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omg_wtf_yeahTitle: The Long Engagement (13/16)
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard (McShep)
Secondary Pairings: background McKay/Keller (predating McShep), Teyla/Ronon
Words: about 51,222
Summary: McShep Steampunk!Atlantis AU. Acrobat John Sheppard of Sheppard Circus Co. unintentionally navigates his troupe into Lantean territory and runs afoul the mistrustful leader of Atlantis, Dr. Rodney McKay. While the troupe plays shows for the Lanteans, Rodney proposes that he and John's adopted sister, Jennifer, get engaged. To get his way and John's blessing, Rodney has to convince John that he's good for John's sister, but his plans go awry as the men get closer and what Rodney wants begins to change.
Notes: My SGA Big Bang entry. Thank you, my superawesome betas:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ishie and teenygozer, my friends: kay_greatness, mad_lynn, and murderdetective, and my artists: fractalreality, saldemonium, and cynicatlantis.
Art: I was fortunate to get three artists who created amazing companion art for the story. I was blown away by what they came up with, it was so perfect and amazing. I completely, totally love them. So, please, check them out!
Full Story on the SGA Big Bang server
Thirteen
Jennifer didn't want to see him. The rest of the shows that week were rained out, so John didn't bother practicing. He spent the morning in his wagon after a breakfast of coffee and fresh bread in the mess.
The memory of McKay's body against his suffused his thoughts and wouldn't abandon him. When he woke up, he'd found the kiss marks Rodney had left on him had deepened on the side of his throat and his collarbone. He wore a white shirt with a black vest, a coarse, dark scarf knotted around his throat. The short trim of its ends splayed out over his vest and shirt. His features were darker in the dim cast of the hurricane lamp, which he needed even at midday because of the rain.
He spent the early part of the day balancing books. Elizabeth came by for an hour at ten and Aiden came to ask him about reinforcement against the rains for the big top but everyone else maintained their distance. Ronon and Teyla spent much of their time in Teyla's wagon and Jennifer was as intent on avoiding John as he was avoiding her.
The brass hands of the clock on John's desk read eleven thirty two when a quiet knock sounded on John's door. He looked up and called out. "Yeah, come in." He used the end of a pen to scratch the nape of his neck at the edge of his black scarf.
The knob rattled and the open door admitted a thin woman with curly dark hair. John recognized her as one of the Lanteans, a scientist named Esposito. She was pretty, with a small frame, an olive complexion and an attractive smile.
John frowned, tilting his head back thoughtfully.
"Sorry to trouble you, Mr. Sheppard," Esposito said, coming inside. She pushed the hood of her coat back and arranged her hair absently. "I have a message from Dr. McKay."
John swallowed and shrugged belatedly. "What's he want with me?" he asked.
"He asked you to come to Atlantis."
John dropped his eyes to the ledger on his desk and he remembered his come dripping on the desktop, McKay's length penetrating him. He bit his lip and released it, glancing back up. "He say what this is about?" he asked.
Esposito shook her head. She squinted her eyes. "Something about an air ship?" she asked.
John scowled briefly. That bastard. He knew just the way to get him where he wanted him.
John sighed, edging his pen tip under the cover of his ledger, he flipped the book shut.
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"You wanted me?" John asked, coming into the observation room.
The observation room was a large space at the topmost chamber of the central tower in Atlantis. The walls were floor to ceiling windows, admitting a full panorama of the outlying area. The only furnishings were four heavy telescopes set at the north, south, east and west quarters. Pale sunlight passed through the windows and shone in paths on the paved floor like moonlight on water. At such a great altitude, mist shifted before the windows and over the mountain tops, the coast on the far side of the mountains was visible.
Rodney had shown John where sheer black rock gave way to sandy beaches and the blue gray sea beat against the shore through the telescopes.
It was from there that McKay had seen their arrival in the valley.
McKay was by the window overlooking the direction of the camp. John, who came in by the only entrance in the southeastern quarter, could see his profile in the dim light. Rodney's features were downcast and moody. John suppressed a twinge of pain and recognition at his appearance.
He hooked his thumbs in his pockets and came in. His footsteps echoed in the empty space. His cuffs were rolled up to his forearms and on one wrist he wore a thick black cuff, on the other a watch with a leather band.
McKay turned at the sound of his approach. His pale eyes wandered on John's frame morosely. His face flushed. "Oh." His voice was dull. "I ran a few simulations…."
"And…?" John asked.
"It seems ready."
John's brow creased. His heart leapt and he swallowed, rubbing the corner of his mouth with his thumb. "Ready? For real?" he asked.
McKay followed the movement of his thumb over his lips with his eyes and John's face flushed.
"Yeah," McKay replied. "Any time you're ready, you know, after the…." He gestured around him with one hand, the other in the pocket of his charcoal slacks.
John frowned. "Seriously?" he asked. After what had happened between them, to say that he was shocked would be a vast understatement. It seemed wrong.
