gave up and lay back, letting John do whatever he wanted and ignoring the sand he was getting in his hair and down the back of his clothes. John's mouth on his was worth any amount of discomfort.

John's hand tightened on Rodney's cock and Rodney had to bite back a groan. He arched into John, but John pulled away and sat up.

Rodney lay there for a moment, catching his breath before he sat up and said, "What's wrong?"

"We can't do this here." John waved the hand that had just been touching Rodney's clothing-covered cock, and Rodney wanted to grab it and put it back where it was. He took a deep breath and forced himself instead to see the logic of what John was saying, but it wasn't easy because John's hand had been much more interesting.

"Yeah, you're right." It was almost dark, so Rodney clicked the light on his watch to check the time. "I should be getting home anyway."

"Rodney..." John ducked his head to look up into Rodney's eyes, so Rodney raised his head and smiled.

"It's okay, John," Rodney said, and he meant it.

"Okay. It's just...I do want to." John looked like he meant it too. "I just don't want to get arrested for it."

"No, no, neither do I." Rodney snickered and got to his feet. He held out his hand to help John up and held John's hand longer than necessary after John stood up.

John kissed him quickly on the mouth. "Turn around."

"What? Why?" Rodney asked suspiciously.

"So I can get the sand off your back. What did you think?"

"Oh. I don't know." Rodney shrugged and turned around. John started at his head and worked his way down Rodney's back, brushing the sand from his hair and clothes. When John ran his hands over the seat of Rodney's pants--over his ass--Rodney jumped as if he'd gotten an electric shock. He ignored John's chuckle and said, "Are you almost done?"

John's hands brushed the back of his legs and John's voice came from somewhere around his waist. "Yep. Now I'm done."

Rodney turned to face John and returned the favor, although most of John's sand was in much less interesting places.

They both crammed leftover candy in their pockets and dumped their empty wrappers in a trash can on their way back to the car.

As he pulled out of the parking lot, John kept his eyes on the road and said, "So, Homecoming is Friday."

"Couldn't miss the signs around school." Not that Rodney hadn't tried. The banners and streamers and posters were extremely annoying.

"Yeah. And the dance is after the game."

"You're taking Teyla." Rodney was proud of how even his voice was since inside he was shaking and wondering where this was going. "I believe you mentioned it before."

"Yeah, it's some stupid tradition. But here's the thing--"

"Does she know?" Rodney interrupted impatiently. "About..." He waved a hand that included the two of them in a noncommittal way.

"She knows about me. We're friends and I trust her. I didn't tell her about you because I didn't know if you'd want me to."

Rodney didn't know quite what to say to that so he said nothing. He'd need some time to think about it.

"So anyway, I have to take her but I don't want to. Bates wants to hook up with her and I think she kinda likes him too, so I'm going to try to arrange it. That way, as soon as we've made our appearance, I can leave." John looked over at Rodney expectantly, and Rodney nodded, not sure if John was asking a question or what. "I thought you and I could leave together."

"I'm not going."

John rolled his eyes and said, "Fine, I can come pick you up. Whatever. Then we can go to my house because my folks are leaving from the game to go to the airport for their trip."

"Oh yeah, you wanted to have some guys over to play videogames," Rodney said casually, as if he'd just remembered, and not as if he'd been thinking about it almost constantly, which was nearer to the truth.

"Not really. I just wanted an excuse to ask you over." John glanced at Rodney briefly before turning his attention back to traffic. "After you said yes, I never bothered to ask anyone else."

"Oh. Really? Huh." Rodney grinned and thought maybe he'd be more eloquent about it some other time, but right now he was too pleased to say much of anything. He'd been hoping that John liked him back--and the kissing had been a pretty good clue--but Rodney had a long history of liking people only to have them either want nothing to do with him or kind of like him back for a while but then change their minds later. John could still change his mind, but for right now it was looking good. "I was going to go to the game just to...uh...see you play. So I guess I could hang around outside and wait for you."

"Why don't you just come to the dance? You don't have to have a date."

"Yeah, because not having a date and standing around with the other losers makes you look so cool."

"You're not a loser, and you'd kind of have a date." John glanced over with a tentative smile.

Rodney rolled his eyes and laughed a little bitterly. "Yeah, I can see it now. 'So Rodney, you couldn't find a date?' 'No, I could. He's just dancing with someone else.' Yeah, that would work."

"Fine, whatever, don't go," said John, in the tone of someone who has finally realized he'll never win. "I'll come pick you up at your house, though, so you don't have to sit around outside being bored to death."

"No! No, it's okay. I don't mind waiting, really." Rodney smiled like a madman, just willing John to drop it right now.

"Okay." John looked at him strangely, then sighed. "Whatever makes you happy."

"Yes, that would make me happy." Of course, this was a lie, but it was better than the alternative which would be explaining to John why he didn't want John to pick him up at his house and potentially meet his parents. "By the way, could you drop me off at the corner?"

John looked at him again, but just said, "Sure."

Pulling over to the curb a block from Rodney's house, John reached over and put his hand on Rodney's arm as he started to get out of the car. "Bring an overnight bag on Friday, so you don't have to go home."

Rodney looked back and nodded. "I don't know if I can. I'll try, okay?"

"That's cool. See you tomorrow," said John as Rodney got his backpack out of the backseat. Rodney just nodded again and closed the door. He waited until John drove off before he started walking home.

***

Lizzie munched on a French fry and stared at the boys sitting at the two tables across the aisle. Something very strange was going on.

"So then I told her to...Lizzie, are you even listening?" Teyla nudged Lizzie's arm. "What is with you today? You haven't heard a word I said."

"No, I'm listening," Lizzie said, picking up another fry. "Fight with your mother, dress for the dance, blah blah blah. Aren't you curious about that?" She pointed her fry at the boys she'd been staring at.

Teyla hummed and said nothing for a long moment. "The geeks are sitting next to the football players...voluntarily?"

"Exactly. And check out the looks passing between Rodney McKay and John Sheppard."

"What looks? I don't see any...oh, those looks." Teyla looked at Lizzie, the same kind of confusion on her face that Lizzie felt.

"John is still taking you to the dance, right?" Teyla nodded and Lizzie looked back at John just as he glanced in Rodney's direction again. Rodney kept talking to the dork across the table--Lizzie had no idea what his name was and couldn't care less--but as soon as he finished what he was saying, his gaze shifted toward John and then just as quickly shifted away again. Lizzie grinned and leaned close to Teyla so she could whisper in her ear. "I think you may have some competition."

"For what? I don't like John that way," Teyla whispered back, her eyes firmly planted on the boy sitting next to John. "If Bates doesn't ask me out soon, I'm going to ask him. This waiting around is annoying."

"I agree. If you see what you want, you should go for it." Lizzie went back to picking at her fries, but kept her eyes on the geek table. That new kid Radek had slid right into the group like he belonged there. Very interesting.

***

"Please somebody, why is Lizzie staring at us that way?" Radek glanced at Rodney first but his attention was directed at the next table, so he sent a pleading look at Peter. "She's starting to scare me."

Peter started to turn in his seat, but Radek shot out a hand and grabbed his wrist. "Don't look! She'll know I'm talking about her."

"She probably already knows if she was looking at you when you said her name," said Peter, not pulling his arm from Radek's grasp--a fact that did not go unnoticed nor unappreciated by Radek, who let go before anyone else noticed that he was holding on too long.

"She's probably plotting your destruction," said Kavanagh with an unpleasant smirk.

Before Radek could reply to that, Rodney spoke up. "How did you end up at our table anyway?"

"Well, Peter said--" Radek began, but Rodney cut him off with impatient gesture.

"Not you." Rodney glared at Kavanagh. "I meant you. Nobody even likes you."

"Nobody likes you either," said Kavanagh, with the same smugness that he'd given to Radek. "Least of all Sheppard, who is never going to give up girls for any guy, and certainly not for you."

"Yeah, shows what you know, we--" Rodney started, then stopped abruptly. Kavanagh continued to stare at him in obvious disbelief and now Radek and Peter looked at him curiously as well. "Never mind, forget I said anything."

"You didn't say anything," complained Peter. "Come on, give us the dirt. Is Mr. Quarterback not quite as straight as we thought?"

Rodney stared down at his plate and said nothing. Kavanagh laughed. "That's what I thought. See you losers later." And with that he grabbed his tray and left.

Rodney looked around and then leaned in over the table, motioning for Radek and Peter to do the same. "Promise not to tell a single soul ever?" When they both nodded, he continued, "I went out with John, and he's been to my house."

"Nobody goes to your house," said Peter sharply, and then immediately looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean... Well, it's true."

Rodney rolled his eyes and Radek felt completely lost. There was obviously history that he wasn't privy to, so he went with the part he did understand. "You mean you're gay?"

"Jeeze, shut up, will you?" Rodney looked around nervously, but before Radek could tell him where to stick it, Peter jumped in.

"What? Nobody cares. Everybody knows about me, and then there's them." Peter pointed across the room to the table full of kids that he'd pointed out to Radek as "drama fags." Radek had taken the term as a homophobic pejorative at the time and had been very disappointed in Peter, but now he wondered if Peter had meant it in the same affectionate-teasing way he called himself, Rodney, and now Radek "math nerds".

"See there?" Radek waved his fork at Peter, but looked at Rodney. "So don't tell me to shut up. It's not like I care. It was just a question." In fact, Radek really didn't care about Rodney's sexual preference, but hearing that Peter was gay just made his whole day a million times better.

"Whatever. Nobody can know about me and...okay?" Rodney's lips were barely moving and he kept glancing nervously toward the football players.

"Yes, I think we've got it." Peter smiled across the table at Radek and said, "We'll never mention Rodney's sex life, ever again, right?"

"Right." Radek readily agreed, until he looked at John, who was getting up out of his chair and walking away from his table, then he added, "Unless he gets lucky and then we need to hear all about it."

Peter laughed, Rodney ignored them both, and Radek finished his lunch, amazed that he seemed to have found some new friends more like-minded than he'd ever expected.


***

Stackhouse waited until John left to go talk to somebody at another table. "Okay, what's up with him?"

"I don't know," said Bates, absently, never taking his eyes off Teyla. Markham just shrugged.

"He's hanging out with geeks, that's what's wrong with him." Ford crammed a cookie in his mouth after that pronouncement, and Stackhouse followed his gaze over to the guys at the next table. None of the geeks seemed to be paying any attention to them, but the one that Stackhouse saw talking to John at his locker last week was staring off into space.

Stackhouse thought about it for a moment. "Why would he start hanging out with a geek?"

"Especially one that's kinda gay."

"Maybe John's making him do his homework or something," Markham suggested.

"I said, especially one that's kinda gay."

"We heard you the first time, Ford," said Stackhouse, trying to get it through the kid's head. "We just think you're full of shit."

Bates snapped out of his daze long enough to say, "Yeah, he is, but he's also got a point."

Markham leaned all the way back in his chair to get a better look at the guy in question, then leaned forward again. "I don't know, man. What makes him so gay?"

Ford gave him an incredulous look. "What about the fact that he's sitting next to Peter Grodin who has probably sucked off half the guys in this school?"

"Half? No way. He hasn't done me," said Stackhouse. Markham started laughing, and Ford looked at him strangely. Stackhouse realized how that might have sounded, and started to explain but then just shook his head. "Does that mean he's done you guys?"

That shut them right up, and Markham leaned back in his chair again, his eyes flickering back over to the geek table when he probably thought Stackhouse wouldn't notice.

Stackhouse gave up on the subject of John and his possibly gay geek and nudged Bates with his elbow. "When are you going to just ask her out already?"

"Friday," said Bates decisively. "At the dance. We've got it all worked out, John and me."

Stackhouse rolled his eyes at how complicated they were making it and sighed. "Well, good luck then."

***

Friday evening the phone rang just as the Zelenka family was finishing dinner. In a burst of unfounded optimism, Radek volunteered to answer in hopes that it might actually be for him. When Peter Grodin's voice greeted him, he was struck speechless for a second.

"This is Radek, isn't it?"

Radek grasped the cordless phone tightly and sidled out of the kitchen and into his bedroom so that he could have some privacy. "Yes, this is Radek."

"Oh good. There was only one Zelenka in the book, so I thought it must be your family, but it might not have been."

"Yes, yes, it's us." Radek immediately rolled his eyes at himself for stating the obvious, but Peter made him nervous in that thrilling way that crushes did. "What's going on?"

"I wondered, if you were home and not at the football game, I wondered if you'd like to go do something." Peter paused but before Radek could agree, he spoke again. "You're probably busy, right? It's kind of last minute."

"No, it's fine. I'm not busy. What did you have in mind?"

"I don't know. Why don't you come outside and we'll figure something out?"

"You're...outside my building? Right now?" Radek felt a frisson of unease, but this was Peter and well...it was Peter.

"I'm on the payphone across the street." Radek could hear the grin in Peter's voice. "Make up your mind. There's someone waiting to use the phone."

"Okay, I'll be out in just a minute." Radek hung up the phone after they exchanged good-byes, and changed into a clean shirt. A quick detour to the bathroom to brush his teeth and stare mournfully at his unruly hair, and then he went back to the kitchen.

"I'm going to meet a friend at the library," he told his parents. "I'll be home by midnight."

"I should think so since the library closes at nine." His father gave him an arch look, rattling his newspaper as he turned to another page. "Be home at eleven, please. There's not a lot to do that late that you should be doing." After a couple of seconds, he repeated his instructions in Czech, as if he didn't trust his English to get through to Radek.

His mother said nothing except, "Be a good boy, Radek," and continued washing dishes.

Radek nodded, grateful that he wasn't still grounded after the trouble he got into at his old school. His parents had been very disappointed in him, and that had been almost worse than any punishment they could have thought up. Although he still hadn't gotten his beloved computer back, so he was being punished quite effectively.

He walked out into the living room, where his little sister completely ignored his existence, and grabbed his jacket from the closet before leaving the apartment.

Down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk, and Radek was waving at Peter who was still standing next to the payphone in front of the gas station. Peter yanked his hands out of his pockets and crossed the street.

"I have to be home by eleven," said Radek, and he immediately felt foolish for saying it so quickly.

But Peter just smiled. "Not a problem. I've got a midnight curfew myself."

