Stanley Is Just A Cup

by Mystic

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/asm/mystic/stanleyi.php
Summary: John's goal is to be the best Ice Player ever...or so he thought.
Info: I reference to my story Mystic Minnesota. Not necessary to read as this stands alone.
I'm no expert in Hockey so please remember this is an AU.
Also, a thank you to Cypher, author of "Sheppard's Goal," which inspired this story, and for his granting me permission to write this.

The first time John Sheppard put on a pair of skates at the not-so tender age of ten years old, he thought they were the stupidest things ever. That was until his current friend at his father's latest base introduced him to ice hockey...then, skates were better than chocolate! Unlike surfing, where you had to go to the water and then hope for good weather and good waves, as long as you had ice or a rink you could skate--fly across the ice!

At age twelve, John showed his determination in wanting to be a ice hockey player by voicing his desire to live with his grandparents in Minnesota, as he had read some of the best ice hockey players ever were from there. After two spankings, three groundings and an all out siege of his room, when he went on strike from everything until he got to go...his parents gave in. Reluctantly.

John's father said that he was more stubborn than nature itself when he wanted something, that even a dog with a bone could be more reasoned with, and John took this as a compliment, as he knew it was very true. When he set his sights on something, he went after it full force, no holds barred. Of course, that wasn't always a good thing, as it cost him a broken leg at age fourteen when he tried to jump four hockey nets on a dare. (Though John now points out he did clear the nets, he just hit the ice wrong.) The doctors said John would be lucky to walk without a limp, much less play hockey again, but John paid her no mind as he was still determined to be a professional hockey player.

In John's sophomore year, his grandparents surprised him by moving to another small town called Mystic, Minnesota, which did NOT have a hockey team, and John was furious. He tried to get his parents to take him back, but they had John's little sister Christina and reminded him of how he said he wanted to be with his grandparents and he had to accept the good with the bad of that decision. He swore he'd never forgive his family for ruining his life!

By age sixteen, John not only walked, ran, jumped and flew on skates again, but he had forgiven his grandparents for his tiny high school had managed to find the world's best coach ever! Coach Jack O'Neill was a marvel at the game, and though John only made Junior Varsity that year, which considering he wasn't supposed to ever be skating again, he thought wasn't too bad, he was determined to fix that little error the following year.

In 1998, one of the most memorable years of John's life, John Sheppard faced barely making the varsity team as his leg still gave him trouble, the death of a friend in a game gone haywire, and the Mystic Warriors becoming state champions with an 18-0 shutout of the other team. One hat trick belonged to him and, to the surprise of many, John had been named MVP, having stepped up to the plate and motivated his team after the death of one of their mates; it's when he learned his first lesson in the hardship that comes with leadership.

From that point on, John Sheppard's life had been pretty much on track. The only side bar had been his acceptance that he was gay. Thankfully, since his Coach and all time hero was also gay, it made life when he came out to his family a whole lot easier, in that he had a place to stay when his grandfather kicked him out of the house for a month. Thankfully, Jack O'Neill was also a good man and a good friend to his team, and helped smooth things over for John.

Yep, John Sheppard went to the University of Minnesota and pulled off his next hat trick, becoming captain of the team, getting his BS in Applied Mathematics, and getting offered a shot at going pro. John was flying high, and in a letter to Jack, as he felt closer to the older man than his family at the time, he told Jack that it was all arranged. He'd go pro for a few years, do some endorsements, win a few Stanley Cups and enjoy life, while saving for his retirement. Then he'd settle down with some nice guy and perhaps consider a family. Before then, it would be hockey 24/7, just the way John wanted it. That night John went to bed with one of his male groupies and a few beers, feeling on top of the world.

************

Four Years later

"Come on, what the hell is your problem, you got lead in your skates?" John shouted from across the ice as his team mate, number 54 (also known as Harris), had let his man get ahead of him and score, making the game 3-7, NOT in the White Wings, favor...again!

"What's the matter, Sheppard, getting slow in your old age?" ragged one of the guys from the other team. John decided wasn't worth the effort of beating the crap out of him, especially when he saw an opportunity to get the puck and possibly score. A nice body check later, John had the puck under his control as he flew down the ice, knowing his team would try to keep the other guys off his back, but he wasn't counting on it. He saw the duo heading his way and knowing even without seeing that the clock was winding down, he pulled back, slid to a quick stop, slapped the puck as hard as he could and watched as it flew passed the two men. Just missing the goalie's glove, it hit the back of the net for an ending score of 4-7. It wasn't a win, but still a victory for John, for inside he was getting a bit depressed. He'd been playing professional hockey for a few years now and not once did any of the teams he played for make it even CLOSE to the Stanley Cup. Plus, at twenty-five, his leg was starting to give him hell from when it was shattered so long ago, and he was worried he didn't have much time left and suddenly felt very old.

"Sheppard!"

John shook out of his thoughts and saw that the team had already headed in, and most of the crowd was already leaving, though a few were hanging where they hoped to get an autograph from someone. He saw Coach Timmons calling him over, so pushed himself in that direction, letting the mouth guard fall to his chin. "You want me, Coach?"

"Yeah, after you get changed, you're wanted up in the office. Also, great shot, though it didn't follow any of the game plans, but I'm not complaining," the older man grinned, patting Sheppard on the back, before heading to the locker room.

John beamed under the praise as he headed toward the locker room, even happier when asked for his autograph by a few women--that was, until some snot-nosed kid, the girl's younger brother, jeered at him.

"Your shot was nothing, it wouldn't have gotten passed McKay," the boy shouted.

The young women looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry, he's just...ah..."

"It's okay," John said and looked up to the boy, for that name was something he was hearing more and more of lately. "So, this...McKay?" he asked, sounding ignorant, for he was.

The boy gawked at him, "You mean you haven't heard of No Way McKay! Goalie for the Canadian Pegasus team that to date no one has scored off of?"

John thought about it, and the Pegasus team was new, and, come to mention it, he had heard of some rumors about their goalie being next to impossible to score on. John gave the boy and the fans a big grin, "Well, if I ever have the chance to meet this McKay, I'm sure I'll remedy that soon enough," he boasted and would have said more, but security stepped in with orders from the coach for him and the few other members giving autographs to get their butts in the locker room.

John entered the locker room and noticed the tension and knew it was because they lost, but he knew it wasn't because he didn't do his best. He stripped off his gear wrapped up in a towel, and headed to the showers where some of the guys were still griping about the game. "Any of you hear about some goalie named McKay?" he asked while getting warm under the shower head.

"Yeah, some Canuk from way up north," Jameson shouted. "He plays for that new team, Pen...something."

"Pegasus," John corrected. "Yeah," he laughed. "Some kid was lecturing me on how No Way McKay was some gift to goalies everywhere."

"I wouldn't laugh," interjected Woodman, as he finished up. "So far this season every team that's gone up against the Pegasus team has been shut out."

The others in the shower, along with John, looked at Woodman as if he was crazy or just to see if he was pulling their legs. Seeing he was serious as he walked away shaking his head, John had to wonder just who this McKay fellow was, for he had become his newest nemesis...for no one was going to get in between him and the Stanley Cup this year, even if he had to find a way to carry the stupid White Wings on his back!

**********

"Transferred?" Sheppard said in shock. "As in...traded?" He looked at the team manager who didn't have a sense of humor and John found it hard to breathe. Until now, if he went to a different team, it was by his choice. He had never been traded, like a piece of meat. "How...who....WHY?"

Jerry Maxwell, manager for the White Wings gave a soft sigh, "The team owner was given an offer he couldn't refuse, plus, I wouldn't take it too hard once you hear who you'll be playing for," he smiled, hoping to ease the semi-bad news.

"Which team?" John asked, for there were only a few teams he'd consider playing with, the White Wings with all its flaws was among them.