"We collaborated on it, didn't we?" Rodney asked tightly. Color rose in his cheeks and mouth and his eyes glittered in the low light as he stared at John. "Who else would test it?" A note of bitterness was audible in his voice.
John met his gaze and set his jaw, uncomfortable. "Cool," he said. "Was that it?"
Rodney paused before shrugging. He nodded tersely. "That's it."
John nodded, a feeling of frustration rising in his chest. He smothered the emotion and swallowed hard. He knew better than to expect an apology from McKay. "Great. I'll see you—"
"What we did," Rodney interrupted.
John halted in the midst of his statement. A flush warmed his face and he stared at McKay sharply, almost warningly. "We don't need to talk about it," he said.
McKay grimaced and looked sidelong, out the window, his forehead creasing as he frowned. His shoulders were rounded and tense. "How's Jennifer?" he asked.
John set his jaw and shook his head. "How should I know?" he asked sharply. "She won't talk to me."
McKay glanced at John and flushed. "So is that it?" he asked. His voice was thin and hard.
John didn't know what he was talking about. He shook his head, scowling at McKay. "What am I supposed to say to her?" he snapped. "You want me to talk to her for you?"
"That's not what I was saying," McKay shot back hotly.
"What were you saying?" John's eyes were hard.
Rodney's face burned with color, his lips tight. "Us," he spat. "What happened—"
John stalked forward and withdrew his hand from his pocket to point at the scientist. McKay tensed and John could tell from his body that he was angry. "What do you want me to say, McKay?" John demanded. McKay's blue eyes were level on him, narrow and watchful.
John's heartbeat was a trembling pulse that spread through his arms and legs and left him numb and breathless. "We fucked. A couple times."
"So it's no big deal. That's it?" Rodney retorted.
John's hazel eyes glittered in the low light. "Yeah, it was a big deal. Jennifer hates us. It was a mistake. It was a big mistake."
McKay's brows knit and his face was splotchy with color. "You're in love with me," he accused.
John went cold at his words. He shook his head. "I'm not in love with you," he said emphatically.
Rodney's throat moved as he swallowed, glaring at John. Blood darkened his cheeks. John's eyes moved over his features and he felt confused and furious. "Jesus Christ, McKay," he growled, "you're in love with my sister! I'm not in love with you." The way he said it, it almost sounded convincing.
"Now you say that," McKay snarled in a strangled voice. "After you blocked us at every turn! After there's no way she'll marry me! You weren't convinced before that I love Jennifer."
John's heart hammered in his chest and his fingertips tingled. "I'm fucking convinced, all right?" he growled. "You convinced me."
"Oh, yeah!" Rodney shouted, "I totally convinced you I'm in love with Jennifer by fucking your ass!"
John balled his fists and leaned in toward him. "Hey!" he hissed, "You wanna fucking quiet down there?" McKay trembled, glowering wrathfully at him. John returned his glare, narrowing his eyes beneath furled brows. "You think you're the only guy I've fucked?" he asked scornfully. "I don't love you just because I let you fuck me."
The shake of McKay's head was small and jerky, his glossy blue eyes fixed on John.
"I don't love you," John repeated. "We don't love each other. You're getting married to my sister, for God's sake."
"Am I?" Rodney asked angrily.
John gritted his teeth. "She'll marry you," he shot back, aiming at natural. "She wants to marry you. The only thing stopping her was me." He pressed a hand to his chest.
"And now you have no problem with us marrying?" Rodney asked shrilly.
"Why not?" John asked tightly, "It's not up to me. You don't need my blessing." Rodney turned away from him and pressed his hand to the window.
John regarded him narrowly, drawing in a shaky breath. "Go back and ask her again, jackass. Apologize and she'll accept your proposal. You can put the blame on me. I came onto you, anyway." He swallowed and fixed a hard stare on McKay. "Make my sister happy."
"Right. I'll really make her happy. I've only fucked her brother."
John set his jaw and color flooded his cheeks beneath dark stubble. "When you put it that way, you don't sound all that excited, buddy," he replied sarcastically.
McKay shot him a warning look.
"I'm not standing in your way anymore," John asserted hotly. "I'm telling you – she'll marry you…. Marry my sister."
"You're fine with that?" Rodney demanded.
John swallowed around painful constriction in his throat. He shrugged one shoulder. "It's your life," he replied nonchalantly.
Rodney returned his eyes to the window and his sandy brows furrowed. "I guess there's nothing stopping us now," he said bitterly.
John scowled. "Yeah," he agreed. "Have at it."
"Maybe we'll even name our first kid after you," Rodney added sarcastically. "Seeing as you've been so helpful so far." His voice rose, almost hysterically.
John gritted his teeth and shook his head. He narrowed his eyes on the other man. "Gee, that'd be an honor."
"So what is it, John or maybe we should name him Icarus?" Rodney's voice was thin and high.
"Whatever you want," John shot back. "I'm not particular about top billing."
Rodney turned his cheek toward him and glowered furiously. His face was dark with blood. "Great," he said.
