under the skin

A week after a mission that went spectacularly wrong, Rodney had sucked John off and climbed up his body, careful of the bruises that were spread across his skin. He lay next to John and made fun of every single signature on the cast encasing John's right arm. John happily drifted off to sleep, listening to Rodney's explanations why Radek's scrawling writing indicated he was on the verge of a mental collapse. John had wanted to point out that Rodney's writing was similar, wasn't it? But he was far gone, tired and aching and wishing Rodney had signed his cast with some rude remark that would let him know he was home.

The next morning, like many mornings, he awoke and Rodney was gone. Taking a moment to miss his presence, John pulled the covers over his head and went back to sleep, making the most of his down time.

He managed about half an hour of troubled sleep before he got up with a sigh and headed for the shower. It was on the way there that he glimpsed something in the mirror.

Stepping back, John stood there and stared at his naked body, hairy, bruised and covered in small black equations. His mouth opened in shock and he brought up an arm, looking at the long lines that went from his bicep to his wrist. Line upon line of equations. On his left arm, the lines ran from his shoulder to the edge of the cast. Some were on his stomach and chest, near his collar bone and when he turned and looked over his shoulder, all over his back in long neat lines.

Showering was difficult with trying not to get the cast wet, while contending with muscles that were stiff and complained when he moved. The water made the ink run, but the equations didn't disappear, only fading a little.

By the time he got to Rodney's lab, the annoyance had given way to mild curiosity. This was just Rodney being Rodney probably. He'd have an interesting excuse to make John feel like he was unreasonable for being shocked.

The lab was quiet, Rodney at a computer, chewing on his thumb and occasionally muttering to himself. Other people were milling around, Radek at a laptop, at the other end of the lab, tapping away.

John nodded to a few people as they noticed him, Rodney looking up just before he reached the scientist.

Rodney said. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," John said, too relaxed to actually be relaxed. Then he arched an eyebrow at Rodney.

Rodney gave the other residents of the lab a quick glance before looking at John and lowering his voice a little. "I had no paper."

John stared at Rodney. He scratched his eyebrow and gave the lab a quick, discreet, assessing look. "Ever think of using your own skin?"

Rodney held up a hand, showing the back and then the palm, small black equations everywhere. "I ran out of space and I had this idea, which granted, didn't actually go anywhere, but at the time I was sure I was onto something and, well, you were right there."

John scratched his chin, grimacing and watching the other scientists carefully. "Yeah well, you better hope I can get it all off, Rodney."

Rodney sat back and smiled. "Oh don't worry. I'll, uh, give you a hand with that later, if you like."

John blinked and then smiled. "Later, McKay," he said loud enough for other ears and walked away, feeling Rodney's smile on the back of his head.

Rodney was true to his word, helping to remove the equations, gently rubbing the soapy cloth over John's skin as they stood in the shower. The cloth was replaced by dancing fingers and then by an inquisitive, smiling mouth. They shared wet, open-mouthed and hungry kisses under the water, John's arm covered by a ridiculous plastic bag and hooked around Rodney's neck. A one handed exchange was all they needed, jerking each other off with gasps, pressed tightly together.

Afterwards, Rodney stood leaning against John, head on his shoulder as the come, sweat and ink all washed away together.

The scrawls faded a little, replaced by a few new marks, ones that John wouldn't complain about. He awoke before Rodney the next morning and the sun was filling Rodney's quarters with a warm glow. John lay on his back, watching Rodney next to him, nakedly sprawled on his stomach and dead to the world. Then John lifted up his own arm and looked at the faded equations, like they hadn't really been washed away, but had somehow sunk under his skin and were sinking deeper still.

He went back to watching Rodney, imagining the whirring equations in his head, buzzing like X and Y shaped bees. He turned onto his side, his signature and joke covered cast between them, his eyes transfixed on sleeping haughty.

Buzz buzz, John thought and smiled.

This time he left before Rodney and spent the day walking around the city, catching up with Elizabeth and still doing the rest thing. In the evening, Rodney appeared at the end of his bed with an amused look and arms folded across chest with a reprimanding tilt to his mouth.

"What?" John asked innocently.

Rodney answered by taking off his shirt and throwing it on the nearby chair. His chest and stomach were covered in tiny little black Xs and Ys with small wings.

John smiled. "I guess it's catching."

"I want my pen back," Rodney said, snapping his fingers, going for serious, but not quite pulling it off half-dressed. "It's the last one. The Atlantis black-market value for that thing is incredibly high. I need it back so I can trade it for sexual favors."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," John said with a wide-eyed nod.