"The Atlantis Arctics," Jerry said, a touch of envy in his voice.

John blinked, and then shook his head, for that couldn't be right. The Atlantis Arctics were a top ten team. John had been trying for years to get on one of those teams, and to land a team with an actual shot at the Cup? "You're serious?" John asked, his shock easing into anticipation.

"I am, plus there is a salary increase for you to compensate for the move," Jerry said as he handed over a folder of papers. "You've got two weeks before you have to report. The team owner, Elizabeth Weir, wants you rested and has included a moving voucher to aid with any expenses you may have...I say you made out like a bandit on this one, Sheppard."

"I...I didn't see this coming...I..." Sheppard was speechless. He had thought by now he'd have a manager and endorsements coming out of his ears, but the reality of professional hockey was only a handful, even with a Stanley Cup under their belt, got those. John was freelance like most players, and though the option to be traded was always part of the contract, he never thought he'd get traded, much less upward.

John took the folder and saw he was going to Colorado and smiled, for he'd be closer to his old stomping ground. He also saw that after a week of practice with the team to get familiar with each other, his first game was against the Canadian Pegasus team. John felt this had to be an omen...a good omen and burst out laughing. His time had finally arrived!

*************

It wasn't often that John got to attend a game as a spectator, but between his sunglasses and a Denver Avalanche hat, he was able to blend in the crowd as he sat to watch the second top ten team, also located here in Colorado face off against Pegasus, as he was itching to get a look at this McKay fellow.

There were the typical cheers and jeers as both teams hit the ice. John was a bit surprised to notice a few oddities with the Canadian team. One, their center was of rather short and slim build, as was one of their wings. Another defensive member was a hulk, but that wasn't too surprising...not like discovering why the center was so short...she was a girl!
As for this McKay, John couldn't see much from his end of the ring, and with padding, the guy looked like any other goalie; one with the ice and trying to look intimidating.

John snickered to himself, for there was no way such a team could possibly be half as good as he was hearing, though he didn't look up their numbers, having been busy trying to move on such short notice and get settled...but still? He watched the game begin and saw the center, Teyla Emmagan, do a body check that would be the envy of any player (and tough to receive) and took command of the ice early.

By the end of the game, John's jaw was on the ground, for not only did such an oddity of a team win, it was a total shutout! Nothing got by McKay, not even close. It was like he could predict where the puck was going to be and was right there to stop it. It was there and then that John decided he needed to meet this man, his curiosity getting the better of him.

His ID card got him in the locker room, as this was the same rink the Atlantis Arctics would be using for home games until their new home rink in Colorado Springs was finished. He smiled at a few folks he knew, for he had been playing for a few years and charmed his way around to get to the other team's locker room, where a band of reporters were circling.

"McKay!" someone shouted.

John, not ready to be in the limelight, kept to the shadows, but shifted around to see if he could see this McKay fellow, and arched a brow when he did see the man, as he stopped to talk with the reporter. The man was about his age, had the bluest eyes ever and a crooked mouth, a ski slope nose, broad shoulders that he didn't quite fill out and apparently a big mouth, as John listed to the man's reply when asked about the other team.

"Those imbeciles couldn't have been more predictable if they'd tried," McKay snorted. He was going to say more, but an attractive slim blond haired woman, dressed in a business suit shifted up to Rodney and placed an arm around his shoulder's pulling him away from the press.

John didn't know why, but for some reason he found he didn't like that woman in the slightest. He didn't stick around to hear anymore, for he didn't want to be noticed by anyone and have a tabloid state he was spying or something stupid, so he headed to his new apartment, determined to forget this McKay nonsense and focus on his job...winning!

*************

John liked his new teammates. Lorne was down to earth, Bates was a bit high strung and a stickler for the regs, but always there when needed. Coach Caldwell was a pain the butt, but what coach wasn't? Stackhouse and Markham were a great team for defense, moving like twins on the ice, always in sync with each other. John felt he actually had a shot at the Cup this year with his new team, as he felt he fit in great during their practice sessions, but today would be the real test. Today was their first game in what was still an early season where anything could happen.

He and the others warmed up on the ice as they saw the other team, Pegasus, arrive to do the same. He heard Bates sneer at seeing Emmagan on the ice. John shook his head, "Don't count her out so easily. She got where she's at for being damn good and I've seen her play...watch out for her body checks, fellas," he grinned.

Feeling 'neighborly', John skated over to say hello. "Hey," he greeted, getting a glare from the Hulk, whose shirt said Dex, and a few hellos from everyone else. Turned out the second short person was foreign, from Europe, with a strange accent.

"What do you want?" McKay asked, his mouth turned down in a frown, though his eyes sparked with smugness. "Want to see what our goal looks like now, as you won't be seeing much of it...other than the back of it, that is," he said, folding his arms over his chest, raising his chin in defiance.

John couldn't help it. He should be angered by such a smug and arrogant comment, but somehow he only found it made McKay--Rodney McKay as he later discovered--look rather cute. John grinned and noticed how that irritated McKay and easily deduced that most folks' reactions probably were predictable and by NOT doing so, he would really get to this man. "Not really, I came to say hello, but it is a nice net," John said as he skated over and fingered the material.

Rodney looked flustered, but just then both teams were called, for they had to go finish getting ready as the crowds were arriving and the game was going to start soon. "Well, enjoy the moment, you won't get another one," McKay vowed and stormed off.

John saw the blond woman on the side lines, along with a slightly older man that needed a shave. "Who's that?" he asked the short guy, Zelenka.

"Coach Beckett, or the team manager, Chaya Atar?" Radek Zelenka asked, for he found John a nice guy and saw no reason to be rude to everyone they met.

"Oh, she's the team manager?" John asked, feeling relieved for some reason.

"Give it up, Sheppard," the hulk, Dex, said as he skated up to Zelenka, nodding with his chin it was time to go. "She's out of your league," he added as the two men headed off.

"What are you doing?" Lorne asked, seeing Sheppard chatting with the other team. He saw John staring and thought that out of the three people now gathered in a minor shouting match, the goalie, a slightly older man and an attractive woman, felt he knew. "Oh, eyes for the blond huh?"

John didn't advertise his sexuality, though he didn't go out of his way to hide it either. He did know that it was too early with this new team to mention it, for though the world was getting better in accepting gays in sports and women in hockey, it was still an upward battle. "I like blue eyes," he said cryptically and headed to the locker room.

By the end of that night, John was cursing the name McKay, for not only did he shut them down and out, his voice still rung in John's ears with his sarcastic comment about lack of skill and ability to shoot a puck straight. He also couldn't forget the sparkling blue eyes he'd spotted under the mask during the few moments they were at a standstill for a change over whenever John was close to the net.

Not able to sleep, John went to his desk and booted up his PC and got the schedule of games ahead of them along with all the other teams. He mapped out that if the Atlantis Arctics won the next four games, they'd meet the Pegasus team twice more. Even if they lost those, and won the others, they would still have a shot at the Stanley Cup. John shutdown his PC and headed back to bed smiling, and wondered if it was the shot at the Cup that was making him happy or the chance to meet up with McKay again...he fell asleep still debating that question.

****End of Chapter One****

When John was able, he not only followed the progress of the Pegasus team, but if they were close by, he'd shoot over and catch the game and with a smile and few good words, could discover where the team was heading afterwards, and manage to be there too. Of course, after the fifth time he showed up, McKay called him on it, and John shrugged it off as plain dumb luck...which of course McKay didn't buy and said so, before berating John on his lack of intelligence as well as poor skating before being dragged off by one of his team members. Not that John was offended, but some of the folks around them were getting offended on John's behalf, which was touching, but not necessary.

