jujitsuelf

As demoralizing as it was to watch people he’d known and worked with leave the park for good, Rodney still had a hard feeling properly miserable about it. John was...well John was awesome, there were no two ways about it. He was funny, he was sarcastic, he could cook, he was absolutely gorgeous and somehow managed to keep up with Rodney when he went off onto one of his science-themed rants.

Math seemed to come as easily to John as breathing did to most other people. More than once Rodney found himself with slightly embarrassing hard-ons when John mentioned things like power series convergence and binomial coefficients.

Most evenings, they’d go back to Rodney’s apartment together. John never actually asked whether Rodney wanted him to, but the understanding that Rodney would never say no was quite clear between them. John didn’t mention going to his place and Rodney didn’t ask why. He’d found that people generally kept secrets for a reason and he didn’t want to pick at that particular scab.

John would stand in Rodney’s tiny kitchen, creating something surprisingly edible for dinner while Rodney pored over another copy of The Astrophysical Journal, red pen in hand, ready to eviscerate the unfortunate contributors to that issue.

“We’re okay, aren’t we?” John asked one night, not too long after Todd had left Atlantis.

“Huh?” Rodney didn’t shift his gaze from the journal. “Oh. Yeah, we’re good.” John’s concerned tone penetrated the fog of equations which filled his brain and he looked up, abruptly worried. “We are, aren’t we?”

John rubbed his eyes. His hair was too long and threatened to flop down over his forehead. He looked suddenly younger and a little insecure. Rodney put the magazine down and focused his attention on his lover.

“What’s up?”

There was silence for a moment. John licked his lips, then pressed them together into a thin line. He only did that when he was thinking very hard and alarm bells began to ring in Rodney’s head.

“John, what’s up?” he said again.

“Nothing,” John shook his head and turned back to the pasta sauce bubbling on the stove. A minute later he was back in the kitchen doorway again. “I was married. Before. Her name was Nancy. She was nice. Divorced me though. I was an asshole. Thought you ought to know.”

Rodney blinked a few times before his brain caught up with the rest of him. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Um, not that I don’t value the information but, why are you telling me this?”

John shrugged, one of his trademark ‘avoid talking about it’ tactics. “Figured you might like to know something about me.”

The alarm bells continued clanging in Rodney’s head. “Hold on, are you building up to something big here? Are you breaking up with me? You’re going back to her, aren’t you? Shit, John, I just upgraded to the sports channels for you, how can you do this to me? Bastard, I hope your balls shrivel and drop off.” He stormed into his bedroom and slammed the door.

“Rodney!” John’s exasperated voice easily penetrated the thin walls. “I’m not breaking up with you, you pain in the ass. I just figured I’d try, you know, talking about myself a little. Thought you might like it. You don’t actually know that much about me. For all you know, I could be anyone. Axe murderer, KGB agent, a barista-stalking psycho, a Lakers fan...”

“You’ll watch hockey with me, feed me, listen to me rant about science and correct my math,” Rodney said loudly. “You’re gorgeous and I think about doing filthy things to you all the damn time.” He wrenched the door open and glared at John. “That’s about all I need to know. If you’re an axe murderer, all I can say is your axe is well hidden because I’ve seen you naked.”

John’s mouth smiled but his eyes were serious. “What if I turned out to be someone different?”

“Unless you turn into a woman, I don’t think I’d care much.” Rodney dragged him into a hard kiss. “Shut up and come to bed, Airman Sheppard.”

“Major,” John mumbled into Rodney’s open mouth. “I made Major.”

“Absurdly hot,” Rodney all but snarled, already pulling John’s clothes off. “I’m sleeping with an officer.” Okay, so he was a little obsessed with the whole access to amazing sex whenever he wanted it thing, but who could blame him? Fourteen minutes later, he could barely remember his own name, much less what they’d been talking about.

# # #

The bell over the shop door tinkled and Teyla walked in. Well, ‘walked’ was the common verb for what she did, ‘staggered’ was probably closer to the truth.