Radek smiled back and stuck his hands in his jacket pockets just to have something to do with them. Standing there under the streetlights with Peter smiling at him was making Radek crush harder than ever. He longed to say something but had no idea what to say or how to say it. Oh, by the way, I'm gay too and I really like you and if you'd let me kiss you and maybe touch you a little, I could probably die happy was one option, but he'd rather not get laughed at.

"Well, let's go find something to do," said Peter with a tilt of his head that made Radek want to lick his neck.

Radek nodded and they walked down the street toward more choices, falling into the same easy, casual conversations they had at school. Radek made Peter laugh, and that made Radek feel good. Peter looked at Radek as if nobody else was of any interest at all, and that made Radek feel even better.

As they approached a block that had two pawn shops and a convenience store, Peter suddenly broke off in the middle of telling Radek about a movie he'd watched the night before. "Hey, I know that guy," he said and waved a man getting out of a car parked at the curb. "Hey, Eddie, wait up!"

Radek followed along slowly as Peter broke into a jog and caught up with his friend. There was some talk and then money changed hands just as Radek walked up. "Eddie, this is Radek. Radek, Eddie."

Radek and Eddie nodded at each other and then Eddie went into the convenience store. "What's going on?" Radek asked.

Peter gave him a look that made him say, "Oh. Yes. Never mind."

Another minute later, Eddie came out with two paper sacks. He gave one to Peter and took the other with him as he got into his car and drove off.

Peter grinned. "So where can we drink these?"

"I know just the place." Radek motioned for him to follow and then started walking toward a part of the neighborhood where the mostly commercial streets blended into an industrial area. Five blocks later, Radek led Peter through a big ragged hole in a wooden fence and into the back lot of an abandoned building. Peter headed for the wide open spaces of the old loading docks but Radek grabbed his arm. "No, it's better out here. Sometimes, homeless people sleep in there. It's also really dark because the windows are boarded up."

"Oh, yeah?" Peter shrugged. "We don't have enough to share."

"Exactly. It's okay out here." Radek sat down on a set of wide steps that led up to a pair of doors that were rather pointlessly boarded over. The cold seeped from the concrete through the back of his jeans but otherwise it wasn't too uncomfortable. Peter sat next to him and put the sack down by his feet. He pulled out two bottles of beer and gave one to Radek.

Radek twisted off the top and took a tentative sip. He'd had wine with family dinners and even vodka a couple of times at holiday gatherings, but never beer. The taste was more bitter than he expected, but it wasn't too bad. He drank half the bottle and looked over to see Peter watching him with what looked like fascination.

"What?" Radek asked, wondering if he'd done anything wrong.

Peter straightened his shoulders and looked away quickly. "Nothing."

Radek hunched into his jacket and picked at the label on the bottle. Neither of them said anything else for a while, just drinking in silence that started out feeling awkward but eventually became almost comfortable--almost but not quite. Radek knew the tight fluttery feeling in his stomach had little to do with alcohol and everything to do with the boy sitting so close to him.

Peter was the first to break the silence. "So... how have your first couple of weeks at school been? You're settling in and everything, right?"

"Yes." Radek thought about it for a moment. "It's still a little weird. My old school was smaller and everyone knew each other, but most of the classes here are easier."

"Don't let Rodney hear you say that," Peter said with a little smirk. "He wanted to go to St Andrews so bad, but his parents wouldn't let him. Something about his sister had gone to Central so he had to go there too. He's still bitter about it."

"Ah, okay. I won't mention it. So you've been friends a long time?"

"I guess. We're not best friends or anything, but he's okay most of the time."

Radek didn't know enough about Rodney to say any more so he changed the subject to TV shows, which they could happily debate for hours.

By the time each of them was down to his last bottle, Radek felt warm and relaxed enough to gather his courage. He looked at Peter in the dim light from far off streetlamps and finally just said what had been on the tip of his tongue for hours, days, perhaps forever. "I am...I'm gay too."

Peter's eyes widened and after a moment of stunned silence, he laughed. "I've been hoping, but I didn't want to just come out and ask."

"Why not? You've never seemed at all shy since I first met you."

"I don't know." Peter shrugged. "You're different from...well, anybody I've ever known."

"Is that good or bad?"

"It's good," Peter said and shifted closer to Radek, close enough so that Radek could feel the warmth of his body and smell the faint musk-spice of his skin. Radek wanted to lick him to see if he tasted the same way. "Very good."

Radek swallowed and closed his eyes, and a second later Peter's warm lips brushed his. Tilting his head a little, Radek opened his eyes and flicked his tongue over his lips. Peter smiled and kissed him again, this time lingering long enough for Radek to lift his hands to touch Peter's face, lightly brushing his fingertips from Peter's cheekbones down to his jaw line. His entire body seemed to tighten with arousal until he felt hard and yet oddly fragile, and then Peter's tongue touched his and Peter's hands settled on his hips and a wonderful warmth spread through him.

After a few minutes, Radek pulled away to catch his breath, and look around to make sure they were still alone. Peter leaned back against the step behind them and dropped one hand to his own lap, adjusting the erection that matched Radek's own. Radek swallowed and watched Peter touch himself with a longing that was fulfilled when Peter looked up and grinned. "We could take care of each other." He glanced at Radek's crotch. "If you want to."

"I...yes." Radek licked his lips nervously and leaned back against the step so that he was closer to Peter. His arm settled against Peter's side as Peter reached for the button of his jeans. He waited until Peter had his zipper all the way down before unfastening his own pants. By unspoken agreement Radek slipped his hand inside Peter's open jeans as Peter worked his hand inside Radek's underwear. With a quiet sound of discovery and relief and just plain excitement, Radek curled his fingers around another boy's cock for the first time, the difference and sameness were arousing and reassuring in some strange way he was too fuzzy-headed to think about. When Peter rubbed his thumb over the head of Radek's cock, thinking was the last thing on his agenda anyway.

Radek's entire body twitched and Peter grinned at him. He grinned back and Peter kissed him, his tongue stroking against Radek's in the same slow teasing way that his hand moved on Radek's cock. Radek tried to reciprocate, but he was so enthusiastic that his hand moved twice as fast and Peter gasped into his mouth just as a splash of wetness dripped on his fingers.

Peter broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against Radek's. His breath was warm and moist on Radek's face and his hand was the most wonderful thing that Radek had ever felt on his cock, smooth and tight and picking up speed. Radek just had time to murmur Peter's name before he was coming, and it was only when he curled his fingers in an automatic response that he realized he was still cradling Peter's cock in his hand.

A flush of emotion--possibly embarrassment, possibly satisfaction at finally losing his virginity--swept over Radek and he pulled away from Peter.

Peter wiped his hand on the paper sack the beer had been in and held it out for Radek to do the same. "Well, that was fun," he said, tucking himself away and fixing his clothes. Radek wasn't sure when Peter's shirt had gotten pushed up over his stomach or which one of them had done it, but he was sure he'd never forget the feeling of Peter's skin under his fingers.

"Yes," said Radek, wiping his hand on the paper and then fastening his pants. "Do you...could we...?"

"Do it again?" Peter smiled and raised his eyebrows. "I sure hope so."

Radek picked up his abandoned beer bottle and took a sip. "Have you done this a lot?"

For a moment, Peter looked undecided about answering but then he shrugged. "No, not really. Not as much as some people think I have."

"Me neither. Except the part about other people thinking differently." Radek glanced at Peter out of the corner of his eye. "I've...wanted to. Thought about it, you know, having a boyfriend."

"Hm," Peter said noncommittally. "I thought I wanted a boyfriend once--not that long ago, actually-- but then it turned out he had a girlfriend back at college. Pre-Med just like him. Her name was Perna, of all things."

Since moving to America at the age of five, Radek had never been able to laugh at anyone else's name, so he shifted the topic a little. "Do you still like that guy?"

"No. I'm over him. It was just..." Peter shrugged again. "Not important."

"Oh." Radek finished off the dregs of his beer and tried not to show how happy that made him. "That's good, I guess."

"Yeah." Peter looked like he was going to say something else, but a man stumbled out of the building onto the loading dock just a few feet away, mumbling and cursing to himself. He unzipped his fly and started to urinate onto the broken concrete below.

Peter and Radek looked at each other and, without saying a word, jumped to their feet and ran for the fence. They scrambled out through the hole and took off down the alley at a steady walk. After a while, Peter broke the silence. "Well, that was gross."

Radek laughed and nodded. They walked back to his apartment building, taking a few side streets just to make the trip last longer, but eventually they got there a few minutes before Radek's curfew.

As much as he wanted to, Radek couldn't kiss Peter good night out on the street, but he could brush his hand against Peter's and smile. "I'm glad you called me."

"Me too." Peter dug around in his jacket pockets and then pulled out a pen. He picked up Radek's hand and wrote some numbers on the back. "There. Now you can call me sometime too."

"Maybe tomorrow?" Radek asked hopefully.

"Sure." Peter smiled. "Well, I better go."

"Yeah. Good night, Peter."

"See you, Radek." With a little wave, Peter walked away. Radek watched until he was out of sight and then went inside.



***

During the football game, Rodney sat in the stands alone. Occasionally, he looked around for people he knew well enough to talk to, but none of the guys he might loosely call friends had come to the game as far as he could tell. They were probably all off doing whatever it was geeks did on a Friday night. He knew what he'd rather be doing but since the person he'd like to do it with was down on the field, Rodney was stuck here watching a game he had little interest in. Whenever John wasn't on the field, he mostly just stared at the cheerleaders and waited for them to do those kicks that made their skirts fly up. He sometimes wondered how strange he was for lusting after John and cheerleaders at the same time. That wasn't something normal people did, was it? He made a mental note to look up bisexuality the next time he was on the internet.

When John was on the field, Rodney watched him like a hawk, half fascinated by the way he moved and half terrified he'd get hurt. John never got bagged or sacked or whatever they called it, but he got knocked down once after he'd already thrown the ball and Rodney was instantly on his feet. When John quickly got up and got right back in the game, Rodney sat back down with a sigh of relief.

A couple minutes later, he glanced up to see Lizzie Weir making her way toward him. She wiggled into the narrow free space on the bench beside him which put her practically in his lap, and grinned at him. "Some game, huh?"

"I guess. If you like football."

"I don't care about football, and neither do you."

Rodney ignored the second half of that sentence and asked, "If you don't like it, why are you here?"

"Everybody goes to the homecoming game," she said, as if it should be obvious. "It's not about football."

He watched John throw another touchdown pass to a receiver who was wide open. "This team we're playing isn't very good, is it?"

"No, that's also the point of homecoming. We'll win." She shot him a sidelong glance. "And John Sheppard will be quite the hero. Should make you happy."

"Why should I care?"

"Why else are you here? You just said that you don't even like football."

"And you just said this game isn't about football so what does that prove?"

"Oh, so suddenly you're just filled with school pride? Please, Rodney, give me some credit." She leaned close and whispered, "What's going on with you and John?"

Rodney stared at her and didn't know what to say. If he told her it was none of her business, she'd know something was definitely going on, but if he said nothing was going on, then he'd be lying and he was such a terrible liar she'd know it instantly.

Leaning back, Lizzie grinned at him and nodded. "That's exactly what I thought. You're so cute together." At his no doubt panicked expression, she continued, "But don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

Before he could try to sell her the lie that there was no secret, she got up, patted him on the head, and left him alone again. He went back to watching the game, but his mind was on what she'd do with the information she thought she had. That she did have. He had no idea how she could have found out because he knew John wouldn't have told her, but then Lizzie had a way of knowing everything that was going on both in school and out.

And she was right about the game. Atlantis Central beat Oakdale Prep by twenty-one points, and John threw five touchdown passes and even ran the ball across the line himself once. The people sitting around Rodney started talking about chances for the state championship, even though there were still several games left to go in the regular season.

Between the end of the game and the time that John could leave the dance, Rodney had nearly an hour and a half to kill. He sat on the back of John's car and tried to read a book about black holes under the bright lights of the parking lot, but he couldn't focus. Sticking the book back in his bag, he got to his feet and started to pace. His hands were unsteady at the thought of spending the night with John, so he shoved them into his jeans pockets. He had no idea what he was doing, and John would figure that out pretty damn quick. The potential for disaster was astronomical, and Rodney wasn't sure he could live with the humiliation if it went terribly wrong and John sent him home early.

Getting out of the house in the first place hadn't been very difficult. All Rodney had to do was ask his parents' permission to go while they were in the same room, and then sneak out once the ensuing argument had reached the yelling stage and had ceased to be about him at all. As with most of his parents' screaming fights, he had no clue what it was really about and was glad to be away. Usually, he had to lock himself in his room, put his headphones on, and bury himself in a book. He could usually still hear their voices, but it was better if he couldn't pick out the details, especially when they started blaming his existence for the fact that they still hadn't gotten a divorce.

Sometimes he really wished they would break up, move far apart and stop infecting each other with bitterness and hatred. But then, what would become of him if they did that? He still had several months until he could leave for college, and neither one of them would want him. They'd probably get involved in the world's first anti-custody battle. Being picked last for teams in gym class was bad enough but having both your parents decline to pick you would be devastating, and Rodney could see such a scenario happening way too easily. It was probably just as well that he'd made himself so self-sufficient. Except for monetary issues like food and clothes and a roof over his head, he didn't need his parents at all. He may have to remind himself of it again every so often, but it didn't stop it from being true.

He wondered what kind of relationship John had with his folks. And he did have to wonder because John never talked about his family if at all possible. He'd answer direct questions, but he always seemed uncomfortable so Rodney had never pushed it. It didn't matter anyway. Rodney wasn't a very philosophical thinker, but there was one thing he subscribed to wholeheartedly. A person should be judged on his own merits and not by what his parents were like or his relationship with them.

He couldn't even find it in himself to hold it against his sister for having a better relationship with their parents than he did. It wasn't her fault they had only wanted one kid, if they'd even wanted that much. It wasn't her fault that he'd come along nine years later after their marriage had started to fall apart, and it wasn't her fault that they stubbornly refused to divorce until he was out of the house. But all that made it very hard for Rodney to be close to her, and he thought that'd be true even if she hadn't moved halfway across the country when she went to college. They had nothing in common, not even the basic love and affection most siblings had.