Rodney smiled and joined John on the bed, grabbing his book and throwing it on the floor. In no time they were kissing, lying entangled and whispering silly things into each others mouths with small breaths of laughter. Spread over John, pinning him to the bed and kissing him long and hard enough to make him forget his name, Rodney had snuck his hand under the pillow and stolen the pen back.

John knew, but he didn't care. In the early hours of the morning, feeling Rodney touch the pen to his skin, he pretended to sleep, tried to read the words that were being written into him, noting how close they were to each bruise he had sustained.

Does it still hurt?

Later, John read the scrawls, carefully touching them.

You never say anything, so I can't tell.

Some bruises had been outlined, the questions written around them.

Is it a hero thing? Maybe that's why I don't get it; the whole not complaining thing.

They didn't see each other much that day and he missed Rodney at the lab after a brief meeting with Elizabeth. In the evening, he didn't bother eating, the words on his skin straining against his clothes and distracting him from everything. He went to bed and didn't sleep. He left his quarters and went to Rodney's, finding him asleep on top of the covers, face buried in the pillow and still dressed.

John sat on the edge of the bed, watching Rodney, thinking of waking him, inviting some noise and disruption to break the deafening silence or at least stop the snapping sound in his head. Instead he lay down next to the sleeping man, not bothering to undress and stared up at the ceiling. His eyes must have drifted shut because he was dreaming about things like breaking bones and sharp flares of fire under his skin.

He awoke with a gasp and it felt darker than when he had fallen asleep, Rodney having moved to his side. John's mouth was dry and his memories fresh, aided by nightmares. He inched close to Rodney and kissed sleeping lips hard until they moved and parted, became shocked awake and then began to respond.

Rodney stopped kissing for a moment and pushed John away and John could see a shine in the blue eyes as Rodney stared at him, tried to read him.

"What is it?" he whispered, concerned.

"Rodney," John whispered back and it sounded like a plea, not how he wanted it to sound. Rodney must have heard the desperation because they were kissing again.

Clothes were pulled off and away and they kissed and moved fast against each other, every inch of skin touching and rubbing, their lips never parting from each other for too long. It felt like it would go on forever and John could live with that. This, Rodney and forever were perfectly acceptable.

Unfortunately, there was a sticky mess of an end, arriving in sharp hitches of breath and shallow gasps. John stayed where he lay, dead and happy, his face buried in Rodney's neck while a hand carded through his hair.

Rodney slept and John lay there, watching and willing the night hours to go away faster, writing Rodney a message across his stomach. In the morning, he awoke to find the bed empty, hearing Rodney whistling in the bathroom and then stopping abruptly. He'd read the message.

Doesn't hurt anymore

and

When are you going to sign my cast?

Rodney walked out and looked at John with a small smile and John stared back up blearily, his face half hidden behind his arm as he lay on his stomach.

"Morning," Rodney said.

John gave a small nod in reply.

"How are you feeling?" Rodney asked.

John smiled. "Good."

Rodney nodded, smiling, watching carefully. "Well, good."

Rodney went to the lab and John stayed in Rodney's bed, showering in his shower and using his soap. Then he lay on the unmade bed that still smelled like him and Rodney. An hour later, he went to see Carson for a check up, though, he felt there was no real need. His bruises were still bruises and his arm was still broken.

He sat there and answered questions, offering smirks and smiles, being himself and not the guy that had screamed when his arm was broken with slow deliberation, snapped in two. When the sharp point of the rod had been stuck under his skin to deliver shocks. He tried not to think of it, but the memory came sharp and sudden, making him jerk as Carson touched a bruise on his back.

He tried to forget and focus on something else, like the faded questions Rodney had asked. He saw the flicker of a smile when Carson saw the smudge of ink that was decipherable letters once. He wanted Carson to ask. John felt stupidly brave today. He'd tell the truth today, if anyone asked.

Yes, he'd say, that's Rodney, leaving messages all over me like I'm his goddamn notepad. That's not all I let him do. I let him fuck me and I like it. I go down on my knees for him and I love it. That's right, the highest ranking military officer of Atlantis. Queer as a three dollar bill.

Carson probably wouldn't care. John could tell. He needed to find some marines and tell them all, in detail. He needed someone to give him a reason to go crazy. To lash out. He was itching for a fight.

Today, it was all a big deal. Tomorrow he'd be normal again. But today his arm ached and the bruises felt livid. Today, he still wasn't fit for duty and the Wraith were still out there waiting to take Atlantis. Today, he could have really done with a six pack of beer.