The seventh time John found himself heading to catch the Pegasus team at their after- game location; John stopped just outside and wondered what he was doing. McKay's constant talk about big-breasted blonds being his only interest had made it clear where the man's interest was. John had to wonder why he was putting himself through this. If the man was never going to be interested since he was straight, John should just let it go and move on. Of course, John was now depressed having realized why he was being so stalkerish and decided the best way to forget was to get drunk and laid, so he turned around and headed to the nearest gay bar he could find.

John found one a few blocks away and sat at the bar, asking for a beer, not as interested in getting picked up as he first thought when he entered. Grabbing his beer, he decided he'd go sit in a dark corner and get buzzed, if not drunk, and then head back to the hotel, glad they didn't have a game tomorrow as they would be flying out later that afternoon.
John was about to take a seat when he heard some heavy breathing in the booth behind him. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know what was happening, so he decided to move when he heard the voice.

"Yeah, that's it, oh, fuck, yes!"

John couldn't help it. He had to look, so he peeked over the divider and saw one Rodney McKay making out with some blond MALE, apparently getting a hand job by the movements under the table. Not able to look away, John could just make out the expression on Rodney's face as he kissed the blond, wet and dirty, with that mouth, his hand also under the table. Fuck, the man was hot!

John didn't want to be caught watching, but he couldn't move now, as he was hard as a rock himself. He slid down in the booth he was in and opened his own pants to release his own aching cock. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds behind him, the image of Rodney kissing, the sound of his moans, his not-so-whispered words of 'fuck' and 'yes,' filling his ears. John was unable to resist touching himself and in only a few strong pulls, came into his hand, the sound of McKay doing the same only making it sweeter.

John cleaned up quickly and gulped down his beer and was pleased to see the blond taking off to the bar. John made his move and slid to the booth behind him. "Fancy meeting you here," he grinned.

"What the--?" McKay gasped, not expecting to see anyone who would recognize him here, much less another hockey player. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Pretty much the same as you, looking to get laid," John grinned.

"Well, that's nice. I'm sure you can find some twink at the bar," McKay growled.

"Ah, Rodney," John said, showing he knew the man's name and grinned more as he continued to speak. "That's not very nice of you. I thought all Canadians were so polite."

"Yeah and Madonna is really a virgin," Rodney snapped back. "What do you want, Sheppard?"

"How about a date?" Sheppard asked out right, for there was no reason not to do now.

"What? Are you insane? First of all, you're not my type. Second, you're on an opposing team, and did I mention you're NOT my type?"

"Ah, come on, McKay," John grinned, using what he was told was his best smile ever.

"Uh, no, I won't come on...now get lost. My 'date' is coming back," McKay said, gesturing with his chin to the blond who was carrying two bottles of beer.

"Aren't you concerned someone will see you here?" John asked, for he knew that not all fans would be so forgiving of their heroes being anything but perfect...not that he could understand why they thought being gay was a flaw.

"What? You think you can blackmail me?" McKay snarled. "I'll have you know my sexual preference is not a secret and the people in Canada are not so closed minded. If you thought..."

"Whoa, whoa, McKay, breathe," John said, ignoring the glare from the blond bimbo boy who sat up close and personal with McKay, showing in body language that he was claiming Rodney as his... at least for the night. "I just meant...some of the fans aren't so...open. Besides, if I were going to blackmail you, I'd be a real hypocrite, now wouldn't I?"

"Hmm, true, considering you admitted to me why you're here and then you hit on me," McKay said, ignoring the growl from the blond who was feeling him up, trying to get a rise out of McKay. Or, at least his dick.. "Now, get lost, we're busy here."

"You heard him, Skinny, get lost," the blond said, before claiming Rodney's mouth with his own.

"I'm not skinny," John protested, but he did get up to leave the happy couple alone. As he left the bar, he decided: Rodney McKay would be his by the end of the season.

***************

Not every team that played Pegasus team was fully shut out, but they didn't win either. The only way to score on McKay was to charge the net as a team and overwhelm him, and even then there was only a fifty-fifty chance of scoring. Of course, the others on the team got wise to this attack and adjusted their strategy to keep such an event from happening, taking the team to the top of the rankings and remaining there. The only other team even close to Pegasus' record was the Atlantis Arctics, and John was thrilled to be a part of them.

Of course, now he knew that Rodney was gay, he stepped up his pursuit of the man, attending the Pegasus game if he wasn't playing and he was nearby, or just going to where the team was hanging out after his own game. It seemed the others thought him 'cute' while McKay threatened a restraining order, which never appeared, so John figured he must be making progress.

By the next time their two teams were scheduled to play each other, John was still hopeful, but the season was past half way and he was feeling desperate. He couldn't figure out what it as about Rodney McKay that attracted him so much, because the man was petty, arrogant and lousy with people. But yet, in his 'stalking,' as Rodney would put it, he saw another side of the man. He saw Rodney slipping off his shirt, signing it and handing it to some kid, or giving his hockey stick to a veteran, then griping loudly later that he lost it or someone stole it. The latter was never pursued, though. Seemed the others knew of the heart of gold under the gruff exterior, too, and they let McKay have his pretense for whatever reason. John could only figure Rodney had been badly hurt and was determined no one get too close. Well, tough shit, John thought.

During the warm up John skated over to say hello again. "Hey guys!"

"John, it's good to see you, though I hope you will not take it personally when we win against your team tonight," Teyla said, sincerely, as she had become a friend in a strange, round-about way.

John laughed, "well, I won't, and if we win..."

Rodney snorted, "As if you'll even score tonight."

Okay, he was sure the others had figured out why he was hanging around so much, as they were far from stupid people and he was tired of this stage of the game. "Bet I can score off you," John smirked, hoping Rodney caught the suggestion behind his words.

Rodney gave him the defiant chin raise and sneered, "Dream on. I think all that gel you're using for that ridiculous hair style has poisoned what's left of your brain. You're one of the more predictable players on the ice."

"Predictable, am I?" John asked, arching a brow, and knowing this was not only personal but a perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. "I said I bet I could and I'm willing to put my money where my mouth is, to coin a phrase. So how about a personal wager..."

"Er...betting on a game for financial gain is most unseemly and I do believe illegal," Zelenka interjected.

"Not money, Radek," John said, his eyes locked with Rodney's. Then he smirked like a Cheshire cat, "If I do manage to score a point on you...then you have to go out on a date with me."

"Wwwhat?" McKay spat, stunned by Sheppard's gall. "Of all the stupidest..."

John folded his arms over his chest and gave that superior look right back at Rodney, having seen it enough on the Canadian's face. "Afraid, McKay?"

"Of you? Hardly," Rodney spat back. "Fine! If you, and I mean you, not with an assist, score a goal I'll go on a stupid date with you. But, if you don't by the end of this game you have to leave me alone...forever."

"Forever?" John asked, "That's rather extreme, don't you think?"

"Take it or leave it, Sheppard," McKay tossed back at him.

Feeling deep down this was probably his only chance with McKay, John squared his shoulders and smiled, his eyes dancing with determination. "Deal," he said, holding his hand out for Rodney to shake. He could feel the spark tingle on his skin when Rodney shook his hand, and could see Rodney felt something, too, by the hesitant look he gave when he let go.

"Oh, and to be clear," John added just as he was about to head to the locker room before the game started, "It's a real date. No just hanging out with me after a game. A full evening, just you and me, before the end of the month. Got it?"

"Whatever," Rodney said, his goalie mask on, covering his face, but his eyes still shone through, and John was sure Rodney looked nervous. Good.

By the third period, the score was 2-0 in favor of the Pegasus team, though the Atlantis Arctics were doing a decent job at keeping the other team from a total massacre. John was getting desperate as Rodney's taunts grew more and more bold.

"You call that skating? My grandmother could cross check better than you do, and she's eighty-six!" Rodney shouted.

"Hair gel fumes getting to you, Sheppard? That why you missed that pass?" Rodney would yell.