“Rodney,” she said, her chin defiantly high in the air. “I require coffee. Now.”

Rodney gaped and felt John turn beside him to stare at Teyla. “But...but, you don’t drink coffee,” he managed to stutter. “In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never once even sipped a cup.”

Teyla’s hands shot out, fisted Rodney’s shirt and pulled him halfway over the counter. Rodney squeaked and flailed before John’s hand fastened onto his waistband, keeping him safely behind the counter and relatively safe from Teyla’s ire.

“Rodney, I have had a very trying day.” Teyla’s voice shook from the effort of sounding calm. “If you served alcohol here I would be requesting that. As you do not, coffee will have to do. Espresso, please. At once.”

She released him and he scrambled to make the coffee, with John breathing down his neck.

“She’s scary,” John whispered. “She ever get like this before?”

Rodney shook his head, Teyla’s wild eyes had frightened him mute. She took the little cup and sipped carefully at the dark brew within. Her nose wrinkled but she gamely finished the drink, then set the cup back on the counter with a sigh.

“Thank you, Rodney. I am much better now. I apologize for man-handling you.”

“Desperate times, desperate measures,” Rodney said, gesturing vaguely while John nodded behind him. “What’s up?”

Teyla’s slim shoulders slumped a little. “I feel...drained. I understand that the owners wish to have me see more customers, but, I fear I am not very good at being brief. There are things I wish to communicate, things I need to say to the people who visit me. Messages, warnings, things I see written in their palms which need to be talked about. I fear I am passing many of them over in my new-found haste.”

Rodney glanced at John, who shook his head helplessly, a stricken expression on his face. He had no more idea of how to soothe Teyla than Rodney did. Somehow that was disquieting, Rodney suddenly realized just how much he’d taken for granted and in some ways, relied upon, John’s ability to remain unruffled.

“You really believe in that fortune telling stuff, don’t you?” It wasn’t what he’d intended to say but his mouth had superseded his brain on many previous occasions, so Rodney just ran with it.

“Yes, I do.” A hint of a smile tugged at Teyla’s mouth. “But you do not.”

“Science and that hocus pocus stuff don’t really mix,” Rodney said, screwing up his face.

“Most science, I think you will find, dear Rodney, was at one time or other considered to be ‘hocus pocus stuff’.” Teyla’s eyes crinkled as her smile grew. She really was very beautiful, how had Rodney never seen that before? Her clear gaze switched to John and her brows lowered a fraction. “I do not claim to see the future, as I have told you before, I merely sense things. I sense many things about you, John Sheppard. First and foremost, you are not comfortable in your own skin. Decide who you are before you lose what you value most.”

Rodney looked at John. His jaw was tight and his lips were pressed into that thin line again. Oh boy.

“Okay, I think that’s enough prophesying of doom for one day,” Rodney said. “It’s almost closing time, are you all right to get home, Teyla?”

She inclined her head gracefully. “Yes, thank you, Rodney. I am fine now.” She swept out of the shop after shooting one last piercing glance at John.

With her gone, the silence in the room was suddenly far too heavy.

“Wow,” Rodney forced a laugh. “That was...interesting. A Teyla freakout, never thought I’d see the day.”

John didn’t reply. He was staring at the door as though he was trying to bore holes in it with the power of his mind.

“John?”

“There’s food in your refrigerator,” John said tersely. “I won’t come to your place tonight. Stuff to do.”

“Okay,” Rodney drew the word out, playing for thinking time. “Look, don’t pay any attention to Teyla, she didn’t mean any of that crap.”

“You don’t need me to help close up, do you?” John was pulling his Beanery apron off as he spoke and didn’t give Rodney chance to reply. “Okay, good. See you tomorrow.”

After a whirlwind kiss, he was gone, practically sprinting out of the door. Rodney stared after him, his mouth hanging open. What the hell?

# # #

Rodney didn’t sleep well that night. He moodily got up at one in the morning and mooched through his kitchen cupboards, looking for something to eat. He’d already eaten the casserole John had left in the fridge, but it hadn’t taken away the leaden feeling in his stomach. Maybe if he filled himself with peanut butter, he’d drown that feeling out. Yeah, that was a plan.