John's chest rose jerkily and he nodded tersely. The muscle in his jaw worked as he gritted his teeth. "Yeah," he replied thickly. "Congratulations."
McKay's eyes were radiant and pale. He made a sound of agreement in his throat and glared at John.
"That's it, I guess," John said, blinking. His face burned.
"I guess," Rodney said.
"Great."
John shoved his hands into his pockets and turned on his heel. His body was rigid with fury and embarrassment. He walked back across the room and his footfalls filled the silence.
"Oh, yeah," Rodney called out. His voice was clipped and angry.
John half-turned and lifted his brows, tilting his chin up. He looked to the other man and found Rodney in the gloom by the window. His frame was outlined by the pearl-gray sky outside. "Yeah?" John asked.
Rodney gestured tersely with his chin toward the window. "I wanted to tell you it's the beginning of the rainy season."
John furrowed his brows. "Rainy season?" he asked tightly.
Rodney lifted a shoulder and his lip curled. "It starts mid-spring and lasts until the end of April. You should expect some mild flooding in the plain."
John dropped his hand from his pocket. "How mild is mild?" he demanded.
Rodney shrugged. The rain outside made his shoulders look like they were shaking. "A couple feet. You're far enough from the river that it shouldn't matter."
John fisted the fingers of his free hand. "Great," he replied sarcastically. "Thanks for the heads-up."
Rodney nodded sharply. "Don't mention it."
For a moment, John stared at McKay as Rodney regarded him with a cold and furious expression. "Thanks," he said again and McKay turned away, nodding his head.
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John came back to camp to tell Elizabeth about the rainy season but she wasn't in her wagon when he returned. He looked around and couldn't find her. It was in the big top, with the rain on the roof, that Teyla told him Weir had gone to Atlantis with Peter Grodin to look at something he'd wanted to show her.
"Oh, yeah?" John asked wearily.
"Is there something urgent you need to speak with her about?"
John sighed and shrugged a shoulder, rubbing his eye. He thought about what McKay had said, that it wouldn't be a big deal, and shook his head. "Nah," he replied. "Just let her know I want to see her when she shows up."
As he left the big top, he saw Jennifer with Aiden Ford by the fire under a make-shift canopy. They were sitting on two crates, playing a game. Jennifer smiled wanly at Aiden, the buttons of her jacket loose part-way over a boned corset. She held a hand of cards in her lap and regarded Aiden. As she looked up and saw John, her smile faltered. John swallowed, nodding as heat rose to his face and he remembered McKay's body against him, inside him, and felt guilty.
They were playing some variation of war Aiden had invented that involved a cup, a small silver ball, a deck of cards and a tarnished thimble. Jennifer faltered, her blue eyes following John as he frowned and clenched his fist in his pocket. At her side, Aiden peered at John with an unreadable look, laying his hand on Jennifer's shoulder.
John pulled his black scarf up on his neck and dove out into the rain, trudging up the muddy path back to his wagon.
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Rodney was right about the rainy season; the rain persisted through the entirety of the next week. The tributaries overran the banks in the mountaintops and the rushes thundered into the rivers below. At the edges of the river, small marshes formed on either side.
The deluge continued, unabated. It was a constant drumbeat on the roofs of the wagons and poured off the eaves of their balconies in heavy white curtains that obscured the landscape beyond.
The circus packed up what was possible and, when John told her about it, Elizabeth sighed and cancelled future performances until the end of the season. In the big top, they collapsed the stands and the show lights were dark. The tent was filled with the sound of the falling rain in lieu of applause.
Outside, around camp, boot prints left deep impressions that filled with water and sucked at the feet that left them. The paths to the big top and the mess were muddy trenches deeply rutted in the ground.
A week passed sluggishly. The troupe kept like a tortoise in its shell, sheltered in itself. With nowhere else to go and nothing else to do, they drifted in and out of the mess, shoulders dark with rain water, holding slick umbrellas overhead as they came from and went back to their wagons between meals or whenever they craved social interaction.
Lorne peered out the flap of the mess and looked resigned. Giving up on his vigil, he turned back to the stove top and continued making food. Rain fell down the chimney and sizzled on the fire as he made coffee and soup, wiping his hands on his black apron as he tested the base.
John settled in the mess for breakfast with his ledger and balanced the books, feeling sick of himself. There was only so long he could stew in his wagon.
After two weeks, Jennifer still looked distracted though she kept company with Aiden. The color was returning to her cheeks when Ford commented on her damp hair as she came in, plucking carefully at a golden lock and smiling. John brooded silently, eyes on the entrance.
On a bench at a table far from the doorway, John sat across from Zelenka and Ronon. His empty tin cup was pushed back into the center of the tabletop, a banner of steam issuing forth from the rim. His books were laid open and untouched before him, pinned beneath his elbow. He stared at Aiden and Jennifer by the opening in the tent as Ford talked animatedly and Jennifer smiled. He thought of McKay.