Mostly he tried not to think about that, and he wished he hadn't started now because he was already a nervous wreck over spending the night with John, and adding his family issues to the mix wasn't helping. He might as well put on some Evanescence and slit his wrists. He rolled his eyes, rubbed his hands together, and turned to pace in the opposite direction for a while.

He'd not taken more than a few steps when he saw John walking across the parking lot toward him, looking like something out of a magazine. He'd never seen John dressed so neatly before. His black blazer and pants actually fit, his white dress shirt was tucked in, and his tie was still on, although he was loosening it as he approached. Rodney glanced down at his blue and white striped shirt hanging open over an orange viva la relativity t-shirt and felt underdressed.

But then John walked up and stopped less than a foot away. "Man, am I glad to see you," he said, in a voice that was half amused and half relieved. "Remind me to tell you all about Bates and Teyla's first dance later."

"What hap--" Rodney's question was cut off by John's mouth kissing him quickly. He blinked as John stepped back and unlocked the car.

"Later."

"How much later?" Rodney asked, just out of idle curiosity.

"After we've done that about a hundred more times." John opened the door and picked up Rodney's bag and tossed it into the back seat.

"That works for me," said Rodney, a delicate shiver of anticipation shooting down his spine. He took his place in the passenger seat and realized that he was no longer nearly as anxious as before, but he was still nervous. He felt a little shy all of a sudden as John got into the car and started it up. The front seat seemed much smaller in the dark than it had in the daylight, and the thought that he was finally going to have sex with somebody--with John-- almost overwhelmed him. He opened his mouth to start babbling about anything at all to cover his discombobulation, but before he could get a word out, John reached over and laid his hand on Rodney's arm.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but..." Rodney's stomach sank because nothing good had ever followed an opening like that, and from what little Rodney could see in the dark, John had a weird look on his face. "I was afraid you might not be here."

"You thought I would chicken out?"

"See, that would be taking it the wrong way." John squeezed Rodney's arm and then let go to put the car in gear. "You sounded like you weren't sure if your folks would let you come. And, well..."

"Well, what?" Rodney snapped, without really meaning to.

"I thought you might decide it wasn't worth the trouble." John looked over at Rodney as they passed under a streetlight and shrugged.

Rodney wondered if John was implying that he thought John himself wasn't worth the trouble, but Rodney dismissed that immediately. John had everything going for him and no reason to worry. Rodney was the one who should be wondering how he'd ended up here with a popular, good-looking guy like John. A guy that seemed one hundred percent straight on the surface. "Do you...are you...what I'm wondering is...have you done this...a lot? Because for a long time I thought you were straight."

John shrugged again. "I don't label myself one way or the other. Is that important?"

"No, I guess not." Rodney looked out the window at the buildings whizzing past. "I go either way."

"That's fine," John said, but he didn't add anything else about his own preferences.

Rodney wanted to question him more closely, if only to find out whether he might be dumped for a cheerleader some time down the road, but he didn't want to get into it if John didn't want to. Not tonight, anyway. Another day, maybe. Realizing that John had avoided the question of whether he'd done it before, Rodney looked over at John and noticed that he was gripping the steering wheel much tighter than usual. He kept shooting brief glances at Rodney and his mouth kept twitching like he couldn't decide whether to smile or frown.

The ride to John's house only took a few minutes, but it seemed to last an eternity. The silence had gotten oppressive by the time they pulled into the drive way of a ranch style brick house and Rodney was starting to wonder if he'd made a mistake thinking he and John could possibly work out.

John put the car in park, turned off the lights and then the ignition, but made no move to get out. Rodney looked at him and John took the keys out. "So did you watch the game?" he asked.

"Yes. Well, mostly," Rodney said, with a nervous laugh. "When you were playing."

"I wasn't sure you would."

"Is that important to you?" Rodney squinted at John in the darkness. "You want to know what I thought about your performance?"

"Nah. Never mind." John shrugged and opened the door. The light came on, making Rodney blink. "Come on, let's go inside. You hungry?"

The butterflies in Rodney's stomach were taking up all available space so he shook his head and grabbed his bag from the backseat. He followed John through the open carport past a Buick that screamed 'Mom-car' and waited until John unlocked the door before following him up a short set of steps and into a kitchen decorated in various shades of green, orange, and yellow that contrasted unpleasantly.

John must have caught the look on Rodney's face before he could hide his reaction because he said, "It's a rental, since we move a lot."

"Oh, umm...it's..." Rodney cleared his throat and fidgeted with the handle of his overnight bag. "I thought you played really well tonight. You're not moving soon, are you?"

John stared at him for a second as if trying to follow the rapid changes in subject and then smiled. "Thanks. And, no, not as far as I know. That's why we live off base."

"Good." Rodney smiled back, and then they were both just standing in the middle of John's ugly kitchen grinning at each other like a couple of idiots.

John broke first by shaking his head and moving over to the refrigerator. "Want a drink or something?"

"Sure."

"Orange juice okay?"

"No, not unless you want to kill me." John jerked his head out of the refrigerator and looked at him like he was crazy. "I'm allergic," Rodney explained.

"Oh. All right. Ginger ale, then?" John waited for Rodney to nod and then pulled a two liter bottle out of the refrigerator. He set it on the counter while he filled a couple of glasses with ice, and Rodney just stood still, watching his every move with a growing hunger that had nothing to do with food or drink.

John handed Rodney a glass and let his fingers brush Rodney's. It reminded him of the time he handed John a drink the same way and the memory had a calming effect. He murmured his thanks and took a gulp to ease his dry throat.

"So, I guess you want to see my room," John said, smirking at Rodney over his own glass. He was standing so close that Rodney could almost feel the heat of his body through their clothes, close enough that Rodney could see the little flecks of brown in his otherwise grey-green eyes.

"That's why I'm here, isn't it?" Rodney lifted his shoulders and tried not to feel defensive.

"I sure as hell hope so." John set his glass down on the counter and crowded Rodney back against the cabinets. He planted his hands on the counter on either side of Rodney's hips and slid his knee between Rodney's. With Rodney watching eagerly, he leaned in closer and brushed his open mouth up the side of Rodney's neck. Rodney shuddered at the arousal that flooded through him and shuddered again when John briefly took his earlobe between his teeth and then released it to whisper, "I can't wait to get you naked."

"Why?" Rodney blurted out before he could stop himself. He jerked back and blinked at John's amused face. "No, really."

"Because...I think you're hot?"

"But I'm pale and clumsy and kinda...and not very--" Rodney would have kept stammering about his flaws, but John's tongue licking at his lips distracted him into shutting up.

"Rodney," John said against his mouth, "are you scared?"

"No," Rodney lied with fierce bravado.

"I'm not gonna hurt you or anything." John leaned his forehead against Rodney's and sighed. His warm breath drifted across Rodney's lips, making him flick his tongue out in a completely involuntary response.

"I know." And he did. It was a rare thing for Rodney to trust people, but he did trust John. Or at least he wanted John so much that trust hardly mattered.

"Then why do you look like a rabbit caught in headlights?" John lowered his face to Rodney's neck again and licked delicately. "Relax. You can touch me... if you want."

Taking his own advice, John moved his hands from the counter and wrapped them around Rodney's waist before dropping tiny wet kisses along Rodney's neck.

Rodney tilted his head to the side to give John better access and slowly slid his hands down and then back up under John's jacket to get some better access himself. He curled his fingers around John's hips, feeling bone and muscle beneath the slick-scratchy material of his pants. Before he could make any bolder moves, John sighed against the damp skin of his neck and then pulled back.

"I need to go hang up these clothes before..." Stepping back out of Rodney's personal space, John cleared his throat and looked away. "There's things I don't wanna have to explain to my mom."

"I can understand that." Rodney chuckled and nodded, picking up his abandoned glass of ginger ale and drinking down half of it in one gulp. The carbonation tickled his nose and he slapped his hand over his mouth just before he belched.

John laughed at him and Rodney found that he didn't care. He followed John out of the kitchen and down a hallway past a small living room at the front of the house and a larger den at the back, barely glancing into each room. Past a closed door and an open one that showed a bathroom there were two more doors. John opened the one on the left and stood back so that Rodney could enter first.

The first thing he noticed was the neatness. Rodney's mother forced him to keep a fairly tidy room to avoid constant nagging, but John's had a geometric precision to it that felt vaguely uncomfortable. His books were perfectly aligned on their shelves, and the posters--four different combat helicopters and one half-dressed actress whose name he could never remember-- were exactly evenly spaced on the walls. There didn't seem to be a speck of dust anywhere and the top of the dresser shone as if it had just been polished.

Rodney turned from his visual tour of the room to say something to John, but was struck silent. John had the closet door open and was undressing in front of it. He hung his jacket up and started on the buttons on his shirt with a smile. "Make yourself at home," he said as he kicked off his shoes.

Rodney nodded but knew that would never happen. With his body still thrumming with arousal, all he could do was stand by the door and watch John strip down to his blue boxers. The experience was even better than in all of Rodney's fantasies, because Rodney knew that if he had the nerve, he could cross the room and touch John's naked chest. He could actually put his hand on John's flat belly and push his boxers down instead of just imagining what it would be like.

"Rodney," John said in the tone of someone repeating himself and Rodney jerked his gaze up to John's face. "You wanna...come closer?"

Rodney swallowed and nodded, but didn't move until John took a step away from the closet. They met at the end of the bed. Raising one trembling hand, Rodney let his fingers wander over John's chest, learning the feel of his muscles and the warmth of his skin. The wisps of hair tickled his fingertips as he circled a nipple and he smiled as it pebbled at his touch. John just stood there and watched him with his head tilted just a little to one side, and noticing that made Rodney drop his hand and start to step back, thinking he must have done something weird.

John grabbed Rodney's hand and pulled gently until they were pressed up against each other and Rodney could feel John's cock growing hard against his groin. "You're too quiet," John said in a near whisper against Rodney's ear. "I'm used to you talking constantly and you haven't said a word since we left the kitchen. I can't help wondering what's going on in your head."

"Not a whole lot at the moment," Rodney confessed with a shudder. John's breath was doing wonderful things to his ear and John's hands were sliding under his shirt and really, thought was way overrated at this point. "I'm thinking in one syllable words like yes and more and please."

John chuckled and tried to pull Rodney's t-shirt and overshirt off at the same time, which resulted in Rodney's hands being trapped by his still buttoned shirt cuffs for a second before he managed to squeeze his hands out. He let his shirts drop to the floor and knew his face was turning red, but John didn't laugh. He just opened Rodney's jeans and shoved them and his briefs down so that when he wrapped his arms around Rodney they were pressed together from chest to knee with nothing between them but the thin cotton of John's boxers.

As John kissed him, Rodney clutched at John's biceps and thrust his hips, rubbing his cock against smooth fabric and wishing it was bare skin. He dropped one hand from John's arm and pushed at the waistband of his boxers, getting them halfway off before the hit the snag of John's erection. Sliding one hand around John's hip to touch his ass, Rodney worked the other in between them so that he could get the boxers the rest of the way off.

All the time, John just held Rodney and kept kissing him, deeply, single-mindedly, like he could do it all night long even though Rodney was about to come just from having John's naked body against his. He spread his fingers over the firm curves of John's ass, which fit perfectly in his hands, and pushed his hips against John's, trapping their cocks in the tight heat between their bodies. Rodney gasped against John's mouth and came all over John's stomach before he could stop himself.

John groaned and pulled his mouth away from Rodney's, stiffening as he added to the sticky mess between them. Rodney shuddered again because he'd done that to John. He'd made John lose it and make that sexy sound from the back of his throat and he'd never done that for anybody before. It was incredibly hot.

"Oh, man." John shivered and opened his eyes. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times and then swallowed so hard his Adam's apple bobbed. "What's your recovery time?"

Rodney blinked and licked his lips, thinking he could taste John on them. "I dunno. A couple minutes?"

"Good." John smiled and stepped out of his boxers. He picked them up off the floor and wiped the spunk off of Rodney--his oversensitive cock twitching in response--and then gave himself a couple of swipes. He tossed them back on the floor with a cavalier attitude that seemed at odds with the neatness of his room, but Rodney didn't question it. He sat down on the end of the bed and took off his shoes and socks so he could get his pants and underwear all the way off. He pretended not to be nervous over John standing next to him, naked and watching every move he made.

As soon as Rodney was completely free of the clothes tangled around his ankles, John knelt on the floor between his feet and pushed his legs apart. Rodney's cock twitched when John licked his thigh and then sucked at the skin stretched over his hipbone, but then John looked up at him with his lips all flushed and wet, and asked, "Ever had a blowjob?" And Rodney was instantly hard and aching to find out what John's mouth felt like.

For a moment, Rodney thought about lying, but then he shook his head. "No, I...no. I haven't, haven't done...well, much of anything."

"Well then, we'll just have to take care of that, won't we?" said John with the widest, most teeth-baring grin Rodney had ever seen. It was almost but not quite predatory.

Rodney blissfully closed his eyes when John cupped his balls in one gentle hand and circled his cock with the other, licking at the head with hot teasing strokes that made Rodney's toes curl into the carpet. Then John opened his mouth over the tip of Rodney's cock, sliding down slowly, engulfing him so completely that Rodney had to open his eyes again so he could see. Watching his cock disappear into John's mouth while John's fingers played with his balls and rubbed at the spot behind them, Rodney groaned and wrapped his legs around John's back. He buried one hand in John's hair and slid the other one down John's neck and across his shoulder, clutching desperately, wanting--needing-- to get closer, to crawl inside of John until they shared breath and blood and bones.

Taking a deep breath, Rodney forced his hands to relax and stared down at John's face. He didn't want to come yet, didn't want to lose the amazing-- hot wet good good good--pleasure that John was giving him, but he could feel it gathering in the base of his spine, tightening his balls and making his cock swell against John's tongue. He gasped out John's name and tried to push him away, but John held on and swallowed hard and Rodney was gone. He came hard and then fell backward onto the bed, his heart racing in his chest and his breath coming in nearly painful gasps.

John crawled up next to him, latched his mouth onto Rodney's collarbone and sucked hard as he wrapped Rodney's hand around his cock. He guided Rodney's hand up and down until Rodney got the rhythm and then he let go. Rodney had a hard time concentrating on jerking John off because John's mouth was moving up his throat, nibbling and licking and generally turning Rodney's entire body into one throbbing nerve ending.