Halfway through the peanut butter jar he gave up and leaned his head back on the sofa, now he just felt sick, and the ball of worry was still there. Exactly why he was worried, Rodney wasn’t entirely sure. It was just a reaction to Teyla being all weird and recent events at the park, he tried to tell himself. Nothing to get concerned about.

Back in bed, he resolutely closed his eyes and tried to summon sleep. It refused to come and he found himself staring at the ceiling at three o’clock. Thumping his pillow into a different shape didn’t help him rest but it did send faint wafts of John’s aftershave toward his nose. He smiled a little, what was the point of kidding himself? He couldn’t sleep because he was worried about John. What was he doing? Why the sudden rush out of the Beanery earlier? Was he in some kind of trouble? Maybe he moonlighted for the mob. Or perhaps he was a cat burglar, that’d work, he was slim enough to creep through peoples’ windows. What if he got arrested? Oh god, Rodney would have to visit him in jail, conjugal visits, scary prison staff, the other inmates...he shuddered.

After a few minutes of deep breathing to stave off the impending panic attack, he smiled again. Maybe he couldn’t sleep because he just missed having John around. He’d probably gotten used to having someone else in the apartment and now he was feeling the loss of being alone. Well, alone but for Newton, but a cat’s company didn’t quite compare to John’s. Being lonesome was far more likely than John being a mob bagman or world famous cat burglar. Although both scenarios might be possible fantasy jerk-off material...

He lay and stared into the dark, his hands laced behind his head. Thinking about John somehow calmed him down slightly, the tight knot in his stomach loosened a bit. Despite his worry, Rodney found himself smiling as he remembered the conversations and banter they’d had in that very bed. And the sex, of course, he also remembered the sex. Maybe that was what helped him drift off into dreams, the last time he looked at the clock it said half past four, when he blinked again, it was almost eight.

“Shit!” he yelped, throwing himself out of bed. “Late, late, so very, very late...”

He stuffed himself into his uniform and ran out of the apartment after grabbing a handful of Cap’n Crunch to eat on the way to Atlantis. A headache was already beginning to pound behind his left eye, it was going to one of those days, he could feel it.

# # #

John was already at the shop when Rodney skidded through the door.

“God, you look awful.” Rodney couldn’t help it, it just popped out. And it was true, John looked like he hadn’t slept, there were dark circles beneath his eyes and a frown etched onto his forehead. Even his hair seemed limp. “You all right? What happened last night? Do you work for the mob? Do I need to worry about cement overcoats and that kind of thing?”

“Huh?” John squinted at him in that way he did when he suspected Rodney was off his meds.

“Never mind,” Rodney waved impatiently and grabbed his apron. “You look like crap, did you sleep at all?”

“What? Oh. Um, no.”

Rodney narrowed his own eyes. “What were you doing? You ran out of here yesterday like your ass was on fire.”

“Just some personal stuff,” John muttered, straightening cups and generally appearing to be busy while doing very little.

It shouldn’t have hurt that John had ‘personal stuff’ which he didn’t want to share with Rodney but for some inexplicable reason, it kind of did. Rodney nodded slowly and bustled around getting the shop ready for business. If John had things he didn’t want to share, that was fine, it was, really. A thought struck him and he turned, apparently surprising John who was dozing against the wall.

“Is this some kind of knee jerk reaction to that boloney Teyla spouted yesterday? Did you feel the need to go off and make yourself comfortable in your own skin or something?”

“Leave it, Rodney,” John muttered, rubbing his eyes wearily.

“I don’t think I want to leave it,” Rodney said mildly. “I think I want to know what you did last night.”

“Rodney...” John’s drawl had a warning in it but Rodney was feeling reckless, maybe lack of a decent breakfast made him more stupid.

“You cheating on me?”

