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John Sheppard raised his collar against the rain and nudged his horse forward through the mud. It was another hour to the Athos Inn and there would be no stopping until he got there.

The road was deserted and desolate, everyone else having had the sense to not journey out in the dreary and damp weather. Sheppard didn’t mind the rain. True, it was cold and wet, but it was better than the heat which always made him think of battle and blood.

And death.

So he was glad for the rain, the gray overcast sky and clouds hanging low and dark.

Though he felt bad for the horse.

After another hour of the horse mucking her way down the road, he finally found himself at the slightly worn Athos Inn’s small barn. Despite being soaked to the bone, he took the time to unmount his ginger steed and give her a solid brushing down for getting him to the place in one piece, despite the treacherous road.

He murmured nonsensical words and soft cooing noises as he dried her off and set her up in a stable of dry hay, waving away the stable hand who was confused and somewhat distressed at seeing a gentleman take care of his horse, instead of handing it off.

Finally done, he made his way to the entrance proper, squinting in the dark light of the interior as he stepped inside.

“Good heavens, is that you, Sheppard?”

His eyesight was good in the dark, but it took time to adjust and John didn’t have time to recognize who was approaching him before they were clapping a solid hand on his back and letting out a low chuckle.

“It is you. Well done my boy, what are you doing out in weather like this?”

Finally being able to put a face to the voice and the solid weight of a hand on his shoulder, John extended his hand for a firm shake. “Your Grace,” he said respectfully, tipping his head in greeting to the Duke of Carmichael.

“It’s been too long since I’ve seen you. When was it last?”

John saw the exact moment his Grace remembered the last time they had met and it wasn’t under pleasant circumstances. It had been after John’s return from battle.

After John’s return without his childhood friend and the Duke’s son, Mitch.

Though he tried, he couldn’t think of Mitch without thinking of the last time he saw him, broken and bloody on the battlefield, too long gone for anything to be done.

He saw the memory of their last meeting, at Mitch’s memorial flash over the Duke’s face and he schooled his own features into one of sympathy and understanding. He couldn’t let the Duke see his own grief over the loss; he could only be a sturdy shoulder for the old man to lean on.

“Well,” the Duke finally said. “Too long at any rate. You should come by the estate. Her Ladyship would be glad to see you. She still hardly believes you’ve grown out of your spindly limbs. Although I daresay, you never did grow out of your cowlicks.” He tipped his head and raised his eyes to John’s unruly hair and smiled.

John gave a ghost of a smile back remembering Mitch’s kind hearted mother, the Lady Marion. “If her ladyship would have me, I would be honored to visit sometime.”

“You can be sure of it. What brings you round these parts?”

“I’m off to visit the estate at ______shire, where my brother is presently situated.”

“Ah, young David. I heard he caught himself a lovely bride.”

John nodded once, immediately thinking of his new sister-in-law. “I daresay he did. She’s a fine woman.”

“The estate has been too long without a woman’s touch, your mother, God rest her soul, was sorely missed upon her passing. Broke the mold when they made her.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now,” said the duke, clapping him once on the shoulder again, “You will join us for dinner.”

“I am sorry, your Grace, but I’ve not brought appropriate attire with me. I’ve only traveling clothes in my satchel.”

“Traveling on horseback?” the Duke said incredulously and then laughed. “My dear boy you never cease to amaze me. A man of your stature should be in a carriage. Tell me you brought a stablehand or a valet with you at least.”

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

“Oh, John. We shall have to get you used to society again. I see we’ve left you on your own for too long and you’ve got the way of a savage about you.” The Duke winked at him conspiratorially. “Her ladyship will have a good laugh at the thought of you traveling in the rain, and then she’ll want to send you off with several of her shawls to keep you warm. Now,” said the Duke clapping his hands together, “ I will tell the innkeeper to set us up in a private dinning room for dinner.”

“My Lord…” John began but the duke cut him off and wagged a finger at him.

“I shant take no for an answer, dear boy. Dinner I say and dinner it will be. Marion shall never forgive me if she finds out you were here and I didn’t have you for dinner,” he said congenially. “Although I doubt she’ll be too happy to add another male to the mix. She’s had enough of hunting and politics.”

“You are traveling with companions?” John inquired with an inward groan. He enjoyed the Duke’s company and that of his wife, but he wasn’t sure he was up to ‘entertaining.’

“Her ladyship’s nephew, Meredith McKay, and my second cousin, Baron Calvin Kavanaugh. Do you know either of them?”

“I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting either of their acquaintances.”

At the word ‘pleasure’, the duke blushed slightly and muttered something about ‘scientists’. “Yes. Well. It will be good for them to have some… outside company.”

John raised an eyebrow. “As you wish. What time is dinner served”

“Whenever I ring the bell,” the duke replied with a laugh and wink. “Take your time. Dry off and have a nip of brandy or two. Shall we say seven? I’ll have one of the servants direct you to the room.”

John dipped his head again in formal acknowledgment. “I look forward to it, my lord.”

***

“I assure you heartily, Meredith, you will find Sheppard quite the engaging conversationalist.”

Rodney frowned. “My Lord, if I may be permitted to speak of it again, I would much prefer to dine in my quarters tonight. I’m close to a breakthrough and…”

“Nonsense!” his aunt, the Lady Marion interrupted as she took her seat at the dining table. “Honestly, Mer, you would do well to get out and about in society. Sheppard is a Marquis and quite a handsome one at that!” she said with a gently wink.

“Yes. I’ve heard,” said Rodney meaningfully.

Everyone in the ton knew of Marquis Sheppard. His dashing good looks and heroic war history were exceedingly spoken of in all the higher circles. Handsome, brave and filthy rich. What wasn’t there to like?

His notorious status as a ladies man did nothing to dissuade the pushy mamas of the ton from thrusting their sons and daughters in front of him at every opportunity. Although he appeared to eschew more… naive company, with whom he was never allowed alone for appearances sake, he did appear to have had several tendre attachments. Most recently and notably he had not only been linked with the Widow Wier, but also with the Viscount Evan Lorne.

In a shocking and scandalous twist that still had society in a tizzy, it appeared that now the Widow Wier was engaged to be married to the Viscount Lorne.

None of the parties had ever been heard to publicly comment on it, but the gossip mill churned nonetheless.

“Well, then. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful evening with us tonight. And Baron Kavanaugh as well,” the Lady Marion said. Thankfully, her husband was still assisting her into her chair and she missed the fantastic roll of his eyes.

“Your Grace,” Rodney said with a sigh. “I must respectfully request to decline. As I said, I believe I’m very close to a breakthrough.”

“Meredith, your aunt wishes us all to have a lovely evening. And so we shall,” said the Duke.

Rodney frowned as he saw his uncle rub at his shoulder with a grimace.

“Are you well, my lord?”

Lady Marion’s eyes snapped up to her husband. “Victor? Are you ill?”

The duke waved both of them away with a hand. “Fine, fine. Touch of the arthritic pains. Nothing more.”

Rodney paused a moment longer and then took his seat after the duke was seated. “If you’re sure?”

“I am. Now, what is this breakthrough, Mer… sorry, Rodney.”

Rodney knew his uncle was trying hard to remember to refer to him by his middle name. His first name, bestowed on him by his father was no favorite of his and he was desperately trying to get his family to use his middle name instead. It was an uphill battle.

Rodney opened his mouth to speak and was interrupted by the arrival of Baron Kavanaugh. “Oh, I’m sure Merry doesn’t want to bore you all with the details,” he said as he swept into the room, bowing quickly at the Lady Marion and the duke. “Astronomy is well and fine, but it’s hardly applicable in daily life. Now, alchemy, there’s a science! A true natural philosophy.”

Rodney turned sharply on Kavanaugh. “Are you mad by birth or do you have to work exceedingly hard at it!”

“Meredith!” his aunt exclaimed.

“Your ladyship,” Rodney tipped his head in slight apology. “But I cannot in good conscience sit here and listen to this drivel. Alchemy! A science! I’ve not heard anything more absurd since the Church refused to believe Galileo and imprisoned him.”

Kavanaugh smiled tightly and patted Rodney on the arm. “Merry, you are good for a chuckle.”

Rodney’s face went from its normal color to flashing purple in three seconds flat. He pointed his finger at Kavanaugh. “I’ll make you a deal, Kavanaugh. I’ll start being kind to you as soon as you manage to turn lead into gold.”

“So it shall be just in time for the honeymoon then?”

Rodney was just about to haul back and slap him when a cough was heard from the doorway. He looked up and there he was, the Marquess John Sheppard. Smirking lazily and slouching, (slouching in the presence of the duke no less!) against the door frame. His languid hazel eyes flicked over the small dinner party and Rodney could have sworn he could see each person register for an impossibly short time on Sheppard’s face. Fondness for the duchess, respect for the duke, dismissal for Kavanaugh and for Rodney…

Rodney wasn’t sure what it was he saw.

“I hope I’m not late for dinner,” John drawled, meeting Rodney’s gaze.

The duke got to his feet and John’s eyes shifted. “Right on time, my boy, right on time. Sheppard. You of course remember my wife, the Lady Marion.”

John took her hand and placed a careful and chaste kiss on top of her knuckles. “It’s wonderful to see you looking so fine as always, your ladyship.”

Marion waved her hand dismissively at him and grinned like a schoolgirl. “Oh, go off you!”

John gave her a wink before he straightened from his slight bow and faced the two men who had stood at his arrival.

“And this is the Baron Calvin Kavanaugh,” the duke continued and Kavanaugh stood and gave a stiff formal bow and a pained smile. John extended his hand over the table and Kavanaugh appeared to hesitate for a moment before taking it in a limp-fish grip.

“And my nephew, Meredith McKay.”

“I prefer to go by my middle name, Rodney,” said Rodney robustly, standing and reaching over the table and gripping Sheppard’s hand in a firm and warm shake.

John looked into Rodney’s crystal blue eyes and gripped his hand slightly tighter. “Then I must insist you call me John.”

Rodney shrugged carelessly. It didn’t matter to him one way or the other. “Fine.”

John didn’t let go of Rodney’s hand and Kavanaugh coughed loudly and awkwardly.

“As I was saying,” Kavanaugh said pointedly. “Great strides are being made in the Alchemic science and I’m sure before year’s end, we’ll see fantastic results.”

Rodney pulled his hand back abruptly from John and rolled his eyes at Kavanaugh.

“Honestly, where do you find this drivel?

John found his hand feeling slightly cold and lonely without Rodney’s grip any longer and he forced himself to take his seat opposite Rodney’s at the table. The Duke and duchess were seated at either end, with Rodney and Kavanaugh on one side and John on the other. John suddenly begrudged Kavanaugh’s proximity to Rodney. Kavanaugh put his hand on the back of Rodney’s chair as Rodney sat down and John didn’t miss Rodney’s scowl pointedly directed at Kavanaugh. However, when Kavanaugh didn’t remove his hand, Rodney very rudely looked from Kavanaugh to Kavanaugh’s hand on the back of his chair and then back up at Kavanaugh.

Kavanaugh finally pulled his arm back to his side but didn’t miss the opportunity to wink at Rodney. Rodney rolled his eyes and sighed. Loudly.

“Mark my words, Merry,” Kavanaugh continued. “Alchemy is the science of the future.”

“I cannot wait until you blow yourself up,” Rodney stated flatly.

Watching the dynamic it was clear to John that while Kavanaugh believed he and Rodney had some kind of flirtatious repartee going back and forth, Rodney was just annoyed.

The serving party, having been notified that all of the dinner guests were seated, started bringing in the appetizer course. As they served, Kavanaugh continued to speak.

“Alchemy is not just a science, it’s a spiritual discipline. It takes great concentration and a steady mind to comprehend the details involved.”

Seeing Rodney’s face turn a deeper shade of purple and watching him sputter as Kavanaugh leaned closer to him, Sheppard decided to have mercy on the man.

“Forgive me if my comments are ignorant, but I thought that alchemy was more of a kinship to numerology or astrology than to the more complex sciences.”

“Thank you!” exclaimed Rodney, turning a smug look to Kavanaugh.

“Oh, you men and your science,” the duchess said fondly, trying to steer the conversation. “I know more than I ever cared to about stars and turning gold into lead and the manufacturing of telescopes. Truly.”

“I take it this is a regular discussion then, your grace?” John asked

“Far too regular,” she replied with a smile. “Young Rodney spends more time ensconced is his chamber scribbling away at numbers and formulae when he should be accompanying his lordship and I out into society.” The last bit was said while directly looking at Rodney.

“I appreciate her ladyships intentions but I cannot afford to waste time dancing and smiling when I could be making further scientific discoveries.”

“Yes, but Rodney dear, you shall never be published if you don’t marry.”

At that statement from the duchess, Kavanaugh seemed to give off a smarmy, knowing vibration and John immediately understood the situation now. Rodney, having no title of his own, couldn’t publish his works under his own name. Kavanaugh hoped to woo Rodney into marriage and publish his work under the Kavanaugh name, thus gaining the other man’s knowledge.

Rodney bristled. “It’s a stupid law and it’s going to change. I’m going to change it and then I’ll publish my work under my own name.” He paused and added loudly. “And no one else’s.”

The duke and duchess regarded him with the fondness bestowed on children. “Oh, Mer,” said the duke. “You can’t change the laws of society simply because you will it so. You’re always saying how important your work is, how brilliant, surely it would be better to see it published, even if under a husband’s name, then not at all?”

“It would not,” replied Rodney firmly.

“Tell me, John,” the duchess said smoothly, her years of social gatherings and etiquette coming to bear, “will we see you and your family this season in Atlantis?”

“I believe my brother and his wife were planning on returning to Atlantis for the middle of the season.”

“A wise choice indeed,” answered the duchess. “It’s always best to let it get rolling and then join once things are more settled. I shall be sure to send them an invitation to dinner once they are in town.”

“I shall let them know when I see them.”

“And yourself?” she inquired, her eyes clearing indicating she hadn’t missed the fact that he left himself out of the statement.

John smiled bashfully at her grace’s knowing look. “I prefer to avoid Atlantis during the season. I shall retire to my country home and likely assist my brother by attending to his estate as well in his absence.”

“My boy, how do you ever expect to find yourself a spouse if you are hidden away in the country?” asked the Duke.

“Yes, surely you’d rather be prancing about at dismally boring balls and smoking cigars trading vulgar stories with the rest of the elite,” Rodney said sharply.

The duchess dropped her face in her palm at Rodney’s tone and the duke glared at him.

“What?” said Rodney, stuffing a roll in mouth. “With that hair, he should enjoy a good prance.”

The duchess let out a small groan of dismay.

John tried to hide his smile behind his hand but his eyes darted up to look at Rodney. “I take it you are not a fan of the season in Atlantis?” he asked

“Hardly,” responded Rodney.

“I think you’ll enjoy it more this year, Merry,” said Kavanaugh, not-so-subtly inching his chair closer to Rodney.

Rodney leaned away slightly. “I have no desire to watch the untitled masses fawn and fall all over the elite in the hopes of securing a good match. The fact that I was not born into a titled family is a matter of chance or hazard and certainly not anything to do with my personal being and certainly doesn’t impeded my very considerable brilliance. The fact that Sheppard here is a Marquis is not through any of his own doing, but simply because he happened to be born a Marquis. He deserves neither an award nor a better chance at a spouse than anyone else.”

“I believe you agreed to call me John,” replied John easily, soaking in the outrage Rodney exuded and turning it into mild amusement.

Rodney waved his hand as though it were unimportant. “Fine, John.” Rodney turned to Kavanaugh. “And your Baronacy is another fortune of birth and if you think for one moment that I would ever consider making a match -”

“Oh look, the next course,” the duchess said loudly, cutting Rodney off.

So far, it was the best dinner party John had been to in ages.

***

By the time dessert was ready to be served, John was more confident in his opinion that all dinner parties should be this engaging.

Kavanaugh continued his clunky and over the top methods to woo Rodney all night and all he succeeded in doing was outraging the man even more. When things got too hairy, the duchess would try to switch topics, her husband assisting when he could. The duke didn’t have social panache the duchess had for seeing discord approaching, but he knew well enough that backing his wife was always a good idea.

They had finally settled on discussing horse breeding half-way through the main dinner course and John and the duke quickly dominated the conversation. John had a special affinity for horses, inherited from his mother who used to take him riding when he was young. He had a business plan to begin breeding at the country estate. He’d run the numbers and had what he considered to be a very stable, yet profitable proposal.

“Well, you always were sharp as a nail, John,” the duke said with appreciation. “It sounds to me like you’ve got some solid ideas. Any chance you’re looking for an investor?”

John smiled at the kind offer. “Well, I’d certainly like some time to work out any troublesome spots. I hope you’re serious, though, I may approach you in a few years.” John said taking a long drink of his wine. “Do you ride, Rodney?” John asked, trying to draw the other man into conversation.

“Hmm, what?” Rodney asked, looking up from his napkin. John looked down and noticed that Rodney was using the gravy covered tine of his fork as a makeshift plume and was writing on the cloth napkin. Strange mathematical notes and symbols.

“Ride. Do you ride horses?” John managed to keep his voice neutral even though the sight of Rodney’s blue eyes and pristine complexion did have him thinking of slightly different kinds of riding.

“You mean other than to get where I’m going? No,” Rodney said flatly. “They don’t like me.”

“They can’t all not like you, Rodney,” replied John. “That would be statistically improbable. You haven’t met all horses and they haven’t met you.”

Rodney’s lips turned up in small smile. “Yes, I suppose it is unlikely. Well, the majority of horses I have met, don’t like me.”

“They sense his … anxiety,” the duke said helpfully.

“I could fall and hit my head and that could scramble everything in there. I’ll take a carriage any day of the week over a horse. But in the absence of a carriage, of course I can ride.”

“My carriage is available to you any time you need it, Merry.”

Rodney scowled at Kavanaugh. “As I said, I can ride.”

The dessert plates were set down in front of them and Rodney immediately stiffened and the duke turned to the serving man.

“I’m sorry, lad, I thought I instructed the kitchen for no citrus? My nephew is intolerant of it.”

The serving man started slightly and fumbled with one of the plates. “I’m sorry, your Grace, I didn’t know. Lemon custard is the dish tonight.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” said Kavanaugh with a wave.

“Yes, if I would like a heaping serving of death with my dinner,” shot Rodney hotly. He pushed his chair back from the table and stood, eager to be out of the same room as the lemon. The last reaction he had involved full body hives and an increasingly tight sensation in his chest. His doctor and close friend, Carson Beckett had warned him the reactions were likely to only be worse with each exposure.

“Mer, we’ll have it taken away,” said the duke.

“I appreciate it, your lordship, but I think I shall just retire for the evening if her grace will excuse me?”

The duchess nodded amicably and Rodney turned on his heel. He stopped stiffly by John, who had stood from his seat when rodney turned to leave.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Sheppard.” He extended his hand.

“John,” he repeated, clasping Rodney’s hand firmly and holding it perhaps a bit longer than he should.

“John,” Rodney said softly. With a slight shake, he pulled his hand free and bowed once more at the duke and duchess, clearly ignoring Kavanaugh as he exited.

***

Rodney fiddled with the lock on his door and finally gave up.

Yes, he was the most brilliant man on earth, but even he couldn’t fix a broken lock without the proper tools and hardware.

Well, it wasn’t as though he had anything precious or valuable to steal. The most valuable thing he had was his brain, and that was in no danger of being stolen.

So long as Kavanaugh kept his distance.

God, the man was insufferable. He made Rodney’s skin crawl and his very presence caused this strange twitch in Rodney’s left eyelid that was maddening. Rodney always felt a little greasy after dealing with Kavanaugh, like a country pig at a fair. He swore he could feel the dirty Baron’s gaze on his backside every time he was turned.

And the idiocy! The man was a raving idiot and seemed to have no clue. Ignorance must truly be bliss. As if Rodney would ever condescend to have his papers published under the likes of Kavanaugh.

Rodney had always sworn from a very young age that he would find a way to publish his papers under his own name. He fought about it for years with his sister Jeanette. Jeannie maintained that everyone would realize that of course Rodney had written them no matter whose name they were published under. Just as Rodney had always maintained that it wasn’t just about that. It was about changing the law that said Rodney couldn't do it. As if his intellect was somehow inferior because he didn’t hold a title.

Absolutely absurd.

He sat down at the small desk in his private room (and thank God his aunt and uncle had agreed to acquire separate quarters for him - he quite often worked late into the night and into the early morning) and set back to his equations. He had very nearly had a breakthrough at dinner and had pilfered the napkin he had managed to make some markings on.

Looking at the napkin brought back the memory of dinner and with it his meeting of the Marquis Sheppard. John. To be certain, he was a handsome devil but looks alone were not worth a whit in Rodney’s opinion. Although, it appeared that John may have some brains hidden underneath that ridiculous mop of hair. He certainly didn’t agree with the absolute foolishness that was alchemy and based on the his plans for horse breeding, he might have a head for numbers.

And he had very nice eyes. Clear and bright. Sharp.

Rodney shook his head. This line of thinking was ridiculous. Even if he were attracted to Sheppard, which he’d have to be blind not to be, it would amount to nothing. Sheppard was a known rake; moving from entanglement to entanglement amongst the elite members of the ton, who could afford any amount of scandalous rumor with their money and rank to back them up. Rodney had no such illusions of his status in society. A man like Sheppard would likely chew him up and spit him out.

Despite his brilliance, Rodney had led a rather sheltered life. After the death of his father at eight, when Jeannie was but two, his mother had been desperate and nearly destitute. Unable to contact her sister, the duchess, who was abroad on a Grand Tour, she had tried to gain employment but had no luck in securing a job that could support them. Rodney had tried as best as he could to look out for his sister while their mother tried her hand at the trades. Nearly ready to be turned out onto the streets, Charlotte McKay had done the only thing she could: she married.

Although able to be charming when necessary, Acastus Kolya had been a brute, through and through. He berated Charlotte and Rodney at every chance he had; name calling, sneered insults, emotional blackmail and belittlement. He strangely doted on Jeannie, though, who knew no other father but him, and seemed to leave her alone. After Charlotte’s death from influenza, he became particularly crueler to Rodney, as though he could somehow make up for the fact that he was saddled with two children that weren’t his own by being horrid to one of them.

He didn’t often use his fists, but when had it was swift and sharp. Never a full out beating - just a solid crack across the face, or a rib creaking blow. Not enough to draw unwarranted attention, but enough to ensure you knew your place and kept it. Rodney kept a special eye out to see if Kolya’s anger ever so much as slightly shifted toward Jeannie after their mother’s death, but it never did. A fact that Jeannie was all to aware of and felt a tremendous, burdening guilt over. She tried valiantly to bridge the gap between the two men, but Kolya would have none of it, and Rodney simply did not care enough about the man to even try.

Rodney was lucky that his aunt and uncle, the duchess and duke, had taken and interest in them both. The duchess was particularly grieved that she had not been around when her sister needed her most and tried especially hard to provide some kind of motherly influence for the McKays after Charlotte’s death. Rodney was not often permitted to leave the house but he did manage to gain permission to go on short tours of the country side with his aunt and uncle for which he was eternally grateful. Mostly because it left him to his work and out from underneath the fetid presence of Kolya.

Kolya had ruled the house with an iron fist and Rodney and Jeannie had only been allowed out to attend lessons or seminars. Kolya seemed to resent how brilliant Rodney was and despite the fact that Rodney had now taken a small apartment in the city, Kolya would often arrange time consuming and meaningless tasks for Rodney to do on their small country estate, insisting that it was his duty to the family, to Jeannie, in order to monopolize Rodney’s time. The time Rodney had available while traveling with his aunt and uncle was spectacular and he was sure he’d written at least two papers worthy of publishing, perhaps even a third. He would let Jeannie read them as soon as he returned - in secret of course, as Kolya was prone to ‘accidents’ involving fire, wine or the trash along with Rodney’s papers when he found them.

Growing up in the small house out in the country and having little opportunity to leave, coupled with his rather solitary life in the city, left Rodney somewhat ill-prepared to deal with a known rake like Sheppard. It was just as well that he would likely never run into the man again after tonight. And if the thought of him caused a strange stirring in Rodney’s stomach that he had never felt before, well, no one need ever know about it.

Shaking his head at his own foolish notions, he forced himself back to his work.

***

John pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to keep his head from bobbing over.

He’d agreed to have a drink with his Lordship in the inn’s den after dessert and thankfully that bumbling idiot Kavanaugh hadn’t joined them.

However, without the presence of other people, their conversation had inevitably turned to battle, war and things John longed to forget about but couldn’t.

The duke had lurched to bed quite some time ago and John had been left in the darkened study with a half decanter full of brandy and his maudlin, gruesome remembrances of friends lost to war on fields covered in dirt and blood.

Killing another man, even in battle, weighed heavily on a person. Knowing that you did it for King, for country was of little consequence when you closed your eyes at night and could only hear screaming. It wasn’t so much the memories of the actual battles that burdened John, so much as it was the memories of the long days and nights after the battle was over - whether won or lost.

In the aftermath, when the craze and fierceness of the battle was over, it was anything but calm and serene. The medics would come and try to round up the injured. Those who were mobile were expected to help out as much as possible. John, fortunate to never have been mortally wounded, travelled across many battlefields turning over the bodies of friends and acquaintances, checking for pulses, loading stretchers to take men back to the infirmary or bodies to the mass graves.

God help the poor souls that were greatly injured and suffered while being treated. John lost more soldiers and friends to infection and disease than he ever did in battle. At least in battle, he could fight, he could assist, he could do something. But in the aftermath, he could offer little-more assistance than that of a packhorse - carrying and moving bodies and supplies as required. He remembered finding his commanding officer, Sumner, his leg hacked to pieces, bleeding out on the field under the blistering sun. He knew the man would likely lose his leg once they got him back to the tents. Knew he’d probably be one of the soldiers that had to hold Sumner down while they sawed through the bone. Sumner had groaned when John leaned over him to place a flag for the stretcher bearers, a signal for a live body to move. Sumner’s hand had shot out, gripped John’s wrist powerfully, painfully. John had looked in the man’s eyes and saw that Sumner knew what would happen at the tent as well. They’d lost over two thirds of their surgery patients on the table after the last battle. The majority of those that didn’t die during surgery died from infection or post-surgery complications. Sumner glanced down at the revolver at John’s side and then back up at John. John nodded and then had taken his gun out and shot his commanding officer between the eyes.

No one had even glanced their way at the gunshot.

The decanter was now empty, but despite the best efforts of the brandy, John’s head was still frighteningly full. But sitting in the darkened den of the inn wasn’t going to solve anything.

As he stumbled up the creaking stairs of the inn, he tried to focus on something else, something more pleasant than the horrid memories that plagued his thoughts.

He suddenly thought of the clear, clean blue of Rodney McKay’s eyes. Though his evening was ending thus - with him staggering his drunken way through the night-dark inn, memories turned to the terrible - it had been a pleasant one to start. Rodney was entertaining to watch, even when being badly wooed by the insufferable Kavanaugh. John and the Duke had spoken about his nephew briefly and John understood the duke worried for Rodney. He was often so caught up in his work that he forgot anything else and had few connections outside family - the duke and his wife, and Rodney’s sister Jeannie. Rodney simply didn’t care to make many other attachments and the duke and duchess were afraid that once they passed and Jeannie married and had a family of her own, Rodney would slowly become ever more the hermit and reclusive scholar.

