Since coming to Atlantis, John had done a lot of things he'd rather he never had to do, but watching Rodney prepare to die was by far the hardest. It tore him up inside, thinking that he was about to lose the one person in Atlantis that meant the most to him and he was powerless to do anything but try to help him achieve enlightenment. Enlightenment? Who the hell was John to teach Rodney of all people about enlightenment? He couldn't even tell Rodney how he felt about him, let alone release his own burden.
He thought about telling him, when Rodney was rattling off his final will and testament in John's quarters, but before he could open his mouth and try to find the words, Rodney was clutching his head and collapsing. It was like, from that moment on, John couldn't breathe. His chest was tight, his stomach felt like it was full of lead, and he was sure -- 100% positive -- that when Rodney had seized up and then flatlined, he was going to die right along with him. It was only later, when Rodney declared that he was hungry in the room where Carson and Zelenka had done what John had been unable to, that he no longer felt like he was drowning.
But still, he didn't tell him. Not when they found out the game they'd been playing hadn't been a game at all, that they'd been playing God, and their playful rivalry had nearly brought about the end of not just one but two civilizations. Not when John nearly died in the space shuttle crash, after Rodney all but begged him not to do it. Not until Carson died and John was reminded how fragile their lives really were, did he find the courage to tell Rodney how he felt. The courage, sure, but not the words. Those damned words were always just out of reach.
John was in his quarters one afternoon a few days after they'd returned from Earth when he looked up to see Rodney hanging back in the doorway. "Hey," he said, slightly surprised to see him. Rodney hadn't said much to anyone in the few days since the funeral, choosing to hide himself away in the labs. His minions had all found other places to be, even Zelenka, though John suspected that was more out of Radek's own personal grief at the loss of a member of their core, the heart and soul of Atlantis, than fear of Rodney. If anything, Radek would probably rather have been driving Rodney nuts and being driven nuts by him than missing their mutual friend.
"I just had the most amazing experience," Rodney said, walking into the room and sitting at the foot of the bed. He looked slightly dazed. Happy, though, and oddly at peace. John, leaning against the headboard, moved his feet to make room.
"Yeah? You wanna talk about it?"
"Of course I wanna--" Rodney gave John that affectionately frustrated look that always made John's day. "Why would I be here, if I didn't want to talk about it?"
"Oh, I dunno," John shrugged casually. "Thought maybe you might just wanna see me. Hang out with me. You know, like we do."
"Oh," Rodney said, looking at his hands. "Yes, well. If I told anyone else about this -- Elizabeth, Radek, probably Ronon, too -- they'd think I was crazy. I know you won't laugh at me. I was looking out at the water, and--"
"What about Teyla?" John pointed out. "You could talk to her, and she wouldn't laugh."
"I suppose, but I didn't want to talk to-- Will you just let me-- no, you know what? Forget it." Rodney moved to stand, and John grabbed his arm to pull him back down. "Wha--?" he gasped, caught off guard.
"I'm sorry. Tell me about your experience. Just don't... don't go." John let go Rodney's arm and patted his shoulder. "I'm listening, okay?
Rodney looked confused and a little worried, but he took a breath and started over. "Okay. So, I was looking out at the water, and... Carson was there. Beside me, and he... he spoke to me. I don't think he's really dead. I think he's ascended."
John blinked at him; it was nice to think that a soul as kind as Carson Beckett had been accorded some kind of second chance, but he couldn't bear to see Rodney get his hopes up if they were just going to get dashed again later. "McKay, I don't--"
"Just hear me out, John. There was no body."
"It was a big explosion," John said softly. "Rodney--"
"He was glowing. Well, no, we were both glowing. It was all very surreal. Anyway, he told me -- actually, I said that maybe we'd, you know, run into each other again some day. And he agreed with me." Rodney was happier than John had seen him in a long time, since before Carson died. "He's still out there, John. He just wanted to say goodbye."