The scientist hadn't come to the camp since Jennifer had walked in on them and John hadn't sought him out in Atlantis either. He didn't know what was taking him so long to talk to Jennifer.
The long tables, arranged in even rows across the mess, were crowded with circus and crew, their varicolored coats like a flowerbed with the rain and dark outside. Their murmurs were a low rumble underscored by the rain.
"I cannot stand this," Zelenka sighed as he pushed his tray away from him. He pulled his glasses from his face and cleaned the lenses on his red sweater. His thin fingertips were pink from the cold. "This rain is…." He gestured and cast a glance about, cursing in Czech.
John nodded, his chin in his fist. "Yeah," he mumbled through his hand.
The juggler furrowed his brows at John and shook his head, offended. John lifted his brows. "What?" he asked after a moment.
Radek shook his head, gesturing impatiently. "Why bother talking if I'm speaking only to myself?" he asked.
John scoffed and looked up at him as Zelenka stood, picking his tray up. "I'm going," Radek announced tersely.
"I was listening!" John protested in vain. The small man shook his head and walked away, mumbling to himself.
Ronon smirked and John narrowed his eyes on him. "What's eating him?" he asked, jerking his head toward Zelenka's retreating figure.
The strongman shrugged. "You'd been listening you would've known," he suggested mildly.
John shook his head. "What? You, too?" he asked. Again, Ronon shrugged, smiling.
At the oven, Lorne withdrew loaves of bread from the fire, his face flushed and gleaming with sweat. Across from John, Ronon propped his feet up in the place Radek had abandoned, rolling a cigarette on the table top.
John's eyes passed disinterestedly over the heads of the congregation inside and fell on the flap to the door as it fluttered and admitted the sight of the downpour outside. A thin, caramel colored hand slid over the edge of the burlap and spread it open. John lifted his head with muted interest as Teyla ducked inside, shaking the water from her hair as she pulled the evergreen hood of her coat back over her shoulders.
Her eyes fell on John and Ronon from by the door. John nodded in recognition, feeling a mild pang of disappointment that it wasn't McKay.
The contortionist cast a glance around the tent as she made a path to their table. She stopped beside Ronon and sighed, lifting a limp hand in the direction of the doorway. She asked exasperatedly, "Will this rain never end?"
John shrugged his shoulder and guessed there was no need to reply.
Ronon glanced up, arching a brow at his wife and Teyla pulled her jacket from her shoulders, draping it over the bench at Ronon's feet. Looking pointedly at the strongman's feet, she shook her head.
"What?" Ronon asked gruffly. Teyla narrowed her eyes and shook her head at his incomprehensibility.
Ronon grinned and dropped his feet to the floor with a thud. Teyla sat and looked with vague curiosity at John's papers as she sat. Beside her, Ronon picked up his cigarette paper to lick its edge, and Teyla placed her hand on his. "Do not," she said, sighing. "I am sick already."
The strongman cast a questioning look in her direction and Teyla settled her body on the bench, placing her hands on her flat belly.
"The baby?" John asked.
The contortionist arched a brow. "It would seem. I have been sick every morning." She shook her head in exasperation.
"It'll be a boy," Ronon stated, beside her. Teyla regarded him and nodded her head.
John leant over his books and pointed at Ronon. "Forget the gender. It's because of this guy," he suggested.
Ronon eyed John evenly and Teyla smiled. "I have considered that possibility."
John pursed his lips and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Satedan women carried heavy," Ronon offered by way of explanation. Teyla lifted an eyebrow and Ronon grinned, picking a piece of bread up from his tray. "Big babies," he said, popping the bread into his mouth.
John slid his eyes to Ronon and he shrugged. "That explains you," he replied, glancing downward. He pulled his books closer to the edge of the table top.
"We should hope so," Teyla said, running a hand over her stomach. She wasn't showing much yet. Ronon laid his hand over hers and John looked away respectfully.
The tent flap opened with a rustle lost in the din of the mess hall. John leaned back and craned his neck to see over the heads of the crowd.
McKay stood inside the doorway. The shoulders of his black coat were sodden with rainwater, heaving lightly as he breathed. His brows was creased, his mouth curled in a grimace as he scanned the assemblage for someone in particular.
John's heart pounded and he struggled to neutralize his expression. His brows went low over his hazel eyes and his gaze went from McKay to Jennifer nearby him, sitting with Aiden Ford near the door. Jennifer's round blue eyes were lifted to the scientist and Aiden looked troubled, from Jennifer to McKay.
John swallowed. But Rodney nodded uncomfortably at Jennifer and moved past her, cringing as he caught sight of John. He walked quickly between the tables toward John. From ten meters way, John could see the rain drops clinging to his hair and face.
McKay came to a stop behind Teyla and Ronon, across the table from John. Teyla and Ronon turned their shoulders to inspect the scientist's face. John hunched his shoulders, looking up at him from over the curve of his fist against his lips.