That would indeed be a shame, John thought, for the man did seem to have quite the spirit.

John entered his quarters and the light he’d left burning low must have gone out as the room was dark. He wearily discarded his cravat, coat and shirt, tossing them carelessly aside and divesting himself of his boots before falling face-down on the bed with his pants still on. The pillow smelled fantastic, he thought. Slightly spicy and soapy - which surprised him as usually inn linens had no such scent to speak of. He snuggled down a little into it, breathing in the deeply comforting scent.

He fell asleep dreaming of blue skies the same color as Rodney McKay’s eyes.

***

Rodney woke with a start, jackknifing up in his seat, papers stuck to his face and his ink bottle tipping over. He hissed in outrage and managed to get it upright before it spilled too much of its inky darkness over his papers. Thankfully, it only appeared to damage the unused sheets. He’d fallen asleep at his desk again but given that he was still able to move his neck, it was a good bet he hadn’t been out for long.

Although it was long enough for his lamp to go out.

He fumbled for his matches and lit the lamp quickly, trying to figure out what awoke him.

And then he heard it. A low, almost pained groan.

He froze, eyes darting back and forth in the darkness. Another groan and then the shuffle of bed clothes.

Bed clothes?

He got to shaky feet and stepped quietly back to his bed. The small pool of light from his lamp only gave off enough luminescence to showcase the immediate area in front of him and it took a few steps before he could see the bed.

Someone was in his room!

Someone was on his bed!

Someone…shirtless.

That realization made him stop and he paused a moment to take in the lean back, winged blades and sturdy shoulders stretched out gracelessly on his bed. An angry scar twisted its way across one of the shoulder blades, wrapping up and over the shoulder before disappearing from Rodney’s sight somewhere perhaps around the collarbone.

Another low sound of distress came from the figure on the bed and Rodney stilled like a rabbit caught in the woods.

Who on earth was in his bed? Surely it couldn’t be a burglar, for they tended to not undress and fall asleep in their victims beds. Rodney glanced around and could make out a few items of clothing tossed haphazardly on the floor. He inched closer to the bed, the circle of light moving up past the man’s shoulders and finally illuminating the head of this nightly intruder. The spiky, careless tufts of black were instantly recognizable even in the dark.

The Marquis John Sheppard was in his bed.

Half naked.

An unexpected thrill of… something shot its way down Rodney’s body.

The man, Sheppard let out a huff of air and then shifted restlessly. He sounded as though he was having a nightmare and Rodney was torn. He didn’t know what to do. Things like this didn’t happen to him. Did Sheppard mean to come into Rodney’s room? And if he did, why didn’t he wake Rodney up? If he meant to come in, he must have looked around and seen Rodney asleep at the desk. Or did Sheppard come to Rodney’s room by accident? He shook his head. That would be absurd. The chances of that happening were… well they were astronomical is what they were. So he must have meant to come to Rodney’s room. But for what purpose?

Sheppard flopped over onto his back and grumbled in his sleep breaking Rodney’s thought stream. Something about stretchers being needed and soldiers.

Oh. A nightmare of war. He knew nothing of Sheppard but Rodney had heard of many men coming back from the lines changed, scarred. Rodney took a careful step forward and leaned over the bed.

“Sheppard? My lord?” he whispered loudly. John mumbled in reply and jerked slightly, his face grimacing. “John!” Rodney said sharply and poked John in the chest with one finger.

John shot up almost painfully fast and had Rodney’s wrist in a bruising grip, his eyes wild. Rodney tried to pull away and John instinctively tightened his hold.

“You’re hurting me, you dumb brute!” Rodney said.

“Rodney?” John blinked. He let go of Rodney’s arm and Rodney set the lamp down the nightstand and went and lit some other candles in the room, bathing it in soft light.

“What are you doing in my room?” asked John carefully.

Rodney sighed. Oh. Of course. Well, just because it was improbable didn’t mean it was impossible, Rodney supposed.

“Actually, Sheppard, I should ask the question to you. What are you doing in my room?”

Sheppard blinked a few times and looked around slowly. “What am I doing in your room?” he asked.

Rodney rolled his eyes. Sheppard’s slightly drunken slur was the explanation he was looking for. He inched closer and took a sniff at the air around the man. “Okay,” he said sharply at the brandy laden fumes. “I should be careful with the matches then, you’re completely sotted.”

“Pardon?” said Sheppard, doing his odd befuddled blinking thing again.

“Drunk,” Rodney clarified. “Completely drunk.” he should have figured. It’s not like good-looking, dashing rakes just showed up half naked in his bed-chambers on a regular basis. With the countenance of a confused man, Sheppard looked down at his half-dressed state, saw the clothes on Rodney’s floor and then looked up at Rodney. Rodney could see the exact moment Sheppard’s brain snapped it all together.

“You must have wandered in here by accident,” said Rodney, suddenly very tired. He rubbed his forehead.

“Why weren’t you in the bed?” asked Sheppard, still slightly confused.

“I was working. I fell asleep at the desk. All right,” Rodney said, clapping his hands together. “Now that it’s all sorted, perhaps you should be heading back to your room? Hmm?”

When Sheppard didn’t make a move, Rodney stepped forward and started manhandling him, trying to get him up.

“Erf,” he grunted as he tried to heft Sheppard out of bed. “A little help here?”

Sheppard tipped his head down into Rodney’s hair and inhaled. “Oh, it’s you the pillows smell like.”

Rodney dropped him like he was hot and Sheppard bounced slightly on the bed. “What?”

“The pillows,” Sheppard said dreamily, lying back down. “They smell good. You smell good.”

“Er, thanks. No, no! No lying down! We’ve got to get you to your own room,” Rodney said rushing forward and trying to prop Sheppard up. “It’s… well frankly, it’s unseemly for you to be here this time of night. I mean, you’re titled you can do whatever you like and it’s not my place to tell the titled what to do. Despite the fact that I’m brilliant and know more than all of you put together. Still, societal rules and all. I’ll change them, but they are what they are now and right now, you’re in my room in the middle of the night and if you’re caught, there will be talk. Not that there isn’t already a lot of talk about you, but as I said, titled and you can handle it. However, there is no talk of me and I would like to keep it that way. When my name becomes known in all the households of the modern world it will be for my notable and uncanny genius and not because I was another notch on your considerably marked-up bedpost.”

Sheppard was all noodle-limpness in Rodney’s arms as Rodney tried to heft him up. It was like trying to herd cats.

“You talk a lot. I like it,” Sheppard said happily.

“I’m flattered beyond measure at pleasing you,” Rodney said dryly. He got Sheppard seated upright and managed to swing the man’s legs off the side of the bed so they planted on the floor. He threaded his arms under Sheppard’s and tried not to stare at Sheppard’s chest. Darkly haired and taut, Rodney had this strange urge to poke his tongue out and lick one of the nipples.

Which was not a thought he’d had about anyone. Ever.

“And you’re smart,” Sheppard added in his dreamy tone. “I like smart.”

“Yes, I’m brilliant. And now this brilliant, brilliant man is going to stand you up, so lock your knees, Sheppard.”

“S’posed to call me John. And I don’t wanna get up. M’tired.”

Rodney huffed. “You can sleep all you want when you get to your own bed. Doesn’t that sound like a absolutely fantastic idea? Your own bed? Hmm?”

“I like your bed. Smells like you.” Sheppard turned his head into Rodney’s neck, burying his nose into the hollow of Rodney’s collarbone, his tongue darting out and licking at the indentation.

“You taste good too.”

Rodney almost dropped him back against the headboard.

“Er, fascinating. Put your arms over my shoulders.”

Sheppard did as Rodney asked, resting his forearms on Rodney’s shoulders, tipping his head to Rodney’s neck again. “I’ve bad dreams.”

Rodney gritted his teeth. “I can imagine. Lock your knees.”

Rodney hefted him up and Sheppard immediately lost his balance. They swayed comically, one way, then the other. Sheppard lurched forward and without warning stepped on Rodney’s foot and Rodney couldn’t stop the pained yelp that he let out. It startled Sheppard who jerked backward. When his knees hit the back of the bed, he grabbed onto Rodney to steady himself. Rodney tried to step forward, managing to get one of his legs in between Sheppard’s but could go no further because of the bed. Sheppard overbalanced backward and with his grip, pulled Rodney down on top of him. Rodney yelped again and tried to roll off Sheppard. At the same time, Sheppard was drunkenly and doggedly trying to get back up. Rodney cracked his head on the headboard and for a moment saw stars.

Which is how they ended up tangled in the bedclothes with a half-naked John Sheppard on top of slightly concussed Rodney McKay when the inn keeper, the duke, the duchess, Kavanaugh and several additional members of the titled and non-titled who were staying at the inn that night came barreling through the still unlocked door to find out what all the ruckus was.

***

“I’m sure the duke and John will get everything sorted out,” the duchess said soothingly, patting Rodney on the hand.

“Hmm?” Rodney was back at work at his desk, the recent events causing him to have a fascinating new idea.

The moments after the door burst open were somewhat of a blur. There’d been some shouting (Kavanaugh), some gasping (the duchess), some stern words (the duke) and a host of hurried and frenzied whispers (everyone else). The duke had pulled Sheppard off Rodney and somehow managed to gather all of Sheppard’s clothing, including his boots and hustle him out the door. The duchess had promptly shut the door in everyone else’s face and taken a seat by the window next to the desk, looking expectantly at Rodney.

Rodney had suddenly realized that the motions of everyone just now had been a classic swarm-migrate pattern and had hurriedly gone to his desk to make notations about it.

“Don’t you worry, Rodney dear. John’s a good man and once he gets-” sobered up “-sorted out, he’ll do right by you.”

Rodney looked up. “What on earth are you talking about?”

The duchess patted his hand again. “It’s all right, Rodney. You’ve nothing to worry about.”

“Why would I be worried?” Rodney frowned.

The duchess looked at him frankly. “Rodney. Dear. You were caught in a… well, a compromising position in the middle of the night with someone who is not a member of your family.”

Rodney blinked. “Yes, well if that idiot hadn’t stumbled blind drunk into my room by accident this all could have been avoided.” He waved his hand absently and then went back to his notes. “At any rate, it was nothing. I was simply trying to get him back to his room.”

The duchess’ expression switched to one of fond disbelief. “Rodney. You’re the only nephew I have and now with Mitch….” she sighed sadly. “I wasn’t able to be there for your mother when she needed me most and I’m eternally regretful. But the fact is now I think of you as a son and you can be frank with me.”

Rodney looked back up at her. “All right,” he said slowly. “Frank about what?”

“I’m a woman of the world, Rodney. I know how young hearts can be. Wrapped up in immediacy and impetuousness and sometimes they make bad decisions.”

Rodney stared at her as though she’d gone mad. “My lady, I’ve no idea whatsoever what you are talking about.”

The duchess smiled. “Oh, I know you don’t want to discuss such things with your aunt. But I assure you, I understand. John is very handsome and might I add, I’ve always had a special place in my heart for him. I’m sure this isn’t how you planned things, but I think the two of you will do well together.”

Rodney sputtered. “What?”

“I’m sure by morning he’ll offer for your hand. Of course, we’ll have to have the wedding quickly before the gossip gets out of control, but once we do, we can all go back normal and in a few months we’ll have a good laugh about this.”

“Wedding?” Rodney exclaimed. “What wedding?”

“Your wedding. To John Sheppard.”

“What?!” A spray of spittle rained down on his papers and smudged the ink.

The duchess straightened. “Rodney,” she said firmly. “What did you think was going to happen?”

Rodney’s mouth opened and closed several times. “But… and I… and he… nothing happened!”

“My dear, I wasn’t born yesterday. When we came in… you and John… well…” the duchess blushed. “There’s hardly an explanation for the position you were found in.”

“There most certainly is an explanation and that is that the man was blind drunk, worse than a sailor, and he came in here by mistake. He thought it was his room! I was trying to get him out and we fell and I hit my head!”

The duchess patted his hand again. “Dear Rodney. You are a genius. Surely you could have come up with a better excuse than that flimsy story?”

Rodney managed another incoherent burst before finally stammering out. “But it’s true.”

The duchess sighed and decided to let the matter drop. “Well, it is neither here nor there. I’m sure that right at this moment, John is making an offer to your uncle. He will of course accept on your behalf and then you and I can start planning the wedding. We’ll send word to Jeannie, she would be heartbroken to miss it.”

“I’m not going to marry Sheppard!”

“Of course you are, Rodney. It’s what must be done.”

“No, I’m not. Don’t be absurd. Nothing happened. Nothing.”

“If you want to keep at that notion, I won’t argue with you any further, but at this point, it is irrelevant.”

“I’m not getting married. Not to Sheppard, not to anyone. My work…”

“Your work is brilliant and getting married will not change that,” the duchess soothed.

“It’s the principle!” Rodney said, gesturing madly with his hands. “I don’t need a husband to publish my work. I’ll publish on my own and it will be mine.”

“Even if you publish under John’s name, people will still know it’s yours, Rodney. People know you, they know your work.”

“Yes, here but my work will be published world wide. People won’t know me, they won’t know that it’s mine.”

The duchess pursed her lips in frustration. “Rodney, this is what needs to be done.”

“No, this is what society thinks needs to be done.”

“It is the same thing, is it not?”

Rodney dropped his head with a thunk on his desk. This was an absolute disaster.

***

This was an absolute disaster.

The duke had hustled him out of Rodney’s room and into the small dining room downstairs where he had promptly ordered the wait staff to serve them coffee and bread. After locking John and himself in, he poured John about seven cups of coffee and twelve glasses of water followed by two loaves of bread. The duke then waited for it all to take effect.

Now, an hour later, John was pretty sure he was well on the way to sober and trying desperately to understand what the duke was telling him.

He had been found, partially naked, in bed with Rodney McKay.

Okay, he’d been drunk but he didn’t think he had been that drunk.

John prided himself on being a thoughtful and judicious man and he certainly couldn’t think of why he would have done such a thing, drunk or not.

And if he was going to end up in bed with Rodney McKay, by God he surely hoped he’d have the sense to remember it!

But the facts were thus: he had been found in a compromising position with an unmarried untitled person and there really was only one thing to do.

“So, er, it’s not that I don’t think very highly of you, my boy, and I’m sure this is all just a misunderstanding. Indeed, if I had known you felt a special tendre for Mer… I mean, Rodney, I should have gone out of my way to further your acquaintance.”

The duke was taking it all very well, considering he’d walked in on his nephew underneath John. John felt the beginning of a headache starting a grand march behind his eyes.

“I must say, you’re a sight better than that oaf Kavanaugh. Rodney doesn’t get out much and I feared that the baron was the only one that would ever take an interest. Not that our Rodney doesn’t deserve interest because… well. At any rate, I hope this won’t have to get… disagreeable.”

He leveled John with a look. A look that said, You’re going to offer for my nephew or so help me God, I will have to call you out with pistols at dawn, regardless of the fact that I think of you as a surrogate son.

“Your grace,” John said, trying to be earnest. “If you approve, it would be my honor to ask for Rodney’s hand in marriage.”

The duke visibly sagged with relief. “I approve. Heartily. I never doubted you were a gentleman, John.”

John gave him a wane smile. “I apologize sincerely for any trouble I have caused your grace this evening.” He fidgeted in his seat. All that water and coffee was beginning to make itself known. “If it pleases, your grace, I should like to clean up before I speak with Rodney.”

“At this point, I suggest we call it a night and start again tomorrow,” replied the duke getting up from the table.

“As your lordship wishes,” John replied. The duke paused on his way out and clasped John once on the shoulder and John was grateful.

“It’s all sorted now, John. Not to worry. Rodney’s… unique but he’s a good man. I daresay, you’ll be a good match.”

John felt a rush of nervousness and panic at the statement but the duke didn’t seem to notice and made his exit. John dropped his head into his hands. He was still a little but drunk, a whole lot exhausted and absolutely mortified. He liked the duke. He respected the duke and to have been caught in such a fashion… he felt the tips of his ears go hot and red.

John was no innocent. He’d done things in his life, things with other people, that would make a sailor blush. But it had always been private, behind closed doors and he’d always always been discreet. To be sure, there were rumors about him amongst the ton, but they were always just that - rumors - John was very careful to be circumspect and to chose partners that were the same.

And now, to be caught in such a manner by a man he respected and admired… to have been seen by members of the titled and non-titled alike in such a position. He groaned inwardly.

The ultimate irony was that he was pretty sure the entire thing was simply a misunderstanding and that nothing happened. When he thought of his history, all the things he had done and now he had been caught in an awkward position doing absolutely nothing… it was ridiculous.

He’d known as soon as he realized what happened what he would do. He didn’t need the duke to haul him into the dinning room to shoe-horn him into it.

He had to offer marriage.

To Rodney McKay.

A man he had just met for the first time this evening.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. Rodney was attractive and certainly, by all accounts, a genius. And there were those eyes….

John had found himself attracted to Rodney, so it wouldn’t be a hardship on that account. But he hardly knew the man. They may have nothing in common. Although he supposed that there were far worse matches he could have made.

He never really considered marriage before. He’d been content to be on his own and after the war he wasn’t sure he would be suitable company for anyone, certainly not any of the insipid and vapid ladies of society. He liked being unattached and free; happy in his solitude when he wanted it; able to go out and find company if he chose.

All of that was over now and very probably by the end of the week, he would have a husband.

He took a deep breath and steeled his nerves. If there was one thing a soldier’s life taught him it was how to do his duty. He would sleep off the rest of the brandy. He would get cleaned up. He would offer marriage to Rodney McKay and then they would make plans for the ceremony. Something small and quiet. Perhaps at a magistrate. He would send word to his brother and sister-in-law and they would stand for him at the wedding.

He was getting married.

***

There was no way he was getting married.

Of that Rodney was certain.

He wasn’t about to throw away his life’s work because of some stupid puritanical rules, especially when nothing had happened.

That stung. If he had to lose everything, he would at least hoped to have something a little scandalous happen.

But it had all been a comedy of errors and nothing had occurred. Despite what he wanted to do to John Sheppard. Or what he wanted John Sheppard to do to him.

But that was neither here nor there, Rodney affirmed resolutely, because nothing happened and that was that. He would just pack up and leave. He could let a horse from the inn and simply ride the rest of the way to Atlantis.

Though he found the idea appallingly grim. He was no friend of horses.

But if it would get him out from underneath the duke and the duchess (and John Sheppard to boot!) then he would do it.

He would return to his small apartment in Atlantis and simply wait a few days for the scandal to break and then ride it out. Of course, there was always the slim chance that the scandal wouldn't reach Atlantis.

Slim didn’t mean impossible. Impossible meant impossible and there were very few things that were truly impossible. So the scandal not reaching Atlantis was improbable, yes, but impossible no.

It was early, before dawn, so he put a second coat on and ensured he had his hat and scarf at the ready. It would be a cold ride until the morning sun broke, but by then he would be well on his way home.

He left a quick note for the duke and duchess thanking them for their most agreeable company and hospitality and for their assistance last night, but he assured them that all was fine. Should John Sheppard propose marriage, Rodney would refuse politely and this would all be a memory. He wrote he looked forward to seeing them at a later date and until the scandal broke and died down, he would be retiring to his apartment in Atlantis and declining society.

There. That should do it.

He slipped out of the inn a short time later and started his long ride to Atlantis.

***

John straightened his shoulders, vowed to ignore the throbbing in his head and knocked firmly on Rodney’s door.

And waited.

When there was no answer, he knocked again and called out.

Nothing.

He tested the handle and found the lock broken (ah, that would explain part of the farce last night) and opened the door, stepping into the room.

He immediately caught the scent of the air and had a flash of memory. In it, he buried his nose in Rodney’s collarbone and… licked it?

He winced in embarrassment. Good lord he’d been drunk last night.

The scent combined with the memory of being very nearly in Rodney’s arms made his dick twitch. There had been something very comforting about Rodney. Solid and sure.

He had another brief memory of being very close to Rodney’s eyes as they stared at him, trying to figure out what he was doing there. John shook his head slightly. He was here for a purpose and once completed, then he would have time to dwell on the things thinking of Rodney did to his body.

He frowned. The room was decidedly empty. All of Rodney’s clothes were gone. John checked the closets and drawers and found them empty. He turned finally to the desk where a note lay addressed to the duke and duchess. Since it wasn’t sealed and since he was about to become Rodney’s husband, John opened it and read it growing outraged.

Refused!

Refused before he even had the chance to offer!

He wasn’t a vain main nor was he overly egotistical but he was admittedly indignant over the contents of the letter. He had never been refused in his life. He couldn’t think of one person he had ever pursued that had turned him away. Although, generally, he was the one being pursued, but that was unimportant. Who exactly did Rodney McKay think he was, not even waiting to hear an offer from John Sheppard before leaving?

John crumpled the note in his fist. His next visit would be to the duke and duchess to find out exactly where Rodney lived so he could track him down and give him a piece of his mind!

***

Upon his arrival home, Rodney began the short journey to Kolya’s country house to visit Jeannie and explain his early return as well as the circumstances behind it in their entirety.

“You’re joking!” she exclaimed.

“Unfortunately, I’m not,” replied Rodney pouring another cup of coffee. It had been a long, arduous ride from Atlantis and it was now late in the day and he was exhausted. He’d spend the night at the house and return to Atlantis in the morning.

“And you didn’t even stay to hear his offer?”

Rodney rolled his eyes. “Of course not. I’m not about to get married, Jeannie, you know that.”

“But, Mer, the scandal!”

He waved his hand. “There might not even be a scandal. And even if there is, it’s not like I’m a societal darling any way. I’ve no care for what they think of me.”

Jeannie bit her lip. “I don’t know, Mer.” She immediately thought of what Rodney had apparently not - their step-father’s reaction.

While he’d never been anything but exceedingly kind and gentle to her, he was a brute to Rodney and Jeannie feared what his response would be should the scandal come to light.

“Would marriage to Sheppard be so bad? I’ve heard a lot of rumors about his… proclivities, but I’ve never heard a word of him being cruel or unkind.”

“It doesn’t matter one way or the other since I’m not marrying him.”

“Oh, Mer, I hope it all turns out, I really do. I just… honestly, how does one stumble into the wrong bedchamber!” she said finally, somewhat outraged at the position that John Sheppard had put her brother in. She had no doubt that Rodney’s story was true - he was an awful liar and couldn’t even play cards with Jeannie without tipping his hand.

Coupled with the fact that Jeannie knew her brother wasn’t one for amorous engagements with persons he’d just met, and she knew that what Rodney had told her was the God’s honest truth.

“I know!” shouted Rodney. “I can hardly believe that the one time I’m involved in a scandal, I had nothing to do with it.”

“True enough,” agreed Jeannie. “I never doubted you would start a scandal, but I always thought it would be your sharp tongue that did it.”

“Well, I can’t help that I’m honest and the majority of people are morons,” Rodney said with a huff.

“Do you think… Mer, if things go horribly and there is a scandal, do you think there’s any chance you’ll change your mind?”

Rodney leveled her with a look. “Jeannie, I’d sooner walk up the pyramids of Egypt.”

***

Unfortunately, John couldn’t leave immediately to return to Atlantis and find Rodney as his brother, David, was expecting him. He set off without delay to his brother’s estate and hoped that he would be able to quickly turn around and head back to Atlantis where he would talk some sense into Rodney McKay.

John wasn’t about to have anyone think he wasn’t honorable and didn’t offer for Rodney. He also wasn’t about to be turned down. The more he’d had time to think on it, the more it made perfect sense.

John was in need of a spouse that would keep the mamas of the ton and their debutante daughters away from him. He had no desire to be saddled with some young innocent who had stars in her eyes about marrying a war veteran. It was one of the reasons he’d taken to avoiding Atlantis during the season. Gone were the days where he could spend the evening ensconced in the smoking chambers, swapping stories with the other young lads. He was too battle-weary for the young men, and the veterans like him had no desire what so ever to repeat anything about what they’d seen on the field. Societal events had become tortuous - the only one he ever attended was the Dex/Emmagen ball.

Nor did he have any desire for children. He would leave passing the title to David and his wife gladly. He liked children just fine, but he’d seen too much bloodshed and horror to have any of his own. He wanted a simple life. A quiet life. A life where his time was his own and he could pursue his dream of breeding horses and perhaps even racing.

Rodney was an intelligent man and, from their brief meeting, appeared to be level-headed. It wasn’t as though they would be married and then have to spend a lot of time together. They could even live in separate houses if necessary. But Rodney would be a stable spouse and by the very fact that he was now off the marriage market, John would gain a measure of peace from society.

It was decided, then. As soon as he explained the situation to David, he would turn around and head back to Atlantis where he would set about making Rodney his husband.

David came out to meet him when he arrived and shook his head seeing John get off a horse.

“You could have let a carriage,” he admonished.

John grinned. “Then I’d miss out on the ride.”

They shook hands warmly. They hadn’t always seen eye to eye but they’d manage to bury any hatchets held between them after their father’s death and John’s tour of war.

“You look good, John.”

“Liar.”

David laughed. “No, it would have been lying if I said you smelled good. Did you stop once between here and Atlantis or is that the stench of two days on you?”

John laughed this time. “I stopped at the Athos Inn last night. Actually, I’ve some news about that you should hear from me first.”

David led the way into the house and glanced back over his shoulder at John. “That doesn’t bode well.”

They entered the study were David poured them both a short drink. “Congratulate me brother, I’m about to be married.”

David’s eyes widened in shock. “You jest.”

“I’m as serious as pack of wolves.”

“Who in their right mind would agree to marry you?” David asked with good humor.

“Well, there’s the trick of it. He hasn’t precisely said yes yet.”

David chuckled. “I can’t imagine anyone’s ever told you no, Johnny.”

“Yes, well in this case, I didn’t even get the chance to ask yet.”

At David’s questioning look, John told him the whole story. He was prepared for his brother to have a good laugh at his expense.

He wasn’t wrong.

“I swear upon my honor, nothing happened,” John said, finishing his drink as he finished the tale.

“I’m sure!” David said, trying to control his laughter. “That’s what makes it all the more amusing! When I think of thing things I know you’ve done…”

“I know, I know,” groaned John.

“The Countess Vitter when her husband was on his deathbed,” David began.

“That man was thirty years her senior. He’d been on his deathbed for years and is still to this day on his deathbed,” John defended.

“The Baronet DeVille,” countered David. “While her husband was away in France.”

“She approached me and I was not of an age where I would have said no. I was only nineteen. What young man would say no to her?”

“The Viscount Marten?”

John grimaced. “All right, yes, that was a horrid idea. I had no notion he would get so attached.”

“Our governess,” finished David.

“It was her duty to instruct us,” John said cheekily. “And I assure you, it was all her idea.”

“I know! It’s always their idea and you never see it coming.”

John sighed. “I really don’t,” he admitted.

David finished his drink as well. “John, are you sure about this? I know you feel somewhat… obliged to make an offer, but if you say nothing happened…”

“I admit, when I first realized what I’d gotten into, I was beside myself with my own idiocy. But, on the ride out here, I had some time to think about it. It’s not a terrible idea. He’s intelligent. He could entertain himself and wouldn’t always be reliant on me. He seems to dislike society as much as I do so I won’t be dragged around Atlantis. And he’s no hardship on the eyes.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to be caught in the bedchamber of anyone who was,” David teased. “But I don’t want you doing anything you don’t want to do.”

