The Tango Rodney

by Cynical_Coat

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/asc/ccoat/tangorod.php
Summary: Rodney has a melt down, and Elizabeth gives him an ultimatum: Find a way to relieve some tension, or be relieved of duty!

Rodney turned his back on the sunset, his face cast suddenly into bruised shadow though the balcony around him glowed with golden fire. The beauty of the scene was lost on him, holding none of it's usual calming familiarity. He scrubbed a hand over his face and reviewed the day...

In hindsight, he could see that he had overreacted. But then, that particular cliche was nearly always right.

In hindsight, he shouldn't have bitten Zelenka's head off like that, especially since Radek had been right.

In hindsight, he shouldn't have accused Kavanaugh on intentionally sabtoging his work, even if he was still more than half convinced that that was the case.

He leaned back against the railing, feeling the last rays of the sun seep into his shoulders. He rubbed the back of his neck, inspecting his swollen knuckles...

In hindsight, he really shouldn't have punched the prick, no matter how annoying he was being...

Pushing away from the railing, he grimaced and headed for the door, meaning to go to his room and collapse. On that, he could agree with Elizabeth... if he didn't get some sleep soon, he wouldn't be able to function properly... he might hurt someone.

"Been there..." He muttered to himself, opening the door. He stepped back sharply when John appeared out of nowhere and blocked his exit. "Major."

"Rodney." John replied, his normal levity absent as he thought the door closed again. "I heard about what happened."

"I think everyone has by now, Major..." Rodney huffed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a mandatory nap scheduled." Rodney tried to move around him, but each time John mirrored his movements, blocking his way. "What, are we dancing?"

"Funny you should say that."

"Glad I'm still amusing, Major. I'd hate to think that I was losing my charm." Rodney drawled, far past his tolerance for idiocy of any kind. The John Sheppard variety most definately included. "Now, I'm sure you have something very important to attend to, so--" He tried to skirt around him, but John laid a hand on his arm, holding him in place.

"I'm attending to it right now, Rodney."

Rodney looked down at the fingers wrapped gently around his forearm and then up at John's face. He felt a fraction of his annoyance drain away, replaced by a strange tension that quivered on the threshold of his understanding.

"Oh?"

John let his fingers fall away, his other hand migrating to the nape of his own neck, worrying the fringe of hair there.

"Yeah... look, go take your nap... Just--" John met Rodney's eyes then, and his earnest concern was almost more than Rodney could take... did everyone think he was on the verge of a meltdown? "Just meet me here after dinner, okay? I think I have an idea..."

Rodney cocked his head.

"An idea? About wha--" He stopped abruptly, pursing his lips. "She didn't..."

"Elizabeth just mentioned that you were under an inordinate amount of stress and--"

"Noticed that, did she?"

"And she asked me to do what I could to help." John finished, his glare looking anything but helpful.

"Help? You want to know what you can do to help, Major?" Rodney asked, snorting and shaking his head. "Leave me alone. I can handle myself."

"Oh? Is that so?" John asked with that irritating lift of an eyebrow.

"I've managed well enough up to this point, Major." He replied as haughtily as he could, trying not to let John see the affect his concern (however misplaced) was having on him.

"You broke Zelenka's nose!" John shouted and Rodney winced..

"If it's any concilation... I was swinging for Kavanaugh..." He sighed and reopened the door. "That reminds me... I have to go apologize again." When he stepped to the side this time, John let him pass.

"After dinner, McKay!" John called, his voice following Rodney as he retreated down the hall.

***

Rodney nearly collided with Radek as he entered the Infirmary. He winced at the sight of his friend and dug his hands deep into his pockets.

"Jesus, Radek... I'm really sorry."

The man was holding his glasses in one hand, sqiunting as much from that as from the two black eyes that flanked his bruised and bloodied nose.

"S'not as bad as it looks, Radnee..." Radek wheezed, his syllables a nasal cacophony. "Just wish you'd hit Calvin like you meant to..."

"Me too." Rodney agreed lamely.

"But is probably for the best. He'd have just filed a complaint."