McKay's shoulders were tense as he fixed his blue eyes on John. "We have a problem," he said.
Part Fourteen
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard (McShep)
Secondary Pairings: background McKay/Keller (predating McShep), Teyla/Ronon
Words: about 51,222
Summary: McShep Steampunk!Atlantis AU. Acrobat John Sheppard of Sheppard Circus Co. unintentionally navigates his troupe into Lantean territory and runs afoul the mistrustful leader of Atlantis, Dr. Rodney McKay. While the troupe plays shows for the Lanteans, Rodney proposes that he and John's adopted sister, Jennifer, get engaged. To get his way and John's blessing, Rodney has to convince John that he's good for John's sister, but his plans go awry as the men get closer and what Rodney wants begins to change.
Notes: My SGA Big Bang entry. Thank you, my superawesome betas:
ishie and teenygozer, my friends: kay_greatness, mad_lynn, and murderdetective, and my artists: fractalreality, saldemonium, and cynicatlantis. Art: I was fortunate to get three artists who created amazing companion art for the story. I was blown away by what they came up with, it was so perfect and amazing. I completely, totally love them. So, please, check them out!
Jennifer didn't want to see him. The rest of the shows that week were rained out, so John didn't bother practicing. He spent the morning in his wagon after a breakfast of coffee and fresh bread in the mess.
The memory of McKay's body against his suffused his thoughts and wouldn't abandon him. When he woke up, he'd found the kiss marks Rodney had left on him had deepened on the side of his throat and his collarbone. He wore a white shirt with a black vest, a coarse, dark scarf knotted around his throat. The short trim of its ends splayed out over his vest and shirt. His features were darker in the dim cast of the hurricane lamp, which he needed even at midday because of the rain.
He spent the early part of the day balancing books. Elizabeth came by for an hour at ten and Aiden came to ask him about reinforcement against the rains for the big top but everyone else maintained their distance. Ronon and Teyla spent much of their time in Teyla's wagon and Jennifer was as intent on avoiding John as he was avoiding her.
The brass hands of the clock on John's desk read eleven thirty two when a quiet knock sounded on John's door. He looked up and called out. "Yeah, come in." He used the end of a pen to scratch the nape of his neck at the edge of his black scarf.
The knob rattled and the open door admitted a thin woman with curly dark hair. John recognized her as one of the Lanteans, a scientist named Esposito. She was pretty, with a small frame, an olive complexion and an attractive smile.
John frowned, tilting his head back thoughtfully.
"Sorry to trouble you, Mr. Sheppard," Esposito said, coming inside. She pushed the hood of her coat back and arranged her hair absently. "I have a message from Dr. McKay."
John swallowed and shrugged belatedly. "What's he want with me?" he asked.
"He asked you to come to Atlantis."
John dropped his eyes to the ledger on his desk and he remembered his come dripping on the desktop, McKay's length penetrating him. He bit his lip and released it, glancing back up. "He say what this is about?" he asked.
Esposito shook her head. She squinted her eyes. "Something about an air ship?" she asked.
John scowled briefly. That bastard. He knew just the way to get him where he wanted him.
John sighed, edging his pen tip under the cover of his ledger, he flipped the book shut.
"You wanted me?" John asked, coming into the observation room.
The observation room was a large space at the topmost chamber of the central tower in Atlantis. The walls were floor to ceiling windows, admitting a full panorama of the outlying area. The only furnishings were four heavy telescopes set at the north, south, east and west quarters. Pale sunlight passed through the windows and shone in paths on the paved floor like moonlight on water. At such a great altitude, mist shifted before the windows and over the mountain tops, the coast on the far side of the mountains was visible.
Rodney had shown John where sheer black rock gave way to sandy beaches and the blue gray sea beat against the shore through the telescopes.
It was from there that McKay had seen their arrival in the valley.
McKay was by the window overlooking the direction of the camp. John, who came in by the only entrance in the southeastern quarter, could see his profile in the dim light. Rodney's features were downcast and moody. John suppressed a twinge of pain and recognition at his appearance.
He hooked his thumbs in his pockets and came in. His footsteps echoed in the empty space. His cuffs were rolled up to his forearms and on one wrist he wore a thick black cuff, on the other a watch with a leather band.
McKay turned at the sound of his approach. His pale eyes wandered on John's frame morosely. His face flushed. "Oh." His voice was dull. "I ran a few simulations…."
"And…?" John asked.
"It seems ready."
John's brow creased. His heart leapt and he swallowed, rubbing the corner of his mouth with his thumb. "Ready? For real?" he asked.
McKay followed the movement of his thumb over his lips with his eyes and John's face flushed.
"Yeah," McKay replied. "Any time you're ready, you know, after the…." He gestured around him with one hand, the other in the pocket of his charcoal slacks.
John frowned. "Seriously?" he asked. After what had happened between them, to say that he was shocked would be a vast understatement. It seemed wrong.