God, wasn’t that the story of his life, John thought. He often thought that the reason he was so wild in his personal life was to make up for all the other times he had to buckle down and do what needed to be done. But when he thought about marrying Rodney McKay, he didn’t get that sick, vice-like feeling in his chest that normally came with him going against his own wishes.

He felt strangely calm and sure.

“I think it would do me well to be settled,” John concluded. “Which is why I regret to tell you I can only stay a day or so and then I must turn around and be off back to Atlantis. I’ve a proposal to make.”

“Let’s hope this time he sticks around to hear it.”

***

Rodney should never have stayed at the cottage with Jeannie.

He should have told her what happened and then gotten back on his horse and returned to Atlantis, regardless of the fact that it would leave him traveling until midnight.

Jeannie had assured him that Kolya was in Atlantis on business and wouldn’t return for another two days, by which time, Rodney would be back in Atlantis himself.

Despite his monstrously intelligent brain and higher learning functions, he must still have all the necessary survival instincts of his evolutionary ancestors, because he woke up bare seconds before Kolya’s cane came crashing down on his chest and managed to turn to his side slightly and take most of the blow on his ribs, instead of dead in the center of his torso.

Pain blossomed across his side and radiated through the bones, reverberating not unlike a set of strings and if the agony hadn’t been so pristine, Rodney was sure he could have derived some kind of mathematical formula to represent it. As it was, he barely had time to register it before another blow came raining down on the turn of his elbow and sharp spikes of hot torture tromped up and down from his elbow to his wrist and shoulder.

“Did you ever once think of what bearing your actions would have on me? On your sister?”

Another blow was coming and Rodney managed to roll out of bed, landing hard on the floor and heard the swoosh of the cane as it sailed through the air and landed on the mattress. He staggered to his feet, fighting against the pain in his side and arm.

“Are you absolutely insane?” Rodney shouted. “Is this the final stages of alcoholic psychosis?”

The cane whipped out lighting fast and caught Rodney again on the same elbow and he squawked in pain.

“Don’t you take that tone with me, boy,” Kolya rasped.

“Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you?” Rodney rallied, this time managing to dodge the cane as it came swinging around.

“I heard about your little… dalliance.”

Rodney rolled his eyes. Kolya was a brute and a savage but this was too much.

“So you decided to come in here and beat me in my sleep? Brilliant. You know, you’re a prime example against natural selection. The fact that your biology ever made it this far is astounding.”

“I spent the day hearing about your escapade. It’s all over Atlantis by now. I’m a laughing stock, the father of tramp.”

The hard wooden cane again whipped around and hit his elbow again and this time Rodney shouted.

“First of all, you are not my father. Second of all, I’m not surprised that the kind of company you keep takes stock in gossip. Third of all, it’s no concern of yours!”

The cane came about again, striking Rodney on the meaty part of his thigh and Rodney cursed.

“You always think hitting me will help. That’s your solution for everything isn’t it. Hit it. Like an ape confronted with a box it can’t open, you’ll smash it, destroy it just to get inside.”

As he reeled back from the latest blow, this one to his face (his face!) he thought that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to get into a shouting match with a man with a stick who knew how to use it but words always had been Rodney’s best defense. His world exploded and he saw stars, real stars in his eyes, from the force. He stumbled back against the wall and slid down.

“Fucking madman, that’s what you are. Jeannie!” Rodney shouted, his words slightly slurred through his swelling lip. “Pack your bags, we’re leaving!”

Kolya advanced to come up and over the bed at Rodney and Rodney kicked out with his foot, jarring the frame. In his drunk state, Kolya stumbled and fell, cane flying out of his hands and landing next to Rodney. Rodney snatched it up and swung, cracking Kolya across the face and breaking his nose in a fantastic spray of blood just as Jeannie came skidding through the door.

“Jesus,” she breathed, completely forgetting that she wasn’t supposed to know how to curse. “Mer!” Jeannie came to his side and then turned savage eyes on Kolya.

“What did you do?”

“He’ll ruin us all,” Kolya said, cupping under his nose to catch the blood. “I’ve done my best by him, taken him in, looked after him but his attitude is too much. He needs to be tamed. Broken.”

“Oh shut up!” Jeannie exclaimed and Kolya seemed taken aback. Even Rodney blinked at his sister.

“My whole life I’ve listened to you belittle him and berate him and on occasion beat him. And what’s worse is you’ve never done any of that to me. I would almost prefer it if you treated us both horribly because then I could say it was just the way you are. But you’re not. You’ve been kind to me, gentle to me, so I know you have it in you. I’ve tried to respect you because you’re the only father I have every known, but… why?”

“It doesn’t matter, Jeannie,” Rodney mumbled through his broken lip, pushing himself to his feet.

“It matters to me!” she stated hotly as she helped Rodney up. “Why?” she shot back at Kolya.

Kolya turned dark, mean eyes on Rodney. “I hated him as soon as I saw him. He looked at me like he would defy me.”

Jeannie rolled her eyes. “Oh for heaven’s sake that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Are you listening to yourself?”

Jeannie and Rodney moved their way past Kolya and toward the door and Rodney poked him hard in the stomach with the cane on his way out.

“I’ll send for my things,” Jeannie said coldly.

Rodney was glad he only brought one change of clothes as he was pretty sure that his things would be torched as soon as he left.

“I hope to never see you again,” he said on his way out.

***

John ended up staying at the estate with David for a day longer than he had planned. One of the mares had trouble foaling and with his experience with and knowledge about horses, David had asked him to stay and see it through.

Finally back in Atlantis he set off for the Duke and Duchess’ residence wanting to pay his respects and inform the Duke that he still intended to offer for Rodney.

It occurred to him on the ride to Atlantis that where his future husband lived was the least of things he didn’t know about him, so he decided to do some reconnaissance before setting off to the Duke’s.

He stopped off at his gentleman’s club where he had the good fortune to run into Evan Lorne. While not as close as rumors of the ton claimed (noting them as intimatefriends) John still considered him a close friend and a respected peer. He took the time to congratulate Lorne on his engagement to the Widow Wier (who he also was close friends with but not as close as the gossips would believe) and then asked him a few pointed questions about McKay.

Lorne eyed him knowingly.

“I take it you’ve heard then” John said with a sigh.

Lorne’s eyes twinkled in amusement. “All of Atlantis has heard, I daresay, Sheppard. I’ve heard several variations of the tale. In some you are partially clothed while in others you are stark, raving naked as a jaybird. And there was this one where you were wearing some sort of restraining device -”

“Yes, yes,” John cut him off. “Society has had their way with it and I’m sure by the end of the week there’ll be exotic creatures involved as well. But have you heard anything from McKay’s camp?”

Lorne took a drag of his cigar. They were lounging in a set of chairs off to one side of the gaming room. “The thing of it is, it doesn’t appear McKay has a camp.”

“What? Surely he must have friends.”

“Everyone has friends, but McKay has very few and the few he has aren’t talking. I know of a doctor, a Carson Beckett and he’s not breathed a word of it. There’s also a fellow from Bohemia, another scientist, Zelenka is his name. To hear him argue with McKay you wouldn’t think they were friends, but I gather they’re colleagues of a sort and he’s not said a word either. And as it happens, Elizabeth also knows McKay. He lectures at a scientific gathering she’s a part of. She’s not seen him since the scandal broke.”

“But he has returned to Atlantis,” Sheppard intoned, leaning in.

Lorne nodded. “That’s the rumor. But he hasn’t been seen since. And the newest gossip is that his sister has moved in with the duke and duchess.” Lorne paused, taking another hit off his cigar. “Are you truly going to offer for him?” he asked, disbelief tinging his words.

Sheppard grinned ruefully. “That’s the plan.”

Lorne looked amused and astonished at the same time. “Well, you’ll put the gossips to shame then. The word about town is that you never intended to offer for the likes of McKay.”

John immediately frowned insulted on both his own behalf and Rodney’s. “Why not?”

Lorne gave him a sheepish smile. “Sheppard, you’ve… made the rounds, shall we say, although you’ve always been upfront about your intentions and dare I say it, you’ve never had one go completely and totally sour on you. There’s a fair lot that said you’d never take a ring nor hand one out. I can think of several hopeful mamas of the ton who will be despondent over it. You’ll be breaking hearts all over Atlantis.”

“Is that the only reason?” John asked carefully.

Lorne tipped his head for a moment. “From what I’ve heard of McKay he’s… abrasive. Although brilliant. But Liz speaks highly of him. And I think it says something that the friends he does have aren’t flapping their gums all over town. You don’t get that kind of loyalty by accident.”

“You’ll make a damn fine politician, Lorne. That was one hell of an answer.”

Lorne laughed. “Well, I consider you a friend, Sheppard and I certainly wouldn’t want to bad-mouth the man you intend to make your husband.”

John stood. “And I thank you for it.”

“I hope I’ll be invited to the wedding,” Lorne said, still grinning. “If you can get him to say yes.”

“Oh, he’ll say yes,” John said confidently.

John stayed to have a drink with Lorne and then bid his goodbyes and headed to the Duke and Duchess’ where he hoped to get McKay’s current whereabouts and reassure the Duke that he of course planned to make good on his offer.

Their somber butler greeted him at the door.

“Sir, I regret to inform you that his Grace and her laydship are not at home at the moment.”

John frowned. “When do you expect them back?”

“If you care to wait, I do expect them home shortly. May I escort you to the library?”

John nodded as he stepped inside and handed off his coat. “Yes, I would appreciate that.”

The butler led the way through the grand foyer and then down the mirrored hall. John remembered well playing in the hallway as a child. It was the absolute worst when playing hide and seek with Mitch. They had a rule that you could move from your hiding spot but if you were caught moving, it was a double penalty and you had to seek two times in a row. The mirrored hallway was their nemesis and downfall far too often, enabling the seeker to see the hider moving from great distances.

He smiled fondly at the memory.

The butler opened the door to the library and John was surprised to see a young blonde woman seated on the chaise lounge reading a book. She looked up expectantly, a pleasant expression in her bright blue eyes.

“Oh hello,” she said with a smile. She stood in order to curtsey slightly for him.

The butler stepped forward.

“Miss Jeannette McKay, may I present the Marquis John Sheppard,” the butler said.

“McKay,” John said with a questioning tone at the same time Jeannie’s mouth dropped open in outrage.

“You!” she snapped.

She stepped forward and slapped him with her gloves.

The butler gasped and John turned to him.

“Thank you, that will be all.”

The butler gave him a dubious look but took his leave.

“I take you’ve heard of me,” John said with a rueful grin.

“Oh, I’ve heard,” Jeannie said, crossing her arms over her chest and eyeballing him suspiciously.

“So you’re Rodney’s…” John looked at her critically. “Sister?” he guessed.

“You have it in one, Mr. Sheppard.”

“Please, call me John. After all, we’re going to be family.”

Jeannie squawked in outrage and John had to smile; she sounded just like Rodney.

“I cannot believe you!” she exclaimed. “You have the nerve to waltz in here with your…” she gestured madly with flapping hands.

Most definitely Rodney’s sister.

“Your flouncy hair and your slouching posture as if you don’t have a care in the world. Only a complete moron would stumble into the wrong bed chamber.”

John had the grace to blush. “Yes, well, I don’t normally allow myself to drink so much and in my defense the door was unlocked.” He gave her his easy, charming smile.

“Oh, don’ t you give me that smile, Mr. Sheppard. Do you have any idea what you’ve set off?”

John opened his mouth to say that he didn’t know what she was talking about when she cut him off.

“I’ll tell you what you’ve set off. I’ve left my home, the house I grew up in and had to impose on my relations. God only knows for how long and I can only thank my lucky stars that I have such relations to impose upon. And Mer! Poor Mer’s arm is nearly broken in half and possibly several ribs as well. That’s what you’ve set off and you have the nerve to stand there and smile at me!”

John shook his head, confused. “What? What happened to Rodney? What are you talking about?”

She stared at him for a moment and then looked him up and down. “You really have no idea, do you?”

“No,” he said truthfully. “I was on my way to my brother’s estate and after…” the compromising position I found myself in that ended up with me on top of your brother “… the incident at the Inn, I had to continue my journey there, but only stayed long enough to inform him that I was returning to Atlantis to offer for your brother. Which I would have done at the Athos Inn had he not run off,” he finished, a tone of justification in his voice.

“Yes, well,” replied Jeannie picking at an imaginary thread on her gown. “Mer is very headstrong. But honestly,” she placed her hands on her hips, “stumbling into the wrong bedchamber?”

“Yes, yes,” John said, fighting with his embarrassment and losing as he felt the tips of his ears go hot. “Not my finest moment. But what is this about Rodney being hurt?”

Jeannie pursed her lips together, regarding him for a moment and then took a seat on the chaise lounge.

“I don’t know that it’s any of your concern, Mr. Sheppard.”

“Miss McKay, I plan on marrying your brother. Anything that concerns him, concerns me.”

“Mer states he will not have you,” she said plainly.

“I intend to change his mind.”

She tapped her fingers against her leg as she watched him. “My brother is a genius. He’s always intended to publish his work under his own name,” she said, testing him.

“And so he still may. I have no interest in taking his work and putting my name on it. If the rules need to be changed, then we’ll change them,” John replied easily.

John could tell his answer surprised and pleased her.

“Mer can be… difficult. What makes you think you would even be suited for each other?”

“I can’t see why we wouldn’t be. He’s intelligent. I like intelligent,” John answered baldly. “He’s attractive. I like attractive.” John smiled.

A small laugh escaped Jeannie. “So I’ve heard, Mr. Sheppard.”

“Miss McKay, I fully intend to marry your brother. I’m aware that my actions have placed him in an awkward situation and while it certainly was unexpected, I am a man of my word and I swore to do right by him.”

“Hmph,” Jeannie said curtly thinking on his words, drumming her fingers on her skirt.

“Please?” he said, the picture of earnest.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh good Lord, I can see why you have the reputation you do. You are a charming devil,” she said ruefully. “Take a seat and I’ll tell you.”

He nearly fell over his own feet scrambling for a chair near to her.

“It pains me to admit that although my stepfather has always treated me as his own and shown me every kindness, it was not the case with Mer. I love my brother dearly but he’s not the easiest person in the world and he didn’t help matters either. Not that any of it was his fault, after all he was just a child when my mother remarried but still…” she trailed off.

John was beginning to see that all the McKays were talkers.

“At any rate, my stepfather has a particular dislike for him and the… incident at the Athos Inn… well I can only suppose that it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. My stepfather is an overly proud man and he seemed to take slight from the gossip about town and I believe his previous feelings toward Mer colored the situation greatly and Mer happened to be staying over the night after visiting with me and the fact of the matter is…”

She trailed off again taking a deep breath and fiddling again with some imaginary flaw in her skirt.

“The fact of the matter is,” she repeated, seeming to steel herself. “That he burst into Mer’s room and attempted to beat him soundly with his cane.”

“He what?” asked John darkly.

“Yes. Well. He was drunk and it’s not an excuse but it contributed to the event at any rate.”

“He beat your brother with his cane?” John’s tone was hard and sharp.

“Yes. So we left. I sent for my things the very next day. I sent for Mer’s as well, but my stepfather said there was nothing so I can only assume that he destroyed them. And I’ve moved in here with my aunt and uncle. So, that is what your drunken idiocy has set off, Mr. Sheppard. My brother is fodder for the gossips and injured to boot, and I am now homeless.”

“Where is your brother now?”

“Staying with friends. He did not wish to impose upon the duke and duchess in this matter and truth be told, he needs some assistance as his right arm is badly hurt.”

John stood. “I must see him immediately. I assure you Miss McKay, I had no idea any of this had transpired. Had I known, I would not have been so tardy in my return to Atlantis. Praytell, Miss McKay, where might I find him?”

Jeannie stood as well. “Mr. Sheppard, I must ask again; are you serious in your offer for my brother?”

“I am.”

“And you would treat him well and allow him to publish his work under his own name?”

“I would.”

“I should warn you, my brother is a genius and I am brilliant as well. Should you lure him in only to be duplicitous or unsavory, he’ll likely devise some machination to kill you in your sleep and I would assist him.”

John smiled ruefully. “I would expect no less.”

“Very well. He can be found staying with Dr. Carson Beckett and his wife Laura on Arcturus Avenue.”

John bowed slightly. “I thank you.”

Jeannie huffed in amusement. “You may feel differently when you see him. He’ll not be happy to see you.”

“Then I shall have to change his mind.”

“Good luck. You’ll need it.”

John only stayed long enough for the duke and duchess to return and for him to have a very short meeting with the duke wherein he reaffirmed his pledge to Rodney.

Seeing the affection with which the duchess and duke treated John raised him in Jeannie’s estimation. So much so that she found herself chasing him down the walkway as he was leaving.

“Mr. Sheppard!” she called out, her skirts billowing as she ran down the cobblestone. He stepped back toward the house, away from his curricle to shorten her journey.

“You mentioned you like intelligent. That is that you like my brother because he’s intelligent.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” John said.

Jeannie bounced on her toes momentarily, hesitating and then spoke again.

“So does he. Like intelligent, I mean.”

John smiled. “Miss McKay, are you assisting me in winning over your brother?”

She pursed her lips together. “Just don’t screw it up. He’s the only brother I’ve got.”

***

John found himself outside Beckett’s door just after suppertime. It was not common to see a man of his title driving his own curricle around town and John tried to ignore the gawkers who openly gaped as they strolled past. He gave a few curt nods and tight smiles, grateful when he heard the creak of the door opening.

“Yes?” said the man who opened the door before recognition flared across his face. “Bloody hell, it’s you.”

“Dr. Beckett, I presume?”

“Aye, I’m the man and you’re the sodding idiot who started this whole mess, aren’t you, Mr. Sheppard?”

“I see my reputation proceeds me. Is Rodney McKay at home?”

Carson came out of the doorway and onto the step, deftly swinging the door partially shut as he did.

“I’m sorry to address a man of your rank and privilege this way, but what in bloody hell are you doing here, sir?”

“I’ve come to offer marriage to Rodney McKay,” John stated calmly.

Carson stared at him as though he were mad. “Are you daft? He’ll no’ have you.”

“Well, then it should be no hardship to at least let me offer,” John countered.

“Look, I’m not sure how much ye know, but Rodney’s had a wee spot of trouble since you last saw him and I’m not entirely sure-”

“I’ve heard. All the more reason for me to make him see some sense and reason and marry me.”

For a man that everyone claimed was abrasive and sharp, he sure had people falling over themselves to protect him, John thought.

“Right, well, that’s going to go over about as well as a lead cannon ball,” Carson muttered.

“Mr. Beckett…”

“Dr. Beckett,” Carson corrected.

“Of course. Dr. Beckett. I intend to offer for Rodney. Whether you let me into the house tonight or I return tomorrow or I wait until I catch him leaving the house next week, my honor demands that I make this offer and make it I shall.”

Carson eyeballed him for a full ten seconds before tossing his hand up. “Och, all right, you daft fool He’ll likely just tear a strip of skin of you a mile wide and that will be the end of that.”

Carson stomped back into the house and John followed, stopping in the hallway to remove his coat and gloves.

“Laura, dear,” Carson shouted up the stairs. “Would you be a lass and tell Rodney he’s got a visitor.”

Carson’s wife came to the top of the stairs. “You have a piano tied to your behind? Tell him yourself, he’s in the library,” she said with good nature and John smirked.

“I told him to rest,” Carson said, head tilted back to speak to his wife.

“He said he was only going to use his brain and that he would hardly strain his ribs thinking,” she called down.

John loved the casual domesticity of it. His parents would sooner have shot themselves than shouted at one another. Laura came down the stairs and gave John a quick curtsy.

“Mr. Sheppard,” she said with a knowing smile.

“Mrs. Beckett,” he replied with a bow.

“Aye, Laura Beckett, my wife, the Marquis John Sheppard,” Carson said, going through the introductions quickly. “He’s here to offer for Rodney.”

“Mr. Sheppard, would you be horribly offended if I listened through the door?”

“Laura!” Carson said, shocked.

“What? I’ve simply got to know how this all turns out.”

“Not only may you listen at the door,” John said affably, “You’re invited to the wedding.”

Laura clapped her hands together gleefully and started walking down the hallway, beckoning John after her. She stopped next to a closed door and knocked once, sweeping it open.

“Rodney, Mr. Sheppard is here to see you.”

“Tell him I’m not here,” Rodney replied without looking up from his journals. He didn’t see Sheppard standing right behind Laura in the doorway.

Laura suppressed a smile. “I think he knows you’re here,” she said.

“Tell him I’m busy.”

“Surely you can take a short break?” John said as he stepped into the room.

Rodney jerked up in surprise and winced as his ribs protested the movement. As he stared up at John, John got a good look at what Kolya’s cane had done to Rodney.

A spectacular bruise blossomed across the whole of Rodney’s right jawbone. It spread partially up his cheek and was still a livid shade of red-purple, not yet having time to heal. John’s familiarity with wounds from the battlefield allowed him to know it would turn a particularly grotesque yellow green shade for weeks before finally settling out. Rodney’s lower lip was swollen on the same side although it wasn’t split, so that was some small measure of mercy. His right arm was in a sling and as he stood, grimacing in pain to face Sheppard, Rodney kept his arm tucked close into his body.

“What are you doing here?” Rodney demanded.

“I came to speak with you. Where is your stepfather?” John asked immediately.

Rodney frowned in confusion at the question. “With any luck, drowning in his own vomit. But most likely he’s at his cottage. Why?”

“I believe I will pay him a visit.”

“Whatever for?”

John ignored the question. “May I have a seat?”

“I don’t care,” Rodney said honestly. “Look, Sheppard, why are you here?” Rodney repeated.

John stood stiffly. For all his talk about making his offer, about knowing that he’d have to talk Rodney into it, now that the time had arrived, he was strangely nervous. Well, it was like ripping a bandage off. Best to have it done quickly.

“Rodney McKay, I’m here to offer marriage. Will you marry me?”

Rodney stared at him. “No. Thank you and good day.”

While he knew the initial answer would be ‘no’ John was still surprised at the speed at which it happened.

“I’m afraid I can’t take no for an answer,” John said watching Rodney carefully. Rodney held himself stiffly, at a distance from John as though he was afraid John would suddenly reach out a finger to poke him and tip him over.

Rodney continued to stare at him. “You’ll have to. It’s the only answer you’re going to get.”

“My honor necessitates that we are married,” John pressed on.

“If your honor had the sense that god gave a goat it would have put you in the correct bedchamber that night and we wouldn’t have to have this conversation,” Rodney snapped.

John was sure that if his ears continued to get this hot every time someone mentioned the stupidity of his actions, they would eventually melt.

“If I could go back and change the past I would, but sadly no one has that kind of power.”

“Give me a few years and I’ll build you a time machine!” Rodney retorted. He was tired and in pain. His ribs ached constantly matched in tune by the ache in his elbow and face. He did not have the inclination to stand here and fantasize about marrying a man like Sheppard.

Handsome, rich men like Sheppard did not make offers for men like him. Rodney knew he was brilliant and he didn’t have to wear a burlap sack over his head to go out, but he was horrible with people. He opened his mouth and things just came out. Honest things, unpleasant things, things that were sometimes too truthful to be uttered in polite society. He was a scientist, a theorist. A man of ideas and equations.

Sheppard was a man of action and war. If Sir Isaac Newton had a John Sheppard around he could have used him to study gravitation. People gravitated to Sheppard like moths to a flame, desperate to be part of the warmth and light. Rodney knew all about John Sheppard; all of society knew of John Sheppard.

Men like Sheppard ended up marrying beautiful, witty women with devastating figures and impeccable senses of propriety.

They did not marry men like Rodney McKay.

“Rodney,” John began and took a step closer. Rodney regarded him as though he was some kind of strange science experiment - looking him up and down. “I realize that my actions have placed you and your sister -”

“You don’t even know Jeannie!”

“I met your sister this afternoon at the duke’s house. She explained to me what happened with your stepfather. About how the incident at the Inn set it off.”

Rodney rolled his eyes. “Kolya was a brute long before you stumbled into my bedchamber and he’ll continue to be a brute long after.”

“Still, it appears that you suffered somewhat of a beating and your sister is now homeless.”

Rodney fidgeted uncomfortably. “As soon as I can publish some papers, I’ll be able to have Jeannie come live with me. We’ve both small inheritances from our mother and after I heal, I can take on some work and we’ll be fine.”

Damn the man, and his earnest eyes, thought Rodney. John Sheppard stood there staring at him with his chameleon eyes and Rodney thought… well it made him think… it was as if he actually cared what happened to him and Jeannie.

“But what if you didn't have to?” asked John. “Publishing could take years. I’m a very wealthy man, Rodney. I could easily provide a dowry for Jeannie and she could come live with me. With us.”

“Why are you doing this?”

John blinked in confusion. “As I’ve said, I’ve placed you in an unfavorable position and I wish to rectify it.”

“By marrying me? Sheppard -”

“You said you would call me John.”

“John,” Rodney acquiesced quietly.

Rodney was weighing it over; Sheppard’s offer of providing a dowry for Jeannie, of allowing Jeannie to live with him, with them was by far the most tempting offer he’d ever heard. As much as he hated being the center of a scandal, he knew it would pass as soon as something new came up and the only true worry he had was that when he finally did publish under his own name, some classless moron would remember and bring it up.

And then Kolya had gone off the deep end and Jeannie had moved out. While Rodney always worried and looked out of his sister, he was now the reason she had no home and he was determined to provide for her. It smacked slightly of selling himself and that rankled. But it seemed that John Sheppard was somehow, madly, crazily, and insanely sincere in his offer for him.

“What of my scientific papers?” Rodney asked. Experience had taught him that his papers were very often the first thing on others’ minds. He’d been the apple of many people’s eyes simply for his papers and the prestige they would bring.

“They are yours. I have no interest in publishing anything under my name,” John said without hesitation.

John had to stop himself from grinning like madman. Rodney was going to say yes. John could tell from the way Rodney shifted slightly, no longer holding himself up rigidly, but letting his muscles relax slightly.

Rodney’s chin jutted out. “And you’ll provide a dowry for Jeannie? A suitable dowry? I won’t have her marrying some toad.”

“I’ll have my solicitor draw up the papers and you can look them over yourself or have a solicitor of your choosing review them.”

Rodney was still hesitating slightly, on the precipice of saying yes, looking out into the yawning abyss of the unknown. His brow furrowed with the uncertainty.

John smiled and took a step toward him. “Marry me,” he cajoled.

Sheppard wasn’t after his papers and truly, that had been Rodney’s number one reason up until this point in his life for not getting married. And now with Jeannie…

Rodney’s head nodded once. “All right.”

Laura Beckett’s joyous whoop was heard quite clearly through the solid door, as was Carson’s loud shushing as he tried to steer her away from the library.

“You should kiss him!” Laura shouted before Carson finally dragged her away and John wasn’t sure if she was yelling at him or Rodney, but it seemed like a fine idea.