"Most likely... Look, Radek, I really am--"

"I *know*. You wouldn't say so otherwise." Radek's smile looked pained, but it still made Rodney feel a little better.

"Guess you're right..."

"You guess? Since when?"

"An imprecise science, to be sure. You're--"

"Yes. I'm fine." Radek asserted before pointing at Rodney. "You, on the other hand... not so much."

"What--?"

"Ah, there you are, Rodney. I was just going to send out the search team." Carson said, crossing the room and cutting off Rodney's escape route. "You're free to go, Radek... But, Rodney, you'll be staying a bit, won't you?" It wasn't really a question.

Radek clapped Rodney on the shoulder.

"Good luck, my friend."

Rodney watched him go, his guilt warring with an impending feeling of dread that was linked to the image of large needles and unnecessary exams as he looked back at Carson.

"You know I didn't mean to punch *him*, right?"

"Aye."

"And Kavanaugh *really* does deserve it. More than."

"I wouldn't doubt it."

Rodney fidgeted, unnerved by Carson's easy agreement.

"And?"

"And," Carson sighed. "I've been telling you to ease up for *weeks*. I've been telling you that if you didn't get some decent rest you were going to have some kind of bre--"

"Don't say it." Rodney interjected. "I did *not* have a breakdown."

"You broke Radek's nose!"

"As everyone feels the need to *remind* me, for some reason... Speaking of which, if you're going to drag me into this pointless conversation, you might as well do something about my hand." Rodney snapped, pulling the swollen appendage from his pocket. He held it out to Carson as though he had been greviously injured through no fault of his own. Carson clucked his tongue and nodded at the nearest bunk, watching Rodney sit with something very like affection. Rodney found that even more unnerving.

"You know," Carson said, edging into his real concern slowly as he examined Rodney's knuckles. "It's not like you to resort to violence."

"Really? I'll have you know that I can be down right *vicious*." His glare was somewhat spoiled by a wince when Carson stretched his fingers out.

"Aye, you've a razor tongue... but fists? Not so much."

Rodney snorted and pulled his hand away, cradling it against his chest like a wounded bird.

"Who the hell would want 'razor fists'?"

"Rodney."

"Right. I get it... I just--" He closed his mouth and glared more effecively at Carson.

"Snapped?"

"So?"

"Rodney..." Carson shook his head. "I'm saying this as much as your friend as your doctor. You *need* to relax. You're at your limit, physically mentally, sexual--"

"Carson!" Rodney interjected, his eyes wide. Carson chuckled.

"You mean you're not?"

"I mean I don't really want to talk to *you* about it!"

"Well, you'd better talk to *someone* about it. Soon."

Rodney snorted.

"You have someone in mind?"

"Dr. Heightmeyer."

"No. We already talk about everything else. She knows I don't want to talk about that..." He trailed off at the surprise in Carson's eyes. "What?"

"You're already seeing her?"

"Yes. I may be many things, Carson, but stupid doesn't even come close to making the list."

"When, ah, when did you start going?"

Rodney rolled his eyes.

"When do you think?"

Carson furrowed his brow, obviously not sure if he should say.

"After Gaul and--" He stopped when Rodney paled and shook his head.

"No... before that."

Carson blinked at him.

"Before?"

Rodney nodded, seeming unsure himself now.

"Yeah... ever since Hoff. You wouldn't have gone if John and I--"

Carson tensed and then reached over and squeezed Rodney's shoulder, smiling sadly.

"It wasn't your fault, Rodney."

"And it wasn't yours."

"Aye." Carson said after a moment, but it sounded flat and unconvincing to his own ears. They stared at each other in silence for a moment before Carson took a deep shuddering breath. "Elizabeth wanted me to run some tests."

"Right."

"You need to find a way to relax."

"Right."

"For your own health, and that of those around you." Carson added, trying for levity.

"Right... I might hurt someone else. We can't have me, oh, I don't know... knocking out Teyla or something."

It took Carson a moment to realize that that was a joke. He gave a surprised laugh and smiled at Rodney, the tension lifted. For now.

***

"What?!" Rodney snapped, looking across the balcony at John as though he'd finally gone insane. The music mingling with the distant sound of waves only made it more surreal.