"Perhaps you should use a crook, Sheppard, instead of a hockey stick?" Rodney taunted.

It was time to get serious, so John blocked out everything and everyone but his one goal, and that was to score a point on one Rodney McKay. With fierce determination, John skated like a tornado on the ice, covering every inch, capturing the puck and barreling his way down the center, blowing by Dex and Halling, going straight for McKay. He knew by now that McKay didn't fall for feints or fancy maneuvers, so he wouldn't waste precious time even trying them. He knew only one way to score off the man, and suddenly winning that date became more important than he could imagine. He slammed right into Rodney, shoving the puck right between his legs, causing both men to hit the ice hard as the siren sounded, heralding his goal!

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" McKay shouted with rage, tossing his mask to the ice. "Are you fucking insane?"

John remained on the ice, his right leg throbbing like it had never done before, yet he felt little pain as he grinned up at Rodney. "Scoring a point," he panted, out of breath. "Do you like Mexican or Chinese?"

Before Rodney could respond--coherently--the referees were there along with the medics. John hadn't gotten up, and he was pleased to see a bit of concern in Rodney's eyes as he was aided off the ice, barely noticing the cheers of the home crowd as he left.

John was lucky. It was a minor sprain and he would only have to take it easy for a few days. John also wasn't surprised to hear they lost two to one, either. He was surprised to get a text message on his cell phone, for he was sure Rodney had tossed his number in the trash. It said one word: Chinese. John grinned from ear to ear, and let everyone think it was because he made the short roster of the lucky few to score on No Way McKay.

That night as he lay in bed, watching ESPN, he grinned at seeing the replay, catching the flash and spark in Rodney's eyes when he tossed his mask to the ground, along with the concern which later followed. Of course, being called Mad Dog Sheppard didn't sit well with him, feeling that after all this time they could have come up with a better nickname than that. He fell asleep planning his evening with the man whom his hoped some time soon would become All the Way McKay.

****End of Chapter 2****

It took a few weeks, but their conflicting schedules dictated that their date would have to be in Vancouver Washington, a few days before either John or Rodney had a game. John had also enlisted the assistance of Teyla, to make sure Rodney didn't back out, for the man had been trying. Though he never said he wouldn't go, Rodney just came up with ridiculous reasons. John took it as a case of nerves, and became even more encouraged as the excuses to cancel became more outrageous. 'Washing the cat' made John laugh so hard it brought tears to his eyes.

John wanted to impress Rodney. Not so much with money, for he knew McKay was either making as much or more than he was, or with his miraculous skill in the game, but with his charm. He sent a limo to pick up the man and bring him to one of the finest Chinese restaurants he could find. He arranged for a quiet and private table for two because he wanted to be able relax with Rodney and (he hoped) not be surrounded by potential fans.

John was suddenly glad Rodney wasn't a woman when he saw him walking across the room, for the man was dressed in a dark blue button-down shirt, two buttons from the top open, and cream colored slacks that were a tad tight in the right places. John was glad that his manners only extended to standing for a lady when they arrived, for he'd embarrass them both if he stood up at that moment. "Hey," he greeted, finding his voice after a moment.

Rodney looked uncomfortable, eyes darting around, until the doors to their private room were closed, where only the waitress would come and go. "Nice place," Rodney said, glad for the table and chairs, for he wasn't in a mood to go too authentic tonight.

"You're looking sharp," John said with a wide smile.

"Ah...thanks...you too," Rodney said, reaching over and grabbing the water and sniffing it.

"It's fresh," John smiled.

"I'm allergic to lemons and most citrus," Rodney replied, looking annoyed. "Thankfully most Chinese food doesn't require citrus as an ingredient so the odds of it being safe are 83.7% better than most places..."

John raised a brow, "You've done the statistics?"

Rodney raised his chin, the defiant look in full force, "Yes. So. If I'm going to be putting my life on the line, I like to know I have better than fifty-fifty odds in surviving the night, thank you very much."

"Whoa, I wasn't putting you down over it, just surprised, that's all. And it makes sense to be concerned," John replied sincerely. "When the waitress comes back, I'll ask her to be sure there is nothing in the food to be a problem..."

"Wait...you...ordered already?" Rodney asked, sounding offended. "Do I LOOK like a girl to you?"

John leered, "Hardly." Then he looked bashful, "I was just trying to impress you a little. Too much?"

Rodney actually bit his lip, for he remembered what Radek, Teyla, Ronan and Carson said to him earlier tonight. ["How often do you get a handsome NICE man to go out of their way to chase your sorry butt down? Especially after he knows how you really are?"]

He had thought about it, especially in the limo ride over, noticing the bottle of champagne, indulging in one glass to soothe his nerves. The more he thought about it, John was not only hot, but also charming and funny. There was something about the man that he couldn't shake...or want to admit to, and he hoped this evening would put it to rest so he could get back to the way things were before. Sure, he didn't care much for the nameless encounters that usually comprised his 'love life' but it was safer that way. "A bit," Rodney finally said, taking a sip of the lemon-free ice water.

The conversation dragged a bit, and Rodney grilled the waitress on each dish that was brought, so that John knew he'd have to tip well if he ever wanted to eat here again. He also realized midway through their meal, that he didn't mind one bit. Rodney was fussy, yes, but he was funny, smart and had an honesty in his manner that drew John even further under Rodney's spell.

"I can tell by listening to you that you went to college. What did you major in?" John asked, wanting to get to know the man better.

"I majored in..." Rodney started, and then suddenly stopped as if he caught himself from saying something wrong, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. "Nothing important," he muttered and continued eating.

John had noticed that Rodney had large hands but a delicate touch, and he knew part of his mind was on how those hands would feel on him, but seeing the sudden shutdown concerned him. "Well, I got my Bachelor's in Applied Mathematics," John said, hoping to encourage Rodney to open up a little.

Rodney looked up with surprised and light-filled blue eyes. "Are you serious?" he asked.

John grinned, "I know, not what you were expecting. But I don't plan on being one of those hockey players that live off the handful of glory years in the pros. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it yet, or if I'll follow through to my master's or what, but it's a good start." He noticed something in Rodney broke free with his comment and John felt an even bigger smile fill his face. "What about you?"

"Theoretical Physics," Rodney said, a little nervous of how John would take his confession.

John beamed, "Wow, I knew you were smart, but that's something. You got your BS already..." Seeing Rodney shake his head no, he amended himself. "Masters?"

Rodney looked a little shy as he picked at his plate, then he looked up, looking around as if the walls had ears, "If I tell you, you have to swear not to mention it to anyone. Personally I don't see the problem with it, but Chaya said it would make for poor press. And since I need the money..."

"I promise, now what is it?" John smiled, loving how Rodney could rant on and on. He'd bet the man had a great lung capacity for other activities, too.

Rodney looked serious at John, "I mean it. You blab and I'll never talk to you again. The cold shoulder I'll give you will make you want to go to Antarctica for a summer vacation, got it?"

John was bothered by the seriousness behind Rodney's words, but nodded his agreement again. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt Rodney in any way. "I won't breathe a word, I promise."

Rodney sighed in satisfaction, then flushed, "It's silly really. I don't see why my having my doctorate in Theoretical Physics is such a big deal...I mean...."

"Wait....you have a doctorate?" John asked shocked, for the man was his age. "When did you start college, at sixteen?"

"Fourteen, actually," Rodney grinned, puffing up like a peacock.

"Wait. You're a Doctor of Physics. Why the hell are you playing hockey?" John asked, for it didn't make sense to him at the moment.

"Hello! Professional hockey! Plus, try getting a decent paying job that didn't involve teaching a bunch of idiots at my young age. Plus, I'm trying to finish up my PhD in engineering, and I've more than used all my financial aid avenues for my first doctorate. Grants aren't lying about begging for me to use them, even if they should be. I'm a genius and I'm going to win a Nobel Prize some day...once I have enough money saved to purchase my own lab and...what?" Rodney noticed that John was staring, mouth open, eyes wide.