John stepped closer to Rodney and Rodney got this wide-eyed look and trying to appear as non-threatening as possible, John ducked his head slightly and looked up through his eyelashes at Rodney.

He had this sudden thought that Rodney was like a rabbit in the wild and if John moved too quickly, Rodney would bolt. John cupped one hand around Rodney’s neck firmly and leaned in.

Unaware of what he was doing, Rodney leaned his head awkwardly back, turning his head slightly and watching John with rapt attention.

“You don’t have to kiss me,” Rodney said suddenly.

John inched his body forward until he could feel the heat of Rodney’s body against his own. “Don’t you think we should give it a try? See if we’re compatible?”

Rodney didn’t move, his eyes going slightly crossed as John tipped his head forward millimeters. Suddenly Rodney jerked his head back.

“What if we aren’t?”

“What?”

“Compatible. What if we’re not?”

Okay, John had pretty much said that just for something to say but Rodney had this look on his face like he was seriously concerned it wasn’t going to work out.

“I’m pretty sure we will be,” John replied easily, closing the distance between them once again, using his hand on the back of Rodney’s neck to apply slight pressure to bring him closer.

“How? How do you know? You’ve no empirical -mmph-”

So it appeared the best way to shut Rodney McKay up was to otherwise occupy his mouth. John surged forward, slotting his lips firmly against Rodney’s. He still had his one hand on the back of Rodney’s neck and he slid his other arm around Rodney’s solid body to press him close, careful where Rodney’s arm was still in a sling across his chest. He could feel Rodney’s free hand flutter uncertainly around his neck, shoulders and upper arms before finally clutching as his bicep.

Rodney’s touch was hesitant, light, as if he expected John to pull away at any moment. John pulled Rodney closer to him and darted his tongue out to lick at the seam of Rodney’s lips. As soon as Rodney parted his lips slightly, John dove his tongue in and deftly used his one hand to slightly tilt Rodney’s head to give him better access to lick his way into Rodney’s hot mouth. Rodney’s tongue tentatively brushed against his and something about the combination of Rodney’s brusque manner but shy kiss made John’s chest tighten in a warm, pleasant way.

Rodney let out a soft little sigh and John felt the need to press in closer, harder. He wanted to bruise Rodney’s lips with his own. His arm tightened around Rodney without thinking and Rodney jerked back and let out a pained gasp.

“My arm, my ribs,” Rodney muttered and John immediately loosened his grip but didn’t let go.

“Sorry, sorry,” he breathed against Rodney’s mouth, brushing their noses together and dusting his lips against Rodney’s again. John brought his hand to the uninjured side of Rodney’s face, tipping their foreheads together and rubbing his thumb over the faint stubble there. John took a deep steadying breath. He really hadn’t been prepared for that. He thought he would kiss Rodney, it would be a perfunctory way to unofficially seal their engagement and that would be it.

But now he found himself dangerously close to pressing himself forward, crushing his hips against Rodney’s and thoughtlessly grinding against them. And Jesus, he was not a boy of fourteen anymore with no control over his body or will.

The ludicrous thought that this wasn’t even his house ran across his brain. He’d done a lot of things in the past, a lot of stupid, albeit really fun things but he’d always been aware they were stupid at the time and made the conscious decision to do them. This was completely new and foreign to him.

He belatedly realized that he was still standing there, with his forehead pressed to Rodney’s, breathing in shared air and rubbing his thumb absently over Rodney’s jaw. He opened his eyes and stepped back.

Rodney was eyeing him like he was some strange, unknown creature. His good arm came up to clutch carefully at his injured one. Rodney blinked in rapid succession and John took a brief moment to take in the sight of a kiss-quieted Rodney.

John smiled. “See, perfectly compatible.”

***

As weddings go, it could have been worse.

John’s solicitor had sent a marriage agreement over the very next day and after perusing it with a fine tooth comb and checking for loopholes, Rodney was satisfied. Jeannie would be provided with a sizable dowry and John wouldn’t publish any of Rodney’s papers.

The marriage was a go.

Rodney had made it clear that he would not tolerate a big ceremony. Despite protests from the duchess, Jeannie and Laura, Rodney was adamant that a simple service with a clergyman was all that was required.

The duchess threatened to cry. She begged Rodney to change his mind. They could plan the wedding for a few months time and in those months she would have doves shipped in from all over the county that could be released as they were married to the sounds of bells ringing.

Rodney said that sounded lovely and he was sure all the hunters in the area would enjoy a good dove stew after they were all shot.

The duchess was not daunted. She would bring in flowers from the Orient to rain petals as he walked down the aisle.

That would be fantastic, Rodney claimed and as soon as he died from certain allergic shock, they could make a horridly beautiful funeral wreath from the same petals.

The duchess suggested a harpsichord playing in the background, with perhaps some violinists for accompaniment.

He really didn’t have a downside to that and felt like the duchess needed a win so he said that sounded like a ‘not too terrible idea’ and she rushed off to book the musicians.

Two whirlwind days later, in which he didn’t actually get the chance to see Sheppard, Rodney found himself staring at the doorway that led to the clergyman’s small chamber where he was about to be married.

Married.

He’d been taken out by the duke and fitted for a new suit - a dark navy full length morning-suit with a light blue silk cravat and a pristine white shirt. The duchess had taken Jeannie out for a matching dress of the same shade as Jeannie was to walk him down the aisle.

His sister stood next to him, looked him over once and taking in his expression spoke.

“If you vomit, aim for the flower pot,” she said, pointing to the vase on the table just outside the door. “And for god’s sake, don’t get any on you. Or me. I mean definitely not me, but certainly not you.”

“Jeannie?” What had he been thinking, really? It had all seemed rather simple the other day, but now standing here, knowing that there were people waiting to stare at him on the other side of the door….

He was used to giving lectures and having people look at him for what his brain was saying. He could stand and lecture for hours on things he knew about. But marriage! This was completely outside his known elements. He needed a book or a thesis or a course or something.

“I think I have some mint leaves in my satchel and you could probably chew one if you do vomit. But you’ll have to swallow it because I’m not taking it back from you.”

“Jeannie?” he repeated, feeling a cold sweat break out on his upper lip. His cravat was too tight and he pulled on it. He couldn’t breathe. This was a horrible idea. He couldn’t marry Sheppard, he didn’t even know the man!

He heard the harpsichord music start up. He’d eschewed a formal rehearsal promising the duchess that he would enter on the fourth bar and take no more than three bars to get to the end of the aisle.

“I’ve been to three weddings, Mer, so trust me on this,” Jeannie continued on, ignoring his panicked face. She slapped his jittery hand out of the way and fixed his cravat. “I don’t mean to be crude, but when you kiss him at the end keep your tongue in your own mouth. I know, I know, it’s crass of me to say, but I was at the Monteroy wedding just last year and Christ almighty, no one needed to see that.”

Jeannie’s head jerked to the side as she heard the music, her blonde curls bouncing and she was suddenly behind him giving him a big push.

“Your cue, Mer,” Jeannie hissed.

He had no choice but to stumble into the room. Jeannie hopped in quickly after him and smiled with a short curtsey as though she didn’t just cattle prod her brother into the room.

With shaky legs, Rodney managed a few steps until he caught sight of the duchess who scowled and mouthed the words three bars. Having no idea how many bars he’d already used up, Rodney panicked and looked around.

He suddenly caught Sheppard’s eye at the front of the alter. Sheppard stood there calm, somewhat stoic and seemed completely unflappable as he mouthed the words second bar and then nodded his head to the beat of the music.

Rodney swallowed thickly and picked up on the count from Sheppard. He glanced around. He recognized Zelenka who gave him a smile, and the Widow Elizabeth Wier with a man Rodney had never seen before, presumably her fiance. Laura and Carson Beckett were there as well. Carson gave him a soothing grin and Laura threw rice on him as he walked by.

“That’s for after,” he scowled.

She shrugged gleefully and tossed another handful at him.

Jeannie poked him in the back and he continued the last few steps to the alter, noting some people on Sheppard’s side of the room but not knowing who any of them were. He assumed the blond man was Sheppard’s brother, David and the woman next to him was his wife. There were a few military men seated as well.

Sheppard himself was dressed in his formal military wear, complete with his saber and ammunition belt with gun.

Rodney swallowed hard again. Sheppard looked good.

Really, really good.

This was a horrible idea.

Sheppard smiled at him as Rodney finally stepped up to his right, and then took Rodney’s uninjured arm easily, draping it over his own. Rodney wondered if Sheppard could feel him shaking a little and hoped not.

The clergyman staggered forward and if he wasn’t at least one-hundred years old, Rodney would eat his cravat. He had some vague recollection of the duchess being ecstatic that she was able to procure the same clergyman who presided over her own wedding. The clergyman took an inordinate amount of time to clear his throat after the music stopped and out of the corner of his eye, Rodney could see Sheppard’s lips trying not to curve into a smile.

Sheppard had very nice lips.

Rodney focused back on the clergyman who appeared ready to speak.

“Mawidge… mawidge is what bwings us togewer today…”

“Are you joking?” Rodney sputtered and John let out a stifled guffaw from next to him. The clergyman frowned and Rodney turned to Sheppard.

“Is he joking?”

“I’m afraid not, Rodney,” John said, taking in the serious look of near outrage on the clergyman’s face at being interrupted. John himself was trying vainly not to laugh.

“Shall we continue?” the clergyman asked with a solemnly raised eyebrow.

“If you think you can get through the entire ceremony, by all means,” said Rodney.

Rodney heard a snort from Sheppard.

“Mawidge, the bwessed awwangement, that dweam wiffim a dweam…”

***

It was a painfully long ceremony.

Painfully. Long.

The clergyman’s speech impediment had only gotten worse as he became fatigued and both John and Rodney had started to drift.

“And do you, Mewedith Wodney, take John Patwick to be your wuved husband to honow and chewish above all othews?”

At the silence John had turned to look at Rodney who had his eyes closed. John kicked him.

“The answer is 42!” Rodney exclaimed suddenly and then frowned. “Er what? Um, yes. Of course.”

“And John Patwick, do you take Mewedith Wodney to be your wuved husband, to honow and chewish above all othews?”

“I do,” answered John.

“Have you the wings?”

John squinted his eyes at the man for a moment and then Rodney poked him in the ribs. “I think he means rings.”

“Right, yes,” John stammered and produced a small box from his coat. Inside were two simple golden bands with a lemniscate for an engraving.

Rodney reached out and lightly touched the engraving on one and John caught his small smile.

“Wepeat aftewre me,” the clergyman began.

“Okay, yes. I’ve got it. Thank you,” interrupted Rodney. “With this ring I bind myself to you above all others until death do us part.” He slid the ring easily on John’s finger despite the fact that he had to use his left hand to do it.

John smirked at the look of outrage on the clergyman’s face and took Rodney’s ring and repeated the same words, placing the ring on Rodney’s finger.

“By the powew wested in me by the city of Atwantis I now pwonounce you husband and husband. You may kiss.”

As John leaned forward and cupped Rodney’s face, Rodney pinched John’s elbow sharply.

“Jeannie says no tongue,” he whispered fiercely.

John carefully pulled him closer and kissed him soundly, close-lipped. Rodney was stiff in his arms and his mouth was firm under John’s, but after a second, Rodney’s lips softened and John mouthed softly at them and Rodney gave a quiet sigh. Reluctantly, John pulled away. Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Lorne stand up.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your Graces,” Lorne said bowing slightly at the duke and duchess. “May I present the Marquis and Marchioner Sheppard.”

“I’m married,” Rodney said, a little awed.

“We’re married,” John corrected and placed Rodney’s hand on his own and led him out of the room.

***

Sheppard’s country estate was amazing.

Rodney had lodged in some highly esteemed places, near palaces even, and Sheppard’s sprawling place ranked up there with them. It wasn’t opulent, wasn’t gaudy or flashy but everything distinctively said, ‘Why, yes. We are very rich, thank you.’

It wasn’t even the largest Sheppard estate, that being occupied by David and his wife. This was their secondary home.

Rodney stood alone in what was now his shared bedchamber with Sheppard. Someone, he didn’t know who, had cleared out his small apartment and moved all his things into either the bedroom or the small den downstairs. He only had enough for the two rooms.

Their small reception was still going on downstairs but Rodney had found himself overly fatigued from the events of the day, yet also unbearably tense. He had wandered up the stairs and had nearly had the life scared out of him when one of the footmen coughed from behind him and asked if he wanted to be shown to his bedchamber. He’d dumbly nodded and managed to croak out a yes and had been led here.

To his bedroom.

Which was also Sheppard’s bedroom.

The decor was masculine but not overtly so. Clean, simple lines and dark colors. No patterns. Large chair by the fireplace. Door off to the side that led to the bathroom. Functional dresser with nothing adorning it. Heavy velvet drapery over the large window. Small candles burned on night-stands on either side of the bed.

The large bed.

Rodney felt his panic start to return as he stared at the jumbo sized bed.

It was like this: he had dedicated his life to science. He was like a religious man dedicating his life to the pursuit of a higher power. He had given up many things in his pursuit of knowledge, the pursuit of figuring things out, finding out how the universe worked. Sacrifices had to be made and one of those sacrifices was a personal life. In the absence of a time-stretching machine or some radical breakthrough that would show him how to extend the hours in a day, he simply didn’t have enough time to pursue his academic enlightenment and a personal relationship.

Okay, so it was absolutely nothing like that. It was more like this: he was horrible with people. The majority of them were so idiotic it was like fingernails on a chalkboard to his nerves most of the time. He couldn’t stand there watching someone struggle with a concept that was completely inane. In addition, he never saw the point in lying or making social niceties when he didn’t feel them. It was too tiring to keep up with lying all the time, saying someone looked nice when they didn’t, telling someone you were so interested in what they were saying when you weren’t. What was the point? You’d end up continuing to lie and be stuck in the situation. Why do that to yourself? No far better to tell the painfully awkward and brutal truth, extricate yourself and then move on to greener pastures.

Now he found himself married. Married to a rake like John Sheppard and Rodney was standing in his, no their bedroom and he didn’t have a clue what to do.

To be sure, he knew the mechanics of it. How could he not? He’d lived in a small cottage in the country, there were farms nearby, he knew a small amount of animal husbandry. And of course, books. He had never turned down the opportunity to at least flip through any and every book he could get his hands on. Plus, he had a healthy amount of self-experimentation; he knew how his own body worked. But that was a far cry from any sort of practical knowledge.

Part of him scoffed. How hard could it be? If thousands of idiots could do it everyday, than surely so could Rodney McKay. Rodney Sheppard. Rodney McKay-Sheppard.

Hmm, he’d have to talk to Sheppard about the name.

Back to the problem at hand, he was sure he could muddle his way through it.

Although, muddling one’s way through sex didn’t really sound all that appealing.

He was torn. Come clean and tell Sheppard the truth or lie back, think of Atlantis and fake his way through it?

What if he told Sheppard and he laughed? What if Sheppard thought it was funny? God, Rodney would be mortified. And nothing would kill the mood faster than mortification. Right, so definite reason to not tell Sheppard: mortification.

But maybe Sheppard wouldn't mind. Maybe he’d even be pleased. Men still expected women to be chaste before marriage. Oh the double standard! If he were a woman his lack of experience would be lauded, awarded! He’d be praised for having done absolutely nothing about getting rid of his annoying virginity! But as a man…

And frankly, who did everyone think he could be having sex with if all the unmarried women were supposed to stay virginal while the married women were… well married! Mathematically, there simply weren’t enough women to go around which left men as the primary category to draw from, which wasn’t a problem for Rodney, but he knew that not all men thought of other men that way so…

It was a statistical nightmare.

He sighed and trailed his hand over the incredibly soft down blanket on the bed. Wow. That was quality stuff. He stepped closer and then pushed down on the bed feeling the give of the mattress and bedclothes. Cushiony soft yet slightly springy. Definitely a nice bed.

“I see you found the bedroom.”

“I’m quite tired!” Rodney immediately yelped, snatching his hand back from the bed and turning quickly to see Sheppard leaning against the doorframe. Rodney gasped as the movement jarred his ribs.

Sheppard frowned at Rodney’s gasp of pain. “Hey, are you all right? How are your ribs?” He stepped forward with his hands out and Rodney darted out of his grasp.

“Sore, really sore, wow. I think I pushed it too far today and… my arm too, really bad,” Rodney babbled.

John nodded as he eyed Rodney sideways and pulled off his cravat. “I’m sure they are. Listen, I told everyone downstairs they could stay as long as they liked and the servants will take care of them.”

“Oh. But. Don’t. I mean. It’s your party.”

“Well, our party, but it’s not like we have to be there for them to keep drinking and eating. They’ll be fine,” John said with a wave of his hand. He placed his hands on his hips. “I figured you’d need some help.”

Rodney took a step back. “With what?” he said warily.

John gestured easily at Rodney. “With your clothes. Can’t be too easy with your arm.”

Rodney clutched at the center of this jacket, bringing the two edges together. “Oh. It’s fine. Fine. I might not even take it off.”

John raised one eyebrow as he kicked off his own shoes and set them beside the door. “You’re just going to sleep in your wedding suit.”

Rodney’s chin jutted out defiantly. “It’s very cold at night this time of year.”

A smile tugged at John’s lips. “Well, lucky you won’t be in the bed alone then.”

A full blush crept up Rodney’s face and John’s grin broke out in full.

“Look, Rodney, I’m not going to pounce on you.”

“You’re not?” Rodney managed. Then he thought about it. “Why not?”

“Do you want me to?” John asked, tipping his head and eyeing Rodney suddenly quite lasciviously.

“Um no? I mean, it’s just…” truth, lie, truth, lie, truth, lie…. Compromise? “I don’t really know you. And my arm…” He gestured with his good arm.

John nodded. “I figured, and to be honest, I asked Carson how your arm and ribs were doing and pretty much made him blush nine shades of red. I only meant in general but he thought I meant… well,” John gestured awkwardly between himself, Rodney and the bed. “Anyway, he managed to stammer out that you weren’t up for much but sleeping. So, just sleeping. Okay? And we’ll see how you heal up and how we get along and take it from there.”

Rodney was kind of hoping for more of a concrete timeline to work with but he could live with that. He nodded. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem. So. You do need help with your clothes, I take it?”

Rodney nodded again, biting his lower lip slightly in embarrassment.

John stepped toward him and reached up around Rodney’s neck, pulling carefully on the sling Rodney wore. Rodney used his good arm to prop up his bad one and the sling came off, up and over his head. John eased Rodney’s suit jacket off his shoulders and let it fall from Rodney’s good arm first before sliding it gently off Rodney’s bad elbow. Rodney averted his eyes when John stood close and started undoing Rodney’s cravat, looking off to the side. Despite his side slanted gaze, all he could focus on was John’s focused expression as he worked on the complicated knot, unfurling the silk material, his pink tongue poking out between his lips a little as he concentrated.

Rodney felt a shiver of excitement run down his chest, starting from where John’s hands were light and soft around his neck and ending in his groin, hot and delightful. The cravat was finally undone and John slid it out from Rodney’s collar with a quick whip-crack of his wrist, setting the silk down at the foot of the bed. John reached for the buttons of his shirt and Rodney jumped slightly.

“Um…” he stammered.

“What?” John asked and his expression was so open and honest that Rodney could very easily see how half the ton had likely fallen into bed with him. If he looked at them the way he looked at Rodney now, guileless eyes and soft semi-smile… well if the man had spent a night alone in years, Rodney would eat his shoes.

“Er, nothing, nothing,” Rodney stammered and John flashed him a quick grin before setting to work on the buttons.

“I take it Carson’s been helping you with this until now?” John asked, his tone casual as he undid all the buttons.

“Yes,” answered Rodney swallowing thickly as his shirt was opened. He still wasn’t totally naked, he reminded himself. Not by a long shot. He had a mass of bindings around his ribs and his pants on for crying out loud.

But it was the most clothing he’d had off in front of anyone, other than Carson, who was his doctor, in a long, long time.

Maybe ever.

He let John take the shirt off him and caught John’s frown.

“What?” he asked and then immediately wished he hadn’t.

“Your bandages,” said John with a gesture. “Are they uncomfortable?” John asked eyeing the solid rows of stretchy gauze.

“Oh. No. Carson’s very good.”

“You’ve got some bruising coming up over the edge here,” John said and dusted his fingertips lightly over the side of the bandage.

Rodney shivered slightly at the touch and sucked some air. “Yes. Um, Carson said it might take a few weeks for all the bruising to come to the surface.”

John nodded quietly as he set the shirt aside. “I’ve broken ribs before. Takes quite a blow.”

Rodney shifted slightly on his feet. “I suppose,” he answered, not quite sure what he was supposed to say to that.

John reached for Rodney’s pants and Rodney held his own hands out like a shield. “I’ve got it from here,” he said quickly.

John pulled his hands back. “All right.”

Rodney turned around and wished he’d had the foresight to dim some of the light in the room before he started taking his clothes off. He was sure his pale skin was looking absolutely horrendous. He kicked his shoes off and shimmied out of his pants, sitting down to bend over to reach his socks. The bending caused a shot of pain to shoot through his ribs, but he wasn’t about to ask John to pull his socks off his feet. They’d been in shoes all day. That was just… wrong.

He could hear the sound of clothing shuffling behind him and presumably John was getting ready for bed as well. Left in his undergarments, about to crawl into bed with someone he didn’t really know, Rodney felt a little vulnerable. It was a very strange feeling to him.

He stood and turned, jerking the covers on his side of the bed back and his eyes flicked up to John.

“Jesus, you’re naked!” Rodney exclaimed, averting his gaze immediately.

All right, so it wasn’t exactly immediately. It was pretty quick. But not so quick that Rodney didn’t get a chance to take in the long, lean lines of John’s body.

Yes, it was pretty much burned into his retinas in milliseconds.

Notwithstanding his titled rank, John had the body of a soldier. Muscular enough to keep him from ever being called spindly, but not bulky. Previously, Rodney had gotten and eyeful from the waist up and had enjoyed what he saw.

Extremely enjoyed.

And the the bottom half was just as good as the top. Strong thighs dusted with dark hair which led down to his tapered calves. Jutted-out hipbones set off the cradle of his hips. The dark hair that deepened down past his belly button and led to…

Rodney was breaking out into a bit of a sweat. It wasn’t entirely an uncomfortable one either.

And although it was only a fast peek, Rodney could now probably tell you all you wanted to know about John’s cock from memory. Strong and lean like the man it belonged to, it made Rodney’s pulse race. He felt scared, anxious, excited and tempted all at once.

“Why are you naked?” Rodney asked, a slight squeak in his voice.

He could have sworn he heard John shrug. “I always sleep naked.”

“But, but… don’t you feel… exposed?”

He heard John slide into bed behind him. “You lose your sense of embarrassment pretty early on in the military.”

Rodney chanced a peek out of the side of his eyes and wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed to see that John was safely under the covers.

“What if… what if there’s a fire? You could be killed looking for your pants!” he blustered.

“Well, then I guess I shouldn’t worry about stopping for pants,” John said with a wide grin. John patted the bed beside him. “You going to stand there all night or are you coming to bed?”

Rodney blinked at the statement. It sounded so… intimate.

He liked it.

He carefully got into bed, ensuring he didn’t disturb the bedclothes enough to expose John. Setting down caused some twinges from his ribs, but he finally got himself flat on his back, hands crossed over his chest.

“Jesus, you look like you’re in a coffin.”

“What? This is how I sleep,” Rodney protested.

John leaned over to turn down his bedside lamp and Rodney couldn't stop his eyes from turning sideways and traveling over the length of skin it exposed. With his eyes he traced the line of John’s body from shoulder blade, to rib, to the top of his flank. Feeling his face heat from the thoughts that suddenly raced through him, he quickly shut his eyes.

“Good night… Wodney.”

They managed two seconds before dissolving into the quiet laughter that comes when it’s dark, like children who are going to be caught and scolded.

“Jesus, he was old. So old. I thought at one point he’d fallen asleep up there,” Rodney wheezed out.

“He did! Didn’t you see me kick his foot?”

“God bless the duchess, but she must never be allowed to plan another wedding,” Rodney said.

“She can plan all the weddings she wants. It’s not like we have to worry, we’ll never have another one.”

Wow. That was sobering, thought Rodney. They were married. For life.

It didn’t seem so crazy as it had before.

“Good night… John.”

***

Generally, Rodney slept like the dead. Of course, he was usually in his own bed, alone, and more than likely he was up until four in the morning or some insane hour before he finally packed up his work and went to sleep.

He awoke with a start and in the darkness he had a brief moment of panic trying to clear his brain and figure out where he was. Not his bed, not his bedroom.

Not alone.

Then it all came tumbling back. Sheppard’s house, Sheppard’s bed.

Sheppard.

John.

He imagined some unfamiliar-to-him noise had woken him and gave a mental shrug. He may have smacked his lips a little as he sort of gave a shimmy to get comfortable.

Then he heard a noise.

A loud whuff of air being forced out of John’s lungs. The bed clothes rustled and Rodney tightened his grip on the blanket.

It was chilly and he didn’t want to lose it if John turned out to be a blanket hog.

He closed his eyes and resolved to go back asleep when another sound escaped from John. It was a jumble of words, nothing comprehensible. Rodney stilled, not sure what to do, if there was anything to do. The bed rocked as John moved restlessly. John muttered a few things like ‘no’, or ‘don’t’, and then Rodney heard the words ‘you’ll be fine’ mumbled out.

I’ve bad dreams, Rodney remembered John telling him in his drunken stupor. It would seem that he didn’t just have them when he was sopping blind drunk either. Rodney wondered how often of a regular occurrence this was.

Rodney was torn, not sure if he should ignore John’s somniloquy or if he should try to wake the man.

A sound of distress finally galvanized Rodney into action. God knew he’d had enough nightmares in his life that he wished someone would wake him from. He gingerly rolled a bit onto his side, toward John.

“John,” he stage-whispered, hardly lowering his voice. When nothing happened, he said it again, slightly louder.

When still nothing happened, Rodney hesitatingly reached out his hand and placed it carefully on John’s arm and gave it a slight squeeze and a shake.

“John,” Rodney said, this time his voice deep and sharp.

John immediately bolted upright and Rodney instinctively tightened his grip on John’s arm.

“You’re fine,” Rodney said quickly, knowing what it was like to wake from a bad dream, disoriented and confused, not sure if you’re awake or still unconscious. “You were… talking in your sleep,” Rodney said judiciously, not sure if he should mention John’s nightmares or not.

John rubbed his eyes with one and and fell back onto the pillows. “What did I say?” he asked sleepily.

Rodney managed a tiny half shrug. “I don’t know,” he lied. “I couldn’t make out the words.”

“Oh,” John said, his words slightly muffled as he yawned. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Rodney replied and then at the slightly uncomfortable silence he added, “It’s not a problem.”

“Uh, if it happens again, just… don’t be afraid to wake me up.”

Rodney settled back again. “All right. And. You know. Ditto.”

He didn’t notice he still had his hand on John’s arm until he was almost asleep again and at that point, his body felt so heavy and dark that he didn’t want to move at all and he let his stay where it was, resting on John.

He didn’t hear John again that night.

***

John woke up feeling well rested and clear headed, which wasn’t the norm for him. Since his return from the war, he generally woke up slightly groggy from a night of fighting nightmares; from tossing and turning and shouting himself awake.