Then John lifted his mouth away and propped himself up on both hands so that his face hovered over Rodney's. His eyes were dark and wide-open and his breath came in gasps through parted lips, and Rodney wanted to look away, close his eyes and hide from that much intensity, but he couldn't. He stared up at John and kept his hand moving until John's cock swelled in his grip and spurted onto his belly. Again.

With a tired smile, John collapsed onto the bed next to Rodney and groaned in a decidedly not-sexy way. "I'm so fucking exhausted, but damn that was good."

Flushed with pleasure and all kinds of strange feelings that he didn't really want to analyze yet, Rodney beamed up at the ceiling and then turned his head and beamed at John, too. "Yeah, it was great. You're great. Sex is great." Rodney stopped talking long enough to listen to himself and shrugged. "And I'll stop saying great now."

"Don't stop, it's gr--" John didn't get to finish because Rodney rolled over and kissed him. Then he kissed him again when he realized that he could taste himself on John's tongue and it wasn't as disgusting as he thought it might be. They both broke the kiss when his stomach growled loud enough to make John laugh.

"You know, I could go for some pizza right now," said John with a lazy smile.

"That sounds good," Rodney agreed. Just lying there next John felt pretty good too, so even though he was hungry, he wasn't in a hurry to move.

John raised up on one elbow and looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand, and then smacked Rodney on the leg. "It's too late for delivery, so we'll have to do it ourselves."

Rodney didn't bother to hide his horror. "You mean cook?"

"Nah. My mom stocked the freezer before she left." John stretched his arms over his head and then got up. He kicked his dirty boxers to one side on his way to the dresser where he pulled out a clean pair.

Rodney scooted to the end of the bed and grabbed his clothes off the floor and put his underwear and jeans back on. He picked up his shirts and started to untangle them, but he paused when he glanced up and saw John had stopped at boxers and was leaning against the dresser, watching him with an amused expression on his face.

Rodney dropped both shirts and straightened his shoulders. He also tried to suck in his stomach without looking like he was sucking in his stomach, which was a difficult maneuver to pull off so he gave up. He left his jeans on because he wasn't wandering around a strange house in just his underwear. "So... back to the ugly kitchen?"

"Just be glad you don't have to live with it." John smirked at him and then led the way back to the kitchen.

***

They ate the heated up frozen pizza in front of the TV in the den that Rodney had noticed on his first trip through the house. Rodney tried to watch the mutant creature horror movie that John had found, but the science was so laughable that he couldn't get into it. After he pointed out how utterly ridiculous most of the plot points were for the fourth time, John gave him a look and started flipping through the channels in search of something else. Rodney tried to participate in choosing something else to watch, but his gaze kept wandering around the room, picking up little bits of information about John and his life that he'd never known.

The pictures on the mantle over the fireplace seemed like they might be particularly informative, so when he finished his pizza he got up to take a closer look. In one of them, a man Rodney assumed to be John's father since he looked pretty much like John would if he had a much shorter haircut, a touch of grey at his temples, and absolutely no sense of humor was shaking hands with General Colin Powell while General Norman Schwarzkopf looked on. John's father wore a dress uniform filled with all kinds of ribbons and medals. In another picture, a very young John stood smiling at attention in a cub scout uniform which was covered with badges and pins. In the next picture, John was older, wearing a baseball uniform, and holding a trophy. His parents stood on either side of him, his father looking grim and his mother looking tired but proud, and John himself was no longer smiling.

When he felt John come up next to him, Rodney turned and smiled cautiously. John's expression gave no hint at his thoughts or whatever he might be feeling, so Rodney turned back to the pictures. He ran his finger across the top of the picture of Colonel Sheppard and the two generals. "You're really set on going in the military?"

"I want to fly," said John simply. But Rodney didn't think it was really that simple. "He has a copy of that picture in his office on base. He's really proud of it."

"Looks like he's pretty proud of you, too," Rodney said, motioning at the other pictures.

"When it suits him." John shrugged. "When I do exactly what he wants."

"Hm." For a split second, a comment about his own parents was on the tip of Rodney's tongue. Instead, he looked away, focusing on another, older picture of two men in uniform--he'd guess they were John's father and grandfather from the resemblance. A sudden flash of insight hit him from out of nowhere and he turned back to John. "Is that why you play football?"

John blinked and his forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Where did that come from?"

"Is it?"

John looked like he was about to shrug off the question, but then he nodded. "I've been to eight different schools--three of them in foreign countries--in the last twelve years. Playing sports is an easy way to fit in. My dad's real big on fitting in."

"You're good at it," Rodney said to avoid another of the weird confessions that seemed to be hovering on his tongue. "I guess the Air Force won't be a big stretch for you."

John looked away and Rodney realized that he'd just seen the end to this relationship they'd barely even started. At the end of this school year, they'd graduate and go off to college--probably different ones. John would probably do ROTC and begin his new life of Don't Ask Don't Tell, and Rodney would finally find the place he'd fit in.

Rodney had no idea what to do now. He wanted John very badly. He wanted to reach out and touch him, maybe wrap him up in a hug that wasn't even sexual. But he didn't know if John wanted that right now. He couldn't read John's body language at all and had no experience with a moment as awkward as this one.

His hand twitched at his side and he brought it up just John looked over at him as if the awkward moment had never been. "You about ready to go to bed?"

Rodney dropped his hand again and nodded. "I guess you're pretty tired after the game and...um, everything."

"Yeah, everything." John grinned, grabbed Rodney by the hand, and started pulling him toward his room.

"Shouldn't we clean up?" Rodney asked, pointing vaguely back at their dishes on the coffee table.

John waved him off with a yawn. "Nah, I'll do it tomorrow."

Rodney squeezed John's hand softly as they neared the bedroom. He'd never pictured himself as a hand holder, but he really liked having John's hand wrapped around his. It felt safe. Safe enough that he wanted to put aside his revelation of eventual doom and just enjoy being with John while he could.

***

John let Rodney have the bathroom first so by the time John came out after his turn, Rodney was sitting on the floor, halfway through his inventory of John's bookshelves. He held up a couple of the comics he'd been looking at. "Hellboy and Hellblazer. I'm sensing a theme here." Rodney flipped through one of them and held up a page that showed Hellboy carrying a desiccated corpse over his shoulder. "I never figured you as a reader of comic books."

John shoved the covers on the bed down and fell face down into his pillow with a groan. He raised his head far enough to say, "There's nothing wrong with comics. They tell some pretty complex stories in there, you know."

"And it has pictures," Rodney said brightly, holding up another page for John to see.

"The graphic representation adds to the narrative." John tossed the extra pillow at Rodney's head but didn't put any power behind it. "It's a very well-respected art form among people who aren't snobby."

"I'm sure," replied Rodney absently, looking back down at the book in his hands. Without really meaning to, he got sucked into the story and had to finish it. By the time he looked up to say something, John was sound asleep.

For a moment, Rodney wasn't sure what to do, but when he put the comics back on the shelf and got to his feet, he saw that John had left room for him on the other side of the bed. He turned off the light and lay down on his side next to John. He tugged the covers up over them both and stared at John's shadowy outline until he fell asleep.



***



Rodney woke up to a loud thump and John shouting, "Ow, fuck."

He opened his eyes to see that he was alone on the bed, both arms stretched out across the mattress to the other side. He scooted over and looked down at John lying on the floor. "Sorry."

"If you needed more room, you could have just said so," said John, rubbing at the back of his head and making his hair stand up even more. "You didn't have to push me out of my own bed."

"I was asleep. And I said I was sorry," Rodney said, absently. He was more interested in looking at John, stretched out on the floor in boxers that did nothing to hide his erection, than apologizing again for something he didn't even know for sure was his fault. For all either of them knew, John could have just rolled off without any help. The important thing at the moment was that John was lying there like a gift just waiting to be unwrapped.

John's mind seemed to be on the same track as Rodney's because he looked up and pushed his lower lip out into a pout. "You could make it up to me..."

"I could." Rodney licked his lips and planted one hand on the carpet next to John's shoulder. He lowered himself over the edge of the bed so that he was straddling John's legs. Dropping a string of kisses down John's chest to his stomach, Rodney licked at his bellybutton and thought that nobody should taste this good first thing in the morning. He pulled at the waistband of John's boxers with his teeth, and then looked up into John's watchful face. "There's a very good chance I have no idea what I'm doing here."

"'s okay. Just...do your best...or ummm...whatever," said John, his voice sounding a little rusty. His eyes were wide and he looked like he didn't really believe Rodney wanted to go down on him, which was just stupid because who wouldn't want to go down on him? Rodney pushed his boxers out of the way and John's cock was there in all its naked glory. Rodney's mouth watered and he licked his lips in anticipation.

He hadn't had a chance to really look at it the night before, so he took a moment to look his fill. He'd never had the opportunity before because quick glimpses are all he could get in restrooms or locker rooms without getting beat up. He'd spent a lot of time imagining having another guy's dick in his hand or in his mouth, but his imagination was inadequate to the actual experience. John's cock was different from his in only the most superficial ways, but it seemed immeasurably more beautiful. He cupped it in his hand and rubbed his fingers up and down the shaft.

With one last look at John's face, Rodney opened his mouth and licked at the head of his cock, just enough to get a taste and it was really...interesting, although not nearly as enthralling as the choked sound John made in the back of his throat. He licked again and John made that sound again, so he took the entire head into his mouth, carefully sliding his lips down the shaft--so hard and yet soft, smooth and getting slick with Rodney's saliva.

"Yeah, yeah, keep going, that's...yeah." John sighed and his hips moved briefly like he wanted to arch them and push deep into Rodney's throat, but he was holding back, a consideration that Rodney was grateful for since he'd already taken about as much of John's cock in his mouth as he could handle. Any more and this could all get very embarrassing, not to mention messy. He swallowed hard to try to avoid tripping his gag reflex and John's hips bucked in response.

Rodney pulled away and coughed for a solid minute, while John sat up and rubbed Rodney's back. "Sorry, you...it just...that felt really good."

"It did?"

"Oh yeah. I can show you," said John, with a grin that made Rodney want to lick him all over.

"Maybe later." Rodney pushed John back on to the floor and ran his tongue across John's jaw and down the length of his throat. The stubble was almost unpleasantly scratchy but the skin underneath was warm and delicious. Rodney paused long enough to suck a little bruise on John's collarbone--marking John as his with a possessiveness that was unexpected but didn't really surprise him-- and then continued moving down. He could have spent an hour or two exploring every millimeter of John's chest, except that John was getting too impatient and kept rubbing his cock against Rodney's stomach, chest, and anything else that came in contact with it.

Rodney's deep-seated need to be the best at everything he did kicked into overdrive when he took John's cock in his mouth again. He paid close attention to every move or sound that John made. He took note of the very slightest reactions and filed them away. He wanted so badly to do this right, to do--and be-- exactly what John needed. When John gasped Rodney's name and arched his hips while he started to flood Rodney's mouth with bitterness, Rodney jerked his mouth off and held John's cock as it pulsed. Watching John come brought a wave of satisfaction that was almost as good as orgasm. Almost. Within reason. His extremely hard erection would probably beg to differ.

Still gasping for breath, John reached down and wrapped his hands around Rodney's biceps, tugging at him until Rodney was on top of him, face to face. John stared at Rodney for a few seconds, his eyes just inches away from Rodney's, then he tilted his head and kissed Rodney, open mouthed and messy. Any concerns about breath--morning or otherwise--died swiftly in the heat of the moment and Rodney kissed back, just as hungry for John's mouth as he had been for his body.

Rodney's cock was trapped between them, so he raised his hips so he had room to move but before he could get some friction going, John broke the kiss and shoved a hand in between their bodies. Pushing Rodney down a little with his other hand, John swiped his hand over the come on his belly and then scraped off what had been transferred to Rodney. He slicked Rodney's cock and spread his thighs a little. When he urged Rodney's cock between his legs, Rodney silently panicked for a moment thinking John was asking for something Rodney didn't feel ready for, but then John closed his legs, trapping Rodney's cock between his sweat-damp thighs. The tight heat felt incredible and Rodney stared at up at John in amazement.

"Go on," John said, a challenge clear in his voice. "Fuck me like this."

Rodney closed his eyes and buried his face at the base of John's neck. He licked and sucked at the skin below his mouth as he thrust between John's legs. The friction was almost too much, but it was so good that Rodney abandoned himself to it, sliding his cock between the firmness of John's muscular thighs, bumping against the relative softness of his balls. And all too soon he was coming, coming hard and fast and collapsing onto John's chest with a whimper.

Rodney shifted to one side so he wouldn't crush John, and they lay there silent except for labored breathing. Rodney's eyes closed tight against the tenderness of John's hand petting the back of his head. He hadn't been touched with tenderness, with affection in so long that it almost hurt to get it now. He was briefly tempted to tell John how he was feeling, the effect John was having on him, but he wasn't sure John would want to hear it. If he thought Rodney was getting too attached, he might break it off. Rodney didn't know, and he hated not knowing anything.

Opening his eyes, Rodney looked up at John's face. His eyes were closed and a slight smile tipped up one corner of his mouth, and the peacefulness was infectious. Rodney began to relax and as he did, he glanced across John's chest to the space under his bed. A clear plastic container held more comic books, and Rodney reached over and pulled it out from under the bed far enough to get the top off.

"Batman?"

"You are not going to diss the Dark Knight."

"No, wouldn't think of it," Rodney rolled over onto his back and opened up the comic. After flipping through a few pages, he turned his head slightly to look at John out of the corner of his eye. "He's pretty close to Robin, huh? Very close."

John's eyes were dark and heavy-lidded, but Rodney thought he might be fighting back a laugh. "The homoerotic subtext is representative of--"

"What's in Batman's tights?"

"Okay, you know what?" John reached over and snatched the book from Rodney's hand before he could stop him. "You don't get to read my comics anymore."

"That's okay. I don't need homoerotic subtext." Rodney reached down and petted John's cock, which started to harden almost immediately.

"I was going to offer breakfast, but--" John reached down and curled Rodney's fingers around his erection and leaned his head to the side so he could flick his tongue at Rodney's ear. "It can wait."