“No!” John’s hand slammed down onto the counter with a crack which made them both jump. He blew out a breath, obviously struggling with his temper, then said more calmly, “No, I’m not. I was doing some business stuff last night. I’m not telling you what it was because it won’t do any good for you to know. So stop asking, okay? Please?”

There was a full beat of silence as they stared at one another. John looked away first, something unreadable in his eyes. Rodney bit at his lip but nodded briefly.

“Okay.”

“Thanks.” John sent a wan smile toward him.

“I slept like crap,” Rodney said briskly. “Your fault. You should go get me a breakfast hotdog as an apology.”

John laughed quietly and rolled his eyes. “Fine. I need something to eat anyway, I’m dying here.”

The door swung shut behind him and Rodney was alone in the shop. The headache still persisted behind his eye and something told him the day’s crappiness hadn’t finished yet.

# # #

When Ronon pushed the shop door open that afternoon, Rodney had a feeling that shit was about to hit the proverbial fan. Ronon never came to the Beanery. He and John were friends, as far as Rodney knew, but Ronon thought coffee was for wimps and took John to bars and other such manly places.

Teyla and Lorne followed Ronon and Rodney’s heart sank still further. What was going on now? Then Elizabeth and the funny little foreign guy walked in as well. Rodney’s eyebrows shot up, why were they there? Were the owners going in for mass firing now? Were they all about to get their marching orders?

Two men Rodney didn’t know entered the shop, one pushed the door shut and turned the sign around so that it read ‘closed’. There were no customers anyway, it was a weekday and pretty slow business-wise.

“What’s going on?” he hissed, primarily at Elizabeth but happy to listen to anyone with an answer.

Elizabeth shook her head and shrugged. Shit. If she didn’t know what was going on, it couldn’t be anything good.

One of the men Rodney didn’t know, spoke in a gravelly voice. “Where’s John?” His hair was white but he held himself like a soldier, back ramrod straight. He was obviously used to having his orders followed to the letter.

Rodney turned and called into the back room, “John? Um, you’re wanted. You got a minute?”

“I’m knee deep in muffins in here, Rodney,” John called back. “What’s up?”

“John?” the older man called, an unpleasant edge to his voice. “Come on out and see what a surprise I’ve got for you.”

The atmosphere instantly thickened to a consistency which could have been cut with a teaspoon. John appeared in the doorway behind Rodney, his face set and hard. The panic in his eyes was just a figment of Rodney’s imagination, wasn’t it? John didn’t panic, not even when confronted by strange older men who apparently knew him and had ‘surprises’ for him.

“What are you doing here?” John asked, his voice low and unfriendly.

“What, no greeting for your old man?” the white-haired guy smirked. Something about that smirk was familiar...Rodney felt his own mouth drop open.

“Are you...John, is he...?”

“I’m John’s father,” the older man said, extending his hand to Rodney. “Patrick Sheppard.”

Rodney found himself shaking hands automatically.

Patrick smiled, all teeth and no warmth. “I understand you’re the young man my son is sleeping with.”

Rodney heard John hiss behind him. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? Meeting the parents wasn’t meant to be like this, in front of his friends and colleagues, it was supposed to be in a house, over dinner, wasn’t it?

“Um...” he began, and was profoundly grateful when John interrupted him.

“Dad, stop it. I said everything I have to say, last night. I’m not dancing to your tune anymore.”

“And yet you’re still here. Just can’t tear yourself away from lover boy, huh?” Patrick’s smile widened as he glanced at Rodney. He went on, “I thought I made it very clear what you could expect me to do if you didn’t change your mind and get off your damned high horse.”

Rodney glanced at John. He still looked bad, the circles under his eyes seemed to be darkening and his beard was well beyond mere five o’clock shadow. His eyes flickered from Patrick to the other, younger man with him.

“Dave, come on, help me out here.”

The other man, Dave, whoever he was, pressed his lips together in a way so reminiscent of John Rodney felt sure they had to be brothers. “Sorry, John. You had a job to do. Not our fault you decided you don’t have the stomach for it anymore.” Dave looked down at his shoes as he spoke, obviously not enjoying the moment.