But this morning he felt pretty good. He made a move to stretch out his long body when he realized that Rodney’s hand was on his arm. He had a vague recollection of being woken up by Rodney in the middle of the night, Rodney telling him he was talking in his sleep and then settling back down.

It was probably the most innocuous waking from a nightmare he’d had since he was a child.

The bed-sheet was rumpled and rucked up, and when he looked down he could see where Rodney’s hand rested on his arm. Rodney’s skin was light against the darkness of John’s forearm. Rodney probably didn’t spend much time out of doors, whereas John had spent far too much time outside on the battlefield. Although as of late, his outdoor pursuits where much happier, involving his horses.

John titled his head up and centered his gaze on Rodney’s face. Rodney was still asleep in the same position on his back, his injured arm slung over his chest. His crooked mouth was slightly open and some quiet snores were emanating from him rhythmically.

He was married to this man.

Married.

He’d tried to picture himself married at times but when he had pictured himself with various people over the course of his affairs, he never could quite picture the person he might marry. But when he thought about it now, with Rodney, it wasn’t hard at all. He had a strange sort of affinity for Rodney already. Perhaps it was because all his focus had been on the man.

Or perhaps it was something more. John wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he felt comfortable around Rodney. Pretending to be comfortable was something John did very well, but with Rodney, he wasn’t pretending, he actually felt it. Last night it had been such a relief to be able to escape the reception, albeit small, and retire to his quarters and not feel dread creeping in on him.

They’d even shared a laugh over their wedding ceremony.

Naturally it would have been infinitely preferable to have a proper wedding night, but John found he was amenable to waiting until Rodney had more of a chance to heal. It certainly gave him something to look forward to. He most assuredly found Rodney attractive and if he spent much longer lingering in bed, roaming his eyes over his new husband, he was going to have a bit of a problem removing himself.

Based on Rodney’s nervousness last night and his reaction to John getting ready for bed, it was just as well that they had some time to get to know one another. Not that Rodney’s injuries where in any way a good thing, but at least it gave them an easy reason to take some time.

Thinking of Rodney’s injuries made John’s anger simmer. There was still the matter of a visit he owed to Rodney’s stepfather and he would be sure not to miss it.

John carefully slid out of bed, trying his best not to disturb Rodney, and he nearly managed it, getting his pants and shirt on, before he stubbed his bare foot on the bed frame and shouted a curse.

With a grunt and a jerk of his body, Rodney came awake and immediately his eyes snapped to John.

“Time is it?” Rodney asked.

“Early,” John managed, trying not to keep cursing at the sharp pain in his foot. “Go back to sleep.”

Rodney sighed and then blinked a bit. “No, I’m up now. Dear god, tell me you have coffee out here.”

John smiled, the pain in his foot lessening at Rodney’s low morning rumble. “Of course we have coffee, we’re not savages.”

“With the big country estate and the trees and the grass…” Rodney waved his hand clumsily. “I couldn’t be sure.”

“Well, if you come on down with me, I’m sure the cook can rustle us up some coffee and maybe even some fresh hot cross buns.”

Rodney immediately sat up and then winced as his ribs protested.

“Hey, hey,” John said, coming over to Rodney and helping him sit up. “You gotta be careful with them or they won’t heal.”

At his sudden proximity to Rodney, John stilled. Crouched over Rodney like this, their faces were very close; if they were any closer, John would be cross-eyed. Their eyes locked and they both stared unblinking at each other.

Mindful of Rodney’s injuries, John pulled back reluctantly, noting the way Rodney’s eyes trailed after him.

“Uh, we should get you dressed and we can head down.”

“Right. Of course.”

***

Dressing hadn’t been as intimate as undressing.

Rodney wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that.

It had taken John an inordinate amount of time to tie Rodney’s cravat. John had fussed and tried to tie it this way and that, but it had always ended up looking floppy and somewhat crooked. At least, that’s what John had said. Rodney couldn’t tell from his vantage point. Frustrated, John had finally just spun Rodney and leaned in close enough to reach his arms around, claiming he could finally tie Rodney’s just as he tied his own this way.

Rodney had never stood so still in his life.

In those few moments, John had been everywhere; behind him, around him, hands in front of him. When Rodney casted his eyes down, he could watch John’s nimble fingers work over the fabric in a practiced and familiar motion. John’s chest was warm against Rodney’s back, John breathed in Rodney’s ear. He was wholly focused on his task, trying to cravat efficiently, while Rodney was completely focused on John.

With the knot secured, John had smoothed his hands over Rodney’s shoulders and there they had rested for a moment, neither one of them moving. John patted Rodney’s shoulders once and then had stepped away.

It had been over far too quickly in Rodney’s opinion.

Breakfast had been utterly fantastic. Wanting to show off for Rodney, the cook had not only made fresh hot cross buns but also honeyed ham, waffles, eggs, bacon, toast, and a fine selection of fruits which were all citrus free.

“Mr. Sheppard explained your intolerance to citrus fruits,” the cook, a tall, thin man said seriously. “I’ve ensure that there is no citrus in the kitchen and everything you see here was purchased after a scouring of area.”

“Thank you,” Rodney said, somewhat stunned. No one had every taken such precautions before.

“Yes, thank you, Halling,” John replied. Halling bowed gracefully and then took his leave back to the kitchens.

Rodney ate his full, feeling secured in the knowledge that the entire meal was safe for him. He and John drank several cups of coffee lingering over breakfast and then John offered to show him around the house and estate.

There were two wings - the north and the south. Their bedroom was in the north wing which gave them a view of the stables and training grounds, John explained. Rodney hadn’t a chance to look out the windows before they went downstairs, but looking out them now he was struck silent by the sprawling estate. They had arrived after dark the other night and it hadn’t seemed nearly so large and vast, but looking out the large picture window now in the master bedroom, Rodney’s chest grew tight. It was impossibly big - rolling lawns spread out, banked by trees to one side. Nestled just in front of the trees were the impressive stables and even with his limited social skills, Rodney could hear the fondness as John spoke of the buildings and mentioned he’d be taking Rodney on a tour of them as well.

The upstairs was mostly guest rooms and suites, and John eagerly showed him the quarters he was having re-done for Jeannie. The walls were in the midst of being papered with textured crepe and the floors were being sanded down and refinished. There was new furniture on its way; a bed, dressers and armoire. Rodney doubted Jeannie even had enough clothes to full such a set of furniture and when he mumbled it out loud, John chuckled and said that he supposed he could take them both shopping as well.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” Rodney stammered. “I just… it’s so big. And this… this must have cost an awful lot of money,” he rushed out.

John shrugged. “I have an awful lot of money. And I plan on making more with the horse breeding.”

Rodney felt embarrassed and uncomfortable at all the expenditures and simply nodded tightly.

“Rodney, it’s just money.”

“Well. I know Jeannie will appreciate it. You didn’t have to redecorate for her.”

“If you saw the room before I had it stripped, you’d disagree,” John said easily and then gave a mock shudder. Rodney smiled, feeling some of the tension ease away.

The continued on and John showed him the den and his office and then a set of rooms that he was thinking of converting into an office for Rodney. Then they reached the library and Rodney was completely stunned. He might have made a sound like a chicken, he couldn’t be sure. All he remembered was rushing forward and tilting his head sideways to start reading spines.

Books, upon books upon more books. Philosophy, religion, history, mythology - Rodney rushed over the titles of those books and then hit a wall that was all science, mathematics…

“You have Euclid’s Elements in the original ancient Greek,” Rodney said lowly.

“I have it in English and Latin too if you prefer.”

“No, I prefer the original,” Rodney said with a mad flap of his hands, not even looking over at John, missing the man’s lazy grin. Rodney gasped again and yanked a book of the shelf and flipped it open.

“This is Diophantes Arithmetica. I’ve not had a chance to read this one yet.”

“That one belonged to Pierre de Fermat,” John said casually and Rodney swayed slightly.

“Does it…? Are there…?” he started flipping madly.

“Yes, his marginal notes are there.”

“If I wasn’t already married to you, I would probably offer myself at this very moment,” Rodney said seriously, his wide eyes finally fixed on John.

John chuckled. “If I’d known you liked books this much, I would have brought a cart of them with me when I proposed.”

“You should have,” said Rodney clutching Arithmetica to his chest, “I would have fallen at your feet.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Rodney reluctantly put the book back, amazed and not quite believing that he would be able to come back at any time and read it.

They headed outside and made the walk to the large barn on the estate. John chatted easily with the stable manager and stable hands while Rodney stood awkwardly in the barn doorway.

“Come on,” John said, beckoning Rodney closer. When all Rodney did was give him a wary look, John reached out and took his good hand firmly in his own.

“I told you, horses don’t like me.”

“And I told you, that’s a statistical improbability. Not all horses can dislike you. We just have to find you the right ones and I’ve got a good hunch on one.”

“Oh really,” Rodney said sarcastically, letting John lead him by the hand to the back of the stable. “How?”

“I know horses. And I’m starting to know you.”

Rodney was oddly touched by the phrase.

John grabbed a few carrots and apple slices from a bucket that sat by one of the stalls and continued on. The stopped outside a stall at the very back of the stable where it was a little darker. Rodney had first balked at entering as the smell hit him, but now he found himself adjusting to it and could actually pick the scent of fresh hay and the solid scent of horse out from the smell of waste he had first encountered. John peeked his head around the corner and Rodney saw his eyes light up and he smiled.

A large gray horse nose came out John stretched out both hands and basically nuzzled the horse.

“Hiya, pretty,” said John quietly and he opened his palm, the horse quickly taking the apple slice offered. “Her name is Cloud.”

She had a beautiful whitish face that darkened to gray at her nostrils. Her ears were dark as well, rimmed in black. She had a mop of black spiky hair on top her head and Rodney laughed.

“I can see why you like her, she’s the same hair has you.”

John glanced up at top of Cloud’s mane and laughed. “I suppose she does. Come here.” He jerked his head to Rodney.

“Oh, that’s okay. I’ll just watch from here,” Rodney replied as he took a step back.

“Cloud likes everybody, Rodney,” John said quietly and he stretched out his hand and caught Rodney’s.

Rodney was scared that out of everyone the horse ever met, he would be the first one she didn’t like.

“No, no really,” he protested, as John pulled him forward. He leaned away from Cloud as he was maneuvered in front of her. Her nostrils came up and whuffed in his face, blowing hot, damp air across him. He flinched.

John stood behind him, arms around him and resting on Rodney’s. Rodney felt him press a carrot into his hand and then he held Rodney’s palm up for Cloud. She nosed at his palm, the soft velvet of her nostrils tickling the skin. Rodney was very worried he would lose his fingers, but all that happened was that Cloud deftly took the carrot with Rodney barely feeling a hint of teeth. Cloud took a small step forward, hooves clomping and Rodney leaned back into the circle of John’s arms.

“It’s okay, she just wants to get a sniff of you.”

While Cloud moved her nostrils over him Rodney didn’t move. Finally after a minute, she made a low rumbling sound and his heart beat quickened. This was it, he thought, she was going to stomp him to death.

Instead, Cloud nudged him with her face.

“What does it mean?” Rodney whispered.

“It means,” John said, his lips right by Rodney’s ear. Rodney shivered. “More carrots.”

Rodney let out a quiet laugh and John echoed it, his laughter ghosting over the soft cartilage of Rodney’s ear. Just like this morning, he was surrounded by John. The scent of John drove out all other smells from Rodney’s nose. John was pressed up close, but not cloyingly so. If Rodney turned, if he shifted slightly, he would be able to tilt his neck and his lips would be right next to John’s. He could kiss him. They were married and he could kiss him at any time and it wouldn’t be weird.

Would it?

Suddenly, Rodney felt a press against the front of his leg and he yelped, startled. He looked down to see a small black nose nudging against his thigh. He glanced up the nose to see a small foal staring up at him with inquisitive eyes. The foal stomped one of his hooves impatiently.

John fed the baby a slice of apple. “This is Cloud’s foal, Puddlejumper,” he said fondly.

“He’s black,” Rodney stated flatly, looking from the soft gray Cloud to the dark Puddlejumper. Puddlejumper was all black except for a fierce white strip that raked up the length of his nose.

“He’ll gray up as he gets older.” John’s tone was confident and knowing. Puddlejumper turned away from John’s next proffered apple slice and nudged again at Rodney.

John raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Oh, he definitely likes you better.” John handed Rodney the slightly sticky apple and Rodney held it delicately with two fingers while Puddlejumper took it from him. He barely chewed it before he was prodding his head back under Rodney’s hand, forcing the man to pet him. John laughed.

“Guess that settles it.”

“Settles what?” Rodney asked, petting at Puddlejumper. He was soft and smooth, pushing up against Rodney’s hand to get a nice solid pet. Rodney smiled. It was such a simple thing but it made him really happy. Puddlejumper let out a little neigh and stamped his feet.

“I think he’s yours now.”

Rodney’s head jerked up at John. “Oh. But I. I don’t. I don’t need a horse.”

“Sorry, Rodney, Puddlejumper’s decided,” John said with an easy shrug, grinning like a loon.

Puddlejumper pressed forward and started nosing in Rodney’s jacket pockets. Cloud had gone back to John, content to leave her foal with Rodney while John fed her carrots.

“What do I do with him?”

“Get to know him. It’ll be a few years until you can ride him, but until then, come by the stables, give him some carrots. Maybe brush him, take him for a walk.”

Rodney stared down at Puddlejumper and swore the little foal stared back. Dark black eyes that looked at him like he was the whole world. Rodney felt something lurch in his chest.

John tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a brush. “Better get to it.”

Rodney ran the brush over the dark, shiny hair, getting into a rhythm immediately. As the relaxation of the slightly meditative task hit him, he thought he might be falling in love.

He was somewhat surprised to realize he wasn’t sure if he meant the foal or John.

***

John entered the dark, smokey, rank gaming hall and scoured the crowd.

He was looking for one man in particular and spotting the gamesmaster, John went over and had a few quiet words with the man. After asking his questions, the gamesmaster pointed to a door that led to the back room, where the high-stakes games were held. John tipped his head in gratitude and headed back.

Not bothering to knock, he simply entered the room confidently, eyeing the men at the table who glanced up.

“This is a private game, my friend. Invitation only.”

John locked eyes with the pocked-faced man who addressed him so cooly. “I am not here to play. Acastus Kolya, I presume?”

“Yes,” the man nodded once, his dark eyes roving over John, taking in the wealth and confidence. “And you are?”

“Marquis John Sheppard.”

Kolya’s eyes hardened as he recognized the name, turning flat and cold. “Leave us,” he directed at the three men seated at the table. The men set their cards down, gathered their things and left quickly, not making eye contact with either John nor Kolya. Not that either one of them spared them a glance.

“I hear you married him. My deepest condolences,” said Kolya as he leaned back in his chair. “If you’re here to complain about him, or to get me to help you divorce him, you’re out of luck.”

John’s jaw clenched and hit bit back his rage. “I’m here to tell you that as far as you are concerned, you are dead to them.”

“Them?”

“Rodney and Jeannie.”

Kolya sat forward in his chair. “I care nothing for what happens to Rodney, but Jeannie is none of your concern.”

“Jeannie will shortly be living with Rodney and me at my estate. You are also liberated from providing a dowry for her. She is my ward now.”

“The hell she is,” Kolya said calmly. “As soon as this blows over, she’ll come home.”

“My home is her home now. And Rodney’s. Come near either one of them again, and I’ll ruin you.”

“I’m not a man who takes threats lightly, Sheppard.”

“I’m not a man who makes them lightly, Kolya. Tell me, how’s the iron business?”

Kolya frowned at the mention of his work. “Quite profitable.”

“Glad to hear it. As of this morning, I own controlling interest in your suppliers.”

Kolya’s fists tightened. “How?”

John shrugged. “Money talks. And as long as you stay away from Rodney and Jeannie, it will talk no more.”

“And if I don’t?”

John shrugged again. “Then I’ll bankrupt you, buy your company and give it to Rodney. He’ll either run it or dismantle it. Probably the latter unless it poses some scientific interest for him.”

“You don’t want me for an enemy,” Kolya said flatly.

“No, you don’t want me for an enemy,” John said, placing his hands on the gaming table and leaning over it.

“You’re a pretty fop with a title. I eat men like you for breakfast.”

John thought of his time on the battlefield and while he could never be grateful for it, it did give him an edge he otherwise wouldn’t have had. “This pretty fop did three tours in the war.” He watched Kolya’s jaw tighten further. “I see you know what that entails. I know more ways to kill a man than any living human should. Keep your distance from them.”

John watched as Kolya forced himself to relax. “As I said, I care nothing for Rodney, but if Jeannie decides to see me, what will you do then? Force her not to?” Kolya asked, eyebrows raised challengingly.

“You beat her brother, my husband, with a cane. I doubt she’ll change her mind.”

“Women are fickle. Besides, he had it coming. Perhaps if I’d started in on him younger, he could have been tolerable. As it is…” Kolya spread his hands in a ‘what can you do’ gesture.

John’s line of vision narrowed to only the sight of Kolya and nothing else in his rage. “Don’t push me, Kolya, or I’ll ruin you just for sport.” John’s voice came out low, barely above a whisper.

Kolya smiled. “It was good of you to drop by, Sheppard.”

John’s fist wanted to snake out and punch the man just on principle. He could feel the longing in the limb to connect with something solid.

“Good day, Kolya,” he ground out, standing up sharply and turning on his heel. He made a face of distaste as he took one last look around the room. He’d always hated the gaming halls. Filthy establishments that sucked the living dry. He brushed at his lapel firmly and didn’t look back as he left.

He squinted in the sunlight as he stepped outside. He hadn’t told Rodney he wasn’t going to see his step-father. He wasn’t sure how Rodney would have reacted. Rodney had been in such a happy mood after spending the morning with Puddlejumper and had been ever more excited to go back into the house and start setting up his office and making a list of books to read. John hated to ruin the day by dragging Kolya’s name into it.

He smiled at the memory of Rodney’s face as he realized that the small foal liked him, preferred him to John. Watching Rodney’s expressive face, John had felt like he’d just given him the moon. It was as though Rodney couldn’t believe it was happening; his face painted with wide open joy and amazement. John had been happy by simple proximity to him and the knowledge that he put that look on Rodney’s face.

Making Rodney that happy made John the most lighthearted he’d been in years.

***

For the past three years, the Dex/Emmagen ball had been the event of the Season and this year would likely be no exception.

Prior to his marriage to Lady Teyla Emmagen, Lord Ronon Dex hadn’t thrown a ball in his lifetime. In fact, he was more likely to throw a knife at someone than throw a ball. During the war, however, he met the acquaintance of Lady Teyla while she was disguised on the battlefield as a man. He’d first been impressed with her skill and agility, and the fact that she managed to take out an entire infantry using two branches from a dead tree. After finding out she did it all while weighed down by an insane amount of clothing and padding to hide her femininity he was double impressed.

They married a short time later and continued to fight side by side on the battle field. After the war ended, they took up in Atlantis, purchasing two large townhouses side by side and joining them together to make one large one. They also purchased the lot behind the houses and set up an exotic garden, complete with fountains and gazebo.

Instead of regular entertainments found generally at balls, which included dancing, charades and perhaps a lecture or two, the Dex/Emmagen event featured a scavenger hunt, knife play contests and sharp shooting.

As well as dancing, charades and perhaps a lecture or two.

It was the one event of the season that John came into Atlantis for. He could care less for the other dances, parties and musical concerts, but he never missed the Dex/Emmagen ball.

He’d fought with both Teyla and Ronon in the war, trading back and forth with saving each other’s lives more times than they could count. They knew of the blood and the battles, the horrors that kept him up some nights. Those same horrors kept them up as well. Whenever they gathered, they toasted a drink to their dead comrades, drinking half of a glass and pouring the rest on the ground for those they had buried. While he was always extremely happy to see them, he did sometimes feel the odd man out, his single status more noticeable to him when he was around them. Teyla often cajoled or teased him, musing on when he would find a wife or husband while Ronon simply grunted in amusement at his wife’s commentary.

John was eager to have them meet Rodney tonight. Over the course of the last couple weeks, he’d gotten to know Rodney better and the more he found out, the more he liked.

Rodney looked exceptionally handsome tonight in his dark navy suit with new black boots and pristine silk white shirt. On a whim, John had purchased a dark copper cravat and the contrast made Rodney’s eyes appear bluer than if he’d worn a cravat the same shade as they were.

John himself was similarly dressed in a dark grey suit with a emerald green handkerchief poking out of his coat pocket. He’d found it sitting on his dresser the other day and when he picked it up and looked at Rodney, Rodney had stammered out that it was a gift for John.

Rodney had thought it would look very handsome on him, he said.

John might have felt the tips of his ears go hot.

Now, in the carriage on the way to the ball, they rocked in their seats, the motion causing them to bump shoulders and knees every now and then. Rodney pulled lightly at his cravat, which John had tied for him again, in a nervous gesture that John was beginning to know well. Rodney’s fingers drummed madly on his knee and John places his hand over Rodney’s, pressing them both to the top of Rodney’s thigh.

“Relax. It’s a ball. It will be fun.”

“Yes. Well. It’s just… er, that is, I mean I’ve not had a chance to go to one in a long time.”

“How long?”

“Er, never?”

“You’ve never been to a ball?”

“Look, it’s not as though I had time all right? I’m very busy, in fact getting married set me back on my work by weeks and I’m still trying to catch up.”

“Impossible,” said John with good nature. “Getting married didn’t take weeks.”

“But I can’t think straight since then!” Rodney exclaimed and then clicked his jaw shut as he realized what he’d just said.

John tipped his head toward Rodney. “Am I distracting you?” he asked, his voice low and smooth.

Rodney stared at him for a minute, their eyes locked. “Yes.”

“But Rodney,” John drawled leaning in a bit closer, “I haven’t even done anything.”

The swaying motion of the carriage brought them closer together for a split second and their lips bumped ungracefully.

“Ow!” Rodney said, indignant, raising his fingertips to his lips. John laughed.

“Of course you’re distracting, with that hair and the smirking and the lounging about,” Rodney said with a mad wave of his hand.

“I hadn’t realized you’d noticed me.”

Rodney sat there, his jaw working as he tried to think. He was pretty sure John was flirting with him again. At least, empirically, it would seem so. But Rodney had so little experience in flirtation that it made him nervous and unsure. Normally he just gave a terse remark to indicate he wasn’t interested. Was he supposed to give a teasing rejoinder back? Or should he just be honest? Combination of both?

“I noticed,” he said quietly.

The carriage came to a halt a block from the house. The road in between was packed with other carriages, horses and people making their way to the large house. Music could be heard coming from inside, along with the sounds of a talkative and happy crowd. John took Rodney’s arm carefully, helping him out of the carriage. The sling had come off yesterday but Beckett had warned him not to jar his arm in any way or cause it undue strain. Beckett had avoided his friend’s eyes with a blush when he also mentioned that as long as Rodney’s ribs didn’t pain him too much, Rodney could go about his regular activities, including some exercise.

The blush had become pronounced on the word exercise. Rodney had stammered his thanks and hurriedly left.

He didn’t know how to bring it up with John. It wasn’t something you just blurted out in general conversation - ‘By the way, I’ve been medically cleared to fulfill my spousal duties. How was your day?’

A small part of him thought perhaps he should just try to kiss John but every time he thought about it, he got caught up in the mechanics. Should he just lean forward? Should he try to touch John’s face? Roll over in bed and grab the man?

Just the thought of figuring out where to start made him feel sickly nervous.

It should be rather simple. They shared the same bed every night for god’s sake. But every night, Rodney averted his eyes when John stripped and climbed into bed, keeping his posture very still and somewhat rigid. John it seemed was respecting Rodney’s unspoken statement and he always smiled and wished him a goodnight, before turning out the light. John was plagued with nightmares several nights a week, and the first few times, Rodney had woken him up, rousing him to wakefulness to end the dreams. Now, it seemed he only had to reach a hand out and place it on John’s arm, and John would quiet and fall back into a deep slumber. It made Rodney feel warm inside that somehow, his simple touch was calming to John, even in sleep. But Rodney couldn't force himself to go past that one gesture.

But how he wanted to.

Sleeping next to John every night, feeling the heat of his body through the sheets, hearing him sigh softly in his sleep sometimes… Knowing that long, lean body was right next to his, completely unencumbered… Rodney held back a shiver. He’d walked in a John shaving one morning and seeing him standing there, shirtless, with his soap covered jaw and water dripping off his chin, Rodney’d felt his mouth go dry. He’d stared for several seconds before John caught his eye in the mirror and had drawled a ‘good morning.’

Rodney had fled the room quickly. And somewhat awkwardly since his whole body had taken notice of John at that moment.

Shaking his head and forcing himself back to the moment, Rodney let John lead him through the crowd and into the foyer of the large house. It was a mad crush of people. John threaded his fingers through Rodney’s and kept a firm but gentle grip on him as he easily dodged them around people. Everyone seemed to know John, taking time to bow at him and offer him a word. Rodney knew John was titled, but he’d never seen him surrounded by this many people before. He was surprised at how many people went out of their way to come say a word or two to John. John introduced Rodney to each of them, and perhaps Rodney was imagining it or hearing things he only wished to, but he could have sworn he heard a tinge of pride in John’s voice when he would say ‘this is my husband, Rodney.’

Most of the titled gave Rodney a knowing look indicating they knew exactly how he came to be John’s husband, and Rodney bristled. John seemed to know exactly who he was dealing with, as he quickly past by the ones that gave them the looks, but seemed to stay a few words longer with the ones who expressed genuine pleasure and happiness for them.

Rodney let out a small squawk as a giant of a man with beautiful bronze skin and exotic dreads came up behind John and picked him up easily in a bear hug. John’s startled face turned into a laugh as the giant growled in his ear.

“Wasn’t sure you’d make it,” the giant grumbled as he set John down.

John turned around and the men exchanged a strapping hug, full of manly shoulder slaps and big grins. “I always come to your parties, Ronon. Where’s Teyla?”

“Probably kicking ass and taking names in the sharp shooting contest. Every year there’s a handful of new bucks that think they can win.”

“Ah the eternal stupidity of youth.”

“I can’t watch anymore,” Ronon said a head shake. “I’m embarrassed for them.”

“Sensitive lug,” John said slugging Ronon on the shoulder. “Ronon, this is my husband Rodney formerly McKay, now Sheppard of course. Rodney, this is Ronon Dex. I served in the war with Ronon and his wife, Teyla.”

Ronon held out his beefy hand and it completely dwarfed Rodney’s as he shook it and Rodney tried not to wince at the strength contained in the grip.

“Heard you got hitched,” Ronon said to John before swiveling his gaze to Rodney. “Good to meet you,” Ronon said.

“Uh, it’s nice to meet you to. Good party so far?” Rodney asked.

Ronon shrugged. “It’s fun.”

“John!”

John turned his head at the higher pitched voice and a tiny elegant woman came striding through the crowd toward them. John’s grin widened and Rodney realized this must be Teyla, which was confirmed when John said her name and dragged her into a fierce hug. When he finally released her, she turned immediately to Rodney.

“And you must be John’s husband, Rodney. I’m Teyla Emmagen,” she said, introducing herself gracefully. “It was so good of you to come.