Carson gave him a cheery pat on the back and said he was good to go. John made some quips and offered a smirk, receiving a relieved smile. Yes, everything was normal in Sheppard world and no doubt Carson would let Elizabeth know.

John left for Rodney's lab. He felt a little breathless, his face a little warm. It wasn't his fault. It was just one of those days. The kind where you couldn't forget how you got those bruises or how loud your scream could be in your own ears. He took Rodney's pen from his pocket and clumsily held it in the hand of his broken arm, using it to write three simple words on the back of his other hand.

Rodney was scratching his head, squinting at a computer screen when John walked in. Someone might have greeted him, but he ignored it and went straight to Rodney. He felt like grabbing Rodney and kissing him in front of everyone and then just waiting for the news to spread. Waiting to see the fallout.

Instead he just silently stood by the table until Rodney noticed him and looked up.

Rodney frowned for a while. Then he seemed to notice that John hadn't said a word and didn't seem in the mood to talk. Rodney looked around and then got up.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

John held up the back of his hand, not breaking his look with Rodney's eyes. Rodney read the words, looking a little stunned for a moment. Then he quickly looked around, saw that no one was watching and grabbed John's hand, pushing it down.

"Now?" he whispered.

John smiled and gave a slow nod.

Rodney stood there, blinking and possibly muttering to himself before answering, "Okay."

John turned and walked away, Rodney behind him.

"Rodney," Radek called out.

"Not now," Rodney said hurriedly.

"You're crazy. What the hell kind of person does that? You can't walk around with indecent things written on your hand. Anyone could see that," Rodney was muttering against John's mouth when they stumbled into his quarters.

"I don't care," John mumbled, eyes closed, his arms loosely wrapped around Rodney's waist as the other man guided them to the bed.

It was how he wanted it, fast and uncoordinated, a big fucking mess. They fell on the bed, John grabbing at Rodney in frustration, broken arm in the way and almost knocking Rodney on the head. Rodney grabbed John's hand and pushed his arm to the bed.

"How about we do this with me conscious?" Rodney asked.

John closed his eyes and sighed, going limp against the bed.

Rodney grabbed John by his chin and shook it gently. "What's the matter with you?"

John opened his eyes and gave Rodney an impatient look, holding up the back of his hand in response.

Rodney smiled at the hand and they were kissing again, Rodney expertly removing two sets of clothes. By the time Rodney had his fingers slick and opening John up, he was pushing back and beyond ready.

"Just do it," John was groaning into the pillow.

"You sure?" Rodney asked from behind.

"Jesus. I'm not going to break, Rodney. Fuck me already," John grunted.

That seemed to be the incentive Rodney needed because suddenly he was holding John by his hips and pushing into him, thick and hot.

John grabbed the pillow he was gasping into, writing still scrawled across the back of his hand. A moment later, Rodney was thrusting, his hand closing around John's, tight and hot, pushing it into the mattress with every thrust. John watched their hands like that, his own fingers curled into a fist and Rodney's holding on tight. He watched the whole time, the three words, sharp and black, suffocating between their hands.

Then he couldn't watch anymore because his nerve endings were on fire and he had to squeeze his eyes shut as an involuntary sound escaped his mouth, something high pitched and broken.

He opened his eyes later as the sweat dried and his heart slowed down. Lips touched his neck and then moved to his shoulder as John looked at his hand, spread out and limp against the sheets, Rodney's thumb idly rubbing the words into a black smudge. John pulled his hand away, not wanting to lose them just yet. He considered it his ration of crazy for the day.

He drifted and slept. Temporarily, that was his life. Sleeping. Dreaming. Waking.

When he awoke, he just lay there, still and irritated for no real reason. What he wanted to do was take off in a puddle jumper and find the nearest casino in the Pegasus galaxy and go for broke.

Rodney was gone and the smudge was still there, on the back of his hand, like a dark fading bruise that he had to stare at it for a while. He frowned then, turning his palm up for no real reason and finding Rodney's scribble at the center.

Pick you up at eight.

Rodney arrived at eight, cleaned up and in jeans and T-shirt, wearing a pleased smile on his face.

"Where are we going?" John asked as they walked down the corridor, like two guys, hanging out.

"Just a little place I know," Rodney said casually. "You'll like it."

"I better. I showered and everything," John said, making Rodney roll his eyes.

It was a little place. A puddle jumper to be exact.