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said in her best ‘I’m a calm and understanding woman, tell me what the hell’s going on right now’ voice. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” She locked eyes with Patrick Sheppard and held out her hand. “Elizabeth Weir, I’m head of Recruitment and Personnel. Are you the people who sent me the message about hiring John?”

“We are indeed,” Patrick said smoothly, holding onto Elizabeth’s hand for a shade too long. “You carried out your instructions with considerable aplomb, Ms Weir, I’d be glad to show you how grateful I am.”

Rodney felt the skin on the back of his neck prickle slightly. Smooth and oily, how could John be related to that bastard?

“Dad!” John said sharply. “They don’t need to be here, if you want to talk to me, fine, I’ll come up to your office.”

“Oh, Johnny-boy, they do need to be here,” Patrick smiled, his thumb running over Elizabeth’s knuckles. “ You’re not very clever sometimes, you know that? You never think I’ll go through with things, why is that? Maybe the brains from my side of the family didn’t filter down to you.” He smacked a kiss to Elizabeth’s hand and released her. Holding up both hands for silence, he said loudly, “In case any of you don’t know me, I’m your boss. Patrick Sheppard, at your service.” He actually look a bow.

Rodney snorted in derisive amusement, the guy was either nuts or a little too dramatic for his own good. He glanced at John, who wasn’t smiling. His fists were clenched at his sides and his jaw was working convulsively. Rodney touched his arm, suddenly concerned.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

John shook his head minutely, a curious look of defeat in his eyes.

“What’s wrong, dear boy,” Patrick boomed, “is that Johnny here is a liar. He’s been lying to you, to all of you, since he day he appeared.”

The silence which followed this statement was total until Ronon grunted, “What?”

“Tell ‘em, John,” Patrick said, rocking back on his heels in satisfaction. “Tell ‘em how you played them all and lied and talked about ‘em behind their backs.”

“Do it yourself,” John spat. “I’m sick of this.”

“So you said last night,” Patrick grinned. “I don’t care. You’re still nothing more than a grunt, really, are you? You’re better when you’ve got orders to follow, you don’t have to think too much. Thinking makes Johnny a dull boy.”

“Hey!” Rodney said sharply, “Hold on, that’s not true. That’s out of line, mister, I don’t care who you are.”

“Ah, jumping to your lover’s defense, eh? Good for you, kid.”

“I am not a kid,” Rodney ground out, “and yes, I am jumping to defend him from a git like you.”

“It’s okay, Rodney,” John’s hand on his arm stopped Rodney saying anything more. “Look, Dad, I don’t know what you hope to get out of all this, but give up and go away. Please?”

“Oh no,” Patrick did more heel-rocking, grinning madly. “This is far too much fun to stop now. Go on, John, tell all these nice people what you’ve been doing to them behind their backs.”

John said nothing, but glared at his father as though he was wishing him into another galaxy.

“No?” Patrick said, “You don’t have the balls to admit what you’ve been up to? Okay, sonny, I’ll do it for you.” He winked at Rodney and continued, “You know how things have been changing around here, rides being refurbished, the park being spruced up, people being told to move their asses and actually do their jobs,” he cast a quick glance at Teyla, “well, you can thank John for that.”

“What?” Rodney yelped. “What the...John, what’s he talking about?”

“He’s been telling me everything you and your little friends have been up to,” Patrick said kindly, as though to a child. “He’s a good spy, don’t you think? You’re all distracted by the pretty face, you don’t stop to think he could be an asshole behind the nice facade.”

Rodney shot Patrick a disgusted glare and turned back to John. “This is all bullshit, right? He’s just making this stuff up.”

John didn’t meet his eyes and sighed wearily. “Sorry, Rodney.”

Rodney blinked and tried to corral his scattered thoughts. “Hang on, you mean...is he telling the truth? Are you...have you been...no, you couldn’t have...you wouldn’t...”

“Oh, he would,” Patrick put in helpfully. “And he did.”