Rodney gave her a slight bow and took her offered hand. “Er, it was no trouble.”

“Now, Rodney, you must come with me,” said Teyla immediately. “Your friend Radek Zelenka was most surprised to hear you were coming tonight. He says you’ve never attended a ball?”

Rodney shifted on his feet under her straightforward gaze. “Er, yes?”

She nodded once, her intel confirmed. “Then I consider it my duty to ensure you have a most enjoyable experience. I believe you’ll find the drawing room most to your liking and I shall escort you there first. Baron Kavanaugh is attempting to persuade the occupants of the room that complex numbers are not scientific and in fact are the sign of the devil and shouldn’t be utilized.”

”What?” Rodney screeched and when Teyla threaded her arm through his he immediately followed her, talking a mile a minute and gesturing with his free hand. John only caught the very beginning of his tirade, something about hairless monkeys having ponytails and needing to be sent back to the forest. John laughed and then caught Ronon eyeing him.

“What?” John asked with raised eyebrow.

“You look good. Rested. Marriage agrees with you.”

Turning his head to watch Rodney make his way down the long hallway, his hands still flailing madly about him, John smiled.

“You know, I think you’re right.”

***

Rodney had spent over an hour in the drawing room arguing science, sometimes with people he already knew, sometimes with people he didn’t. Kavanaugh had spent the first five minutes after Rodney’s arrival trying to convince the crowd that he had been the one to turn down Rodney’s advances, and left with no other options, Rodney had married Sheppard.

Which really only helped Rodney when he went on to explain how Kavanaugh was a) delusional, b) a complete idiot, c) wouldn’t have been Rodney’s choice if he were the last man on earth and d) knew nothing about modern science and probably still thought the world was flat.

Rodney was still fuming about it later in the evening while he discussing the latest mathematical papers with Zelenka.

“Honestly, that man wouldn’t know an Abelian group if it jumped up and bit him in the ass.”

“Ignore him. He’s jealous. Firstly of your mind,” said Zelenka, tapping his own temple with his fingertips.

Rodney rolled his eyes. “As well he should be. I’m a genius and the best Kavanaugh can hope to be is a gamesmaster.”

“Of course. And then you had the gall to get married. He is, how do you say? Bruised.”

“It’s not as though I would have ever, ever, and I do mean ever, considered marrying him.” Rodney shuddered. “I’d sooner be shot.”

“I know this and you know this. But Kavanaugh? He does not know this.”

Rodney made a sort of ‘hmph’ sound. “Further proof of his moronic disposition.”

“At any rate, is moot point, yes? You are married to the Marquis now.”

“Yes, I… I am,” said Rodney, taking a sip of his water.

Zelenka made a sweeping motion with his hand. “Is grand romance?”

“It’s… well, it’s… It’s very… He has an enormous library.”

Zelenka frowned. “Is this some Atlantean euphemism I am not aware of?”

“The books he has, Radek, you must come by and see them. Original editions. Ancient texts. And he gets all the latest scientific journals delivered.”

“And what of your work? Will you be published now under his name?”

Rodney jutted his chin out. “No. I’ve always maintained I will only be published under my own name and John respects that.”

Radek gave an approving look. “I am glad to hear of it. I hear many good things about the marquis. At first, when I heard news of the scandal, I worried for you. But I make a few discreet inquiries and I hear he is a man of his word and his word is honorable.” Zelenka shrugged. “So I worry less. Now I see you here, at a ball for the first time ever, and I’m not worried any further.”

“Well, I’m so relieved to hear it. I laid awake nights fraught with the knowledge that you worried for me,” Rodney said dryly.

“You should be relieved I no longer worry for you,” Radek said poking at Rodney. “For now I have time to clean up your proofs in your dimensional math paper.”

“They are perfectly correct!”

“Correct, yes, but there must be a way to make them sing, no? You have used brute force to prove your theories. It is unseemly.”

And they were off again on another discussion.

***

John didn’t see Rodney again until later in the evening when they both ended up in the ballroom at the same time. John watched for a few minutes as Rodney and Zelenka animatedly discussed something, both of them gesturing madly. People instinctively got out of the way of the flapping hands, ducking around both of them. John saw Rodney pull at his cravat slightly and sympathized. It was sweltering in the ballroom, with the press of people moving and swaying to the music. John grabbed two glasses of water off a serving tray and deftly steered his way over to Rodney.

“… and he didn’t even take into account the Coriolis Effect,” Rodney said.

“Shameful,” Zelenka said with a grin, flicking his eyes over to John, his expression clearly saying ‘yes he’s a crazy man, but entertaining, no? John smiled back.

John touched Rodney’s elbow with his own to signify his presence and without missing a beat, Rodney turned, took his glass of water and continued on.

“It is shameful. It’s unbelievable he still has the nerve to show his face out in public.

“Perhaps we should start public beatings until the intelligence of the local scientists improve,” said Zelenka.

“Jest all your want, Radek, but when some fool makes a mistake and blows up half of Atlantis, you’ll see I’m right.”

“Yes, but I’ll most likely be dead, free from your gloating,” Zelenka answered cheekily. “Now, introduce me to your husband.”

“What? Oh. Marquis John Sheppard, Hrabě Radek Zelenka. Radek is the only tolerably intelligent scientist I know.”

John raised his eyebrows and Zelenka gave a mock bow of pride. “Such words of praise, I shall never recover,” Radek mused.

They shook hands amiably. “Indeed,” replied John, “You should come by the estate. I’m sure you’d be as interested in the library as Rodney is.”

“I am honored by your offer, thank you.”

“If you don’t mind, Hrabě, I think I’ll steal Rodney away from you for a bit.”

“Steal away, Marquis. Please, do not bring him back tonight. Rodney, I shall continue my work cleaning up the mess you left in your proofs and bring them by next week.” Radek winked as he left a sputtering Rodney and John behind.

“Can you believe him? Cleaning up the mess? Those proofs are brilliant. Brilliant and he should thank his Bohemian gods that I’ve graced him with the honor of proofreading them.”

John ignored Rodney’s small rant and turned him toward the balcony doors, pushing lightly on Rodney’s shoulder to get him outside.

“Oh, thank god,” Rodney said as soon as they were outside, taking in a large gulp of air. “I thought I would melt in there. I think I should abandon all my scientific proofs to work on a cooling device, some sort of machine that would cool rooms off automatically.”

“Could you do that? Build something like that?”

Rodney waved dismissively. “Of course I could.”

John chuckled to himself at Rodney’s tone. “How foolish of me. Come, let’s take a stroll.”

They set their water glasses down on one of the small garden tables just out side the door and wandered away from the house toward the gardens.

It was a cool night and the air was refreshingly crisp and sharp after the stuffy interior of the house. There were a few couples and groups already outside, many of the gentlemen in shirts, having doffed their coats for the ladies of their groups who didn’t have long sleeves on their gowns.

John tucked his hands into his pockets as they began their stroll through the garden. He nodded his head off to the side and Rodney immediately glanced over to see what John was indicating. John saw the surprise on Rodney’s face easily when he saw the knife throwing contest underway. Rodney stopped and stared while Ronon threw three knifes in quick succession at a makeshift dummy. The first hit the shoulder, the second the neck and the last right were a human head would have an eye socket. John watched Rodney’s throat work as he gulped.

“You have interesting friends,” Rodney said.

“I’d be dead without them,” John replied without hesitation. Rodney’s head swiveled to look at him.

“Truly?”

John nodded. “During the war… there weren’t many people you could count on.”

“I would have thought that the battlefield would make for strong friendships.”

“It does, in a lot of cases, but it’s tough too. You get close to someone and the next day they’re gone. Or you meet the new men and try to be friendly only to find out that they need an iron-fisted leader. My commanding officer…. Well, he died and I had to take over command and I was forever walking this fine line between commander and friend. I wanted the men in my command to listen to me first and always because when I gave an order, I was trying to save lives. But sometimes… sometimes you have to make them a little afraid of you to get that point across.”

John fell silent, mulling over his own words. It was hard to explain what went on in battle. Complex emotions sprung up out of elemental warfare. Somedays, your lower brain was the only one at work; eat, drink, fight, live. Other days, when you had too much time between skirmishes, your higher cognitive functions tried to make sense of it all and you ended up tangled and messy.

“And Ronon and Teyla?” Rodney prompted at John’s silence. “They became your friends?”

“Yeah. Mostly because they were in a different battalion when I met them. They brought fresh ideas to me and helped me think of things differently. Helped me strategize. They aren’t just brute force soldiers. They’re thinkers, analyzers of people and battle. Our battalions merged and I assumed command of theirs as well and pretty much took them on as my seconds in battle. Best decision I ever made.”

They had wandered far from the house, deeper into the gardens. Most of the flowers were tucked closed for the night, waiting until morning to gather their sunshine. A few were night blossoms, perfuming the air lightly with their soft, subtle scent. The moon was high and full, casting a white light on the shrubs and bushes, washing everything in pale grey. The greenery was tall and lush, blocking out the view of the house. In the background, the music from the ball room could still be heard, as well as some cheering and carousing at the knife contest. The pathway they were on emptied out into a circular area, a small water fountain sat silent in the center. There were four small benches circling it and John took a seat at one and then looked up expectantly at Rodney when he hesitated.

Rodney carefully took a seat next to him, his back a little stiff compared to John’s slouch. John tipped his head up to the clear sky.

“Good night for stargazing,” he said.

He could see Rodney nodding out of the corner of his eye and then tilt his own head up. “Yes. I hope it continues. I’m working on a new telescope and I’m waiting for some pieces to arrive.”

“What do you hope to see?” John asked, turning his head to look at Rodney.

Rodney tilted his own head to look at John with confusion. “Everything,” he said easily.

John smiled. “Of course. But what do you hope to see first?”

Rodney paused and looked up again. “You know of Edmond Halley’s comet?”

“Yes,” John said slowly watching Rodney’s face. “It’s some sort of traveling object in the sky?”

Rodney nodded, still staring at the sky. “Yes. Exactly. It somehow has an orbit that allows it to continually return to earth regularly. Historical records for it date back to the Babylonians. It’s orbital period is about 75 years, so if you’re lucky, you could see it twice in a lifetime. But most people only get a chance to see it once.”

“And you want to see it?” John asked. “Should be easy enough.”

“No. I want to know where it goes when it’s not here.” Rodney’s voice was low and somehow, very far away. “We’re just a rock on its route. But where does it go? I mean, I can calculate how far it must go using Newton’s laws, but… what else is out there?” Rodney continued his quiet vigil of the sky. “Can you imagine if you could be on that comet? What would you see? Would you even note the earth or is it insignificant compared to all the other things you pass by? How much could you know?”

Watching Rodney watch the sky, John could almost see the calculations going on in Rodney’s head. He didn’t just stare at the sky, he assessed it, catalogued it, perhaps even memorized it. John looked up at the sky and saw a thousands tiny flickers of light. Rodney looked up at the sky and saw infinity.

“You want to know where comets live,” John said, his voice low.

Rodney turned back to him, eyes bright even in the moonlight. “Doesn’t everyone?”

Rodney’s expression was childlike in its simplicity and the thought that behind that open face with its blue eyes and slightly crooked mouth was the most impressive brain in all Atlantis made something somersault in John’s stomach. John leaned forward and touched his lips carefully to Rodney’s. Rodney didn’t move, didn’t lean away, remaining perfectly still. John inched closer on the bench, sliding one arm around Rodney’s broad shoulders and using the other one to pull Rodney closer, tilting his own head for a better fit. He licked his way into Rodney’s mouth and felt a surge go through him when Rodney easily parted his lips and slid his tongue out, hot and slick against John’s own.

John pulled him closer, tighter together, awkward as they were on the stone bench. Rodney’s arms came up and circled around John in a somewhat clumsy embrace given their position. John ran his hand down the warm length of Rodney’s spine, settling his palm against the tight muscles of Rodney’s lower back, pushing Rodney toward him.

Rodney scooted forward and their thighs pressed against each other hard; John could feel the bone of his hip digging into the side of Rodney’s leg and he wanted to break the kiss if only to swing his leg up and over the bench to straddle it and be able to pull Rodney closer to him. In fact, John was about to do just that when Rodney pulled away, almost tentatively.

“What? What’s wrong?” John asked, running his hands down Rodney’s arms.

Rodney was staring down between them, and didn’t look up at first. “Uh. I saw Carson,” Rodney hedged.

“I noticed your sling was gone,” John murmured, unable to resist pressing a kiss against Rodney’s jaw.

“Um, I don’t need it anymore. Nor…” Rodney hesitated, and John felt a thrill go through him as he figured out what Rodney was likely to say. “As long as… well… if we’re careful… I mean, I’m…”

Rodney actually blushed and John smiled planting a quick, solid kiss on his lips with a loud smack.

“In that case, what are we still doing here?” John asked with a grin. Rodney looked up at smiled timidly and John stood, pulling Rodney to his feet as well.

John tugged him in close for another wet kiss and then ran his tongue across Rodney’s jaw, feeling the other man shiver slightly.

“Do you want to go home?” he asked, purring the words into Rodney’s ear.

“I… yes.”

John was all long strides and sharp movements, holding Rodney’s hand tightly and weaving them through the crowd. People tried to get his attention and stop him for a quick conversation and he barely nodded his head at them as he went.

He was a man on a mission.

He spotted Teyla in the ballroom, having a discussion with the Widow Weir. Teyla caught his eye and raised one eyebrow at him. John mouthed the words we’re leaving and he thought that Rodney might have waved to her. She gave a knowing nod and waved back, the amusing waggle of her fingers letting John know she knew exactly where they were going.

His return grin was full of teeth and cheekbones, so big it almost hurt.

They rushed through the heat and humidity of the inside of the house, only to find themselves back outside in cool air, only in the front of the house this time. John easily spotted his carriage and how he managed to maneuver them through the throng to it, he couldn’t say. He was pretty sure he gave the driver instructions to take them home immediately, but all he knew for certain is that once he and Rodney were in the carriage, the door barely shut behind them before John threw himself down on the seat and pulled Rodney down on his lap.

He laughed at the slightly high-pitched shriek Rodney gave at being pulled off balance so quickly. Rodney landed hard on John’s torso, his hands pressed up against John’s chest and his feet splayed out bizarrely.

“But this is the carriage!” Rodney protested.

John mouthed his way across Rodney’s jaw and took Rodney’s earlobe in his mouth and sucked on it. Rodney made a keening sound and when John did it harder, Rodney’s hips bucked forward.

“I know,” John whispered.

“But, this is your…” Rodney was cut off by his own moan when John suckled at his Adam’s apple, tonguing against the stubble there.

“My what?” John asked teasingly, pulling fabric out of Rodney’s waistband and setting his palms on the hot flesh underneath.

“Mmm.”

It was all Rodney managed as John circled one of his palms against the small of Rodney’s back, his other hand on Rodney’s hip. John kissed him thoroughly and Rodney started making these little tiny desperate sounds that drove John crazy. The rocking and swaying motion of the carriage had them pressing up against each other wildly, both of them trying to keep Rodney’s balance, Rodney’s knees finally settling on the padded cushions on either side of John’s thighs. The carriage rolled over something, bounced madly and John tugged hard on Rodney, bringing him down firmly onto his lap. John felt the hot, hard length of Rodney press against his groin and he let out a groan of his own.

Rodney felt slightly dizzy and out of breath but for the first time in his life, those feelings didn’t worry him or make him contemplate his health. The heat coming off the both of them was impossible. Surely two bodies couldn't produce this much heat and not combust. He could hear strange, tight noises coming from his own throat and chest and he couldn’t stop them. He could hear John’s heavy, intent breathing, the slightly wet sounds of them kissing, clothes rustling and the back and forth of the carriage. If he hadn’t known for sure that he only drank water at the ball tonight he would have insisted he was drunk.

He didn’t even realize the carriage stopped until John pulled away from him and cupped his jaw in his hands.

“Unless you want to continue this here, we should probably go upstairs to bed,” John breathed.

Rodney panted slightly, looking down at him, a spark of nervousness mixing in with arousal. “Uh, bed is… good.”

“Very good,” agreed John, kissing Rodney again.

“Um, yes, very good,” Rodney managed when John lapped his tongue at the juncture of Rodney’s neck and jaw.

It really did seem like a fantastic idea. John helped Rodney ease back onto shaky legs, steadying him with a firm grip and a smile when Rodney’s knees wobbled. Rodney ducked his head as the exited the carriage, avoiding looking at footmen and driver, although a surreptitious glance told him he needn’t have bothered. They all had their eyes discreetly averted, gazes forward and sombre like guards at a palace.

Rodney was hyper-aware of every moment from the carriage upstairs to the bedroom. Each grasping hand, his or John’s, each heavy sigh, each muted groan, each creak of the wooden steps were noted and accounted. His impressive brain was simply not capable of not cataloguing every sensation. John’s stubble was raspy against his own lighter, slightly softer growth. John’s hands were calloused from horses and his time in the war, whereas Rodney only had rough spots from writing or using small calibration tools. John’s body felt the exact same way it looked when Rodney had snatched secretive glances before bedtime - lean, taut, tight.

Rodney heard the door give out its telltale squeak of hinge, and he knew they had arrived at their bedchamber. The house-staff had left a low candle burning in the room, casting a dusky glow over the bed, but it wasn’t enough light to chase all the shadows away from the corners of the room. Rodney walked backward, being directed by John toward the bed, John’s hands on Rodney’s hips sure and firm. They kissed as they moved until Rodney stumbled over one of his boots left carelessly on the floor from earlier and nearly fell before John caught him. John laughed warm in his ear, the vibrations traveling through him and making him shiver.

John slid his hands under Rodney’s jacket and over his shoulders, easing the material off and tossing it somewhere in the direction of the armoire. He was careful as he stripped Rodney of the rest of his clothes. He stole quick kisses as he undid the buttons of Rodney’s shirt and yanked it out of the waistband. When he peeled it off Rodney’s shoulders, Rodney curled his inward instinctively, trying to make himself smaller, less there and John only smiled, leaned in and kissed him soundly. John took a moment to run light fingertips over the bruising that still clearly marred Rodney’s ribcage on the one side; livid purples and red that were still rising to the surface. They were tender to the touch and Rodney stilled but John’s fingers never pressed too hard, just ghosted over the surface.

John pushed him back on the bed gently and he landed with a slight bounce as John tugged his boots and socks off, and then kicked off his own, biting back a curse when the left one was stubborn. Rodney leaned back as John bent over him, tugging at the waistband of his pants. He ran a hand over Rodney’s erection and Rodney couldn’t stop the moan that was pulled from deep within his chest and throat at the contact. The only person to ever have done that was himself and having someone else do it… John’s hand was hot and hard, pressing against Rodney’s cock and rubbing up and down. Rodney thrust his hips up absently and John surged forward, licking into Rodney’s mouth wetly. John dropped his weight down on top of Rodney and it was glorious. He was heavy, his hipbones dug into Rodney and when John rocked his hips down against him and Rodney felt his hardness press against his hip he gasped loudly and bucked back up.

Rodney felt like he wasn’t sure where his brain should be getting its input from or how he should process it all. John’s hands roamed over Rodney’s shoulders, his neck, his fingertips grazed over Rodney’s jaw. Rodney could smell the dark heat of John, the scent filling his nostrils and blocking out everything else. All he could hear was their panting breaths, his own moans that broke off into gasps, the quiet lapping sounds of their kisses. His eyes were closed, but when he opened them, all he could see was John; John above him, John’s hair - sharp and spiky. John’s mouth - wet and kiss swollen. John’s face - so close to his own that it was hard to look at.

John grabbed his wrists, held them down on either side of Rodney’s face, straddled Rodney’s legs and stared down at him smiling.

“See? Bed. Good idea, huh?” John was slightly out of breath.

Rodney thought he might have managed a dumb nod of his head, but he wasn’t totally sure.

John leaned forward again, running his tongue along Rodney’s jaw from his ear to his chin and then starting kissing his way wetly down Rodney’s neck. Rodney arched back a little to give him better access and John stared moving his way down, dipping his tongue into the hollow where his clavicle bones met. John’s tongue was hot and slippery and when it closed around his nipple, Rodney arched back hard and gave a loud gasp. John released his arms and Rodney immediately brought them down to John’s hair, threading through the soft spikes and tugging lightly. John latched onto his nipple and started sucking at it, his fingertips circling the other one and Rodney didn’t even recognize the sounds he started to make. Short, broken off moans followed by an almost hum and some breathy gasps.

“Like that?” John teased, looking up at Rodney with lust blown eyes.

Rodney managed a nod. “Ye.. Yes.”

John returned his attention to Rodney’s nipples, this time sucking on the other side and playing with the one already wet and throbbing.

And as much as he was enjoying it, as much as he never wanted it to end, he couldn’t get out of his head that this was just the prelude to the rest of the evening and he was excited and turned on and maybe a little scared. His body tensed involuntarily and John, feeling the shift immediately looked up at Rodney with a question in his eyes.

“You okay?” he asked.

His voice was tender and concerned, his brow slightly frowned and Rodney squirmed a little, unable to keep still under the scrutiny.

“I… I don’t… I mean, I haven’t…”

Rodney saw the exact moment John understood and here it was. The mortification. Rodney could feel it welling up inside him, threatening to spill over. He wanted to turn his head away and hide. Preferably someplace dark and quiet. Unable to really move, he settled for averting his gaze far off to the side.

“You’ve never done this before?”

Rodney managed to shake his head. “It never really came up before,” he said and then realizing how that sounded he hurried on, “I mean, it’s come up,” he risked darting his eyes to John who sat there watching Rodney with his flappy hands. “It wasn’t that there was a problem, it’s just… I’m very busy and people don’t like me. Not that I like them much either but then time goes by and the next thing you know it’s like you missed some kind of window of opportunity-”

Just like the night of their engagement, sometimes the best way to shut Rodney McKay up, was to kiss him. John kissed him hard and deep, his tongue licking the inside of Rodney’s mouth. He rocked his hips against Rodney’s sharply, his erection pressing deeply into Rodney’s hip. John finally pulled away, leaving Rodney’s lips tingling from the scrape of stubble.

“You were kind of going off on a tangent there,” John said with a grin.

“So… you’re not… I mean, it’s okay?”

“Definitely okay. How about you? Are we going to fast?”

John’s worried look made something ease in Rodney’s chest and he shook his head quietly. “No, not too fast.”

John grinned and it was sexy and thrilling and made Rodney smile. John leaned over and kissed him again and Rodney grabbed at him with greedy hands, pulling him close.

John broke the kiss off and rubbed his thumb over Rodney’s jaw. “If something makes you uncomfortable or you don’t like it, speak up.”

Rodney resisted the urge to snort. “Don’t worry.”

John bit at Rodney’s jaw and Rodney let out a little yelp of pleasure and they both laughed a little. John went back Rodney’s chest, working his way down, teasing Rodney’s ribs with his fingertips as he poked his tongue out and trailed it down the center. Rodney let his fingers card through John’s hair, feeling the arousal build up in him again.

John reached Rodney’s pants and dipped his fingertips under the waist band, tugging at them and wiggling them down Rodney’s hips along with his underwear. Rodney gave a sharp hiss as his underwear was pulled free, exposing his cock to the air. He was hard as a rock and leaking at the tip. He’d never been so hard in his life. He panted slightly from nervousness, slightly from desire watching John peel his pants the rest of the way off.

John stripped in record time. Rodney honestly hadn’t known anyone could disrobe as fast as John just did. He scooted back on the bed until his head was at the top and John crawled back over him, kneeling between Rodney’s ankles. Rodney openly stared at John now taking in his leanly muscled body, the dark spray of hair over his chest, arms and thighs and his erection, jutting out from his body, hard and dark. Rodney couldn’t take his eyes off John, imagined their bodies moving together, imagined John’s dark skin against his own pale flesh.

John leaned over and licked quickly at the inside of Rodney’s knee and Rodney gasped. He’d never felt anything like it on his knee before. John’s mouth was in a wide grin as he ran his hands over Rodney’s thighs and licked his way up the inside of Rodney’s leg, tongue playing with the skin where his leg met his torso. Rodney groaned at the sensation. He wanted John’s mouth on his cock. He couldn’t even imagine how it would feel. He wanted to say it out loud, wanted to beg for it but he couldn’t force the words out. John looked up at him with knowing eyes and carefully dipped the tip of his tongue against the wet head of Rodney’s cock. John’s hands held his hips down as Rodney bucked up at the new sensation. John’s tongue was so hot - wet and slick, completely foreign to anything rodney had ever felt.

“Sorry, sorry,” Rodney breathed.

“I like it,” John said easily, rubbing circles with his thumbs where he had pressed down against Rodney’s hips. “I take it you did too?”

Rodney nodded dumbly, transfixed with John.

“Do you want to know what I’m going to do tonight, Rodney?” John asked and the sound of his voice made Rodney’s dick ache, made his stomach clench in anticipation. John didn’t wait for Rodney to answer before he continued, stroking his hands up and down Rodney’s legs as he spoke. “I’m going to suck you off, make you come and swallow you down. And when you’re all nice and relaxed, I’m going to stretch you out, make you slick and lose, tease you. And when you get hard again I’m going to push into you slowly. I’m going to feel hard and thick and you’ll think you can’t take it but you can. I’ll make you feel so good you’ll wonder how you ever lived without it.”

Rodney was vibrating with desire at John’s words. They didn’t sound arrogant or egotistical. They way he looked at Rodney when he said them made Rodney feel safe and strangely confident in how the night would go. John came up to Rodney’s face and darted his tongue out to lick at Rodney’s lips.

“Would you like that?” Another lick across Rodney’s lips and Rodney was trying to chase John with his own mouth.

“Yes,” he managed.

John wriggled back down toward the end of the bed and without warning, opened his mouth and engulfed Rodney’s cock.

“Fuck!” Rodney shouted. It was so hot and wet and when John sucked lightly Rodney let out a sound between a shout and a moan. He didn’t want to pull John’s hair but he couldn’t stop himself from tugging at the strands, wanting the contact, needing to touch John. John’s tongue ran over the vein at the bottom of his shaft, pressing into the small bundle of nerves under the tip and Rodney let out another loud groan. He could already feel his orgasm building and he wanted to stop it, wanted to feel the heat of John’s mouth on him all night. Rodney panted with the effort, letting out high-pitched whines as John worked him with his mouth, saliva trailing down messily. John used it, circling his fingers around the base and twisting.

“Oh, god, John, I’m… I can’t… please…” Rodney was trying to warn him, let him know that he was close, he was so close, his hips making abortive little movements, his fingers moving randomly in John’s hair. He could feel it pooling at the base of his spine and then John dragged a finger down, over his balls and touched him and Rodney was coming sharper, harder than he ever had in his life. He came hot and painful, throat locking up and breath stopping in his chest.

When he got his senses back, John was nuzzling at his hip, watching him with a happy expression on his face.

“Good?” John asked, his expression clearly stating that he knew it was.

“Nghh.”

John chuckled. “Turn over,” he said lowly, touching Rodney’s hip.

John helped him roll over onto his stomach and he went bonelessly, making soft sighs of pleasure.

“Tuck your knees under you a bit.”