"It's not that difficult to understand, Rodney. The concept is a simple enough one..."

"It's not the concept I'm having trouble with, Major. It's the motive."

"Who says there has to be a motive?"

"Logic?"

"Oh." John scrubbed a hand through his unruly hair. "Right... do I get a say in what my motive is then?"

"Your motive for offering to teach me how to *dance*, you mean?"

"Yeah, that."

"I hope so, because for once, I'm coming up empty. You know, other than the obvious black-mail value."

John blinked at him, crossing his arms to mirror Rodney's defensive stance.

"Why 'obvious'? Do you really think that poorly of me?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

John stared at him for a second before grabbing Rodney's left hand with his own right and settling his other hand on Rodney's hip, standing closer to him than was strictly necessary...

"What the hell do you think you--"

"Look, Rodney, arguing isn't going to get us anywhere, and you *need* to relax."

"No kidding."

"Dancing can be... relaxing."

"Not in my experience." Rodney shot back without hesitation, opening his mouth to continue.

"We'll start with something simple," John interjected, not letting Rodney pull away from him. "And work our way up to the more difficult ones... Put your hand on my shoulder, Rodney."

Rodney balked before following directions, his brow furrowed as he stared down at their feet, doing his level best just not to crush John's toes.

"Shouldn't I be learning to lead?" He asked after a moment.

"You don't know the steps yet." John responded with as much patience as he could muster.

"Yeah, but don't I need to learn, you know, *that*?" Rodney gestured vaguely with the hand that John didn't have trapped in his own.

"Fine. You lead." John said, switching his stance easily.

Rodney just stood there for a second, before glaring at John, dropping his hands to his sides and backing up a step, glaring at John until he relinquished his hold..

"Asshole."

"Hey, I'm just trying to help..."

"Yes... and why is that again?"

"You're my friend, Rodney." The lack of hesitation before John answered drove Rodney to believe even more strongly that there was more to it than that.

"Do you make a habit of catching your *friends* out on secluded balconies and--" Rodney forcibly stopped talking and closed his mouth. He took a deep breath. If John wanted to waste what free time he had on this fool's errand, it was the least Rodney could do to indulge him... and then point out his folly when he finally came to his senses, of course... in the mean time, Rodney would *not* drive him away by speaking without thinking, as he had been in the process of doing.

-Loose lips sink ships...- He thought with a little mental snort.

To his immense relief, John ignored his statement, simply bulling onward with his absurd plan.

"Look, I'm afraid to even ask... but didn't you ever learn to dance?"

"And why would I have done that, Major?"

"School dances? Your Prom? Fun? I don't know."

"I spent my Prom night hiding in my basement, Major... studying, if you must know." Rodney gave a mirthless bark of laughter, folding his arms tight across his chest. "As for 'fun'..."

"Social occasions, then. Something!"

Rodney looked up into John's earnest face, taken aback by the concerned intensity he found there. The heat of it surprised him into telling the truth, without sarcasm or snark.

"I... I can waltz... I had to learn for the Annual Gala at my father's university--" He stammered, unsure why he was giving the man more ammunition to use against him. He already had more than enough, as far as Rodney was concerned.

"Oh, good... You're set then. If you want to start a dance craze on the next renaissance world we go to."

"Hey, it was considered scandalous in it's time."

John rolled his eyes.

"You wanna see scandalous?" He hooked a thumb into his waistband, his fingers fanned out over his groin, his other hand sliding up through his hair. He watched Rodney through heavy lidded eyes before turning his back and shaking his hips in time with his internal timpani. He grinned to himself, pushing away the nagging voice in his head.

-why are you doing this?-

-what are you trying to prove?-

Without turning around or ceasing his teasing movements, he spoke over his shoulder, assessing Rodney's reaction from the corner of his eye.

"With moves like this, you'll be able to land any woman on the base."

"Yeah, or convince her irrevocably that I'm a flaming--"

Carson's voice interrupted him as it erupted from the intercom, catching them both off guard.

"Rodney?"

"Yeah, Carson, I'm here."

"I have the results of your tests."

"And?"