John couldn't disagree with that last part, at least, not even if he'd wanted to. "I'm sure he did," John half-smiled. "Look, Rodney, there's this thing I wanted to talk to you about. We've both had a lot of near misses lately. The Ancients' machine that screwed with your DNA, the stupid hollowed out moon. I don't even want to think about how much your stupid whale scared the hell out of me. When you slumped over the control panels, bleeding from your ears--"
"You were worried about me?" Rodney looked surprised.
"Of course I was worried about you. You were bleeding. Why wouldn't I worry?"
"I don't know," Rodney said slowly. "I guess I always got the impression that you weren't terribly fond of me."
"Not-- what?" John exclaimed. "You seriously--? C'mon, McKay. Seriously?"
"Seriously what? You're always insulting me, irritating me, belittling me--"
"I just thought that was how we related to each other," John frowned. "You really don't like me?"
Rodney scowled. "Oh, please. Of course I like you. You make it impossible not to. You're, you're charismatic, attractive, funny -- all the things I wish I was. You're even smart, whether you like to admit it or not."
A smug grin spread across John's face as he seized on the one thing that might make this whole thing easier on him. "You think I'm attractive."
Rodney groaned. "Well, yes, I suppose, but not in a--"
"You're attracted to me," John sing-songed, his amusement growing at the pink flush rising slowly from Rodney's neck to the tips of his ears. "C'mon, Rodney, admit it."
"Damn it, Sheppard, that's not what I said!" Rodney huffed, flustered and embarrassed. "I just meant that--"
"What if I told you I thought you were attractive too?"
Rodney paused, and there was a flash of something that looked like doubtful hope in the mix as his expression went from one of angry indignance to one of almost hurt. "I'd think you were making fun of me."
"What if I followed it up by kissing you?"
Rodney closed his eyes, and John's heart kicked up a rhythm fit to burst his chest. Lashes like those on a scientist of already considerable charms and wiles -- whether he realized it or not -- oughtta be illegal. "I'd wonder what you were on, and then I'd drag you to sick bay. Look, where is this conversation going?"
John looked up at Rodney through his own eyelashes, way more thrilled than he would admit to be when he saw his own desperate hope reflected in Rodney's eyes. "You wouldn't kiss me back?"
Scoffing, Rodney asked, "Would you want me to?"
"Well, it would kinda be the point."
Rodney opened his mouth and closed it again. Three times. John tried not to compare the visual to a fish out of water, but why deny a good cliche when it worked? "You would want me to kiss you?"
"What, like there's something wrong with me? Why wouldn't you wanna kiss me?" John asked, teasingly defensive. Well, mostly teasingly.
"Because I'm not gay?" Rodney suggested, trying for offended and missing by half a mile. "Just as an example. Or how about because-- no, 'I'm not gay' pretty much covers it."
John grabbed at a straw, knowing that if it didn't salvage the conversation in his favor, it would at least give him an easy out. "You kissed Carson."
"I did not! Why does everyone say that? Hello, that was so Laura and so not me. If I was going to kiss anyone, with the assumption that I was very probably about to become extra-crispy, it would be--"
John leaned forward in anticipation. If he'd been ten years younger he'd have been chewing on his bottom lip nervously. "Yeah? Who?"
Rodney sighed, conceding defeat.. "Don't look so smug. I haven't said you yet."
"But you were going to."
"For all you know, I could have been about to say, Colonel Samantha Carter. I did name a whale after her."
"But Colonel Carter wasn't there when Cadman was walking around wearing you like a cheap suit," John pointed out, puffing his chest out triumphantly. "Will you just give up the ghost and kiss me already?"
"What, right now? Here? In your bedroom? With the door open?"
"You can think of a better place?" John's expression grew unbearably smug as he closed the door with a thought. "Door's not open anymore, McKay. What's it gonna be?"