In answer, Rodney rolled onto his side and licked the side of John's face, until John laughed. He was still laughing when he came several minutes later.


***


Sunday evening came much too soon for Rodney's taste. He wished he could just stay here, watching cartoons and bad horror movies and playing video games with speed in the titles. The making out and getting off with John whenever the mood struck was pretty damn good too, but the Sheppards would be home soon and even Rodney's parents might notice if he never came home, although it would take them longer than most.

Rodney instructed John to drop him off at the corner, like he'd done before, but John ignored him and kept driving down the street to park in front of Rodney's house. Rodney stared at both his parents' cars in the driveway and sighed. It had been foolish to hope they'd both be out, but he had anyway.

"Thanks for a fantastic weekend." Rodney gripped his bag and opened the door.

"Yeah, it was great." John grinned, and then tilted his head thoughtfully. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, sure, of course, why wouldn't I be?" Rodney got out of the car and bent down to look in at John one last time. "See you at school tomorrow. I'll, uh, make a special effort to act like nothing has changed."

John shrugged one shoulder like it was nothing, but there was gratitude in his smile. Rodney shut the door and watched as he drove away.

Even though he tried to sneak into the house as quietly as possible, Rodney got caught halfway up the stairs. His father stood at the top of the staircase, frowning down him. "Where've you been?"

"At my friend's house. I told you on Friday and you said it was okay." That last bit was a lie, but Rodney hoped his father either wouldn't notice or wouldn't care.

His father's gaze flickered over him, taking in everything about him in a glance. "His parents were there to make sure you stayed out of trouble?"

"Yes, yes, they're... uh...nice people. Military. His dad's a colonel." Rodney concentrated really hard on not blinking and not looking away. "We just played video games and watched some movies. No, uh, no trouble at all."

Rodney's father stared at him for a moment, and Rodney stared right back, knowing his father realized there was a lie in there somewhere. Just as Rodney was about to break and babble out the truth, his father started walking down the stairs. Rodney gripped his bag to his chest and pressed his back against the wall so hard the handrail dug painfully into his back. His father kept walking and it was only after he had turned the corner and stepped into the living room and out of sight that Rodney realized that his father probably knew exactly what he'd been up to all weekend. The man was a brilliant chemist who dealt in complex equations and formulas all day long, so a teenage boy's sex life should hold little mystery. But he'd said nothing beyond what seemed to be the scripted questions a father was supposed to ask.

With a flash of insight, he realized that his father didn't care enough to call Rodney on his lies. It hurt and yet wasn't exactly a surprise, so it didn't hurt as much as it would have when he was younger and had higher expectations. He relaxed a little and continued up the stairs.

He went into his room and opened his bag. He threw the dirty clothes on the floor of his closet, and then pulled out a comic book inside a plastic bag. The comic was Batman and there was a slip of paper inside that said "Just give it a try. --J."

Rodney laughed quietly and laid the comic on his desk. Thinking of John and all they'd done together, he took off his shirt and stood in front of his dresser, admiring all the hickeys that John had left behind.

He could keep them a secret, though. He could do it for John.


***

Peter Grodin knew he was grinning too much as he strolled through the halls of his school. He was getting some strange looks but he didn't care. After two dates and a really long phone conversation over the weekend, he thought he might sort of have a boyfriend. Maybe. He'd know whether he did or not the moment he laid eyes on Radek. Maybe he was too optimistic, but he had a good feeling.

He said hello to Rodney and Kavanagh as he walked past their lockers, but they were too busy sniping at each other to notice him. He saw the edge of a bruise peeking out of the collar of Rodney's shirt and the more-smug-than-usual look on his face and Peter walked on by with a smirk. Looked like he wasn't the only one who got lucky over the weekend.

Lizzie gave him a look that asked what was so funny, but he didn't say anything and neither did she. She just smiled with a smugness that almost topped Rodney's when Teyla and Bates came walking down the hall holding hands. He'd have found their PDA slightly nauseating if wasn't planning on some of his own later. He just had to see Radek.

And there he was, just a few feet away now, struggling with the door of his locker like he did at least half a dozen times a week. Peter slipped up behind him and slammed his hand against the door, which loosened the sticky lock and made Radek jump like he'd been shot. "Good morning."

Radek turned and didn't immediately push Peter away, and Peter knew, even before Radek gave him that brilliant shy grin that said he was so fucking pleased with himself. Peter knew he had a boyfriend.

"Hey, Peter," is all Radek said but it was enough to make Peter want to kiss him, right here in the hallway with a million people around.

What he actually did was drop his hand from the locker and let it brush Radek's shoulder and arm as he stepped to one side to open his own locker. "When are you going to remember you have to hit it hard every once in a while?"

"I know." Radek kept grinning and Peter kept grinning and he knew they were both being silly but he couldn't help it and apparently neither could Radek.

"So do you have anything to do after school? After Chess Club, I mean."

"No. Want to do something?"

Peter laughed and nodded. He was just about to point out that his mother didn't get home from work until after six when he glanced over Radek's shoulder and saw Hunter Ladon and some other guy walk up to Rodney McKay. Ladon said something to the other guy that made him smile and shove Rodney back against the wall of lockers. Radek must have read something in Peter's face because he spun around to see what was going on and muttered something that Peter couldn't catch.

"What? Was that Czech?"

"No. I said 'Kolya, Acastus Kolya.' He went to my old school. He is bad...bad news. If he has transferred here, we're all in trouble."

"I'm sure Rodney would agree right now," Peter said, still staring at the tableau a few yards down the hall. He'd instinctively backed against his own locker in an effort to draw no attention from the bully, a maneuver that had served him reasonably well over the years.

Rodney, on the other hand, was not backing down from Kolya at all. In fact, he had his chin stuck out and an arrogant look on his face as he clearly and loudly said "No, I won't" to whatever Kolya had said to him.

Peter flinched when Kolya shoved Rodney against the lockers again, and he put a hand on Radek's arm to keep him from getting involved when Rodney's bravado visibly wavered. "Do you have a death wish? You said this guy's bad news."

"Yes, but..." Radek sighed and drew back against Peter slightly, the warmth of his body making Peter tingle at the edge of arousal. "Rodney clearly has no experience with bullies."

Peter laughed. "Rodney? He's been bullied for years. This is how he deals with it at first. Later he gets back at them in some inventive way that they may or may not be able to trace back to him."

"And this actually works?" Radek shook his head and muttered again and this time Peter knew it was Czech because it contained a couple of the curse words Radek had been teaching him. "I think I prefer to be invisible."

"Me too." Peter shrugged and tried to pay attention to Rodney and Kolya instead of Radek's back pressed against his arm. He'd rather not go to chemistry class with a boner. His jeans were loose but not loose enough to hide that.

Kolya and Rodney just stared at each other for another minute before Ladon leaned in and whispered something in Kolya's ear. Peter followed Kolya's gaze to where Sheppard, Bates, and Stackhouse were coming around the corner into this hallway. Kolya looked the three football players up and down and seemed to dismiss Bates and Stackhouse as unimportant. Keeping his eyes on Sheppard, he stepped away from Rodney and nodded at something else Ladon said. Then he turned and strode off down the hall with Ladon nearly jogging to keep up.

Peter and Radek both sighed and relaxed, then grinned at each other. This day was going to be even more interesting than Peter had expected.


***

By the time BC Calculus rolled around, Rodney had mostly put Kolya's demand for homework out of his mind. Homework, of all things. What did Kolya think this was, sixth grade? That was the last time Rodney had been beaten up for not doing someone's homework. He'd been beaten up for other things since then, but not homework.

As Rodney approached the calculus classroom, John fell in step beside him with a quiet "Hey."

"Hey," Rodney tried to say casually, but he couldn't help beaming at John.

John smiled back briefly but then rubbed his hand over his mouth as he mumbled, "I had a talk with that Kolya guy for you."

"Uh, thanks?" Rodney blinked at him. "You didn't have to. And aren't you afraid somebody might think..."

"I just told him to leave the geeks alone." John shrugged and looked down and then up at Rodney out of the corner of his eye. "Nothing queer about that."

Rodney rolled his eyes and snorted. "I can take care of myself," he said, but he couldn't help feeling a little warm and tingly from the effort John had made on his behalf. "It's far from the first time some guy's tried to intimidate me into writing his papers for him or help him cheat on a test."

"Well, it's not happening again. If we're--" John stopped and looked around then said, "--you know. Then I'm gonna look out for you."

Rodney swallowed and took a quick look around himself to make sure nobody was close enough to listen. "That's not exactly subtle, is it? I'm willing to keep this a secret but you have to do your part."

"Fine, no problem," John said more sharply than the situation called for in Rodney's opinion, but before Rodney could reply, John was hurrying ahead to class.

When Rodney walked into the classroom, John was already sitting in his usual place at the back, flipping through his notebook with a bored expression on his face. As Rodney took a seat at his own desk, John glanced up and gave him a tight little smile that was nothing like the secretively flirty glances of the week before. Rodney nodded and immediately had Peter leaning into his personal space.

"What's that about? Did you already break up?"

"Shut up, Peter."

"You don't have to get snotty. I was just asking."

"Yeah, well, there's nothing...look, just shut up, okay? Not everyone is as out as you."

"Oh, I see."

"I doubt it."

"Okay, people, that's enough chatter," announced the teacher as he slammed the door shut and cut Rodney's conversation with Peter short. "Let's settle down because we've got a lot to do today."

Rodney took one last glance over his shoulder but John had his head down as if he was intently looking over his notes. Probably drawing pictures of helicopters in the margins, Rodney thought. That shouldn't be so hot.


***

At lunch, Radek was surprised to see Rodney sit down at their usual table instead of somewhere else with John Sheppard. Peter had told Radek about his suspicion that the two of them had gotten together over the weekend, but Rodney did nothing to confirm or deny the theory, not even when Kavanagh slid into a seat across from Rodney. "You're here and John Sheppard is way--" he waved at the football players sitting a few tables over. "--over there. So I was right. He doesn't want you."

Rodney said nothing for a moment, just continued eating. Then he looked up and smiled. "Hey, Kavanagh, did you ever tell the guys here what you got that detention for last year?"

Kavanagh paled and his eyes went wide behind his glasses. "You...you're not...you said you wouldn't say anything."

"And I won't, unless you keep prying into mine or John's private business." Rodney shoveled another forkful of lasagna in his mouth, and kept staring until Kavanagh got up and moved to another table.

Radek and Peter watched all this silently, and then Peter looked at Radek with raised eyebrows. Radek shrugged and without a word between them, they decided to not question Rodney just yet. It was clearly not the time to bring up the weekend and whatever might have happened between Rodney and John.

When Teyla Emmagan walked by and took a seat at a table next to Bates, Peter raised his eyebrows again. "Well, what's that about then?"

Rodney glanced over at the apparently happy couple and then back at Peter and Radek. "Oh, at the Homecoming dance, he asked her dance and then proceeded to step all over her toes until she smacked him on the back of the head and then dragged him behind the bleachers, and when they came out a while later, they were both grinning and blushing and generally sickening about each other."

"So... you did decide to go to the dance?" Peter was gaping at Rodney, and Radek laughed because he knew Peter hated not knowing all the gossip first.

"No, J--someone told me all about it." Rodney shrugged and went back to his lunch.

"Right," replied Peter, dragging the word out to four syllables. "You just happened to hear it somewhere."

"Yes," said Rodney with a quelling look. "I just heard it."

Peter started to say something else but he fell silent when Kolya walked up behind Rodney and put his hand on Rodney's shoulder. Radek could tell from the look on Rodney's face that Kolya's grip was uncomfortably tight. "You'll have my report ready before first period, right, McKay?"

Rodney shook his head and then flinched as Kolya's knuckles whitened. "I...I can't, okay? I had your teacher last year. She'd know it was my work."

"Then change it so she doesn't."

"I can't just change the right answers unless you want to get an F. Wouldn't it be easier to just not write the damn paper?"

"I'll take a B." Kolya pushed until Rodney's face was red and he was slumped halfway down in his seat. Radek looked around to see if they'd attracted any attention, but there didn't seem to be a single teacher in the cafeteria. His eye caught John Sheppard watching the whole thing intently. The jock next to him was talking to him but all of John's attention seemed to be on Rodney and Kolya. The look on his face made a shiver run down Radek's spine.

"Tomorrow, McKay, before first period. Don't make me make you regret it." Kolya gave another squeeze and then walked away.

Nobody said a word until their lunch break was over. Radek put his tray away and then caught up with Rodney in the hallway. "Look, just do it. He doesn't make empty threats."

"Yeah, I guessed that." Rodney's shoulder twitched but he didn't rub it or touch it or otherwise acknowledge any residual pain he might be feeling. His chin went up a notch and a now familiar gleam came into his eyes as he stomped off toward his next class, and Radek had a bad feeling that his advice was being ignored.


***

As soon as the last bell rang, Rodney grabbed his backpack and made a beeline for his bus. He grabbed a seat near the middle and sneered at a freshman who tried to sit next to him. He pulled a book out of his bag and read until the bus reached his stop. He walked quickly to his house, let himself in, and headed straight up to his room. He'd done most of his work at school so it took him less than twenty minutes to finish up his homework.

Then he turned on the radio and stared out the window while thinking about Kolya's paper. He could write a B paper from memory, so it wasn't the work that bothered him, just the principle of the thing. He shouldn't have to do something just because someone bigger and badder told him to. If that was an acceptable way to live, he might as well join the Air Force with John.

He paused for a moment to imagine John in uniform, all spit and polish and medals on his chest. John would definitely have lots of medals and ribbons. Rodney was sure of that. Unless he got kicked out the first week for talking back to the wrong officer or flirting with a guy or...well, there were so many ways that John just didn't seem suited to the military. But he would look good in the uniform and Rodney would love to be there when they shaved off all of John's hair for basic training.

Speak of the devil. As if conjured up by Rodney's thoughts, John pulled into the driveway and got out of his car. For a moment he just stood there, staring up at Rodney's window and Rodney thought if John started tossing pebbles and simpering like some lovesick Romeo, he'd pour a bucket of water on his head.

But John just walked toward the house, and a few seconds later, the doorbell rang.