"Elizabeth said that she has already informed you of your choices?"

"Yes... find a way to relax or be grounded and under veritable house arrest for an indeterminate amount of time... Not much of a choice, really."

"Aye... I suggest you get started then, Rodney... for your own good."

"Way ahead of you, Carson." Rodney smirked at John, but didn't elaborate. "But thanks for your concern."

"Don't let it go to your head, Rodney..."

"Aww... that's sweet of you, Carson." Rodney gushed sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"I do try." Carson replied, sounding both amused and annoyed. "Just don't over do it."

"What? The relaxing? Is that even possible?"

"For you?"

John laughed quietly, earning himself a sharp warning glance from Rodney.

-you want the whole base to know how you've decided to spend your downtime, Major?- That glance all but screamed. John reined in his mirth and turned his back to Rodney again, staring out over the ocean.

"Thanks for checking in, Carson, but I'll be fine. Elizabeth already sent in the cavalry."

"Did she now?" Carson sounded intrigued, but he thankfully left it at that. "Well then, I'll not delay you."

"Right..."

John glanced at Rodney, surprised by the strange mixture of paranoia and hope that he found on the other man's features.

"Look, Major... You don't have to do this, even if Elizabeth said--"

"You keep coming back to that." John interrupted, shaking his head. "Elizabeth just mentioned what happened... I decided to do this on my own." He waved a hand as Rodney opened his mouth. "And before you ask 'why?' again, just think about it. I-- *We*... the city needs you in full working order."

Rodney stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable for once. He seemed to come to a satisfactory conclusion though, as he entwined his fingers with John's and laid his other hand lightly on John's shoulder.

"Better get to it then, Major... you've got your work cut out for you."

"You're tellin' me.. Ow!" He pulled his foot back roughly from beneath Rodney's, setting them both off balance. Rodney staggered into his chest, jumping back without releasing John's hand. They both stumbled into the railing, pressed awkwardly to each other, staring down into the water far below them. "Well... that could have been worse..."

"You don't say..." Rodney muttered, pulling his hands from John and walking slowly to the middle of the balcony.

"Good idea." John said, following him. "I think we should make 'thou shalt not fall the twenty stories into the ocean' our first commandment."

"Our first dance class commandment?"

"I'm sure we can apply it to other aspects of daily life. Lunch-time, sleeping, sparring practice... All perfectly good times not to die."

"Your logic astounds, Major..."

"Thank you, Rodney. I learned from the best."

Rodney raised an eyebrow at that.

"Surely you don't mean me...?"

"Of course not. I owe it all to Mr. Spock."

"Hopeless... utterly hopeless..."

"Come on, Rodney... I said I *wasn't* talking about you."

Rodney shook his head, crossing his arms lightly. Not the defensive stance that John was trying so hard to break him of, but the easier, happier, 'I'm right and you are *sooooooo* wrong' stance that meant that they had only just begun to snark.

"If anyone is Spock, it's me."

"Nah... you're too emotional to be Spock... You're--" John grinned. "You're more like Kirk and Spock's love child." Despite his own discomfort at the thought-- Kirk so belonged with McCoy-- it was well worth it to see Rodney slack-jawed and speechless. Hell, almost anything was worth that!

"You didn't just say that..." Rodney spluttered. "*Please* tell me you didn't just say that!"

John switched the music back on, caught Rodney's hand again and settled his other hand at Rodney's hip, grinning like a fiend.

"Make me."

Rodney rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"How very second grade of you, Major." He drawled. But he was dancing, only glancing at his feet every three steps, instead of keeping them glued to the floor. That was something. "You're such a geek."

"I know you are, but what am I?" John sing-songed, wrapping his arm around Rodney's waist and dipping him before he could respond. Rodney sqwacked in protest, nearly overbalancing them again. He glared at John once he was upright.

"Don't ever do that again."

"What? This?" John dipped him again. And Rodney laughed despite himself.

"Asshole."

"And you *like* it." John shot back, his grin turning triumphant.

"Maybe."

John raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe not." Rodney added, and John winked at him, making Rodney wonder what exactly they thought they were doing...