"Feel like going for a ride in my new car?" Rodney asked.

John smiled and nodded approvingly. "Well, aren't you just the best boyfriend ever."

"It goes with being a genius," Rodney said, matter-of-factly.

It felt good to be behind the controls, in the air and away from the ground. Especially after the last mission. After a while he had to make the choice of drifting in orbit or a walk down the beach. He let Rodney choose the beach for the reason that if there was any chance of the puddle jumper breaking at least they wouldn't die of asphyxiation.

They took a long walk, their silence stretching as far as the beach itself. Rodney walked beside John, hands in pockets as John's good arm hung by his side, the other one in its sling. He could hear the Xs and Ys buzzing in Rodney's brain. All the questions that never came.

After a while, Rodney grabbed his hand and pulled him around for a kiss, which he gladly accepted. He could do the no talking thing. It worked the best.

The talking thing was happening elsewhere. Somewhere it could be hidden. Somewhere John wouldn't hear the sound of it.

There were still no off-world missions for him, but plenty of briefings for plenty of other things and he spent them sitting opposite Rodney, sending him small looks, feeling the words and questions scattered over him. Sometimes in the palm of his hand, sometimes the inside of his arm or along his collar bone.

Nightmares?

Are you okay?

Really, how long do you spend on your hair?

John always responded, surprised that he could even answer with the truth sometimes. Maybe because he had no way to write a nonchalant shrug or a misleading smirk.

A few.

Sometimes. Sometimes, not so much.

I thought you liked my hair.

Sometimes John couldn't wait for Rodney to fall asleep, so he could hide in the dark and write his answers. Or the mornings where Rodney was gone and he could read the questions.

You can talk to me about stuff.

Rodney had written it on his arm, near the edge of the cast.

Like you do?

John had written it callously over Rodney's scar from where Kolya had cut him. They avoided each other for two days. John then went to Rodney and they both stood in the middle of the room, watching each other, waiting for the other to say something. Rodney made the first move, kissing John and after that it was quick and messy against the wall.

They both stared at the ceiling in the dark that night, John's leg resting on top of Rodney's.

"I know you have nightmares. I can hear you," Rodney said.

"That makes two of us," John said.

"So, what's with the pretending that everything's okay and you're okay and we're all okay?"

"Because I am okay, and so are you and so is everything," John replied flatly.

"Give me the pen," Rodney said.

"What for?"

"I want to write liar across your stupid forehead," Rodney said.

John sighed. "Leave me alone, Rodney."

"I just want to know if you're okay. I mean, is that so bad? They tortured you. You were half dead when we found you. You are allowed to be a little upset."

"Would it help if I had a breakdown?" John asked.

"Oh, shut up."

"You shut up," John muttered.

Rodney sighed and John could just make out a shadow shaking its head. "Seriously, this hero thing is so ridiculous. Oh hey, look a certain death situation, I think I'll just jump in and offer myself up. Gee, what fun. Now all the girls and boys will be my friends."

John smiled, the irritation in Rodney's voice making him want to laugh. "Yes, Rodney, it's all about the girls and boys."

Rodney shifted onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow, eyes lit sharply in the dark somehow. John looked at him, bemused.

"Remember back when we got married? You used to tell me everything. Now you just play golf and watch TV," Rodney said, and John heard the smile.

"I blame the kids," John replied. "We were fine before the kids."

John saw a small flash of teeth and smiled.

"Tell me a secret," Rodney whispered after a while.

"I don't have any," John whispered back.

"You're nothing but secrets," Rodney said.

"You tell me a secret," John insisted.

Rodney was nodding. "Okay. And then you can tell me one."

John shrugged. "Okay. Sure."

"Okay, me first then. Um, let's see, my secret is... that you...make me...feel. Like. A natural woman?"

John laughed, feeling Rodney's laughter feathering over him.

"Thank you, I'm touched," John said. "By a natural woman apparently."

"Your turn."

"My turn? You didn't tell me anything. You made up some crap about being a natural woman."

"Oh, that's nice. I tell you my inner most secret and you mock me? That's real nice."

John smiled, shaking his head. "I wish you hadn't told me at all."

"Come on, tell me. You can tell me if the hair's not real. I'm sure I'll figure it out soon enough."

"I didn't come here to be insulted," John said, enjoying Rodney's fingers taking a trip through his hair.

"Consider it a bonus."

"Hey, you want a secret from me, you have to tell me one first," John insisted. "For instance, why the hell haven't you signed my damn cast?"