Rodney put all his books away and straightened his desk. He picked up some dirty clothes off the floor and took them to the hamper in the bathroom. Since he was in there anyway, he decided to take a piss and then brushed his teeth. Finally, he walked slowly down the stairs and answered the door, hoping that he'd stalled long enough that John had gone away.

"Hi, Rodney." John shoved his hands inside the front pocket of his hoodie and rocked back on his heels. "Did you forget we had plans?"

"We didn't have plans." Rodney crossed his arms over his chest and stared at John through the screen door. He hadn't wanted to have this conversation, and now that it seemed inevitable, he was forgetting everything he'd wanted to say. John's hair was sticking up in the back like he'd just rolled out of bed and his jeans hung off his hips like an invitation. Just one little tug on John's belt and they'd be down around his ankles. Nobody should make dishevelment look so sexy. It was totally distracting.

"Yes, we did," said John, calmly and pleasantly, as if he didn't know Rodney was annoyed, or as if he did know Rodney was annoyed but didn't care. Which, naturally, made Rodney even more annoyed.

"No, we didn't." Rodney could see this exchange gearing up to go on forever, so he quickly asked, "Look, why are you so determined for me to resort to violence with this Kolya person? I don't see you getting into fights right and left. Nobody ever picks on you enough to give you the opportunity."

"This isn't the first school I've been to, you know."

"Yeah, I know, eight schools, military brat. So what?"

"So..." John rolled his eyes and Rodney got the distinct impression that John was questioning his intelligence--ridiculous, of course, because nobody questioned Rodney's intelligence. He made sure of that. "I was a skinny little kid who walked into each classroom not knowing anybody and was never sure how long I'd be there so making friends wasn't always worth the trouble. Some guys like to pick on kids like that. I told you how my dad wanted me to play sports and fit in, right? But he also taught me how to fight back if I got picked on by bullies, and now I'm going to teach you."

"I'm not a little kid." Rodney took a step back as John opened the screen door and stepped inside the house. "And I'm not going to start fighting every day just to--"

"You don't have to," John said impatiently, getting all up in Rodney's personal space, which burned away all annoyance and replaced it with lust. John's voice had dropped to an intimate tone and that was as distracting as the movement of his mouth, which made Rodney think of sex. He had to look away just to follow the conversation. "The point is to make an impression just one time. Then they leave you alone and find someone else to pick on."

"I really think this is unnecessary." Rodney glanced back at John and licked his lips nervously. "But since you're here...we could go up to my room and make out if you want."

John looked around the foyer and peeked into the living room as if expecting a parent to pop in out of nowhere. But of course, nobody else was home except Rodney. He'd have never made the offer otherwise. "Okay. But I still want to teach you a couple things."

Rodney let out a huff of breath too sharp to be called a sigh and John held up a hand. "Just hear me out before you go off again. I just want you to know how to defend yourself, okay? I'm not expecting you to ambush him in the parking lot and beat the crap out of him. I just want to know that you'll be all right if he does start something with you. Come on, you won't let me do it, so is that really too much to ask?"

Rodney was tempted to say yes, but he really wanted to make out with John and if he kept arguing, John might just decide he'd had enough and leave. And yeah, he could spend the rest of the afternoon watching his Star Trek DVDs for the millionth time or downloading old Doctor Who episodes off the internet but making out with John would be much, much better. His mom had a late meeting at work and his dad had just hired a new "lab assistant" which meant he'd be "working late" a lot for the next couple of weeks, leaving Rodney to do whatever he wanted with John with no danger of getting caught.

"Rodney?"

"Okay, yeah, fine, you can show me your ninja moves or whatever. We still get to make out, though, right?"

John smiled with all the generosity of someone who's just gotten his way and moved closer, his hands circling Rodney's waist. "We'll do that first."

Rodney reached out and pushed the door shut, then opened his mouth to John's hungry kisses. For a moment they just stood there, wrapped up in each other until John pulled away and said, "You mentioned your bedroom?"

"Oh, yes," said Rodney faintly, staring at John's damp lips. "It's upstairs."

"I know. I've been there." John's lips curved into a sweet smile and Rodney leaned in to kiss him again. John moved forward, walking Rodney backward until his foot hit the bottom stair and he dragged his mouth off of John's long enough to grab his hand and pull him up the stairs.

Once they were in Rodney's room, he turned to lock the door and then turned back around to find John sprawled on the bed, his hoodie on the floor and his t-shirt rumpled over his stomach, leaving a thin band of skin visible above the edge of his boxers. Rodney just stared for a moment, wondering if he'd ever get used to this, get used to John. He tried to imagine a day that seeing John with his legs splayed out and one arm hooked behind his head wouldn't make him instantly hard and aching. He stood and stared so long that John got a funny look on his face and started to pull his arm down.

"No, wait, don't move. You're perfect, just like that," Rodney said, the words nearly crashing into each other in his haste to get them out. He took a couple of quick steps to his desk and grabbed the digital camera, switched it on and snapped a shot before John could move or say anything. "Thanks. I won't show it to anyone. I just wanted something to..." He bit back the words 'remember you by' and stuck the camera in his desk drawer. "I just wanted it."

"I'm not in the Witness Protection Program and I don't think you could sell it to any tabloids, so really...it's okay."

"Well, I thought...it's just that you look like you're posing for the cover of an amateur gay porn video."

John's eyebrows shot up and he laughed. "You've been watching gay porn?"

"No!" Rodney felt his cheeks going red and resisted the urge to clap a hand over his face. "I...um, I saw an ad in the back of a magazine."

"A gay porn magazine?" John sat up abruptly, no longer smiling but his eyes were positively gleeful. John was so much more experienced than he that Rodney was surprised that John didn't have a whole stack of porn squirreled away somewhere, but maybe they had regular inspections or something equally militarily invasive at his house. "You have to share."

For a moment, Rodney thought about saying that he and John could make their own gay porn but he knew John would laugh at him and he'd still end up getting the magazine out anyway. With a put-upon sigh, he went over to his closet and dug around under a pile of boots and shoes until he drew out a cardboard box that still had bits of tape and Santa Clause paper sticking to it. Under a stack of Scientific American, Starlog, and a single well-worn Victoria's Secret catalog was a crumpled copy of Torso. He pulled it out and handed it to John.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," Rodney said, sitting down on the side of the bed. He yelped when John pulled him down so that they both lay squished up together, their heads side by side on the pillow. "My cousin Jordan smuggled it to me last Christmas all the way from Manitoba. I still don't know how he managed the border crossing, but that's a McKay for you. And really, it's just as well that Uncle Gordie has a phobia about flying, because Jordan would have never risked packing it on a plane trip, what with the crazy security and strip searches and--" Rodney realized he was babbling and shut up.

"You mean there's a McKay capable of keeping secrets?" John flipped open the magazine and stared at one of the pictures. "Wow. That guy is huge."

"Hey! I keep plenty of secrets." Rodney turned his head and John turned to face him. He could feel John's breath on his lips and his voice dropped to a near whisper. "I haven't told anyone about...us, this...you."

John's lips twitched at the corners, and then they were ghosting over Rodney's mouth. Rodney felt the barest flicker of John's tongue and then... "I know."

Rodney felt warm all over, so to break the tension that he was afraid he might be the only one feeling, he sat up and took his shirt off. Tossing the magazine on the floor, John sat up, pulled his t-shirt off, and wrapped his arms around Rodney. He pressed his open mouth to the side of Rodney's neck and slid one hand down Rodney's back, fingertips tucked into the dip of his spine. Rodney shivered and his hands clenched on John's shoulders.

By unspoken agreement, they fell back down onto the mattress, legs tangling together, hands clumsily slipping and clutching in the narrow space between their bodies. John pushed a little too hard and for a dizzying moment Rodney was hanging off the edge of the bed, but then John hooked his leg over Rodney's hip and pulled him close. "Just hang on, we can do this."

And then with awkward grins, they were kissing again, hot and wet and a little breathless, but Rodney felt like he could do it forever. The world shrank to John's tongue teasing his, John's warm palm curving over his hip and John's fingers opening his jeans and slipping inside, John's smooth skin under his hands, John's breath on his face and John's voice in his ears as John broke the kiss to pull Rodney's pants down. "Okay, just...move a little, no...yeah, yeah, now raise up...yeah. Fuck. I really want you."

Rodney's hands stilled for a moment where he was trying to wrestle John's belt open and get his pants down too. Rodney thought he had a healthy sense of self-worth--too healthy some people might say--but he could not quite get used to the idea of John wanting him, even when the evidence was poking at his wrist through the thin cotton of John's boxers. It was bizarre and incredibly gratifying and weird and really, really hot.

"Rodney? Something wrong?" John looked up from under the hair flopping across his forehead and Rodney's heart stuttered in his chest.

"No, just...no, nothing's wrong." He pressed a quick kiss to John's mouth to cut off any other conversation and wiggled over into the middle of the bed, pulling John on top of him. John cupped Rodney's face with both hands and kissed back with wicked intent that had Rodney arching his hips in response, worried for just a second that he was going to come before John could even touch his cock, and then John let go of Rodney's face and rose up on his knees. Watching Rodney intently, he shoved his jeans and boxers down to his knees and lowered himself back to lie on top of Rodney, their hard cocks nestled together.

John licked at Rodney's mouth with teasing strokes as he rocked his hips. Rodney ran his hands over John's arms, shoulders, and every bit of his back he could reach and finally just grabbed John's ass, arching his hips harder and faster, increasing the delicious friction until John tilted his head back, baring his throat to Rodney's teeth with a strangled moan. "Oh. Oh, that's good...yeah."

"John." Rodney could say nothing else because he was coming hard and shuddering in John's arms. John thrust his cock against Rodney's hip and squeezed his eyes shut tight, and then he was coming, too, with a gasping grunt that was the sexiest sound Rodney had heard since the last time he'd heard John come.

John collapsed on top of Rodney and snickered when Rodney protested and hooked his hands around John's sides. "Oof. Hey, not a pillow here!"

Sliding to one side, John took his weight off Rodney and kissed him again. Rodney instantly forgave John for falling on top of him and wrapped his arms around him, just holding him close as they lazily licked and nipped at each other's mouths. A distant thump pulled Rodney out of his hazy afterglow and he realized with dawning horror that it was the front door closing.

"Get up, get up," said Rodney urgently, panicking and pushing at John so hard he fell onto the floor with his jeans tangled around his lower legs and a confused look on his face. Rodney grabbed a t-shirt up off the floor and wiped the come off his belly and tossed it at John before wrestling his underwear and pants back up, all the while chattering nervously. "Did you hear that? It must be one of my parents coming home. I'll bet it's my mother. What the hell is wrong with her? Does she have some sort of radar that tells her you're here?"

John looked up from where he was cleaning himself up and started to say something, but Rodney's gaze fell on the magazine.

"Give me that! And get your clothes straightened out. You look like you just had sex. Oh, no, the smell. Open the window. No, I'll open the window, you fix your clothes so you don't look like..." Rodney really focused on John for a moment. He looked--lips red, eyes bright under sleepy lids, hair even more messy than usual-- well-fucked and completely beautiful. It wasn't fair. Rodney was sure his own hair was sticking out at unattractively odd angles and he'd probably have another hickey to add to his collection from the weekend.

"Rodney." John scowled at him and held up the t-shirt they'd just cleaned up with. "This is my shirt."

Rodney groaned and jerked open a dresser drawer and pulled out a t-shirt at random. He scooped up John's hoodie off the floor and threw them both at John. It was all he could do not to beg him to just get dressed already. "Put your hoodie on and she won't notice that it's mine. I'll wash yours and return it, just...please, hurry."

After opening the window and fanning the room with the copy of Torso, Rodney tossed the magazine into his closet and shoved a pile of shoes over it. Jerking on his shirt, he grabbed his comb off the dresser and smoothed his hair down just as a knock sounded on his door. He glanced at John and found him sitting on the floor under the window with a copy of Starlog--the one with Ben Browder as John Crichton on the cover Rodney noted distantly and if he hadn't been so horrified at the whole situation he'd have cursed John for picking an issue that Rodney had jerked off to more times than porn--open in his hands, looking about as innocent and harmless as John was capable of looking. Rodney took another quick sweep of the room and didn't see anything that would scream 'two boys just had sex here!'

Unlocking and opening the door, he was unsurprised to see his mother standing there, her thin mouth drawn into a tight line of unpleasantness. She fired questions at him like bullets. "Why is there a car in the driveway? Who does it belong to? And why was this door locked? What are you doing? What are you hiding?"

"I have a visitor, his name is John Sheppard, it's a habit, nothing, and nothing," Rodney said, ticking off his answers on his fingers. He opened the door wider so that his mother could see that John was innocently sitting on the floor, but when he turned to look, John was rising with a disarming smile on his face.

"Hi, Mrs. McKay." John crossed the room and stuck out his hand. "John Sheppard. I'm a friend of Rodney's. It's nice to meet you."

Rodney's mother shook John's hand with a slightly stunned but still suspicious look on her face. When she drew her hand back, she looked at Rodney again. "You have friends?"

"Yes, I have friends," Rodney said quickly, but without much feeling. He was used to that kind of question and he knew that getting angry wouldn't do anything but lead to an argument that would end with him being grounded and forbidden to see John, who probably wouldn't want to see him again anyway.

"We met in a math class," John said, appearing completely unaware of Rodney's mother's lack of interest but Rodney doubted he really was. Whatever he may have been, John was not an idiot. "Rodney was very helpful when I first moved here last year."

"Oh, yes, helpful is his middle name," said Rodney's mother, and John nodded and beamed back at her as if he didn't pick up on the sarcasm. Rodney wanted to roll his eyes, but his mother had turned her attention back to him. "What have you been doing in here with the door locked?"

"Just talking. Looking at magazines." Rodney waved a hand at the Starlog still on the floor. "John likes science fiction too."

"John also likes wearing his pants around his knees, I see. Neither is much of a recommendation." Rodney's mother gave John a dismissive glance up and down and Rodney wanted a wormhole to pop into existence and suck him away to the far side of the galaxy. When nothing happened to save him from this embarrassment, Rodney chanced a look at John only to find that he was still smiling and oozing charm out of every pore. Rodney almost wanted to jump him, except that his mother's presence was more effective at killing lust than a bucket of ice water poured into his lap.

"Stop smiling at me like that, Eddie Haskell. You're not staying for dinner."