"You're a genius!" John said as if accusatory, but the huge grin that crossed his face, took any sting from his tone.

Rodney, a bit insecure, fell back on old habits, and folded his arms over his chest and raised his chin in defiance. "Yeah, so?"

John shook his head. "I didn't think it possible."

Rodney was confused, "Didn't think what was possible? That I had a brain and knew how to use it?"

John laughed, "No that you could get any sexier, but damn. You just proved me wrong. Great body, great sense of humor and super smart...wow." John was debating leaping over the table to see just what that mouth could do first hand, as he grabbed his water and gulped it down. "Is it me, or did it suddenly get really hot in here?" he asked, feeling uncomfortable as he saw Rodney was looking at him as if he couldn't be for real.

Thankfully, the waitress arrived with the dessert and drink refills, allowing things to settle down a bit between the two men. The conversation picked up on a neutral topic, the laughter easily finding its way back as well.

When they were finished with dinner, John suggested they walk down to the water, for he was having such a great time he didn't want the evening to end and he didn't feel right even suggesting they get a hotel room. He knew neither of them could bring the other back to the other's room, and this was only their first date. Plus, John was hoping that this would be the first of many.

They stopped for coffee and found a nice quiet bench near the water where they sat and continued to talk about their childhoods; Rodney informing John that he was raised by his grandparents after he lost his family in a fire when he was small. He was the only survivor as he had wandered outside after their cat, Mr. Wiggles, had gotten out.

"I'm sorry," John said sincerely.

Rodney sipped his coffee, wondering why he was opening up like this. He didn't tell anyone about his past, much less a stranger...though John wasn't a stranger after pestering Rodney for so many months. "Things happen for a reason, my Nana told me, and I'm inclined to believe her...though I'd like to know what those reasons are some day."

"Me too," John confessed.

They sat quietly for a while, the silence comfortable in a way that it never had been before. John shifted closer to Rodney, soaking up some of his heat as it was chilly out tonight, though the sky was clear and a few stars were making their presence known. "Why hockey?" John finally asked.

Rodney found he liked John's relaxing presence and the man was much smarter than he had first given him credit for being, and he was easy to talk to. He shifted to get a bit warmer by being closer to John and stared up at the sky. "I've always loved to skate and play, though it was hard at first. Mostly because I was a runt and a geek," Rodney laughed.

"Bet you're still a geek," John grinned warmly.

"Guilty as charged. Even though I can argue the faulty science, I still love Doctor Who and the possibilities of Star Trek. That in some other universe I'm out there exploring space...perhaps saving the world," Rodney laughed, his cheeks blushing a bit.

"I bet you would," John said softly, for he could see much courage inside the man next to him, as well as a good heart that would keep him strong when times were tough.

"Anyway, my grandfather had a few friends who liked to play and I played with their kids and it stayed with me, though I was more into books at the time. But after college, one day I was on the ice skating to let off some steam and a group of kids arrived wanting to play. They were short a player, and since I was already there, they asked me to join in and we drew straws for who got goalie...I lost."

"Lucky us," John chuckled. "So, what happened?"

"It was weird, as I watched the guys play, I shifted my attention to the puck and suddenly it all clicked," Rodney shrugged.

"Angles and trajectory," John shook his head as the light went on. "Awesome."

"I know it sounds silly..."

"No, it sounds like poetry," John said softly. "Just like I feel like I'm flying when I speed across the ice and just sail with the momentum...nope, not silly at all."

Rodney smiled as he understood what John was saying, then he realized how close they were and how close John's lips were to his own. The next thing he knew John was kissing him and that he not only enjoyed it, he wanted it, and opened his lips to allow John more access. Of course, he'd deny that little whimper when they stopped was his until the day he died. "That was...um...that was..."

"Yeah," John said and closed in and kissed Rodney again, feeling victorious, not only because he was kissing Rodney, but that the man could kiss just was well if not better than he had imagined. John slid his arm around Rodney's waist as he shifted to get closer and deepened the kiss further, his other hand slipping under Rodney's coat, seeking out skin and heat.

Rodney pulled back panting, looking around, glad it was late and no one was around. But they were in public and anyone could walk down here and see them sitting together making out. "We ah...we can't do this here..."

John's brain was on fire, as he was so close to claming McKay and he wasn't going to be thwarted by inconvenience. "Why not? It's quiet, we're alone," he purred.

"We're under a spot light," Rodney huffed, also turned on, but not going to put on a public show and risk the kind of humiliation that would result if the wrong people found out.

"Ah," John said, looking up at the offending light that was resting a few feet above them. It was an older type light, attached to the building, and had a regular bulb. John's face showed a mischievous smile. "I can take care of that," he said, taking a quick look around to be sure they were alone and then climbed up on the bench. With one of the gloves from his pocket, he unscrewed the bulb until the light went out, blanketing the area in shadows. "There" he said as he climbed down and then straddled Rodney's lap. "No spot light," he purred as he leaned in and once more captured Rodney's sensuous mouth.

John could feel strong, capable hands run up his thighs and cup his butt and he moaned into the kiss as he was pressed closer to Rodney's body and could feel his erection. "What do you want?" John whispered in Rodney's ear, as he nibbled along Rodney's neck and lobe.

Rodney was shaking with need. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so turned on with so little. John's kisses were melting his brain and setting his nerves on fire in a way he couldn't recall feeling before. "I want...oh yes...I want..." was all he got out before John captured his mouth again.

Suddenly he felt deft fingers undoing his pants and shifting the material around and then those clever fingers caressed his aching cock. "Yes," Rodney hissed. Then he knew he had to touch as well, and so undid John's pants and suddenly his fingers were wrapped around a thick, hot cock that was dripping with pre-come.

"I want to feel you come for me," John whispered, as he and Rodney pumped each other's hands, their mouths capturing their moans of desire.

"Oh fuck," Rodney gasped as he felt the fire tingling up his spine.

"Not tonight, wasn't expecting this...wanted this, hoped, but didn't expect," John said into Rodney's neck as he nipped the area, wanting to mark the man. His lover.

It burned too hot and too fast and soon both men were gasping into the mouth of the other as their cocks exploded in the hand of the other, leaving both men panting as John rested his forehead on Rodney's. "That was...that was..."

"Yeah," Rodney panted.

John used his clean hand to fish out some napkins he'd stashed in his pocket and used them to clean them both up, then patted Rodney's cock, before tucking him away. He placed a kiss on Rodney's lips as he felt himself beaming with delight.

"Pity we're outside, where it's cold," Rodney huffed, pulling John closer, under the pretense of getting warmer, when in truth, he didn't want the man to go anywhere. "If we were back at my place or yours..."

"We'd be sleeping alone as were not allowed guests," John said softly, snuggling closer, also using the pretense of cold, to get closer to Rodney. It was strange but he could imagine Rodney with a bit of a gut and finding him...comfortable. "I have an apartment in Colorado."

"That home?" Rodney asked.

"No, a small town called Mystic, Minnesota, is home, but I rarely get to go there lately. What about you?"

"I have an apartment in Calgary in Alberta but home..."

John looked up and saw a deep sadness in Rodney's eyes, which caused a deep ache in his heart as well. "What happened?"

"My grandparents are old. They needed someone to look after them, so...they're in a retirement home. I tried to keep the house, but I was still finishing up my doctorate. As you can imagine, genius or not, I wasn't earning much and my Nana made me promise not to work for the government...seemed she had something again them, though she never said what... So..."

John hugged Rodney tightly, "I have a little sister I know next to nothing about and I forgot where my parents were last stationed. I guess nothing is perfect."