"Oh please, and write what? Get better soon, even though I can hear you freaking out every night? Best wishes - glad you're not too screwed up? I'm sorry if it hurts your feelings, but I just couldn't come up with anything dull and inane enough to decorate that thing. Now, your turn."

"You're so weird."

"That's not a secret."

John sighed. "Fine. Have your damn secret."

Rodney was watching and waiting silently. John wished he could get the pen out and just scribble everything down and they'd never have to talk about it or form words and have them bounce around forever.

"When that guy snapped my arm like a twig, I was thinking of you," John said simply.

"Really?" Rodney asked after a moment of silence, his voice quiet.

"Yeah," John said. "I was thinking, gee, I wish Rodney was here instead of me."

John could virtually hear Rodney's eyes roll into his head. "Oh, yeah, very funny. Thanks."

John laughed. "I'm kidding. Well, kind of. I did actually think about you, you know, and me. Sneaking around like teenagers so we don't get caught. I was trying to make sense of it. All the pretending and hiding. I tell you, having some guy shove an electric spike into your back sure gives you a perspective on life."

Rodney was quiet and watching, his eyes wide and shining in the dark as John lay there, remembering the cold, dirt floor under his knees, his scream blocking out all other sound. That moment where he didn't care about anything.

"I figured they were going to kill me and I thought, screw it, just tell them. Give them the coordinates. Hell, help them move into Atlantis. It was just for a second, but I thought about it real hard," John said quietly.

"So, why didn't you help them?" Rodney asked, sounding full of doubt.

John laughed, though he wasn't sure if it was a laugh because it hurt so much. "I passed out. This close to telling them everything and I passed out."

He clamped his mouth shut, annoyed at himself, Rodney, Atlantis, the Wraith and the nice aliens that had tried to break him into tiny little pieces. John turned his face away from Rodney's gaze, too much for him even in the dark.

A moment later, Rodney's lips pressed to the corner of his mouth with a sigh, making John swallow. Rude, arrogant and pompous was something John could take. Something he had answers for. The unexpected tenderness was the killer. It made him want to run.

"When we get back to Earth, I'm going to take you to this place," Rodney whispered in John's ear.

John frowned, opening his eyes. "Where?"

"It's this great little place and they have the best tuna and mayonnaise sandwiches ever. I mean, seriously, they're really something. And it's just tuna and mayonnaise. There isn't even anything else in it, but it's the best sandwich ever. I have no idea how they do it. I'm guessing some kind of hallucinogenic."

John was smiling as he listened and then quietly laughing, feeling Rodney's lips curve into a smile of their own against his cheek. He fell asleep, hanging onto whispers, letting them sink into him and mingle with the words already there, wondering what Rodney was scribbling across his collar bone.

In the morning, he stared at the words long and hard, written back to front so when he looked in the mirror they were written the right way.

John Sheppard - Human. Surprise!

The pen was on the table and John stared at it for a while. He could feel the words buzzing under the skin of his fingers, aching to escape. Dangerous, dangerous pen.

He dressed and took the pen to Rodney, walking into the lab and not even noticing if anyone else was there. He held it out, making Rodney look up from his laptop.

Rodney took it with a small amused smile. "No more messages?"

John didn't answer, replying with a narrow-eyed look.

Rodney arched an eyebrow and then shook his head with a small laugh.

"I'll see you later," John said, turning to leave.

"Hey," Rodney called after him.

John turned with a questioning look.

Rodney pointed the pen towards John's cast. "Want me to sign that thing?"

John nodded. "Sure."

He held out his arm, watching as Rodney pulled the cap off and held it between his teeth, while searching for an adequate space.

The pen hovered over the cast, over small empty spots before Rodney looked up and around the lab. Then his hand moved from the cast, so he was cradling John's hand in his own. In the palm of John's hand, he quickly scribbled a line.

You scared the hell out of me.

John read the words slowly and then looked at Rodney, who was replacing the cap on the pen and evading John's eyes.

He reached out and took the pen from Rodney's hand, squeezing his fingers as he did, discreet and quick, making Rodney look up with wide and bright blue eyes. He still looked a little scared.

"Maybe we should hang on to this a little while longer." John held up the pen. "It's kind of fun."

Rodney smiled. "What about when the ink runs out?"

John shrugged. "We'll cross that page when we come to it."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Very funny."

John smirked and left Rodney smiling in his lab.

Tossing the pen in the air and catching it as he walked down the corridor, he thought about his next message and an inviting expanse of skin to write on.

- the end -

over the edge