"Oh no, ma'am, I wouldn't dream of imposing." John wiped the smile off his face but his eyes still sparked with a humor that made Rodney equal parts proud of his pseudo-boyfriend for not being intimidated and desperate for his mother to be somewhere else.

"Well, Mom, I'm sure you have more important things to do, so we'll just get out of your way," Rodney said, and motioned toward the hallway. His mother didn't move from the doorway, just kept looking at them both suspiciously. "John needs to move his car out of your way, right?"

"I hope I didn't block the drive, Mrs. McKay," John added with a curious glance in Rodney's direction.

"You're gay, aren't you?" It wasn't really a question but more of a foregone conclusion.

A thousand denials got tangled in Rodney's throat as he gaped at his mother and realized that she wasn't even talking to him. She was staring at John like he was a puzzle and she'd just slipped the last piece into place.

"No, ma'am," John said with a straight face and direct eye contact. Rodney stared at him in awe because he'd started sweating and knew his own face was probably as red as a candied apple, and yet John was as cool and open as anyone who'd just been asked an incredibly personal question could be.

"So you're just messing with my son for some other reason, is that it? You're one of those manipulative little bastards I get in my classes, is that it?" She leaned forward and took a loud sniff. "I can smell the sex in here." She pinned Rodney with a hard stare. "And somebody's been chewing on your neck--again. I don't know where you got the impression that I'm stupid, Rodney Ingram McKay, but you can get over it right now."

"Your middle name is Ingram?" John asked Rodney with evil glee in his eyes.

"That's my maiden name, sport." She put her hands on her hips and stared down her nose at John even though he was a good four inches taller than she. "Are you sure you want to make fun of it?"

"No, ma'am. I was just surprised, is all. Rodney's never mentioned it before." John gave her another bright smile, but Rodney knew that his initials were going to get him a lot of teasing as soon as they were alone again.

Before Rodney's mother could get wound up again, Rodney stepped in front of John and moved closer to the door, hoping to crowd her into getting out of his way. She held fast and raised an eyebrow at him, and finally he snapped and said part of what he'd been thinking. "Why are you even home this early? I thought you had a meeting today."

"A meeting. Oh, yes. The meeting. The meeting was canceled due to incompetence on the part of the department head, and no small amount of idiocy on the part of my co-chair for this utterly pointless time-wasting committee that I was shanghaied into. These people must have gotten their degrees out of Cracker Jack boxes, because they are morons, every last one of them." She huffed out a breath and finally stepped back into the hallway. "I need a drink."

She walked down the hallway toward her own room, and just as Rodney breathed a sigh of relief, she turned around and came back. "You," she stabbed a finger in John's direction, "move your car to the street before his father gets home. And you," she narrowed her eyes at Rodney, "don't you be having sex in here. Or anywhere else, for that matter. But if you do, be sure to tell your father all about it in gory, glorious detail. Maybe he'll finally stroke out and collapse in the arms of his latest lab assistant."

"Mom, please," Rodney groaned. He was used to this kind of talk from his parents, but John must think they were all horrible people.

"Pfft." She turned around and stalked back down the hall. Her bedroom closed behind her almost loudly enough to be a slam, but not quite.

After a moment in which Rodney contemplated the relative joys that might be found in being an orphan, he looked at John. "Well, that was humiliating."

"No, it was...um." John pressed his lips together tightly and raised his eyes to the ceiling.

"My mother just called you a manipulative bastard and told me not to have sex anywhere ever. Not even you can spin that into a positive light."

John gave it some thought and nodded. "Okay, point."

"Look, I'll be fine tomorrow. Just...just go on home and don't worry about it."

"You're going to write that paper." John didn't pretend it was a question and neither did Rodney, even though he had no answer. He took John's hand and started walking toward the stairs. "That's stupid. I can take care of him for you."

"No, I don't want you to do anything. Fighting would get you suspended and then you couldn't play football and the whole school would hate me and I really don't need that right now."

"Rodney... you can't let this guy--"

"No, John," Rodney interrupted impatiently. "I really, really don't want you to get in trouble because of me."

John took a deep breath and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, the door down the hall opened and Rodney's mother yelled, "Oh, for the love of Einstein, can you please take your lovers' quarrel somewhere else?"

"Sorry, Mrs. McKay," said John with a smile that was almost contrite. Rodney said nothing, just stomped down the stairs and left John to follow.

Rodney didn't even pause at the front door, just barreled on through and kept walking until he was standing next to John's car. He leaned against the front fender and waited for John to amble up beside him. "It's not that I don't appreciate what you're trying to do, with the self-defense and the threatening to beat him up for me. It's just. That's not me. None of it."

"Okay, okay, I got it. And I'm dropping it." John scrunched up his nose and looked away, mumbling, "Just to make you happy."

"You're such a good boyfriend," Rodney said with a laugh that got caught in his throat when John looked back at him with a strange expression on his face. "Oh. No, I didn't mean that, well, I mean, I did, but I shouldn't have said. It's just an expression...that I shouldn't have expressed."

"I don't know anything about being a boyfriend." John stared Rodney in the eye for a long beat and then shrugged. "Never had one, never been one."

Rodney refused to believe it and it must have shown on his face because John shrugged again and looked away. "It's true. Never seemed worth the trouble."

"But...you..." Rodney gave up and tapped John on the arm lightly. "Guess you're a fast learner."

John snorted a laugh and grinned down at his feet. "You're pretty good at it, too. Even if your mom does think I'm a manipulative bastard."

Rodney nudged John's foot with his own. "You'll never let me forget that, will you?"

"Nope. And then there's R.I.M. Rim! Rimming, rimming, rim. Does that mean you'd be especially good at it?"

Rodney rolled his eyes but couldn't be offended because John was clutching his side and laughing like the dork that he was, the dork that Rodney was hopelessly in love with. "You'll never find out with that attitude."

John stopped laughing and his eyes went big. "Does this mean you're interested?"

"Well, not now," Rodney said in his best 'duh!' voice, but then he grinned and probably ruined the effect. "But with the right amount of antibacterial soap, who knows?"

"Hey, as long as the offer's still on the table." John stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out his keys, spinning them around his finger as he looked at Rodney seriously for a moment. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Me, too."

"Want me to give you a lift to school in the morning?"

"No, that'll look...no, I'll take the bus, same as always."

"Suit yourself," John said and opened the car door. Before he got inside, he looked past Rodney to the house. "You're not going to get in trouble with your mom for having me over, are you?"

"Probably not. If I were, she'd have done it in front of you for maximum embarrassment."

"Ah. Okay, well, I should go." John took a step inside the open door but didn't climb in the car. He kept looking at Rodney, until Rodney sighed and made a 'hurry up and say it' motion with his hand. "I'm not sure I'll be any good at this boyfriend thing, so maybe you shouldn't get your hopes up."

"I've already told you that when it comes to this," Rodney motioned from himself to John and back again, "I have no idea what I'm doing. So I'm thinking it's a level playing field."

"Mmmm." John leaned over the top of the door and leered at Rodney. "You know how sports metaphors get me hot."

"You're insane." Rodney stepped back and glanced around to make sure nobody was watching John's idea of flirting. The only people outside on the whole street were an older couple a few doors down doing something to their flower beds and paying John and Rodney no mind. He looked back at John and shrugged. "So many comebacks, so little time. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"First thing in the morning," said John with a smirk, as he got into the car and started the engine. He waved at Rodney before putting the car in gear and backing out into the street. Rodney stood there and watched until he was out of sight and then went back into the house.

***

First thing in the morning, Rodney got off his bus and didn't even make it inside the building before Kolya stepped in front of him with a shark like smile. The rest of the kids getting off the bus gave them a wide berth and went inside, some looking back over their shoulders to see if a fight was going to break out.

Kolya waited until the empty bus pulled away and then stuck out his hand, palm up, fingers curling in a gimme gesture. "McKay. Got my paper ready?"

Now that the moment was upon him, Rodney was distantly surprised that he was even more scared than he'd thought he would be. He'd somehow convinced himself that Kolya wasn't actually that menacing, that he didn't really look like he could take Rodney apart with one hand tied behind his back. Considering that he might have miscalculated but having no choice but to plunge on ahead, Rodney tightened one shaking hand on the shoulder strap of his backpack and raised his chin defiantly. "No."

His voice didn't break and for that he was extremely grateful, but then, seemingly out of nowhere, Ladon stepped up behind him and crowded him closer to Kolya. The noise that escaped his mouth was definitely not a squeak when Kolya got up in his face. "That was a bad decision, McKay," Kolya said quietly. He drew back his fist and punched Rodney in the stomach. "I didn't want to have to do that."

"Then why did you?" gasped Rodney incredulously as he curled into the burning ache spreading through his belly.

"Because I promised I would," said Kolya in that same quiet reasonable tone. He nodded to Ladon. "Hold him up."

"What? Why?" Rodney demanded more than asked, but he didn't get an answer because suddenly John was there, grabbing Kolya by the shoulder and spinning him around.

"Hey, Kolya, I told you to leave the geeks alone," John said. His fist crashed into Kolya's face and in the next moment they were grappling on the ground, fists and elbows smashing into faces and ribs until it was hard to tell what was even going on.

Rodney heard voices, as if from very far away but actually a couple yards at most, yelling "fight, fight" and then Ladon let him go and another voice intruded, shouting, "Break it up, boys." It was the SRO's voice, Rodney realized with relief, and he looked up as Officer Caldwell reached out to pull John off Kolya. "Kolya, that's enough--ah, damn it!"

Caldwell's face contorted in pain and his foot came down on Kolya's arm. Rodney saw a knife go skittering across the pavement and went cold all over. "John!"

John rolled away from where Caldwell was handcuffing Kolya and Rodney dropped to his knees next to him. "Are you all right? Did he cut you? Where is it? Where are you hurt?"

"Calm down, Rodney. I'm fine."

Lizzie came over and knelt next to Rodney. "Hey, you looked pretty sharp there, Sheppard."

John groaned but then he grinned. Rodney shook his head at both of them. "Are you crazy? He could have killed you!"

"He could have killed you, too, so would a 'thank you' be too much to ask?" John sat up and wiped a smear of blood off the corner of his mouth. His right eye was already swelling and turning a livid red and would probably be black before lunch. He needed an icepack and Tylenol instead of an argument, but Rodney found his mouth opening anyway.

"I told you I'd handle it myself." Some part of his mind was hanging back horrified at this reaction, but Rodney was on autopilot and couldn't have stopped if he wanted to. "Have you suddenly decided you don't want to play football anymore? You'll be suspended for this, just like I said you would and this is why I said don't do it but you just never listen, do you? You have to be the hero and look what it gets you. John, he had a knife." Rodney's throat closed up and he couldn't say another word. He just got to his feet and helped John up, then turned around and walked away. The crowd of people hanging around the doors gawking parted for him with little protest.


Lizzie caught up with him at his locker. He'd opened the door to exchange some books, but was actually just standing there staring at the back wall as if it would reveal the secrets of the universe if he just watched it long enough. It didn't.

"Don't say it." Rodney peeked around the door at Lizzie. "I know what you're thinking but don't go there."

"I was going to ask to borrow your history notes, but if you'd rather talk about your boyfriend and how he just fought for you..." Lizzie ignored Rodney's muttered curse and smiled brightly at him. "I saw the whole thing, you know. It was really hot how he jumped on Kolya to protect you. How he didn't stop to worry about his own safety or getting in trouble or--"

"Okay, okay, I get it. Could you stop talking before I throw up? Please?" Rodney pulled out a book at random and shoved it into his backpack and closed the door.

His stomach hurt and he really did feel like he was going to lose his breakfast, so instead of going to his first class he walked up to the nurse's office and asked to call his mother to come get him. While he was sitting in the office waiting for her to show up, a woman he recognized from the pictures at John's house came in and was ushered straight back to the principal's office. His own mother came and signed him out before John's mother came back out.

Rodney's mother didn't say much on the ride home and for that he was deeply grateful. She just looked over at him every few minutes, then looked away. When they pulled into the driveway, she turned off the car and crossed her hands over the top of the steering wheel. "This wasn't a gay bashing, was it?"

"No." Rodney forced himself to look in her general direction even if he couldn't meet her gaze directly. "I just don't feel good. Could be the flu."

"You were fine when you left home an hour ago. Now you won't look me in the eye and you look like you've been sucker punched in the kidneys, but it's just the flu? Right. The nurse said you don't have a fever, so pull the other one."

Some other mother would probably lay her hand on her son's forehead to check his temperature for herself, would probably be clucking over him worriedly, but Rodney knew his mother had been worn down by his allergies when he was young and consequently only worked up concern for illnesses or injuries that were actually life-threatening. She was obviously in an extremely generous mood to be asking him any questions at all, so he decided to pay her back by giving her the truth. "Actually, a guy punched me in the stomach because I wouldn't do his homework."

"Huh." She looked at him in surprise and then smiled the wide, uneven smile that always made him smile back because it was incredibly rare. "Way to go, Rodney. Standing up for your principles. Maybe next time you can do it without getting hurt, though. Did the kid get in trouble? Because if he didn't I can turn right around and go back to school and--"

"No, no, it's okay. He did. In fact, he probably got arrested. Not only did he have a knife, but he cut the SRO on the arm when he tried to break up the fight between him and John."

From the look on her face, Rodney knew he'd said too much, but to his surprise she skipped the bit about the knife and went straight to what she saw as the important bit. "So John is your little knight in shining armor now, is he? I knew there was something going on there. You never have anyone over, so he had to be important."

"You don't like for me to have anyone over," Rodney reminded her with a frown. Of course, he said nothing of the mortification that usually occurred when anyone met his parents.

She snorted and rolled her eyes at him. "Please. You're a teenage boy. Since when do you care what I like?"

"He is important. He's different...special." He caught the beginning of a smirk on her face and said, "And no, I don't mean in a short bus kind of way. I lo--" Rodney snapped his mouth shut and closed his eyes as well. The sinking feeling in his gut--the sinking feeling that he'd just voluntarily come out to his mother--was almost worse than the punch from Kolya. Almost, but not quite.

After a very long moment, his mother sighed and patted his arm briefly and awkwardly. "Well, it's fine with me if you want to be gay. I hope the news gives your father a coronary, of course, but it's fine with me as long as you use condoms and don't get beat up every day because of it."