"We collaborated on it, didn't we?" Rodney asked tightly. Color rose in his cheeks and mouth and his eyes glittered in the low light as he stared at John. "Who else would test it?" A note of bitterness was audible in his voice.
John met his gaze and set his jaw, uncomfortable. "Cool," he said. "Was that it?"
Rodney paused before shrugging. He nodded tersely. "That's it."
John nodded, a feeling of frustration rising in his chest. He smothered the emotion and swallowed hard. He knew better than to expect an apology from McKay. "Great. I'll see you—"
"What we did," Rodney interrupted.
John halted in the midst of his statement. A flush warmed his face and he stared at McKay sharply, almost warningly. "We don't need to talk about it," he said.
McKay grimaced and looked sidelong, out the window, his forehead creasing as he frowned. His shoulders were rounded and tense. "How's Jennifer?" he asked.
John set his jaw and shook his head. "How should I know?" he asked sharply. "She won't talk to me."
McKay glanced at John and flushed. "So is that it?" he asked. His voice was thin and hard.
John didn't know what he was talking about. He shook his head, scowling at McKay. "What am I supposed to say to her?" he snapped. "You want me to talk to her for you?"
"That's not what I was saying," McKay shot back hotly.
"What were you saying?" John's eyes were hard.
Rodney's face burned with color, his lips tight. "Us," he spat. "What happened—"
John stalked forward and withdrew his hand from his pocket to point at the scientist. McKay tensed and John could tell from his body that he was angry. "What do you want me to say, McKay?" John demanded. McKay's blue eyes were level on him, narrow and watchful.
John's heartbeat was a trembling pulse that spread through his arms and legs and left him numb and breathless. "We fucked. A couple times."
"So it's no big deal. That's it?" Rodney retorted.
John's hazel eyes glittered in the low light. "Yeah, it was a big deal. Jennifer hates us. It was a mistake. It was a big mistake."
McKay's brows knit and his face was splotchy with color. "You're in love with me," he accused.
John went cold at his words. He shook his head. "I'm not in love with you," he said emphatically.
Rodney's throat moved as he swallowed, glaring at John. Blood darkened his cheeks. John's eyes moved over his features and he felt confused and furious. "Jesus Christ, McKay," he growled, "you're in love with my sister! I'm not in love with you." The way he said it, it almost sounded convincing.
"Now you say that," McKay snarled in a strangled voice. "After you blocked us at every turn! After there's no way she'll marry me! You weren't convinced before that I love Jennifer."
John's heart hammered in his chest and his fingertips tingled. "I'm fucking convinced, all right?" he growled. "You convinced me."
"Oh, yeah!" Rodney shouted, "I totally convinced you I'm in love with Jennifer by fucking your ass!"
John balled his fists and leaned in toward him. "Hey!" he hissed, "You wanna fucking quiet down there?" McKay trembled, glowering wrathfully at him. John returned his glare, narrowing his eyes beneath furled brows. "You think you're the only guy I've fucked?" he asked scornfully. "I don't love you just because I let you fuck me."
The shake of McKay's head was small and jerky, his glossy blue eyes fixed on John.
"I don't love you," John repeated. "We don't love each other. You're getting married to my sister, for God's sake."
"Am I?" Rodney asked angrily.
John gritted his teeth. "She'll marry you," he shot back, aiming at natural. "She wants to marry you. The only thing stopping her was me." He pressed a hand to his chest.
"And now you have no problem with us marrying?" Rodney asked shrilly.
"Why not?" John asked tightly, "It's not up to me. You don't need my blessing." Rodney turned away from him and pressed his hand to the window.
John regarded him narrowly, drawing in a shaky breath. "Go back and ask her again, jackass. Apologize and she'll accept your proposal. You can put the blame on me. I came onto you, anyway." He swallowed and fixed a hard stare on McKay. "Make my sister happy."
"Right. I'll really make her happy. I've only fucked her brother."
John set his jaw and color flooded his cheeks beneath dark stubble. "When you put it that way, you don't sound all that excited, buddy," he replied sarcastically.
McKay shot him a warning look.
"I'm not standing in your way anymore," John asserted hotly. "I'm telling you – she'll marry you…. Marry my sister."
"You're fine with that?" Rodney demanded.
John swallowed around painful constriction in his throat. He shrugged one shoulder. "It's your life," he replied nonchalantly.
Rodney returned his eyes to the window and his sandy brows furrowed. "I guess there's nothing stopping us now," he said bitterly.
John scowled. "Yeah," he agreed. "Have at it."
"Maybe we'll even name our first kid after you," Rodney added sarcastically. "Seeing as you've been so helpful so far." His voice rose, almost hysterically.
John gritted his teeth and shook his head. He narrowed his eyes on the other man. "Gee, that'd be an honor."
"So what is it, John or maybe we should name him Icarus?" Rodney's voice was thin and high.
"Whatever you want," John shot back. "I'm not particular about top billing."
Rodney turned his cheek toward him and glowered furiously. His face was dark with blood. "Great," he said.