Again with help, Rodney complied, pulling his arms underneath his head and folding them to rest his head. He gave another sigh of relaxation. The bed shifted and John moved away for a moment and Rodney heard rustling in one of the drawers. He opened his eyes a crack and looked over just as John was coming back. John caught his eye and as he hopped back onto the bed, he leaned over and kissed Rodney on the corner of his mouth.

“You okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good.”

John set his hands on Rodney’s shoulders, running over the skin and then down the length of Rodney’s back. John’s hands disappeared for a moment and there was the quiet clinking of glass and Rodney felt cool liquid dripping onto the base of his spine, running ticklishly down his back. Rodney gave a low moan of contentment as John’s hands trailed down over his backside, rubbing over his ass and then one finger dipped between the cheeks. Rodney tensed slightly and John rubbed a circle on his back and made low shushing noises that were strangely soothing. John slid his finger down and circled against Rodney’s hole and it was strange and exhilarating and so damned… naughty. Rodney felt heat rise on his face but at the same time, a bolt of desire shot through him as John pressed gently. John’s finger slid in and it was weird and bizarre and Rodney wasn’t sure he liked it.

“Just relax, I promise you’ll like it,” John said, as if he read Rodney’s mind, and Rodney tried to do just that. John slowly thrust his finger in and out and it stopped feeling so strange and started feeling really good. Steady and firm, John moved his finger and Rodney relaxed into it. John circled his finger once, then twice and then…

“Fuck!” shouted Rodney, he’s back bowing slightly. It was the second time he’d sworn tonight and both times were absolutely worth it. John hit something inside him, some spot that was just perfect.

“Again, please, please,” Rodney moaned. He could feel his cock twitching at the sensation and he rocked his hips, wanting, needing some friction.

John pressed a kiss to the small of Rodney’s back. “I’m going to make you feel so good, Rodney, I promise, so good.”

“Yes, please, please, John.”

John pulled his finger out and Rodney wanted to sob with the absence and then John’s hand was back and he felt the stretch as two fingers pressed into him. It was tight and uncomfortable again, but John kept working his fingers in and out, pressing against that spot deep in Rodney, making Rodney jerk and moan with pleasure. His dick throbbed as it hardened, feeling so sensitive.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” John panted. “You’re gonna feel so tight, so good.”

Rodney groaned out a vague response as John pumped his fingers in and out. After a while, John added a third and this time the burn was intense. John immediately pressed against the sensitive spot inside Rodney and Rodney squirmed. He could feel his cock leaking and he jerked his hips slightly wishing he could thrust into the mattress but he was at a weird angle on his knees, unable to manage it. John kept massaging the one spot over and over again and Rodney was continuously moaning, moving with John, rocking into John’s hand. He’d had no idea it could feel like this, no scale of measurement for the desire and arousal. His whole body was taut with it, nearly ached with it.

John pulled his hand out and Rodney felt empty suddenly and whimpered. John shuffled behind him Rodney and then suddenly he felt John’s erection pressing at his hole, pressing against his body.

“Just relax, Rodney,” John said, seeing the line of tension come back in Rodney’s shoulders. Rodney wanted to say something completely inane like John was too big and this was never going to work but John was pushing against him, holding his hips firmly, pulling Rodney toward him. Rodney felt John’s cock breach him slightly and it burned, so much more than the fingers did. John felt huge, impossible. Rodney’s hardness flagged slightly. It was like something in Rodney’s body gave and John slid in a bit further. John made a loud hissing sound and cursed.

“Fuck you’re tight, Jesus you feel… gunh.” John trailed off into an unintelligible sound, panting with effort.

Rodney squirmed a bit. It was uncomfortable and strange and he tried to move away from it.

“Jesus don’t move. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” John gritted out and Rodney could hear the strain in his voice. Gone was the languid pleasure from earlier. Rodney was keenly aware of what was happening now. John slid in slowly, so slowly, it seemed there was no end to it until finally, John was pressed up against Rodney, panting like he’d run a marathon, his hands tight on Rodney’s hips.

Rodney wasn’t sure what to do. To be honest, he’d really liked what they were doing before better. Of course, he’d heard jokes about closing your eyes and thinking of Atlantis. Was this what that meant? Was this the part he was just supposed to bear?

John gently rocked his hips, tiny minute thrusts and Rodney found that the burn was lessening, easing. John smoothed his hands over Rodney’s hips and flanks, up over the small of his back and down again. His thrusts became longer, farther out and then back in and the burn was almost gone now. Instinctively, Rodney pushed back against John, testing. John moved slightly, changing the angle a bit for a couple thrusts, then again, and then he hit that spot in Rodney and Rodney immediately cried out his name. It had felt so good when John touched it with his finger and now, now he was deep inside Rodney, hitting it and it was so intimate. John was inside him. No one had ever touched him there, no one had ever been so deep. John kept hitting the same delicious spot again and again, his thrusts drawn out and deep and Rodney groaned with each one, pushing back against John as John pressed forward to meet him. John felt so deep inside him, so thick and Rodney felt his own erection hardening with each stroke.

John pulled onto his knees, brining Rodney with him onto his lap and it forced John almost impossibly deeper into him. Rodney grunted in pleasure, loving the feeling of John’s hardness inside him. John wrapped his arms tightly around him, thrusting his hips up again and again. John was moaning in Rodney’s ear, telling him he felt so good, so tight, so perfect and the sound of John, of beautiful, handsome John saying those things, made Rodney cry out with each thrust, dropping his head back on John’s shoulder. John turned and sucked at his neck, biting down carefully with his teeth and Rodney’s body clenched in delight. His hands clutched at John’s flanks, holding him tight. John grabbed Rodney’s cock and started fisting it, milking drops of pre-come out and smearing them down over the shaft, making it slick and wet.

“God, you feel so good,” John panted against his neck. “So good.”

Rodney couldn’t take it, it was so much. John in him, John under him, John around him, John’s hands on his body, John’s tongue against his neck. His first orgasm had been sharp, hard, buzzing across the surface. This one was rising from deep within, relentless and thick, pulsing up his spine. He could feel it building and building, like a herd of horses coming closer and closer, getting louder and louder until you think it’s impossible for them to get any louder, to come any closer and they do, they are.

He came with a loud noise, somewhere between a groan and a shout, his body locking up tight and spasming with the force of it. The relief of finally coming was perfect. He felt John bite down hard on the meaty part of his shoulder and neck, hands gripped tight, and then he was spilling hot inside, convulsing and jerking. Rodney gasped for air, sucking in huge breaths, hands pressed to John’s legs as his thrusts lessened until he was still, breathing hard in Rodney’s ear. John’s grip started to ease and Rodney felt both their bodies start to relax.

Somehow, John maneuvered them down to the bed, pulling out of Rodney and both gave a hiss at the oversensitivity. John got up carefully from the bed and Rodney was at a loss for a moment until he came back with a damp cloth. He gently, carefully cleaned Rodney, rubbing the cloth softly against Rodney’s skin and then himself before tossing it toward the washing bin. When he slid into bed next to Rodney and immediately pulled him close, Rodney let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

Flat on his back, John settled Rodney over his chest, tangling their legs like pretzels.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice quiet. He rubbed his hand in a circle over Rodney’s back.

Rodney huffed drowsily. “‘m fantastic.”

He felt the vibrations of John’s chuckle. “Live up to your expectations?”

“Fuck, yes,” Rodney said immediately and then stilled. “Um, you?”

John soothed Rodney’s back with the palm of his hand. “You were perfect.”

“Because I’m a genius and I’m really good at figuring stuff out so if it wasn’t good for you, or I did something wrong, I’m a very fast learner.”

John’s arms tightened. “Really. Perfect.” He let out another chuckle. “Jesus, I think you damn near killed me.”

Rodney felt a certain smug satisfaction. “Well, genius,” he replied pleased with himself.

John laughed and it was a warm, happy sound that made Rodney smile.

Rodney had a question. “When can we do it again?”

***

Most days, John felt ridiculously happy. He’s pretty sure he wandered around with a spectacularly goofy grin on his face and he absolutely did not care.

He was surprised. He’d been in casual relationships mostly, arrangements where neither party was in a position to offer more than what was clearly on the table. No one ever looked for more, no one was ever pressured to be more than they were, offer more than they were capable of. Things were always easy and light, no long term commitments.

He had two longer relationships in his past. Relationships that he thought might go further, might be something to build on, but in the end, when he’d tried to picture himself with the other person for longer than a year, things got a little fuzzy, blurry and he wasn’t sure why.

At times, he’d wondered if maybe he just wasn’t the marrying kind.

When he’d decided to offer for Rodney, after the compromising position they’d been found in, he was determined to make a go of it. It had been time to get married and Rodney had seemed like a good choice. He was prepared to get married. And that was all there was to it.

He figured it couldn't be so bad. He might like it.

He really hadn’t expected to enjoy it.

He certainly hadn’t expected to be lost in a permanent haze of sex, happiness and near-giddiness. It should be really embarrassing.

It wasn’t.

Rodney was fun to talk to. Rodney was interesting. He knew something about almost everything, and knew almost everything about a lot of things. If he didn’t know, he wanted to learn. Of course, he learned a lot of things just so he could debunk or mock them, but he never mocked without knowledge.

Knowledge was key.

When John started working on furthering his business plan for horse breeding, Rodney asked to see the numbers. He voraciously read all the documents John had, purchased several books on animal husbandry, read up on the various types of horses and at the end of it all had soundly told John he thought ‘it wasn’t a completely moronic idea.’

Like a schoolboy, John had nearly beamed with the praise.

When the new lenses for Rodney’s telescope arrived, Rodney had vibrated with excitement and dragged John into his office, making him sit through a two hour monologue on light and how it bent, how these pieces were ground to his specifications, how he was going to see the ring around Saturn and prove it wasn’t a solid disk.

When the telescope was modified with its new lenses and Rodney realized he had to wait four hours for dark, he turned to John and with lightening fast speed, channelled all the energy he’d been putting toward astronomy into dragging John over to his desk, pushing him down into the chair and giving John a spectacular blow job.

What Rodney lacked in experience when they consummated their relationship, he was learning at an advanced curve. Every touch John ever bestowed on him was mirrored back onto himself. Rodney would watch John with his intense eyes, studying John’s responses, trying a variation, applying more pressure, less pressure, using his tongue instead of his fingertips. Rodney was a damn quick study and he more than made up for his knowledge gap in enthusiasm and responsiveness.

He was vocal on the giving and receiving end of pleasure - moaning around John’s cock or gasping when John thrust into him. He would tell John what he liked, how he liked it, where he wanted it and John could not get enough of hearing Rodney talk, especially loving when Rodney lost the ability to form complete sentences and words and was just a mess of consonants and vowels. John could then be sure that any mind-blowing tricks he used on Rodney would be reciprocated the next time as Rodney learned what made John shudder, what made him break out in goosebumps, what made him groan and beg for more.

After sex during the day, they would grin wildly at each other, like schoolboys being naughty, laughing as they tried to put their clothing back to rights, stealing little touches and glances as they came down from the high of sex.

During the night, they cuddled close, Rodney generally plastered over John’s chest or the two of them spooning. They’d talk quiet and low, the darkness making everything seem like a confession or a secret. John asked Rodney about his father and Rodney told him random things he remembered. He had blue eyes like Rodney and Jeannie. The coat he’d worn was scratchy. He had a booming laugh and he smelled like cigar smoke and cinnamon.

John told Rodney about the time he got lost in the forest when he was ten. It had been dark and cold. Thrown from his horse, his shoulder bruised badly. The horse, scared by the lightening storm brewing, had been spooked and darted away. He was only lost for two hours but it felt like forever. When he saw his father coming over a small mound, coming toward him, John had fallen to his knees and started crying.

The stars, Rodney said, had been what interested him in astronomy and trains had been what interested him in physics. He originally got into physics to figure out how the trains were powered, how they moved and it had opened up a whole new world for him. A world of books and ideas where it didn’t matter that he didn’t like running or was possibly a little afraid of horses. Once he started learning, he didn’t want to stop.

Horses had been John’s way of escape when his mother died. In the stables, with animals that couldn’t talk, it didn’t matter that it was always silent. The silence in the house, where people could speak but didn’t, was oppressive and heavy. But out in the stables or riding it was just quiet without this foreboding weight hanging over him. Their old stable hand, Halling’s father, had taken John in and showed him how to groom the animals, saddle them, care for them. The first time he tried to help the blacksmith shoe the animal, he got kicked in the chest, cracking two ribs.

Sometimes they’d end tangled up in touching and petting, still memorizing the lines of each other’s bodies. Other times they’d fall asleep and wouldn’t wake up till well after sunrise.

Rodney went down to the stables every day, usually with John, and John would watch Rodney carefully brush Puddlejumper’s mane, rub his nose and then feed him apple slices. The foal always went directly to Rodney, neighing and stamping, even when John carried the bucket of apples. When Rodney didn’t start brushing him right away, Puddlejumper would nudge Rodney with his nose, pushing against Rodney’s hands until he picked up the brush. Puddlejumper would eat all the apple slices brought, even trying to steal from his mother at times, and would then hunt around Rodney looking for more, huffing in annoyance when he found none.

John never told Rodney that he thought Puddlejumper was Rodney in horse-form.

When Rodney stepped in a large pile of horse shit and started complaining loud enough to wake the dead, John couldn’t stop laughing. He finally pushed Rodney into a pile of fresh hay, tugging his boots off and tossing them off into a corner. When Rodney still continued to bitch, John crawled on top of him, furiously worked his hands down Rodney’s pants and stroked him fast and rough, rubbing himself off on Rodney’s leg. They lay in the hay panting for breath until Puddlejumper stalked over, took one look and huffed indignantly at them.

John’s only regret was that he hadn’t met Rodney sooner.

***

Rodney bounced on his toes waiting for Jeannie to arrive. Her things had been arriving in small bundles for a few days but today she was bringing the last of it over, moving in officially. She’d seen the estate during the small reception, or at least part of it. Rodney was all set to give her the grand tour. He saw her carriage coming up the long drive and clambered down the front steps to meet it.

“Here, take this,” Jeannie said immediately upon the carriage door being opened and shoved an oversized hat box into Rodney’s hands.

“What’s in here? Gold bricks?”

“Don’t I wish,” Jeannie replied, rolling her eyes. She held a hand out to Rodney and when he didn’t take it to help her down, she wagged it in front of his face.

“Well?” she huffed.

“Well what? I’m holding your box of bricks here!”

“Honestly,” she muttered under her breath and then followed him inside. As soon as he stepped in, he handed the box off to one of the footmen and instructed him to take it to Jeannie’s room. He turned back to Jeannie.

“Welcome home,” he said with a proud smile.

She stepped forward and hugged him fiercely. “I love the duke and duchess but I’m glad to be out of their house. Now that you’ve married it’s like a whole new world has opened up to the duchess and she’s got grand plans of marrying me off as well as you’ve done. Balls, teas, socials, recitals!”

Rodney offered her his arm and she took it familiarly as they crossed the foyer and headed up the stairs.

“Meet anyone you like?” Rodney asked.

Jeannie huffed again. “Oh my god, Mer, I had no idea society was full of such dunderheads. You were right.”

“I’m sorry, could you speak into the right ear, so I can hear you better.”

“You. Were. Right. All those times you complained about their idiocy, I thought you were being… well… you. But, enough of me, let’s talk about you. How is married life treating you? As much as it pains me to admit it, I can stay with the duke and duchess longer if you want. I don’t want to intrude on you and John.”

At the top of the stairs they turned and Rodney led her down the hallway to her room.

“Look at the size of this place. We might not even notice you’re here,” Rodney answered. He appreciated that Jeannie had stayed away to give them space, but he rather liked having his sister where he could see that she was safe and doing well.

“But things? Things are okay?” Jeannie asked, eyeing him carefully.

Rodney nearly preened. “Things are good.”

“Really?” Her tone was disbelieving and somewhat dry.

“Yes, really. Why is that so hard to believe?” Rodney said, his shoulders deflating somewhat.

“Well, don’t take this the wrong way, Mer, but you’re…”

“Unique? Brilliant? Astounding?”

“A pain in the ass sometimes.”

“I changed my mind. Go back to the duchess. She can marry you off to a pirate for all I care.”

“You know I love you. If you can’t trust me to be honest with you, who can you trust?” Jeannie said easily, swaying toward Rodney slightly. “But you know how you are. And John Sheppard. Well. A marquis. Wealthy. And reportedly somewhat of a rake. Hardly screams love match for Meredith McKay.”

Rodney bristled a bit. “Well, be that as it may, things are good. I’m happy. We’re happy.”

Jeannie stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Then I’m happy for you. I still can’t believe it, but I’m happy.” She leaned forward and kissed him on his cheek and he felt his face warm slightly at the endearment. “Now let’s see this room of mine.”

When Rodney opened the door for her, her face lit up like sunrise.

“Oh, Mer, it’s beautiful.”

“John had it re-done for you,” Rodney said, oddly proud although he didn’t have anything to do with it.

The room was entirely done in soft blue-grays and a deep burgundy. It was definitely feminine but not childish or girlish. The walls were lined with crepe and set off by a deep wood border. The curtains were gray damask which matched the dressing on the canopy bed. There was matching furniture in dark, cherry wood and small lamps placed strategically around the room. Jeannie stepped forward and swung herself on one of the bedposts, landing on the bed.

“Holy smokes, this is the softest bed I’ve ever been on.”

“Isn’t it?” said Rodney, and then like they were kids again, he hopped on the bed next to her and they both collapsed backwards, staring up at the canopy hanging down.

“Wow,” breathed Jeannie.

“Wow,” agreed Rodney.

“You look really good, Mer. Really happy.” Jeannie patted him on the hand. “You deserve it.”

Rodney smiled thinking that yes, maybe he did.

***

John was in a fantastic mood. After extensive research into their current owners and the horses ancestry, he’d made an offer on a group of horses. While he hadn’t laid eyes on them, he had done his work thoroughly and had been relatively confident they would be fine creatures and complement his current stock very well.

They’d arrived that morning and after half a day spent checking them over, riding a few of them and having them looked over by the veterinarian, John was pleased to declare them perfect. He was already planning his first set of breeding in his head and trying to decide who he would take for racing and trials.

His immediate stop after he left the stables was Rodney’s office. It was a past noon and knowing Rodney’s usual schedule, he would be wrapped up in his work, snacking on stolen rolls from the kitchen, completely oblivious that it was time for lunch. John liked having lunch with Rodney and made it a point to stop whatever he was doing if he could and go rustle up his new husband to eat.

The fact that it ended in sex in the middle of the day 75% of the time had absolutely everything to do with it.

He knocked on the door and not waiting for an answer, swung inside, disappointed to find it empty.

Wondering if Rodney had just darted off for a moment, John decided to wait. He spotted a large trunk next to the desk and wandered over to it.

It was old. The carvings on it were well worn and there was no telling what they might have been at one time. The hinges were rusting and probably didn’t function without emitting a hideous screech. The wood was battered and chipped, long scratches marring the surface. Curious, John reached over and opened it. True to his thoughts, the metal gave a horrendous shriek as the lid cracked open, fine particles of rust falling from the hinges and onto the rug below.

It was full of paper. Crouching down, John picked up a handful and started reading.

Lord Kelvin’s Second Law of Thermodynamics applied to Engine Efficiency - MR McKay

Machine Making - Blueprints for a mechanical device that will generate the pulling power of equines - MR McKay

Complex Numbers and Their Applications in Modern Science - MR McKay

The Golden Ratio - Compelling Irrationality - MR McKay

How the Egyptians Built the Pyramids using Pi - MR McKay

Proof of Other Planets in the Universe - MR McKay

The entire chest was packed with Rodney’s papers. John knew Rodney was brilliant, but looking at the titles, reviewing the subjects the papers spanned, he was awed. Rodney’s entire lifetime of work was hidden away in this chest.

Hidden away.

No wonder Rodney was so focused on being published, and under his own name. The work in front of John was astounding. Most of the papers had marginal notes signed by RZ. Radek Zelenka, it appeared, read most of Rodney’s work. Some notes were short and to the point, stating that Rodney would likely revolutionize the science community when published. Other notes weren’t as glowing. There was one scribbled on a physics paper that read: If you are so determined to rip apart the fabric of space-time, I should think to have you arrested for genocide after you’ve destroyed the planet. PS Will you be at my viola recital tomorrow? I will play your composition based on Fib. number seq. RZ.

So it appeared Rodney wrote music as well.

John flipped through more titles wondering if he would find musical compositions tucked in the chest as well. If Rodney could publish, if there were a way that this work could be made public…

“What are you doing?”

John dropped a pile of papers on the ground and turned to find Rodney standing in the doorway of his office, carafe of coffee in one hand and a plate of small sandwiches in the other.

“I was just looking for you,” John said as he stood, tucking the papers back in the chest. “Is that lunch or a snack?”

Rodney looked from John to the chest and back to John. “Lunch. What were you doing?”

“I came to find you and you weren’t here and I saw the chest,” John said with a shrug, coming to stand before Rodney and steal one of the small bites of bread off his plate. “You’ve got a lot of work in there. Fantastic stuff it looks like.”

Rodney didn’t move from where he stood, watching John carefully. “My work is very important.”

“It looks it. Does Halling have more of these in the kitchen?” John asked, snatching another bite.

Rodney stared down at the plate. “Um, yes.”

“Let’s go have lunch in the dining room. I want to tell you all about the new horses.” John took the small platter from Rodney and gently grabbed Rodney’s elbow. “Have you been by to see ‘Jumper today?”

“Not yet,” Rodney said slowly, tossing a glance over his shoulder back at his office as John led him to the dining room.

“You should head down. He’s excited with the new horses, I think, but maybe a little overwhelmed. Big changes in the stables.”

“Oh. Yes. Uh, of course.” Rodney started to detour right away and John caught his elbow again with a chuckle.

“After we have lunch. We can head down there together.”

Rodney nodded and looking at John’s smile, he seemed to finally relax.

“So, new horses?”

***

Rodney tried to spend a bit more time with Puddlejumper over the next few days. The foal did appear to be a little overwhelmed by all the new horses and the comings and goings in the stables had doubled. Rodney liked to take him for a walk around the estate, leading him gently at an easy pace. It seemed to tire him out for the rest of the day, and the stable hands noted he was always much calmer after a long walk.

Down at the stables today, he had brought some apples and celery for ‘Jumper and set out on their daily sojourn. Unfortunately, the weather didn’t cooperate and he had to turn back early when it started to rain. At first the light drizzle was refreshing, the cool breeze waking up Rodney’s senses and ‘Jumper even seemed to enjoy it a bit himself. But then then drizzle turned to rain and Rodney was forced to head back to the stable early.

After drying Puddlejumper off an brushing him down like John had taught him, Rodney headed back up to the main house. He was surprised when he saw Radek’s carriage in front of the long drive. Decorated in the Bohemia style, Radek’s carriage was distinctive, set apart from the more subdued Atlantean style.

Wondering what the wily Bohemian was here for, Rodney quickly changed into dry clothes and headed back downstairs to track him down. He must have just arrived or someone would have been sent to the stables to fetch Rodney. He was just rounding the corner to find the butler and inquire where Radek was waiting when he heard the low rumbling of voices coming from down the hall.

From his office.

Frowning, he set off down the long stretch, pausing outside the door.

“All the papers in here are exceptional, Radek,” John was saying. “But we need to pick the best ones. I’m thinking the top five.”

Rodney stilled. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t continue on into the office and make himself known. Perhaps it was simple nefarious curiosity of hearing other’s speaking about him, unnoticed that made him pause. They were discussing his work, that much was clear, but why? Radek already knew most of Rodney’s work, having either argued it out with Rodney or proof-read the finished paper. He’d found John the other day, looking through his papers, but if he wanted to know something about them, surely Rodney would be the best to ask.

“Hmm. It will be difficult. I could pick you five from each subject and still there would be more that should be published.”

Rodney’s stomach dropped at the word. Published. It had been his goal for as long as he could remember. But he couldn’t publish, couldn’t even consider it because the laws said that those who weren’t titled hadn’t the right.

It was a never ending struggle. You found someone titled who wanted to publish who lacked the insight, the brilliance required to do the work. Alternatively, there were those like Rodney; gifted thinkers with astounding brains but sadly, common born. Radek was lucky enough to have been born brilliant and titled, the best possible combination. He was able to publish his work as he liked, but he did so sparingly. Rodney suspected that Radek felt guilty that some of his work had been spawned from discussions on Rodney’s notions and hence Radek wouldn’t publish it. Though he would never say it out loud, Rodney was grateful and touched.

But now John was in his office with Radek, discussing Rodney’s work, Rodney’s papers and publishing.

“If you had to pick, though,” John continued. “If you had to chose… I mean, I guess you do have to chose. I can’t get them all published at once.”

Rodney felt sick. John had promised, promised. He’d put it in writing. Rodney had read the papers over himself, had his solicitor read them over. There must be a loophole. Some small innocuous thing that neither he nor his solicitor saw.

And Radek, assisting John. Radek who knew how much Rodney valued his work, calmly discussing publishing Rodney’s papers and slapping John’s name on them.

He’d known Radek longer, but somehow, the betrayal by John hurt the most. How long had John been planning on stealing Rodney’s papers? Since the beginning? Had the whole episode where he stumbled into Rodney’s bedchamber drunk really been an accident?

Of course not. It really had been absurd, too absurd to be genuine, too ridiculous to be true.

Likely, the entire thing had been orchestrated from the beginning. Oh, how John must have laughed. How easily Rodney had played into his hands. Agreeing to marry him with only the simple promise of a dowry for Jeannie and a false statement to not publish Rodney’s work under his own name.

Rodney’s stomach clenched. He felt hot with embarrassment and shame at being duped. He stumbled away from the door. The smartest man in Atlantis and he’d been taken in, hoodwinked, deceived by a known rake.

It was all so obvious now. A rake like John Sheppard stumbling into his room, into his bed, and then ‘being forced’ to make an offer. Feeling ‘like his honor’ was at stake and offering for Rodney.

And Rodney had barely put up resistance! He’d hardly said no. All that John had to do was dangle a dowry for Jeannie and promise not to publish and Rodney had given in.

He walked upstairs with heavy feet, his legs like lead, his heart a solid mass in his chest. He’d always sworn to be published under his own name. Oh, how the scientific community would laugh at this. How they would crow! When papers started coming out published under the Maquis John Sheppard, they would howl with glee. The great Rodney McKay’s work, published under someone else’s name. After all his years of protests and speeches, swearing up and down he would change the laws or never publish at all.

The disappointment and shame sunk like a stone in his stomach. He finally made it to his bedchamber, theirbedchamber. He couldn’t even look at the bed. He’d been so wanton, so eager and it had all been a lie.

He was trapped. What could he do? Where could he go? He had Jeannie to think of as well as himself. If he ran away, disappeared, would John - no, Sheppard, he couldn’t think of him as John now - would Sheppard honor the agreement? Was there even an agreement to honor or was that a lie as well?

It was so confusing. Why would he go through the effort of having a room made of for Jeannie, or having Jeannie move in if he didn’t intend to honor it? Surely he would have preferred Jeannie to stay with the duke and duchess?