He didn't bother to correct her mistaken assumption about his orientation because it would just drag this conversation out even longer, and it was the least important bit of what she'd just said anyway. Coming out was nothing next to the realization that his mother had just come as close as she ever had-- since he was five or six years old at least-- to saying that she loved him. His chest ached a little and he really wanted to be somewhere else in case the alarming dampness in his eyes turned into anything truly embarrassing.

"Okay, this Hallmark moment is over, now get out. I have to get to work." Rodney nodded and opened the door, but she stopped him. "If you don't feel better later, give your doctor a call. If he wants you to come in, I can probably get away this afternoon."

Rodney nodded and got out of the car. Then he unlocked the front door and went inside, not watching her drive away.

***

Rodney spent most of his day off from school lying on his bed with a heating pad on his stomach watching Ninth Doctor episodes of Doctor Who on his computer. He'd started the day downloading porn off the internet, but stopped when he got weirded out over one that had a girl who looked a lot like Teyla going down on a guy who looked too much like Ron Jeremy. He had to watch his favorite girl-on-girl clip to erase the horrible images from his mind, then decided to take a break from porn.

He was in the kitchen drinking a glass of milk when the doorbell rang. He glanced up at the clock and saw that school had been out for half an hour, so he wasn't surprised when he opened the front door to find John standing on the porch, with a dark purple shiner and a swollen bottom lip. And yet the first words out of John's mouth were, "Hey. Are you all right?"

"Yes. You're always asking me that. Why are you always asking me that? It's starting to get a little creepy."

"I don't know. You always look like something's wrong." John shrugged and spun his key ring around his finger, drawing Rodney's attention to the freshly scabbed-over cut sticking out either end of the small bandage across his knuckles. "Come on and go for a ride with me."

"Are you sure you should be driving? Did you get an x-ray? You could have a concussion, you know." But Rodney was closing the door behind him and following John to his car.

John waited until they were both buckled in and the car was in motion to answer. "It's just a black eye, not a head injury. I've had plenty of them before. It's not a big deal."

"It looks like it hurts," Rodney said, wondering if he should apologize even though it was John's own foolishness that caused it. When John said nothing, Rodney looked out the window and watched the houses go by.

After twenty minutes of awkward silence, John pulled into a small parking area over looking a deserted stretch of beach. "Come on, let's take a little walk," he said and got out of the car without waiting for Rodney to answer.

Halfway down the wooden stairs, John stopped and turned to face Rodney, who was still one step higher. "Before anything else, I have to do this," John said, and took Rodney's face in his hands and raised up on his toes to press a warm, open kiss to Rodney's mouth. Rodney kissed back gently, careful of John's swollen lip.

When they parted, John held Rodney's hand and walked the rest of the way down to the sand. "I missed you in calculus today."

"Why?" Rodney dropped John's hand and moved a few steps away. "It's not like we even talk to each other in class."

"I like staring at the back of your head when Mr. Simmons gets boring."

"Okay." Rodney decided to let that go. "Why didn't your mom take you home? Didn't you get suspended?"

"Nope. Somehow Mr. Davis was convinced that I was just defending myself and not actually fighting. Kolya having a knife helped," John added with a shrug. He kicked at a mound of sand with the toe of his sneaker. "He probably would have talked to you, too, but you'd already left by the time he found out you were involved."

"I guess I have that to look forward to tomorrow," said Rodney feeling persecuted already.

"I wouldn't worry about it, if I were you."

"Of course not. You never worry about anything."

"That's not true. I just don't worry about everything." The "like you" was unspoken but quite clear. "I told you I wouldn't be good at this boyfriend crap. I can't help wanting to protect you and you won't let me."

"I'm sorry. Maybe...maybe it would be best if...if we just didn't do this anymore."

"You wanna break up with me already? That was fast."

"No? I mean, I don't want to break up with you, I just... I don't know. It's scary. Feeling this way."

"Yeah, well...yeah. If it wasn't, we probably wouldn't be doing it right."

"I love you," Rodney said, immediately turning eight shades of red and feeling sick at his stomach. "Sorry. That's like the boyfriend thing, right? I should learn not to--"

John cut him off with a kiss and even after watching him play football, Rodney had no idea that John could move that fast. After a moment, John broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to Rodney's. When he whispered "I love you, too", Rodney felt it against his mouth more than heard it. His knees felt wobbly but he wrapped his arms around John's shoulders and kept standing.

"Think you can live with me being overprotective sometimes?"

Rodney smiled crookedly and nodded, moving John's head with his own before they finally pulled away from each other. "If you can live with my stunning brilliance."

John crooked an eyebrow at him, so Rodney added, "And my mother knowing about us. I sort of came out to her today."

"Oh. How did that go?"

"Well, she'll never be mother of the year, but she was supportive in her own peculiar way. Of course, it was fairly early in the day and that helps a lot with her overall mood."

"So we're cool then," John said decisively. "Good."

"Yeah, we're good. Very good." Rodney reached out a fingertip and very tenderly brushed the edge of the bruise under John's eye. "I'm sorry you got beat up for me."

"Hey, I did not get beat up. I gave as good as I got." John's indignation was sort of cute, but Rodney managed not to laugh at him. It wasn't actually funny, anyway. "Trust me, Kolya's not feeling too good himself this afternoon. Besides the whole getting expelled and arrested part."

"Well, still, I am sorry. Maybe I should have just written the paper for him," Rodney said, but he didn't really believe it would have been better. Not in the long run, maybe not in the short run either, considering that Kolya had turned out to be much more dangerous than Rodney had thought he was.

"No. Hey, look, the Ferris wheel's still running." John pointed down the beach to the boardwalk where the Ferris wheel and the carousel were indeed lit up and moving. "Let's go ride it. They'll close it down any day now. This might be our last chance before spring."

"The Ferris wheel? Why?" Rodney sneered but secretly he was amused at the way John's battered face just lit up at the idea. "That's for old people and little kids. Give me a good roller coaster any day. Ferris wheels are boring."

"You've never ridden one with me before."

There was so much mischief and promise in the John's smile that Rodney couldn't keep up his pretense of disdain. He huffed out a breath. "Fine, let's go."

After a couple of steps, by unspoken agreement, they began to run. Their sneakers slipped in the loose sand with every step, but they still made progress, laughing breathlessly as they approached the bright lights of the boardwalk.


The End.






***


Epilogue:

Major John Sheppard stepped down out of his helicopter and followed General Jack O'Neill into the outpost building that he had just been given security clearance to enter. John found it strange that he'd been at McMurdo for several months and hadn't even known this place existed. General O'Neill had given him coordinates in the air.

And of course, even if he had known about this place, he wouldn't have expected strange missiles trying to take him out of the sky. John had been shot at many times with many different types of ordnance, but never had he seen anything like the black and yellow squid-looking thing that had sent him careening around the sky in evasive maneuvers before skidding harmlessly to a halt a few feet from where General O'Neill crouched in the snow.

The elevator ride that took them several stories underground passed in silence. John stood respectfully behind O'Neill and hoped this wouldn't take long. New supplies were being delivered back at McMurdo today and he'd been looking forward to a restocked mess hall.

Following O'Neill out of the elevator, John looked around at all the buzzing activity with open curiosity. He still had no idea what exactly they researched here, but it seemed to involve a lot of strange technology. He answered absently when O'Neill told him not to touch anything and kept right on gawking. An incredible array of accents and languages seemed to be in use by the people rushing here and there or conferring in small groups, but it was a Scottish one that grabbed his attention.

The man stood by a weird looking chair, talking about that missile--drone, he called it--that had tried to take down John's chopper.

"So you're the one," John said as he advanced into the room.

"Me?" The people the man had been talking to faded away into the background, probably because they could sense how annoyed John was.

John stepped onto the platform next to the chair. "You're the one who fired that thing at me."

"Look," the man said, obviously intimidated, "we're doing research, working with technology that is light years beyond us. And we make mistakes."

And just like that, John couldn't be mad at the guy. He knew all about making mistakes, and besides this chair thing was unlike anything he'd ever seen in his life.

"I'm incredibly, incredibly sorry."

The apology was so earnest that John magnanimously said, "Well, next time just be a little more careful, okay?"

"That's what I said."

Now that he had someone who seemed eager to talk to him, John finally gave voice to his curiosity. "What the hell was that thing anyway?"

"You mean the drone?" John nodded so the man continued, "The weapon the Ancients built to defend this outpost."

John was instantly lost but trying to keep up. "The who?"

"You do have security clearance to be here?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, General O'Neill just gave it to me." John looked around the room they were in. It was smaller than the big open area where the other people were working, but it was still huge and shadowy.

"Then you don't even know about the stargate."

John looked back at the man. "The what?"

The man sighed and looked vaguely freaked out. Then he started explaining about a big metal ring that allowed people to travel to other planets just by stepping through it. John listened, open mouthed and unsure whether to believe it or not. It sounded fairly ridiculous, especially when he tried to make sense of the physics that must be involved, but Doctor Beckett--the man had finally introduced himself--seemed to believe what he was saying so John found himself believing it, too. It still sounded like something out of a science fiction movie, but then so did that drone that had chased him all over the sky earlier and he certainly believed in that.

When Beckett started in on the concept of a gene that allowed humans to use this Ancient technology everyone was so jazzed about, John just nodded and studied the chair. Completely ignoring O'Neill's order not to touch anything, he poked at the arm with one finger. The spot where a person's hands would rest was made of some weird squishy material but the rest of the chair was made of metal in an alien yet gothic style. The gene thing was interesting but almost as hard to believe as this whole stargate idea.

The chair swiveled under John's hand and he felt an inexplicable pull to sit down. Well, it had been a rather tiring morning what with almost getting blown out of the sky.

Beckett broke off in the middle of a sentence and leapt forward. "Major, please don't."

"Come on, what're the odds of me having the same genes as these guys?" But John realized his mistake immediately. The chair powered up, tilted back and, though he couldn't see it, he felt sure it was glowing. It was that kind of day. He didn't know what to do about the buzzing sense of power that coursed through him, so he held as still as possible while Beckett fluttered around for a second or two before yelling for people to come.

The next thing John knew some woman was asking who he was and General O'Neill was admonishing him for touching things. At the moment, he had more to worry about than pissing off a superior officer, so all he said was "I just sat down."

Then another man stepped up and said, "Major. Think about where we are in the solar system."

The voice sounded familiar, but John didn't dwell on it. He just did what he was told and found himself staring up at a glowing three dimensional representation of the whole solar system, complete with the individual asteroids in the asteroid belt. If this was a movie, it was one with a very nice special effects budget.

"Did I do that?"

"Yes, you did, Major." The woman spoke again, and she sounded very happy.

O'Neill gave him another look that John ignored and then walked off with the woman and another man who started talking very fast. "Uh...Doctor Beckett? What do I do now?"

But it wasn't Beckett who answered, it was the man who'd sounded familiar. "Oh, right. Just think about powering the chair down and then sit up."

John closed his eyes and thought about turning it all off. The humming sound immediately stopped and the buzzing sensation faded away more slowly. When the chair returned to its original upright position, John opened his eyes and found himself staring into a face he'd not seen in twenty years. "What the hell? Rodney? Rodney McKay?"

Rodney's widened in shock and then his mouth spread into a crooked smile. "John Sheppard? What are you...how did... This is insane. The odds against running into each other like this are astronomical."

"Yeah." John got out of the chair and had no idea what to do next. He wanted to throw his arms around Rodney and reassure himself that it was really him, that this moment he'd occasionally allowed himself to dream about over the last twenty years was actually happening, but there were people all around so he stuck out his hand instead.

Rodney stared at John's hand and then slowly reached out and took it. The next moment they both had their free arms wrapped around the other's shoulder for a brief but manly hug, and John would never be sure who moved first. It reminded him of that summer day after graduation when they both knew it had to be over and neither actually wanted to say it, so they just kind of talked around it without making empty promises to keep in touch and then kissed goodbye for ten minutes straight. John had had plenty of kisses since then but that one always stuck in his memory as one of the best.

"So I guess you know each other then?" When John and Rodney both ignored Beckett's question, he added, "And I guess I'll be getting back to work now."

Intensely aware that even with Beckett gone, they weren't truly alone, John stepped back and circled the chair, putting it in between him and Rodney. "Wow. This is amazing. I never would have expected--"

"No, no, me either. It's unbelievable and just--"

"Yeah. Oh, yeah." John laughed at how neither of them could quite finish their sentences, but figured they could be forgiven. First loves didn't just drop out of the sky every day. Did they ever? He'd thought of looking up Rodney a few times over the years but always pictured him settling down with an extremely tolerant wife and having some little geniuses of his own. A guy like that wouldn't want some old flame reminding him of high school experimentation, if that's what it was, and that is what John had convinced himself it was for Rodney. It was experimentation for himself as well, the kind that convinced him he wasn't so much bisexual as mostly gay but able to fake it when he needed to.

Rodney rocked back on his heels, gripping his hands behind his back. "It's good to see you, John."

"You've changed," was not what John meant to say, but it was what came out.

The smile faded off Rodney's face. "Well, it's been a long time."

"It wasn't an insult." John wanted to say how wonderful Rodney looked to him--how broad and healthy and happy and still just as attractive as he was at sixteen-- but he couldn't, not with so many people around to overhear. "Just, you know, you've grown up."

"Most people do. You look good. I used to carry a copy of that picture--you know the one?--but after a few years it started to look creepy to have a picture of a teenaged boy in my wallet." Rodney looked away for a moment, and then glanced back at John, with a tentative expression on his face. "When I started working for the Air Force, I tried to look you up, but, uh...you moved a lot. And...and I wasn't sure if you'd want a reminder of who you used to be."

John glanced around to make sure there were no military personnel around. "Who I still am, Rodney. I actually thought the same thing about you."

"Oh?" Rodney's eyes widened and his mouth moved into a smirk that John had also thought about many times over the years. "Oh. Well. That's...great. Do you have time to come have a cup of coffee with me? I could answer all your questions about the Ancients and we could catch up."

John raised an eyebrow and nodded, but he didn't think any questions he'd ask would be about the Ancients. Catching up, though, that he was looking forward to.


The end.

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