John's chest rose jerkily and he nodded tersely. The muscle in his jaw worked as he gritted his teeth. "Yeah," he replied thickly. "Congratulations."
McKay's eyes were radiant and pale. He made a sound of agreement in his throat and glared at John.
"That's it, I guess," John said, blinking. His face burned.
"I guess," Rodney said.
"Great."
John shoved his hands into his pockets and turned on his heel. His body was rigid with fury and embarrassment. He walked back across the room and his footfalls filled the silence.
"Oh, yeah," Rodney called out. His voice was clipped and angry.
John half-turned and lifted his brows, tilting his chin up. He looked to the other man and found Rodney in the gloom by the window. His frame was outlined by the pearl-gray sky outside. "Yeah?" John asked.
Rodney gestured tersely with his chin toward the window. "I wanted to tell you it's the beginning of the rainy season."
John furrowed his brows. "Rainy season?" he asked tightly.
Rodney lifted a shoulder and his lip curled. "It starts mid-spring and lasts until the end of April. You should expect some mild flooding in the plain."
John dropped his hand from his pocket. "How mild is mild?" he demanded.
Rodney shrugged. The rain outside made his shoulders look like they were shaking. "A couple feet. You're far enough from the river that it shouldn't matter."
John fisted the fingers of his free hand. "Great," he replied sarcastically. "Thanks for the heads-up."
Rodney nodded sharply. "Don't mention it."
For a moment, John stared at McKay as Rodney regarded him with a cold and furious expression. "Thanks," he said again and McKay turned away, nodding his head.
John came back to camp to tell Elizabeth about the rainy season but she wasn't in her wagon when he returned. He looked around and couldn't find her. It was in the big top, with the rain on the roof, that Teyla told him Weir had gone to Atlantis with Peter Grodin to look at something he'd wanted to show her.
"Oh, yeah?" John asked wearily.
"Is there something urgent you need to speak with her about?"
John sighed and shrugged a shoulder, rubbing his eye. He thought about what McKay had said, that it wouldn't be a big deal, and shook his head. "Nah," he replied. "Just let her know I want to see her when she shows up."
As he left the big top, he saw Jennifer with Aiden Ford by the fire under a make-shift canopy. They were sitting on two crates, playing a game. Jennifer smiled wanly at Aiden, the buttons of her jacket loose part-way over a boned corset. She held a hand of cards in her lap and regarded Aiden. As she looked up and saw John, her smile faltered. John swallowed, nodding as heat rose to his face and he remembered McKay's body against him, inside him, and felt guilty.
They were playing some variation of war Aiden had invented that involved a cup, a small silver ball, a deck of cards and a tarnished thimble. Jennifer faltered, her blue eyes following John as he frowned and clenched his fist in his pocket. At her side, Aiden peered at John with an unreadable look, laying his hand on Jennifer's shoulder.
John pulled his black scarf up on his neck and dove out into the rain, trudging up the muddy path back to his wagon.
Rodney was right about the rainy season; the rain persisted through the entirety of the next week. The tributaries overran the banks in the mountaintops and the rushes thundered into the rivers below. At the edges of the river, small marshes formed on either side.
The deluge continued, unabated. It was a constant drumbeat on the roofs of the wagons and poured off the eaves of their balconies in heavy white curtains that obscured the landscape beyond.
The circus packed up what was possible and, when John told her about it, Elizabeth sighed and cancelled future performances until the end of the season. In the big top, they collapsed the stands and the show lights were dark. The tent was filled with the sound of the falling rain in lieu of applause.
Outside, around camp, boot prints left deep impressions that filled with water and sucked at the feet that left them. The paths to the big top and the mess were muddy trenches deeply rutted in the ground.
A week passed sluggishly. The troupe kept like a tortoise in its shell, sheltered in itself. With nowhere else to go and nothing else to do, they drifted in and out of the mess, shoulders dark with rain water, holding slick umbrellas overhead as they came from and went back to their wagons between meals or whenever they craved social interaction.
Lorne peered out the flap of the mess and looked resigned. Giving up on his vigil, he turned back to the stove top and continued making food. Rain fell down the chimney and sizzled on the fire as he made coffee and soup, wiping his hands on his black apron as he tested the base.
John settled in the mess for breakfast with his ledger and balanced the books, feeling sick of himself. There was only so long he could stew in his wagon.
After two weeks, Jennifer still looked distracted though she kept company with Aiden. The color was returning to her cheeks when Ford commented on her damp hair as she came in, plucking carefully at a golden lock and smiling. John brooded silently, eyes on the entrance.
On a bench at a table far from the doorway, John sat across from Zelenka and Ronon. His empty tin cup was pushed back into the center of the tabletop, a banner of steam issuing forth from the rim. His books were laid open and untouched before him, pinned beneath his elbow. He stared at Aiden and Jennifer by the opening in the tent as Ford talked animatedly and Jennifer smiled. He thought of McKay.