***

**Two weeks later...**

"Look, John... What exactly are we doing here?" Rodney asked, watching John set up the small speakers he had found somewhere.

"Relieving your stress, Rodney." John replied without looking up. Rodney frowned at him, forcing himself not to pace the balcony.

"That's a nice PR answer, John... but really?" He knew he was prying... he should just leave it be and act happy about what time he had with John.

Riiiiiiiiiight....

"Teaching you the time honored tradition of Salsa dancing." John looked up at him then, his eyes giving him the lie. He stood, balancing the laptop on the back of the couch thing Rodney had moved here. In case they got tired during lessons.

Riiiiiiiiiight....

Rodney moved closer to John, letting his carefully mantained barriers slip just a fraction.

"You know there's more to this than *dancing*..."

Without a word, John turned the music on and spun around, pressing his back to Rodney's chest, feeling Rodney's heartbeat and shallow breathing and the insistent pressure of his arousal. Taking Rodney's hands in his own, John moved one up across his chest so that Rodney was grasping his right shoulder with his left hand. The other he pressed against his abdomen, slowly guiding it downward as he started to grind his hips in time with the music. Rodney buried his face in the crook of John's neck, not quite kissing him... but every time he exhaled it sent a minute shiver through John's body, making him thrust forward into the hand that was creeping ever closer to his erection. When Rodney finally started to move against him, John let his head loll back onto his shoulder, relinquishing the pretext and letting himself simply need, losing himself in the moonlight and the gentle heat and heft of Rodney's body. Losing himself in the dance.

Rodney gave a sudden muffled cry as the music shifted and grabbed John's hand reflexively, spinning them into the frenzied dance that they had nearly perfected over the last few weeks. John flew back to him, face to face, his hand on Rodney's hip to mirror the other man as they melted a path across the balcony.

As the music reached it's truncated climax, John threw the top half of his body backwards, arching his spine and thrusting his hips against Rodney, his right leg snugged up between Rodney's thighs, his left braced beneath him. Rodney's fingers dug convulsively into John's hip, his eyes fluttering as a deep moan escaped his lips. They stood frozen in the moonlight, ecstasy and desire written in every line of their taut, motionless bodies.

Loathe as she was to interrupt, Elizabeth cleared her throat, breaking the spell. Rodney's head whipped around and he let go of John, stepping backward so swiftly that she almost doubted what she had seen. John collapsed, landing heavily on his ass with a cry of surprise and a groan of pain.

"Elizabeth! Ah... how, ah, how long have you been, ah-- ?"

She smiled, bringing all her negotiating skills to bear just to keep her laughter in check.

"I just got here, Rodney. I wanted to see how the lessons were coming..." She watched with amusement as Rodney offered John a hand up. Though he glared, John accepted his assistance, hissing,

"You are *so* going to pay for that..."

She had no doubt, given their heated glances and obvious arousal, that she was *not* supposed to hear that.

"Well, you seem to have this under control, Major, so I'll just be going..." She turned and left without another word, her facade of normalcy cracking as soon as she was in the hall.

"Thanks for stopping by..." Rodney called after her, his annoyance clear as he turned back to John. "Now, where were we?"

"Right about where you dumped me on my ass, Rodney."

"No, no... before that."

"A 'sorry' would be nice." John said, folding his arms across his chest. Rodney frowned at him, brows furrowed.

"Sorry for what? That you can't even support your own nominal body weight?"

"For dropping me like a bad habit... or in your case, a good one."

"What's that supposed to mean, Major?" Rodney snapped, wondering where the conversation had gone bad.

"It means that you couldn't stop being an ass for ten minutes if your life depended on it, *McKay*." John shot back, his anger suddenly kicking up a notch for no reason that Rodney could see. He snorted, drawing himself up and trying to ignore the steady throb from his groin.

"At least I'm not a fucking tease."

"What?!"

Rodney curled his lip, his arms wrapped protectively around himself.

"What, is this some kind of game to you? Just another way to humiliate me? See how far you can get me to go before you just turn it off?" He spat, throwing the accusation in John's face and hoping, hoping, hoping that that wasn't the case.