"Well, perhaps a few things," Rodney confessed as he leaned down and kissed John again, deciding that fighting what was between them was not only illogical, but would stand in the way of what was already sizing up to be incredibly hot sex. "So, now what?" he asked, for he wasn't sure what to do. He wasn't good with people on a casual level, much less a more intimate one. Something inside him ached for this to be more than a casual encounter and he was willing to open himself to the possibility.

"Well, I have to put the bulb back," John said, and then laughed when Rodney whacked him gently upside the head. He looked up into Rodney's eyes, the starlight making them shine, "We send each other text messages, trade phone calls and schedules and see each other as often as we can, then, when the season is over, perhaps you'd...um...like to see my home?"

Rodney felt something melt inside him, "I'd like to see Minnesota. I here they turn out a decent hockey player or two."

John was on top of the world as they held hands on their walk back. He reluctantly said goodnight to Rodney, who took a cab back to his hotel. John took the limo, as it was paid for, back to his, which was not as close as he wished. Thoughts of the affection in Rodney's eyes as he waved goodbye kept him warm on the ride home, and held him close as he led his new team to a victory over the Washington Capitals, with two hat tricks to his credit...providing a score of 9 -7, in favor of the Atlantis Arctics.

*******

Text messages, emails and nightly phone calls became their routine, but John didn't mind, as he loved the sound of Rodney's voice and how excited the man could get over just about anything new. John even started sneaking physics journals into his room so he could be up on some of the things happening and wind Rodney up when he brought up the latest theory, whether Rodney was in favor of it or not. It was always fun. Of course the few times they could get together were more fun.

They were both so caught up in the wonders of their new relationship--not that either used the word--that neither one remembered they were scheduled to play against each other until they exchanged their schedules for the week and saw it in black and white.

John wasn't surprised to get a phone call following their realization of what was about to occur. "Hey," he greeted, knowing by the ID that it was his lover.

"John, I..."

"I know," John said, having come to understand the man he loved very well.

"What should we do?" Rodney asked, for he was worried.

"We both play our best, no holds barred, just like we always do, and promise each other no hard feelings. After all, you've already kicked my team's butt twice. Though we're sure going to try hard to return the favor," John grinned.

"You're sure it won't bother you?" Rodney asked.

John sighed, "What would bother me is you NOT doing your best. I care about you...a lot, and I would never ask you to do anything less then your best."

"Same here," Rodney said with a slight shyness to his voice.

"Then it's agreed. We both do our best and the winner buys the loser a big steak dinner, with lots of French fries."

Rodney laughed, for he knew John was the one who liked that combination and knew the man was trying to make him feel better. "Deal." He paused, then softly said, "Thank you, John."

"For what?" John asked, not sure what Rodney meant.

"For...well, for everything," Rodney replied.

John grinned. "I'd really like to ask what you're wearing, but...it's late and I happen to know you have a game tomorrow night and I don't want to be accused of keeping you up past your bed time," he teased.

"Good, cause I'm still dressed in sweats," Rodney replied warmly. Then there was a long pause. "John..."

"Yeah?"

"...good luck," Rodney said, but there was just enough edge to his voice that John could tell that was not what he was going to say and in his heart he knew what he wanted it to be.

"You too," John said, berating himself for not having the courage to say it either. "Good night," he then said and let Rodney hang up...they had a big game tomorrow.

*************

Robert Kavanaugh, sleaze journalist, was freelancing as a sports reporter in-between his normal weekly gossip byline, to foot the additional cost of putting his son Calvin though college. He, like everyone else, anticipated an easy victory for the Pegasus team, but the game entered the third period tied 1-1. The upset came once again when Mad Dog Sheppard, with the assist of Bates, scored the winning goal seconds before the clock ran out. It was a great opportunity for the Atlantis Arctics for they were now a shoo-in in the final playoffs in their division, as was the Pegasus team that now sported only one defeat all season.

After filing his story, Kavanaugh decided to grab some dinner at a local steak house he knew served the best porterhouse around. The last thing he expected to see when he arrived was two very familiar figures tucked away in the corner dining together. Being a reporter, he couldn't help but wonder what was up. John Sheppard of the Atlantis Arctics was having dinner and laughing with Rodney McKay of the Canadian Pegasus team. Something was not right with this picture.

Robert ordered his meal to go and was glad he had brought his car, as he sat in it, eating, waiting for the two men to exit, and not wanting to be spotted. He saw them exit the steak house near closing time and walk south. Robert got out of his car and followed. After a few minutes, Sheppard pulled Rodney to the side of a building and Robert had to get closer to see where they were going. To his shock, he spotted them just in the shadows. A passing car's headlights gave just enough illumination that Robert was able to see them kissing! He desperately wished he had a camera with a night lens, as this was pure gold. Seeing the two men part, Robert moved back into the shadows, and then returned to following them all the way to an apartment building where they entered quietly from the side.

Robert did a little bit of snooping and was able to discover this was John Sheppard's apartment building. He turned and rushed back for his car and his camera. Though it didn't have a night lens, it did have a telephoto lens. He found a parking spot across the way, and after a while, got his scoop. He managed to capture a picture of John Sheppard kissing Rodney McKay, just before the shade was pulled.

"This is totally front page," Robert said to himself as he started his car. "Sheppard and McKay are lovers. Atlantis Arctics win for first time over the previously undefeated Pegasus. Oh, I smell bonus here!" Robert hooked up the headset to his cell phone and dialed the paper. "I never thought I'd get to say this," Robert said, "but stop the presses! Do I have a scoop that will rock the sports world!"

************

Rodney didn't stay the night, even thought they both wanted that. They were trying to be discreet--or so they thought. John didn't sleep quite as well without his lover by his side, so he was not in a very good mood when his phone rang at eight in the morning. He debated on letting the answering machine get it, but then decided to answer it.

"Sheppard."

"Stupid son-of-a-bitch!"

John sat up in bed, "Rodney?"

"I don't know why I let myself get involved with you. I knew you were trouble from the start, with your stupid hair and your stupid smile and that ridiculous fucking bet! I...I..."

John was feeling offended, but he also could tell by the tone in Rodney's voice that he was very upset about something. "What's going on?"

"I'm taking it that either you haven't seen this morning's paper or no one has bothered to contact you...YET."

"This morning's paper? Rodney, what in the world?" John realized as he listened to Rodney blast him with another round of obscenities that if he wanted to find out what was going on, he needed to get a hold of the morning paper. He let Rodney vent as he and the phone went to the hall in hopes there was a paper around, and thankfully there was one. John would give it back, but at the moment he had need of it, so he borrowed it. He went back to his bed and didn't have to look far, for there, on the front page, was a picture of him kissing Rodney. The headline read: 'McKay Gave It Away.'

"Holy crap!" John gasped at seeing it and unfolded the paper to see the front page article. "What the hell? Where did they..."

"I'm taking it you're seeing the paper," Rodney said in a cold angry voice. "The picture is from OUTSIDE your apartment from last night, puckboy. I also got a call from the team owner and there's going to be an unofficial investigation, but if there is enough evidence to support the accusation that I threw the game to you....there'll be an official investigation for sure. Not only will I be suspended but you and I can kiss our respective careers goodbye!"

"But you didn't throw the game..." John began.

"I know that and you know that, but try telling that to the hundreds of fans clamoring 'foul play' and demanding my head on a silver platter!" Rodney yelled, for he was so angry and upset. "I shouldn't have let this happen in the first place, as it is, I may still get suspended for the rest of this season. The playoffs!"

John suddenly got a chill down his spine and his heart skipped a beat, but not in a good way. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, John, that it was a mistake...a huge mistake and....it's over," Rodney said.

"Rodney, please, we can work this out," John tried to protest.

"I may be new to the game, but even I know about fraternization and I let it go to far. I'm taking responsibility for my part, grow up and take yours. It's over," Rodney said and then hung up.