The scientist hadn't come to the camp since Jennifer had walked in on them and John hadn't sought him out in Atlantis either. He didn't know what was taking him so long to talk to Jennifer.
The long tables, arranged in even rows across the mess, were crowded with circus and crew, their varicolored coats like a flowerbed with the rain and dark outside. Their murmurs were a low rumble underscored by the rain.
"I cannot stand this," Zelenka sighed as he pushed his tray away from him. He pulled his glasses from his face and cleaned the lenses on his red sweater. His thin fingertips were pink from the cold. "This rain is…." He gestured and cast a glance about, cursing in Czech.
John nodded, his chin in his fist. "Yeah," he mumbled through his hand.
The juggler furrowed his brows at John and shook his head, offended. John lifted his brows. "What?" he asked after a moment.
Radek shook his head, gesturing impatiently. "Why bother talking if I'm speaking only to myself?" he asked.
John scoffed and looked up at him as Zelenka stood, picking his tray up. "I'm going," Radek announced tersely.
"I was listening!" John protested in vain. The small man shook his head and walked away, mumbling to himself.
Ronon smirked and John narrowed his eyes on him. "What's eating him?" he asked, jerking his head toward Zelenka's retreating figure.
The strongman shrugged. "You'd been listening you would've known," he suggested mildly.
John shook his head. "What? You, too?" he asked. Again, Ronon shrugged, smiling.
At the oven, Lorne withdrew loaves of bread from the fire, his face flushed and gleaming with sweat. Across from John, Ronon propped his feet up in the place Radek had abandoned, rolling a cigarette on the table top.
John's eyes passed disinterestedly over the heads of the congregation inside and fell on the flap to the door as it fluttered and admitted the sight of the downpour outside. A thin, caramel colored hand slid over the edge of the burlap and spread it open. John lifted his head with muted interest as Teyla ducked inside, shaking the water from her hair as she pulled the evergreen hood of her coat back over her shoulders.
Her eyes fell on John and Ronon from by the door. John nodded in recognition, feeling a mild pang of disappointment that it wasn't McKay.
The contortionist cast a glance around the tent as she made a path to their table. She stopped beside Ronon and sighed, lifting a limp hand in the direction of the doorway. She asked exasperatedly, "Will this rain never end?"
John shrugged his shoulder and guessed there was no need to reply.
Ronon glanced up, arching a brow at his wife and Teyla pulled her jacket from her shoulders, draping it over the bench at Ronon's feet. Looking pointedly at the strongman's feet, she shook her head.
"What?" Ronon asked gruffly. Teyla narrowed her eyes and shook her head at his incomprehensibility.
Ronon grinned and dropped his feet to the floor with a thud. Teyla sat and looked with vague curiosity at John's papers as she sat. Beside her, Ronon picked up his cigarette paper to lick its edge, and Teyla placed her hand on his. "Do not," she said, sighing. "I am sick already."
The strongman cast a questioning look in her direction and Teyla settled her body on the bench, placing her hands on her flat belly.
"The baby?" John asked.
The contortionist arched a brow. "It would seem. I have been sick every morning." She shook her head in exasperation.
"It'll be a boy," Ronon stated, beside her. Teyla regarded him and nodded her head.
John leant over his books and pointed at Ronon. "Forget the gender. It's because of this guy," he suggested.
Ronon eyed John evenly and Teyla smiled. "I have considered that possibility."
John pursed his lips and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Satedan women carried heavy," Ronon offered by way of explanation. Teyla lifted an eyebrow and Ronon grinned, picking a piece of bread up from his tray. "Big babies," he said, popping the bread into his mouth.
John slid his eyes to Ronon and he shrugged. "That explains you," he replied, glancing downward. He pulled his books closer to the edge of the table top.
"We should hope so," Teyla said, running a hand over her stomach. She wasn't showing much yet. Ronon laid his hand over hers and John looked away respectfully.
The tent flap opened with a rustle lost in the din of the mess hall. John leaned back and craned his neck to see over the heads of the crowd.
McKay stood inside the doorway. The shoulders of his black coat were sodden with rainwater, heaving lightly as he breathed. His brows was creased, his mouth curled in a grimace as he scanned the assemblage for someone in particular.
John's heart pounded and he struggled to neutralize his expression. His brows went low over his hazel eyes and his gaze went from McKay to Jennifer nearby him, sitting with Aiden Ford near the door. Jennifer's round blue eyes were lifted to the scientist and Aiden looked troubled, from Jennifer to McKay.
John swallowed. But Rodney nodded uncomfortably at Jennifer and moved past her, cringing as he caught sight of John. He walked quickly between the tables toward John. From ten meters way, John could see the rain drops clinging to his hair and face.
McKay came to a stop behind Teyla and Ronon, across the table from John. Teyla and Ronon turned their shoulders to inspect the scientist's face. John hunched his shoulders, looking up at him from over the curve of his fist against his lips.
McKay's shoulders were tense as he fixed his blue eyes on John. "We have a problem," he said.