Rodney rubbed his hand over his eyes. What did it matter why Sheppard did what he did for Jeannie? Perhaps the offer was real, perhaps it wasn’t. It didn’t change the fact that Sheppard was going to steal his work. Sure, the community in Atlantis would know it was Rodney’s (and oh, how they would rub in that it wasn’t under his name!) but the rest of the county, the rest of the world would never know Rodney’s name, never know he existed. It would all be attributed to the great Marquis John Sheppard. Rodney would become a footnote in the books of history, if that at all.

“Mer?”

Rodney glanced up and saw Jeannie hovering in the open doorway to the bedchamber. He stared at her with wide, hurt eyes and saw shock and concern echoed back in her face.

They’d both always had the most expressive faces.

“Mer, what’s wrong? Has something happened? Are you all right? Is John all right?”

She stepped into the room and crouched down on her knees in front of where he sat on the bed.

“Oh Jeannie, I’ve made a horrible mistake.”

“What? What is it? We can fix it, Mer, tell me what it is and you, John and I can fix it.”

Her hands were hot compared to his cold palms and she rubbed her fingers over his briskly.

“Jeannie, I…” he swallowed thickly, the words stuck in his throat. “Jeannie. My papers… John… he’s going to publish them.”

She stilled. “Pardon me?”

“I heard him, in the den, with Radek, they were discussing publishing my work. My work, Jeannie. Oh my god, I’ve… I’ve been….” His face felt hot, the blush spreading across his cheeks, up his ears and down his neck. “I’ve been a fool.”

“What? No, that’s impossible,” Jeannie protested, shaking her head. “He said he wouldn’t. You signed an agreement.”

“And what good would that really do me in a court of law? He has enough money to hire a thousand lawyers to get it overturned and I have nothing, nothing! I can’t fight it. I knew the law, I knew he could publish my work if we married. There would be a line of disgruntled and angry scientists a mile long waiting to state how clearly I knew the law.”

Jeannie paused, staring up at him. “Let’s run away, Mer.”

“What?”

“We’ll pack up all your papers and run away. We’ll leave Atlantis. Go… I don’t know where, somewhere.”

“And live off of what money?”

“I don’t know, but you’re brilliant, I’m smart too. We’ll think of something.”

Rodney shook his head, touched that she would offer but he was, if nothing else, a realist. “We can’t. That’s no life for you. And I wouldn’t be able to continue my work.” He sighed. “I suppose if I stay here, I can still work. You’ll be taken care of, and I’ll…” never kiss him again, never hold him again, never trust him again, “… have my work, I suppose.”

Resignation filled his face and he saw it mirrored on Jeannie’s. “Oh, Mer,” she said lowly, bowing her head and resting it on his knee. “I’m so sorry.”

He petted her hair lightly, the blonde strands so familiar to him. “Me too.”

***

It had taken Radek three hours to pick five papers he thought were the best representation of Rodney’s work. They were intellectually stunning, were written on diverse topics and had cross-discipline insights.

John flipped through the papers. He’d tried to read them and while they were engaging and interesting, he simply got lost through four of them. He thought he might understand the more mathematical one, but the ones on physics and astronomy were over his head.

But Radek assured him they were all inspired and highlighted Rodney’s genius. Tomorrow, John would take them to a copy-master and have copies made and then would make arrangements with his solicitor to have them shipped to Asuras.

John had been disappointed when his searches into the publishing rules of other colonies had come up empty. Venting to Ronon and Teyla about the situation, he’d been thrilled when they both had recalled the Asuran Colony. As it turned out, publishing in Asuras was under no restrictions of title or peerage. The papers would go through an extraordinarily strict scientific vetting which, Radek assured John, Rodney’s would easily pass, and then, once approved, would be typeset and mass-published. It would cost a fortune to get them there, but money was something of which John had plenty.

John intended to order one thousand copies and present them to Rodney as a gift. He could hardly wait to see the look on Rodney’s face when he could read his own name on published work. John would have a small number sent to the estate, for Rodney to autograph, the remainder being distributed amongst Atlantis’ scientific circles and bookshops.

Being relatively certain they had at least the morning to work in Rodney’s office, John had invited Radek to sort through Rodney’s papers. Since the arrival of the new horses, Rodney spent the majority of his mornings down at the stables with Puddlejumper. John had been increasingly nervous as the day went on and Radek was still perusing, but there’d been no sign of Rodney. It was now late afternoon and John hustled Radek off the estate, breathing a sigh of relief that they hadn’t run into Rodney.

Now that he had time to think about it, and wasn’t focused only on not being caught, it was strange that they hadn’t seen Rodney. John frowned and wandered into the kitchens. Halling noted Rodney hadn’t been by, but that Miss Jeannie had stopped to take a tray for the both of them for lunch. Wondering if Rodney wasn’t feeling well, John thanked him for the information and left.

Knowing Rodney wasn’t in his office, as that was where he and Radek had spent most of the day, John checked the library and secondary den on the main floor before heading upstairs. He stopped off at their bedchamber and then headed to Jeannie’s room.

He knocked efficiently on the door and when Jeannie came out, his face immediately brightened into a smile.

Until she slapped him. Hard.

“You!”

He rubbed his cheek. This was eerily reminiscent of their first meeting. “What the hell was that for?” he demanded, unapologetically swearing at her.

“I can’t believe you,” Jeannie hissed. “He trusted you. I trusted you. And what’s worse is I think he lo…” she cut herself off and raised her hand to slap him again.

He grabbed it easily, stopping her. “Jeannie, I swear to god, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

She put her hands on her hips and stomped one of her feet. “He heard you. He heard you and Radek discussing publishing his papers.”

“Oh, so he knows?” John said excitedly.

“Yes he knows, you heartless wretch. How could you steal his work like that?”

“What?” asked John incredulously, dread coiling in his stomach. “No, it’s not like that, I swear.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Really, what’s it like?” she asked dryly.

“I found a way to get him published under his own name,” John defended quickly. “I wanted it to be a surprise so I had Radek come over to chose the best papers. It’s supposed to be a surprise,” he repeated.

Jeannie looked conflicted. She bit her lower lip and her eyes narrowed. “Published where?”

“Asura. They have different laws and if you can afford to get in, and your work is scientifically sound, they’ll publish.”

Jeannie visibly deflated. “Oh. Really?” she hedged.

“Really. Where is Rodney?” John asked intently. If Rodney only overheard half of the conversation, if he thought John… if he misunderstood… “Where is he?” he repeated.

Jeannie stuttered. “I… I think he went back to the stables. Look, I’m sorry. It’s just… you have to know that people have tried to steal his work before. It’s… he’s had to deal with people trying to use his emotions to get to him, get to his work.”

“I’m not like that,” John snapped.

“Well, how was he supposed to know?” Jeannie snapped back.

“Because I love him, that’s how!”

“Oh.” Jeannie raised a hand to her chest. “You do?”

John stunned himself with his own quick confession. “I…” he took a step back. “I’m…” Panic bubbled up in his chest. He’d never said those words before. He’d thought about them, thought that maybe he just wasn’t cut out for love. While he always liked his partners just fine, he never had the feeling he had in his chest now. Like if he didn’t find Rodney and explain, make him understand it would all just spiral away, uncontrollable and terrible. He felt jittery and panicked and he suddenly realized that his whole life depended on making Rodney understand.

What if Rodney left him? What if Rodney packed his things and John never saw him again? Rodney with his blue eyes and his sharp tongue and his genius mind gone forever. John’s chest felt tight as he turned and headed straightaway to the stables, leaving Jeannie staring after him.

This was disastrous. He couldn’t believe that Rodney had overheard him talking with Zelenka. Couldn’t believe that Rodney had misunderstood what he was hearing. Why didn’t he burst into the room and demand to know what was going on? How could he believe that John would steal his work?

But then again, how could he know that John loved him when John himself didn’t even know until he’d uttered the words out loud? Rodney must have heard part of the conversation and thought that John was just like the other people who’d tried to steal his work in the past. That hurt, but John couldn’t blame him for it. Rodney’s work was unbelievable and gifted. If John had any scientific leanings himself, he’d probably be insanely jealous of Rodney. But as it was, all he wanted to do was make the world see Rodney’s intelligence as he saw it; bright, sharp and impressive.

Now he just had to find Rodney and make him believe it.

***

The rain had petered off and it was a shame. It would have made Rodney’s foul, melancholy mood fantastically more depressing. It would have been fitting if it had been raining. If it had been raining, he could have looked up at the sky and cursed. He could have cursed the sky for raining, cursed the stupid laws for not allowing him to publish, cursed science for being too intriguing to resist.

Cursed John Sheppard for making him care, for making him fall in…

No. He wasn’t going to even think the word. It was inconceivable not only to be duped into believing Sheppard, but to fall in love with him. That would be utterly ridiculous and even more foolhardy. As if he didn’t have enough to be ashamed of already - getting tricked into marriage - being love with the rake who married him only to steal his work would be salt on the wound.

Big fat chunks of salt being ground into his painful gaping wound.

Despite the fact that he had seen him this morning, Puddlejumper immediately started to whinny and neigh at the sight of Rodney coming toward him. Cloud barely looked over from where she stood in the corner as Rodney came in and led Puddlejumper out of the stall he shared with his mother.

Puddlejumper stamped his feet happily and pushed his nose into Rodney, searching his pockets for apples, carrots or celery.

“Sorry, buddy,” Rodney breathed, bending over to speak. “Didn’t bring any with me.”

‘Jumper pushed his snout at Rodney to nuzzle at his armpit. A smile ghosted across Rodney’s face. ‘Jumper snorted hot air softly into him and he should have been slightly disgusted but instead he was touched by it. It made his melancholy sharper somehow, though, more tangible than before and he sighed. He hooked up Puddlejumper’s harness and led him out of the barn into the damp air for a walk.

They walked into the forest and Rodney tried to convince himself that Puddlejumper couldn’t possibly know that he was upset, couldn’t possibly sense it; he was a horse for crying out loud. But it didn’t stop him from being grateful when ‘Jumper kept pausing in their walk to nuzzle at his hand or stamp his feet in a ‘look-at-me-look-how-cute-I-am’ manner. ‘Jumper let Rodney get a step ahead and then pushed his head against Rodney’s back playfully, earning a small huff of laughter from Rodney.

By the time the rain started up again, Rodney realized he’d walked farther than he planned, farther than he’d been before. His mind had wandered while his feet plodded ahead of him on the ground and he was deep into the forest. With a heavy sigh, he turned around. The foliage sheltered them somewhat from the rain at first, but as the boughs of the trees became laden with their wet burden, they willfully surrendered the water , soaking Rodney and ‘Jumper thoroughly.

It was a miserable ending to a perfectly miserable day, and though he was unhappy, wet and cold, he felt somewhat vindicated by the weather finally matching his mood perfectly and the universe showing up to put the final touches on his misery.

It didn’t occur to him that to think such a thing was to tempt the universe even further. As his foot slipped out from underneath him on the muddy slope and he twisted his ankle and then slid down the sloppy embankment, he thought well, it really can’t get much worse now.

It was another positively foolish thing to toss out in front of fate and as the small rocks and detritus dug into his body as he tumbled down path he saw a large boulder jutting out. His had a split second to wonder if it would knock him unconscious before it did just that.

***

John reached the stables and found ‘Jumper and Rodney gone and after checking in with the stable hands he discovered that they’d headed off into the forest for a walk about thirty minutes before he arrived. He resigned himself to waiting impatiently for them to come back. He paced restlessly in the stables until a nervous boy had lurched forward and stuttered that his energy and pacing were distressing some of the more sensitive horses and suggested perhaps he wait outside.

The boy visibly sagged with relief when John tersely nodded and headed to the pens to wait for Rodney.

When it started to rain, he began to worry. It wasn’t a hard or heavy rain, but it was solid, pouring down and soaking him quickly. He leaned against the side of the big barn, his eyes on the tree-line. When Rodney and ‘Jumper didn’t appear right away he reminded himself that Rodney probably wouldn’t have noticed the rain until it hit, and even then, he might have been at the far end of his walk and would have to make his way back. Rodney never went too far though, and after another half hour when he still hadn’t appeared with ‘Jumper in tow, John’s worry increased.

He’d gone with Rodney on only two walks, but he knew Rodney always took the same route or close to it. Rodney may like to explore strange and foreign things with his mind but with his body he preferred to keep things to the mundane. He never wandered too far from the stables, he told John, and always on the pathway. John decided to saddle up one of the horses and head out, meet Rodney halfway or close to it. No matter how distressed Rodney felt, how angry he was at John, he wouldn’t turn down a ride back to the stables where he could get warm and dry. ‘Jumper would be able to keep up with his long coltish legs and they could sort this all out over a hot drink, preferably in front of a fireplace.

John was nearly finished tacking up his horse when the same nervous stable boy from earlier came rushing up to him and said that ‘Jumper had just been spotted in the tree-line, but without Rodney. John rushed outside and saw one of the other stable hands already jogging out to corral the small black horse. Puddlejumper darted away from him quickly and stamped his feet, changing directions several times. The stable hand made deft leaps for ‘Jumper’s rein and finally snatched it up, leading him back to the stables.

“Is he all right?” John asked, heedless of the rain dripping into his face.

The stable hand nodded. “I think so, sir, but he’s a mite upset about something.”

John ran quick hands over the horse and didn’t find any injuries. “What happened, boy?” he murmured lowly, checking the gear and finding it all in place. ‘Jumper seemed fine, if distressed. It didn’t look like he’d been hurt. The horse pushed his wet face into John and stamped his feet again.

“How did you lose Rodney?” John questioned, not really meaning to say it out loud. At the name, ‘Jumper huffed. “Take him inside and brush him down. I’m heading out to find Rodney,” he said firmly. Leaving ‘Jumper in capable hands, John retrieved his saddled horse, mounted up and went into the forest.

The ground was wet and slick, but John was a competent, confident rider and his horse was no stranger to the rainy weather. He stuck to the path, not going as fast as he would have liked in order to ensure that he got a good view of the dense forestry on either side, searching for signs of Rodney. Worry made him clench his jaw tight and keep a fierce, white-knuckled grip on the reins. It was cold and wet and Rodney was out there somewhere.

His heart lurched painfully in his chest fifteen minutes later when he spotted Rodney lying prone on the ground, seemingly oblivious to the rain and the chill. John urged his horse faster and seconds later was next to Rodney, sliding off his horse fluidly and down to the ground where he fell to his knees heedless of the muck. He placed a careful hand on Rodney’s shoulder and felt it moving slightly as Rodney breathed in and out. John was nearly dizzy with relief.

“Rodney,” John said firmly, applying a light shake to Rodney’s shoulder. When nothing happened he said Rodney’s name louder and pressed down on his shoulder.

Rodney groaned lowly, hands twitching slightly as he blinked his eyes open. His face was lying inches from a puddle of rain water and John’s lungs clenched at the thought that Rodney could have easily drowned.

John felt a surge of relief as Rodney blinked back to consciousness, looking up at John blearily. He started to push himself upright and John cautioned him.

“Careful, are you hurt anywhere? What happened?”

With a grunt and some help from John, Rodney managed to push himself up and over. John cradled his head as he rolled to keep it from smacking on the ground. Rodney had a bloody gash on his forehead and John’s eyes darted over to the rock Rodney had been near, putting two and two together easily.

“I slipped. Fell. Hit m’head,” Rodney mumbled.

John’s lips curled up in a smile with relief at hearing Rodney’s surly tone. “You have to keep that head safe, buddy. It’s got a lot of important stuff inside it,” he said, his voice a little breathless. He pulled a wet handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped at the blood on Rodney’s head.

Rodney batted his hand away with a grimace. “S’all you care about. M’brain.” He tried to roll away from John but John held him easily still.

“I know you’re angry with me and I can explain everything but let’s get you back to the house first.”

“Lost Puddlejumper,” Rodney managed.

“He came back to the stables. That’s how I knew to come look for you. He was very upset to have lost you.”

“Slipped. Fell.”

“So you said,” agreed John easily. “Can you get up with help? And then we’ll have to get you on my horse.”

“Don’t need help,” Rodney groused and then he lurched to a seated position, pushing at John. John’s hands hovered helplessly around Rodney as he clumsily struggled to his feet, wincing as he placed his weight.

“Did you hurt your foot?”

“Ankle,” Rodney said tersely, swaying slightly. John steadied him with an arm and when Rodney tried to get away and nearly stumbled John pulled him close and gripped him tight.

“I know you’re not happy about this but let’s just get you back to the house. We’ll call Carson to have a look at you and then we’ll talk.”

“Don’t wanna talk.”

John huffed wryly. “Well, that’d be a first.”

It took a lot of groaning, grouching and cursing, but John finally managed to get Rodney up on the horse, leaning slightly forward. He swung up easily behind him and then eased the horse into a gentle canter back to the stable.

John paused briefly at the stables, not stopping to dismount, to let the men know he was taking Rodney up to the house and to ask one of them to ride into Atlantis and fetch Beckett. As one of the lads took off, John eased the horse back into a slow gait and headed up the slight slope.

Jeannie and the house staff met him at the front door. With the butler’s help and a heaping pile of cursing from Rodney about people with grabby hands they managed to get Rodney onto one of his feet. With one arm slung over John’s shoulder and the other over the butler, they hopped up the stairs while Jeannie tried to mop at Rodney’s brow with a dry handkerchief.

When they finally deposited Rodney on the bed, he snatched the cloth away from Jeannie to hold it to his own temple and she snatched it back.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she muttered.

“Oh yes, because I slipped and fell on purpose,” Rodney retorted.

Although John felt slightly useless standing at the foot of the bed, Rodney’s sharp tone made him feel better, normal.

“You may as well done it on purpose, being out there in the rain and the muck. Honestly, Mer.”

Rodney yanked the handkerchief back from her. “Don’t you have some needlepoint that requires your attention?”

Jeannie harumphed and started to work on unbuttoning his shirt.

“Hey, hey hey,” Rodney protested starting to slap at her hands.

“Oh please, what am I going to see, your midriff?” She rolled her eyes. “Be still my fragile sensibilities.”

“Jeannie.”

She pursed her lips. “You’re sitting there in wet clothes on the bed. If you won’t let me undress you, then John will have to do it.”

Rodney narrowed his eyes at her as the smug look came across her face. She stood up. “I trust I can leave you to it,” she said simply. With a little flounce she stood up, gave John a knowing look and left the bedroom.

Rodney avoided looking at John as he held the handkerchief to his forehead.

“I don’t need your help,” Rodney sneered.

“I wasn’t stealing your work,” John replied, figuring there was no point beating around the bush.

Rodney rolled his eyes nearly exactly the same way Jeannie had moments before. “I heard you. You and Zelenka, treacherous Bohemian bastard.”

“He was helping me pick what to publish.”

“I know, I told you, I heard!”

“Publish under your name,” John said loudly, hands gripping the footboard.

“Right. Because the laws of Atlantis changed last night while I was sleeping.”

“Of course not. But the laws of Asura are different.”

Rodney paused, his wary glance clearly indicating he wasn’t buying into anything John was saying.

“I’ve never heard of Asura.”

“Not many people have. Ronon and Teyla told me about it. If you have money, which I have, and you’re work is correct, which it is-”

“Of course my work is correct!” Rodney interrupted.

“Then you can pay to have it published. Under any name you want. Under your name.”

Rodney pressed his lips together. “I don’t believe you.”

John sighed and came around to the side of the bed, sitting on the edge. Rodney inched away from him.

“It’s true. I asked Radek to come over to help me choose the best of your papers to publish. Under your name.”

“Why? Why would you do that? Why do you care?”

John’s hand fisted in the sheet and he felt sick with nerves. “Because you’re brilliant and so is your work and it’s sitting there locked in a chest where no one will see it and… because… I love you,” he said quietly. 

The silence in the room was heavy. John couldn’t look at Rodney, intent on the sheet clenched in his hand, watching the fine grain of fabric stretch and distort under the pressure of his grip.

Rodney finally spoke, his voice soft and still mistrustful. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to surprise you.” John chanced a look up at Rodney. “Why would I lie to you now? What purpose would it serve?”

Rodney gave a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. But… people have been trying to take my work for years.”

“I know.” John took a chance and reached out, placing his hand on Rodney’s thigh and giving it a squeeze. “But I’m not one of them.”

He could see the battle going on inside Rodney’s head written all over his expressive face. Suspicion, doubt, tentative belief, exhaustion, apprehension, and then… maybe a little bit of scared trust.

“Published with my name on them?” Rodney asked, his voice hesitant.

John leaned forward, hope springing up in his chest. “Yes. Your name.”

Rodney frowned. “Well, I better check that hack’s choices before you send them off, god only knows what he picked.”

John’s grin felt like it might split his face wide open. He leaned over and kissed Rodney firmly, licking at his lips and he moaned in happiness when Rodney opened his mouth underneath him. He scooted up closer to Rodney on the bed, pressing his tongue deep into Rodney’s mouth, tasting and lapping at him.

“Now,” John said, his grin still wide, “let’s get you out of those wet things.”

***

Beckett declared the head would minor and the ankle only sprained. Rodney argued that it could hardly be minor, he’d lost consciousness for god’s sake and really, if all Carson was going to do was look into his eyes and check his pulse, Rodney should just ask for the horse doctor next time.

Carson replied that would be fine and when Rodney finally broke his leg, Carson would be sure to shed a tear when Rodney was shot.

By the time Halling sent up a tray of hot soup and tea with the little sandwiches Rodney loved dearly, Rodney was in warm dry clothes, and the bed linens had been replaced as well. Rodney was silent for a whole ten minutes while he ate and John vowed to give Halling a raise.

John took the finished tray from Rodney and set it outside the door turning back just in time to see Rodney shiver slightly.

“Cold?” he asked.

“A little” Rodney hedged.

John eagerly stripped down to nothing and crawled into bed under the covers. They both scooted downwards, adjusting until John was spooning Rodney, his chest to Rodney’s back. He pulled Rodney close.

“Jesus, you are cold!” he said, trying not to flinch at the press of chilled skin.

“Mmm,” Rodney answered, luxuriating in the warmth John produced. “I probably have hypothermia.”

John tossed a leg over Rodney’s and wiggled in closer until his hips were snug against Rodney’s equally bare ass. He tightened his arms around Rodney.

“Better?”

“Mmhmm,” Rodney murmured, tucking his chin down into the warmth and canting his own hips back against the cradle of John’s.

John really had shimmied into bed to warm Rodney up, but now with his cock pressed up against the round firmness of Rodney’s ass, it was a little hard to convince it that he was only there for warmth.

Fortunately, it seemed Rodney had the same idea and when he rocked his hips slightly in tiny, choppy movements against John, John felt his heartbeat speed up in anticipation. He pressed forward, his fingers tightening on the bones of Rodney’s hips to pull him back even closer, harder.

The tension that John didn’t realize he was still holding onto eased slowly out of his shoulders and spine with each thrust of their hips. He heard Rodney’s breathing increase and catch every now and then. He released Rodney's hip to trail his hand up and over his chest, fingers pausing to tease one of Rodney’s nipples before he slid his hand down further, finally wrapping around Rodney’s cock. Rodney let out a low moan of pleasure and as he moved his hips back and forth. He fisted Rodney in the same rhythm; slow and unhurried, but hard.

He felt Rodney’s arm reach around him and clutch at his flank and he pressed kisses against the knobby base of Rodney’s spine, mouthing at the flesh.

Rodney was whispering his name, repeatedly over and over, his fingers digging into John’s flesh where he gripped him tight. John couldn’t help but let out a low, almost guttural whine, rocking against Rodney steadily harder, pre-come slicking between Rodney’s cheeks and making each stroke slicker than the last. His dick slid between the flesh of Rodney’s ass, hot and soft. Rodney’s breath caught and he gasped out John’s name spilling hot and thick over John’s fingers, still pushing back into John.

Hearing Rodney say his name that way, desire and pleasure lacing the tone, John felt everything in his groin tighten almost painfully and he came, his hips stuttering, tongue lapping at Rodney’s neck, lips mouthing sloppily on his skin.

They lay there silent and the final bit of tension that had crept into his spine and dug its claws in when he learned of their misunderstanding finally seeped away.

“I love you too, you know.”

Rodney’s quiet words spread into John’s chest and made him smile, his lips still against Rodney’s spine.

***

John loved Rodney. But if his published papers didn’t arrive today, someone was going to die.

He just wasn’t sure who yet.

Rodney’s papers passed scientific review easily and were sent for type-setting and printing. John was told it would take about four to six weeks.

They were at the start of the fifth week and Rodney would bounce around during breakfast, waiting to see if a carriage came up the drive. After taking Puddlejumper for his walk, Rodney would race back up to the main house to see if anything had arrived while he was gone. He’d then go to work in his office, poking his head out every hour or so to inquire if anything had yet been delivered. He rushed to the front door several times a day, certain he heard horse-hoofs coming up the drive.

Then, by the end of the day, he’d mope around dejected and woe be the person who tried to tell him that it was still well-within the projected time and they would come soon.

That person was usually John. He either got snapped at or ended up on the receiving end of the most woebegone look the world had ever seen.

When the large delivery carriage pulled up to the house, John thought he saw one of the maids crying in relief.

He knew exactly how she felt.

He accepted the large box and put it prominently in the middle of Rodney’s study. This box would only contain ten copies of each paper that were Rodney’s to distribute as he wished. The rest of the published work was being sent to bookshops and scientific communities around Atlantis.

Rodney rushed in from his walk with Puddlejumper half an hour later.

“Did they come? Anything?” he asked John breathlessly.

“Yes.”

“Yes?” Rodney repeated and just stood there dumbstruck. “Really?”

“Really,” John said, trying not to laugh at the look on Rodney’s face.

Rodney nearly pushed John aside to run to his study. It was the fastest John had ever seen him move.

“Scissors, scissors, Jesus, why don’t I own a pair of scissors?” Rodney was muttering as he tossed his desk.

John pulled out a knife he’d filched from the kitchen and cleared his throat. He waggled the blade when Rodney looked up at him.

Rodney snatched it from his hand, knelt on the ground and attacked the box like a rabid dog. Tossing the string and wrapping paper aside, he finally, reverently, opened the box and stared.

Frowning, John stepped over and knelt by his side. Rodney tugged at John’s sleeve.

“Look. I’m published.”

Small Particle Physics - An Examination and Hypothesis Regarding the Building Blocks of Matter - MR McKay.

“Yes, you are,” John said. He was wholly unprepared when Rodney launched himself over, clasping his arms around John, knocking them both to the ground. John laughed.

“Thank you,” Rodney whispered, his breath ghosting against John’s ear.

“You’re welcome.”

Just as quickly as he had assaulted John, Rodney pushed off him, his focus back on the box, pulling out all his copies and arranging them neatly in five little stacks of ten around him.

“I want to keep one of each for myself and a set for Jeannie of course. But I’m not sure how many I should keep for the children.”

“What children?” John asked bewildered, pushing himself back to his knees.

“Why, Jeannie’s children, of course. They should know first hand of the spectacular legacy from which they come.”

“Jeannie doesn’t have kids.”

Rodney rolled his eyes. “Not now. But she probably will.”

“Then we’ll get more copies made,” John said with a shrug.

“But these are first edition copies. They’ll be priceless!”

At the outraged look on Rodney’s face, John could only laugh again. “I love you,” he said somewhat goofily.

Rodney grinned. “I know. I love you too.”

fin