Rodney's nostrils flared slightly. Well, now he just had to kiss him, to wipe that stupid, smug look off his face. John crossed his arms in silent challenge, and Rodney leaned towards him to press their lips together. John's arms uncrossed; one hand slid to the back of Rodney's neck.
Rodney pulled back when he felt John's tongue running over his lower lip. "I don't think I'm ready for this."
"You don't have to be," John said, in that easy, relaxed way of his. "Not today. Maybe not tomorrow. Life is short, sure, but that doesn't mean we have to round all the bases in one day."
Rodney snorted. "How old are you, and you're still applying baseball metaphors to sexual situations?"
"Hey," John said defensively, pulling Rodney into his arms. "It's the gold standard. You don't screw with a classic."
Rodney gave John a crooked smile, and they sat in silence for a while, enjoying the closeness they hadn't been able to experience before. "It could just as easily have been me," Rodney said quietly, voicing John's own private nightmare. "If Wilson--"
"Watson," John corrected.
"Right, Watson." Rodney shrugged. "If he'd gone critical while we were in the lab... Or if I'd been the one to discover the device, in his place--"
"I don't think I could have handled it," John admitted. "So many times I wanted to tell you, Rodney--"
"I wanted to tell you--"
"Tell me what? When?" John prompted. He'd put his heart on the line and now it was Rodney's turn; at least McKay already had the security of knowing there was a serious degree of reciprocation. All John had had was a hunch.
"In your room, before I passed out. I was working up the nerve--" Rodney looked down at his hands, laying useless in his lap while John held him. "The part that was supposed to come after my last wishes was this big, long... I actually wrote it out, a few hours before, and memorized it so I wouldn't miss anything important. It wasn't a speech, really, so much as a list of bullet points."
"Bullet points? Sounds serious."
"It is. It's very serious, and it was a lot easier to conceive of possibly telling you when I knew.... when I thought I was going to die. Even if you've shown an interest in, in being with me, I just-- I don't understand a lot of the boundaries in interpersonal relationships. I don't get why they say men and women can't be friends without there being a sexual aspect, but two men aren't expected to feel the same way sometimes. I don't understand why we can't just decide how far we're comfortable allowing our emotions to evolve and just make them stop there. I never wanted to fall in love with you, damn it."
John's arms slackened. "That is serious," he said, leaning back to look at Rodney. "You've given it a lot of thought, huh?"
"I believe the word you're looking for is 'agonized,' Sheppard."
John snorted. "Been there, done that, bought the cheesy souvenirs and had about twelve different instances of buyer's remorse, McKay."
"Buyer's remorse?"
John was amused at the way they parrotted each other back and forth, neither really sure he understood or even dared to believe what he was hearing. "You think I wanted to fall for you? I don't know how they do things north of the border, but where I come from there's rules about this kind of thing. Rules that make my place as head of military operations... well, kinda shaky."
Rodney glanced up sharply. "Then why--"
"Like I've never put you ahead of my position here before?" John said gently, simply. "Like I wouldn't do it again in a heartbeat? Tell me you don't know that, McKay."
Rodney couldn't. "I'm a liability. John, we can't--"
"We can. We will. You've always been a liabililty for me, Rodney, but do you think I don't see that it goes both ways? Do you think pretending that I wouldn't do anything for you, that you wouldn't go just as far for me, is gonna somehow make it less true?"
Rodney was speechless, which John considered a major triumph. He'd been trying for three years to figure out what it would take to shut him up.
"We've been loving each other in little ways since the very beginning, Rodney," John said, going in for the kill. "Anyone with eyes and security clearance could tell you that. What's it gonna hurt, going the extra mile, loving each other all the way?"
Rodney's only reply was an enthusiastic if almost agonizingly delayed kiss, and two hands tangling in hair he'd been itching to touch for three years. John realized it was no wonder he hadn't been able to find the words before; he'd forgotten that with McKay, you needed a lot more of them than you would with anyone else.