John stared at him in silence for a moment before glancing pointedly down at himself.

"Does this look 'turned off' to you, Rodney? Because if it does, I think you either need to get your eyes checked, or you need a lesson in basic male anatomy..." He dropped his hands to his sides and moved closer to Rodney, swaying with that same hypnotic grace that had started this whole mess. "But I am interested in seeing how far you'll go, Rodney..." He rested his forearms on Rodney's shoulders, leaving an almost nonexistent gap between them and whispering into his ear. "Among other things."

His fears and suspicions buried once more under the rising tide of desire that those words unleashed, Rodney pulled John tight to his body, kissing him full on the mouth for the first time since they had started this undercover courtship. John's hands moved to his hair, deepening the kiss as they half stumbled, half danced backwards, fetching up against a wall. John groaned with mingled need and pain and broke the kiss.

"I think you bruised my ass when you dropped me..."

Rodney nibbled on John's neck, pressing his hips forward just hard enough to ellict another moan from John.

"Want me to fuck it and make it better?"

John snorted.

"How long have you been sitting on that one, Rodney?"

Rodney looked him in the eye and smirked.

"A while... at least as long as I've been thinking about sitting on something else." He fumbled with John's belt, his lips returning to his neck.

"On second thought, I'll live..." John said through another moan, lifting his arms obediantly as Rodney pulled upwards on his shirt. "Shit..." He whispered breathlessly, his hands going back to Rodney's hair as the other man started to kiss his way down John's chest. He gave a groaning curse as Rodney tugged his jeans down, his cock springing free of it's denim confinement. He thanked whatever fate or chance had made him forego underwear when he'd gotten dressed that morning. Rodney kissed his inner thigh... and then slowly made his way back up John's body to his mouth, grinding his own erection against John's leg while carefully avoiding any contact with his cock. John closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, his jeans snugged down around his knees keeping him immobile "Rodney..."

"Yes, John?" Rodney replied, his sensual undulations never ceasing... and never coming quite close enough to John's arousal to do anything but increase the throbbing ache that was quickly overriding his higher mental functions.

"*Rodney*." He repeated, a cracked groan spilling from his lips as cool fingers ghosted along his heated shaft, he eyes flying open, searching for Rodney's on their own. "Rodn--" Rodney stole the remainder of his name back from John's lips, moving over so that he was directly in front of John, his fingers dancing a languid waltz over John's hips, tracing unseen patterns and whorls as he inched closer, sliding his palms over the sensitive skin at the small of John's back, caressing ever downward until he had John's ass cupped between his hands. John surged forward against Rodney's still clothed groin as strong fingers probed at his entrance. He gave a little murmer of displeasure as Rodney stepped back slightly, but when the other man dropped to his knees before John, all coherent thought fled. "Shit..." He whispered as Rodney lavished more kisses on his inner thighs, but still he refrained from doing anything more constructive. John frowned down at him when Rodney started pulling on his leg, but he wasn't left much time to wonder.

"Pick up your foot already, moron..." Rodney huffed, his voice husky with desire. John followed instructions and watched with quiet confusion as Rodney removed first one boot and then the other. His jeans followed swiftly, leaving him completely naked in the semi-darkness. Rodney stood, gazing at him and licking his lips. "That's better..."

They stood in silence, a palpable heat growing between them. Somehow, John didn't mind so much that Rodney had taken control of the situation... granted, he'd have had them both stripped down and sated twice over by now, but he'd waited this long. A little longer couldn't hurt...

Except, it was starting to... he couldn't remember ever being quite this hard before, and when he finally got Rodney's clothes off, he had some very definite ideas of how he was going to remedy that particular situation.

But Rodney had a different idea...

"Turn around."

"What?" John asked lamely, caught off-guard by Rodney's emotion laden growl.

"Turn around."

When John still hesitated, Rodney reached out and bodily turned him toward the wall, indicating that he should brace himself with his hands. The furnace that was Rodney pressed close to his back, hands sliding over his chest and sides, his thighs and shoulders, mapping even inch of him but the inches that really mattered to John at the moment. Other than that one light caress, Rodney hadn't touched his cock at all. It was easily the hottest thing that anyone had even done to him...