"Rodney...Rodney!" John tried, but soon realized he'd been disconnected. He tried dialing back but only got voice mail. "Rodney, it's not over, we can work this out. Please, call me." John hung up and laid his head on his knees as he sat hunched on his bed.

The phone rang and John snatched it like a lifeline. "Rodney?"

"No, John, it's Elizabeth Weir," the voice said.

"Ms. Weir," John said, swallowing hard as he now knew why she was calling. "I read the paper and it's not true."

"You're saying they faked the picture?" Elizabeth asked.

"No, they didn't fake the picture, Rodney and I have been seeing each other for a few months, a week after our last game together. What's not true is that there was no fix in the game. Rodney and I both agreed we'd play our best and no hard feelings"

"No hard feelings," Elizabeth said, her voice tight with anger. "Never mind the league regulations. It's okay, so long as there're no hard feelings?"

John huffed, "it's not like that. I l..."

"I don't want to hear it," Elizabeth snapped. "You're on suspension until the League decides if there is going to be an official investigation. And, so help me, John Sheppard, if there IS an official proceeding over this matter, you will never play professional hockey in North America again!" she slammed down the phone as she hung up.

"Crap!"

****End of Chapter 3****
What could have been a first-class scandal was brought quickly under control when the commission announced that there did not appear to be any foul play involved. From the interviews with the players to the replays of the game (from every angle possible), there was no evidence that the game was fixed in any manner. As much as they wanted to deny that Sheppard and McKay had been having an affair, they could not, but they did say appropriate measures would be taken in the matter. This meant that John's suspension from the game was to last the entire month, just sneaking him in the last few games before the Cup finals, with no guarantee he'd play then, either.

John tried to find out about Rodney, but the entire Pegasus team was blocking his efforts. As mad as they were about the situation, they didn't do anything to stop it, so at least they hadn't turned on him completely. Rodney, on the other hand, had frozen him out, going so far as to get a new cell phone and changing his home phone to an unlisted number. The only person even slightly sympathetic to his cause was Teyla, for she actually encouraged Rodney, seeing how she knew John would make him happy. For awhile there, she was right.

The only thing John could discover was that Rodney had also been placed on suspension by the Pegasus management for his part in "The Fiasco" as they were calling it now. However, when that resulted in the Pegasus team losing their next two games, his suspension was lifted and he was placed back in to play but on probation.

John hadn't been so lucky. His team was furious at him, and he wasn't surprised at the name calling and other harassment he began to get. It also didn't help that the Gay Rights activists were jumping on the bandwagon, crying 'discrimination' at the top of their lungs. Although John wished they'd find another poster boy, after the first week of suspension he began to feel that he should be grateful to them or he'd have probably been fired. As it was, John decided to leave Colorado for a bit and head home.

John was a bit surprised to see Jack O'Neill waiting at the bus stop when he got off the bus, not wanting to fly so he could take a few days to get his thoughts straight. "Coach," he greeted his mentor.

"You're twenty-five, son. I think you can call me Jack," O'Neill grinned, moving to get Sheppard's large duffle when the bus driver unloaded it from under the bus.

"How did you know?" John asked, for he hadn't told anyone he was coming.

"Oh, someone spotted you at the last stop and called Jake, who called me. Figured you'd need a place since we both know your grandparents are fit to be tied over the matter," Jack explained.

John flinched, "They know about that, huh?"

Jack grinned, "Hard not to, son when it's all over the news." Jack placed John's bag into the back of his Jeep and motioned for John to get in. "Daniel is expecting us, best not keep him waiting," he smiled wider.

John was grateful for a friend right about now and hopped in the Jeep with Jack for a ride back to Jack's place. The trip was quiet. John really didn't want to talk about it and was glad Jack seemed to understand that.

Once at the house, Daniel came out and gave John a hug and then a slap up side his head. "What were you thinking?" Daniel demanded, though he didn't sound so much angry, but concerned.

"I don't know. I mean...fuck," John sighed, then blushed. He was reacting like a kid around his teachers, which they both had been to him at one time. "Sorry."

"You should be, especially all this mess is over just a simple fuck," Daniel said leading John into the house.

John's eyes narrowed, "It's not like that!"

"Then how is it?" Jack asked, bringing over some hot coffee to warm up John from his long trip.

"I..." John felt weak suddenly and flopped on the couch, accepting the coffee. "I love him," John finally admitted. He didn't see the concerned look exchanged between Jack and Daniel. "He won't even talk to me...he changed his number, everything."

Jack sat down in his leather chair across from John. "I don't know much about this McKay, other than what I've read, but for you to go all stupid over him, he must be special.'

John's eyes lit up. "He is. He's smart, funny...unique. From the moment I saw him, spoke to him, I..."

"Knew," Daniel said with understanding, rubbing Jack's shoulder affectionately.

"Yeah," John nodded, and then sighed. "Of course, I didn't know I knew...I mean...I..."

Jack laughed, "We know what you mean, son."

John gave a small smile. "I really could use a beer," he said after finishing off the coffee.

"I think we can handle that request," Jack said getting up to let Daniel do his thing, as he was the word man.

Daniel took a seat near John, "So what now?"

"Don't know. I get to go back in a few weeks and I might be allowed to play, though I'm not sure how that's going to go. Most of the team is either furious or freaked out, so who knows? I've never hid my life, but I didn't go around flaunting it. It was just dumb luck for that Kavanaugh bastard," John growled.

"Something like this was bound to happen," Daniel said, just as Jack arrived with two beers, as he knew Daniel was still a cheap date when it came to alcohol.

"What do you mean? Rodney and I didn't do anything wrong," John snapped back, and then looked sheepish, "Sorry. But..."

"But nothing," Jack said as he handed over the beer. "If you'd been thinking you'd know that something like this would bring trouble. Folks are not that open to the idea of two men loving each other to start with, much less two professional athletes who happen to be on OPPOSING teams, having an affair. John, can't you see how someone is gong to be stupid and say you're using or trading sexual favors to sway the game?"

"It's not like that, it never was," John protested. "I've been over all this crap with the League..."

"Easy, John, Jack isn't making accusations, he's trying to point out how this relationship so easily stirred up trouble," Daniel explained.

"Yeah, well it doesn't matter now, since there is no more relationship," John sulked.

"Can you blame him for being upset?" Jack asked, taking his seat in his chair. "You were both disgraced, and could easily have been kicked out of the game forever."

"Loving Rodney isn't a disgrace!" John snarled. "I would figure you of all people would know that!"

"I wasn't saying it was," Jack replied easily, not letting John's anger bait him. "It has nothing to do with loving Rodney, but everything to do with fraternization with a member of an opposing team. Nothing else."

"John, had this come out after the championship game, and both your teams played, as it looks like you will be... What do you think would have happened then?"

John slouched down in the sofa, feeling even more depressed. "Yeah, okay," he mumbled. He then got up, "Perhaps I should go stay at the inn."

"Nonsense," Jack said, also getting up. "We may be upset about the mess, but we're not angry at you. We're concerned. I said once you'd always be welcome here, and I meant it." Jack placed a reassuring hand on John's shoulder.

John nodded his thanks. "I just don't know what to do now."

"What do you want to do?" Daniel asked.

"In a perfect world, be with Rodney and play. It shouldn't be so hard," John said.

"Well, kid, the world is far from a fair place. Guess you have to decide which you want more," Jack said.

"But Rodney broke it off with me," John said.

"John, I've known you for a long time. When you put your mind to something, son, you get it. You don't let anything or anyone stop you. That's how you got into this mess. You wanted this McKay fella and you went after him. If you love him, then I'm sure you'll find a way to get him back."

"You think?" John asked, feeling a bit insecure.

"I know," Jack grinned. "Now, Daniel has taken mercy on us and made dinner, let's eat. Then you can tell us more about this McKay. I have to say he's a hell of a goalie, but only to you and Daniel." The three men shared a small laugh and headed into the dinning room.