Rodney shuddered suddenly and then his molten presence was simply gone, replaced by the chill night air and a feeling of loss so deep that it shook John to his core. When had Rodney become so deeply ingrained into his heart that even that slight abandonment felt so profound?

"Rodney?" He was quietly horrified by the weakness in that one word... and somehow warmed by the thought that he was capable of needing anything so damn much.

"Shhh, John... I'll be right back."

John forced himself not to look around, not to watch Rodney walk away. He listened to Rodney's deafening footsteps and the whoosh of air as the far door opened. The one that lead into Rodney's quarters... he briefly considered rushing into the room and jumping Rodney in the relative comfort of his bed, but having let Rodney play out this much of what was obviously a well planned fantasy, it was only fair to let him finish.

Christ, but John wished he would just hurry up and *finish*...

The door opened again, and it was as if every cell in John's body had been trained to catch fire at the sound of Rodney's voice or the merest hint of a touch from his calloused fingertips.

"Did you miss me?" Rodney whispered into his ear and John nodded emphatically even as part of his brain insisted that that was ridiculous, he'd only been gone a moment. But when Rodney planted a kiss on his shoulder, right where it joined his neck, he knew that it was true. Any time that Rodney wasn't in direct physical contact with him, John missed him... and he desperately wished that Rodney felt the same.

"Need you, Rodney..." John finally managed to vocalize, arching back against Rodney's still clothed form. "Need you so much... Need you *always*." He winced as that last moaning admission snuck past his lips, but he couldn't and he wouldn't take it back. His mother had always told him not to lie to himself...

Rodney gasped a curse and suddenly John knew why he'd gone inside. A slick finger slid against and then within him, making him cry out and buck backward, needing so much more than that single digit could offer. Oblivious as he normally was, Rodney seemed to sense that, and a second finger quickly joined the first, making John writhe and squirm, begging for more. At the sound of Rodney cursing again and struggling with his zipper, John stilled, taking a deep steady breath and spreading his feet further apart. He sighed as Rodney's fingers slipped out of his body, but knowing what was on it's way abated the despair he felt at that disconnection. Rodney leaned his forehead against John's shoulder.

"Ready?" He whispered, and John simply twitched his hips backwards, unable to regain his voice. Rodney's tee-shirt and jeans were rough on his bare skin, but he craved the sensation, grounding himself in everything that was Rodney. He hissed a curse as Rodney slowly impaled him on his solid length, and finally, *finally*, wrapped his long, subtly powerful fingers around John's cock. He stroked almost experimentally-- as if testing one of his pet artifacts, or unsure of what he was doing suddenly-- but he soon found a rhythm. Even as he felt his brain start to leak out of his cock, some small corner of his mind managed to appreciate that Rodney was putting the last few weeks of lessons to good use.

As much as they were fucking, they were also dancing... They were making love.

-Love-

The word resonated through John's soul, vibrated behind his eyes as his orgasm built ever closer. He shuddered and thrust himself backwards convulsively as he came, words flooding from him with his release.

"Oh god, Rodney... so perfect, you're so perfect, I love you, love you..." He cried, feeling Rodney lose control within him. His quiet gasp bordered on surprise, and was anything but what John expected from the normally vocal man. They stood for a moment, poised between breaths, still connected and reeling. John recovered first, letting Rodney's softened member slide out of his body. He somehow managed to guide them both into Rodney's bedroom before collapsing against Rodney's chest on the bed. He thought of finally getting Rodney out of his clothes, but he was blissing and nice as a naked Rodney would be, he really just didn't want to move.

Of course... Rodney had a different idea...

He prodded John's shoulder, waited a few seconds and then poked him again, repeating the process until John looked up at him with half-closed eyes.

"What?" He mumbled, his body drifting toward sleep even as he struggled to focus on Rodney's features.

"I--" Rodney kissed him, leaning in to whisper breathily into his ear. A slow smile crept across John's face and he wrapped himself around Rodney, no longer caring that he was clothed. No longer caring about anything.

"I love you too, Rodney."

-FIN-