*************

The last few weeks of the season were hard for John. Caldwell and another recent player, Frank Bateman, were clear in their dislike of his 'life style', but thankfully the others weren't too bad. Lorne turned out to be a friend as well as supportive in front of the rest of the team. That friendship made things easer when his letters to Rodney were sent back unopened, his email blocked and he was banned from the locker room when the Pegasus team was playing. The only thing that gave him an inch of hope, besides watching Rodney play from a distance, was again, no restraining order. They had joked about it while they were dating, and Rodney said he found he couldn't do that, that on some level he liked John pursuing him. John confessed he'd have stopped if Rodney did something that serious or if he called Weir and told her to tell John to back off. Neither event had happened, so for John there was still hope.

Tonight was going to be one of John's toughest as tonight was the semifinal Conference game of the playoffs. The Atlantis Arctics had a good record, but not perfect, and they needed serious points to assure their spot in the Stanley Cup finals Conference. Problem was, they were playing against a team that had enough points already to assure their place, with only three losses all season: Pegasus.

They were allowed time to warm up, but not when the other team was on the ice. Seemed Weir wasn't taking any chances. Lorne was supportive when he noticed how quiet John was being, though it didn't help that Bateman was saying that perhaps John could slip out and go see his girlfriend to help things along.

"That's enough," John said quietly, standing up, his eyes dark and flaring with anger. "You want to give me a hard time, fine. You want someone to be the butt of your homophobic jokes, fine. You keep it with me. You will NOT insult Rodney in my presence. He's done nothing to you but his job. The fact none of you are good enough to score off him is not HIS problem, it's yours."

"Look, Fag," Bateman snarled.

Lorne stood in between Sheppard and Bateman. "We are not doing this," he said. "We are going to get our heads out of our collective asses and focus them on the one of the most important game of the season, got it?" He looked firmly at Sheppard then Bateman, glad that Sheppard knew what his priority was. Then Lorne turned to face Bateman, "And you. It was proven OFFICIALY that nothing illegal or underhanded occurred in our last regular season game with Pegasus, and I believe it. So, if you have a problem with our BEST player, I suggest you take it up with Ms. Weir."

Bateman narrowed his eyes, but Caldwell came in, and, seeing the tension, snarled, "Whatever's wrong leave it in the locker room. It's time!"

The first period was difficult, both teams fighting it out, no holds barred, and the score was a tie: 0-0. John felt raw by the end of the period, and he saw in the reflection of the Plexiglas Rodney staring at him for a long moment, his mask in hand, as Radek collected him to head back to the locker room.

John tuned out Caldwell's mouth, not interested, as he knew the score better than anyone. Then, before he knew it, it was second period and John was in the penalty box for two minutes for high sticking, when Radek, with an assist from Teyla, scored their first point of the game. He found himself torn--where as before it wouldn't have bothered him, now he was aware of the looks and the whispers. He was just glad he was in the box and they couldn't blame him.

Or so he thought they couldn't blame him, as Bateman and a few others ragged over and over that John got penalized on purpose weakening their front line. "That's bullshit!" John snarled.

"That's enough, Sheppard," Caldwell yelled, then looked at him firmly. "I know you didn't do anything I didn't tell you to do, so relax. Bateman, I hear another word out of your mouth about Sheppard and you're benched until next season, got it?"

"Yes, sir," Bateman replied, glaring daggers of death at Sheppard.

On their way back to the ice, Bateman shouldered Sheppard and whispered loud enough for him to hear. "Fags don't belong in hockey anymore than women," then tried to trip him.

"Yo Mad Dog!"

John looked up simply because the voice sounded familiar, and was please to see Jack and Daniel had made it to the game. Jack was wearing an Atlantis Arctics sweat shirt as was Daniel, both with John's number on them. He smiled, for he felt for the first time in a long time that things would work out okay.

The third period started out same as the last two, fast and rough. John's team needed one point to tie and two to win. He skated hard, this time for himself, for inside he might love Rodney, but he needed to prove to himself that he did belong here. He also knew inside that Rodney would expect nothing less of him.

Every time he had a chance, he slammed the puck harder and harder, yet McKay always stopped it, deflected it or caught it. John couldn't help but admire him more and more as the seconds ticked off. He could see Rodney's eyes were blazing blue, the blue he got when he was happy, and deep down that made John happy.

"Drive it home, damn it!" Caldwell shouted.

John nodded to himself. He knew what he needed to do. He stole the puck and tore down the ice like the wind with a bad attitude, pushing harder and harder with each step, ignoring the feeble attempts by the Pegasus' defense, as this was between him and Rodney. One on one, will versus will, as he pushed even harder, hearing what could be a shout, like a war cry as he charged McKay, just like he'd done before. He felt his body crash into Rodney's, felt the resistance, as if McKay had been expecting it, then he heard something snap and a wail filled the air. It wasn't until the moment came back into normal time did John realize the snap was his leg and the wail was NOT the siren signaling his goal, but his shout of pain.

"John!" Rodney shouted, his mask flying somewhere as he knelt next to him. "Oh my word, John! Don't move. Medic, get the damn medic! Back off!" Rodney snarled as some of John's team tried to get close.

John was shivering from shock as well as adrenalin, "Did...did we win?"

Rodney had his gloves off and shifted to where he could put John's head in his padded lap. "Win...are you insane, of course not, you idiot! What the hell were you thinking?" Rodney said as his hand petted John's damp hair. Rodney had removed John's helmet already. "Stupid fool!"

John was in a lot of pain. It was the leg he'd broken when he was a teenager, possibly the same bone, yet all he could think about was that Rodney was there, touching him, with a caring tone in spit of his brash manner. "Yeah...for you."

"Shut up," Rodney snapped. "Where the hell is the stretcher? Move people, injured man here!"

"Rodney," John said as he felt the medics begin treatment.

"What?" Rodney asked, meeting John's eyes.

He wanted to say it, but his voice froze on him, so he mouthed the words...I Love You.

"Me too, you idiot," Rodney said and leaned in and kissed John, not caring what anyone else thought or said.

John didn't need morphine after that kiss, knowing that Rodney loved him. He was in absolutely no pain.

***********

The doctor said John couldn't have been luckier if he tried, for it was a clean break and no surgery would be required. The doctor also said John would probably never play again due to the weakness of the bone, but John didn't pay him any mind, he knew what he wanted in life.

Right now he was sitting in the front row, right next to the Pegasus team's box as he watched Rodney defend his territory like a man possessed. The Boston Bruins were giving the Pegasus a good run for their money, but they weren't getting any headway in the scoring department, either.

John held his breath as he watched three of the Bruins charge Rodney but Dex and Halling were there. The trio was sliced down to a solo then, and Rodney took the man down with ease, sending the puck flying beautifully in front of Teyla where she took the slap shot right into the Bruin's net for a 2-0 score, moments before the clock hit zero the third period was over and Pegasus won the Cup!

With the help of crutches, John was up and cheering with the rest of the crowd behind him. Whistling and yelling with joy, his heart lifted as high as the rafters in the Pegasus arena. He felt moisture in his eyes as he saw Rodney's team pick him up on their shoulders. Handing him the large silver cup, he waved it over his head while two other members of his team skated around the rink with the Canadian flag. John was moved even more when Rodney was carried toward him and Rodney handed HIM the cup. He and Rodney shared a kiss.

For a moment, time stilled and it was just John and the Stanley Cup. He could feel its weight and the coolness of the silver. It was everything he'd ever dreamed it would be. But it was the tiny circle of gold on his left hand that he found held more value to him. He handed the Cup back to Rodney and planted an even bigger kiss on Rodney McKay-Sheppard's lips. Compared to Rodney, Stanley was just a cup.

THE END