“You informed your father of our actions, John?” Teyla said slowly. “You informed him that I, for one, was not working quickly enough? You recommended that I be requested to see more people? You knew I would not like that, John.”

“Which is why I didn’t say it!” John burst out. He pointed at his father, who was still smiling. “He’s been twisting everything I’ve said. I said you did a good job, saw people and made them feel like they were special, you didn’t rush ‘em through like some kind of production line. I said it was good, and he twisted the fuck out of it. He’s just trying to get some kind of revenge on me for not being the perfect son.”

“Lies again, John.” Patrick said. “Everything we implemented was on your recommendation.”

“You told them to remodel my cars?” Lorne said in a strangled voice. “They were fine as they were, they didn’t need to be messed about with.”

“I said they were good,” John said, sounding a little desperate now. “I said they could stand a lick of paint, that was all. He’s the one who went to town on ‘em.” He pointed at his father again and Rodney saw that his hand was shaking slightly.

Rodney felt like the world was in slow motion freefall. “So, all this time, all the time you’ve been with us, you’ve been watching us, assessing us? Playing the good little spy so you can run back to daddy with news of all the naughty things we get up to? Oh my God, you told him about our breaks, didn’t you? That’s why I got the memo about taking lunch and breaks off the premises and individually. Jesus, John, you told your freakin’ father about...you know.”

“Blowjobs in the store room?” Patrick said with indecent relish. “Not in so many words, but I know my boy, he’s transparent at times. Especially when he’s in lust.”

“Dad,” David murmured, “I don’t think that’s appropriate...”

“I don’t pay you to think,” Patrick snapped. “Shut up.”

“Dave,” John said, “come on, you don’t have to put up with this. He’s screwing with both of us, it’s not fair.”

“Not fair, but I have the most money, so that makes it fair.” Patrick said harshly. He switched his attention back to Rodney, who was still trying to get past the idea that John had told people about their joint breaks. “Now, are you still so keen to sleep with John, considering he’s a dirty rotten liar?”

“That’s enough,” John said, now sounding downright dangerous. “You’re not going to do this, Dad, not now and definitely not here.”

“You’re right,” Patrick inspected his nails carelessly. “I think I’ve said all I came to say. If you change your mind about working for me, Johnny, just say the word. There’ll always be a place for you at Atlantis.”

“Forget it,” John replied. “I’m not playing spy for you anymore. All I’ve done is hurt some good people, and for what? It’s all for the greater glory of you. I’m sick of it, I’m sick of you. I don’t want anything to do with you ever again.”

Rodney knew he should feel some kind of sorrow at John’s words, he was after all, practically divorcing his family right in front of them all. But the cold fury which bubbled up as he thought of the sheer humiliation of being taken in by an easy smile and a disarming attitude, won out over empathy. How could John have done that? Since the very beginning, practically every word he’d said had been a lie. He’d deceived them, they’d all fallen for his act, well, all of them but Teyla. She’d known something was wrong, but none of them had wanted to take her seriously, believing the best of someone as cheerful as John was easy. Having those illusions shattered was all the more painful. Even worse, had the whole relationship between himself and John been nothing but a sham? Was it something Patrick engineered? Sleeping with an employee would certainly get John the inside gossip. Rodney clapped a hand to his mouth, he felt sick.

While Rodney’s world slowly disintegrated around him, the conversation continued.

“Have it your way,” Patrick said to John, shrugging nonchalantly. “But we all know when you’re hungry and cold and out of friends you’ll come crawling back home, you always do.”

“How can you speak to your own son in such a way?” Teyla demanded, her eyes flashing angrily.

“Because he is my son,” Patrick said gently. “And I’ll deal with my sons any way I see fit. Now, little girl, butt out. This isn’t a fight you want to get involved in.”

“Get out,” John said quietly. “Both of you, just get out of here, now.”

He was close enough behind Rodney for his body heat to seep through Rodney’s thin shirt. But whereas before that alone would have been enough to start him thinking about sex, now Rodney suppressed a shudder. John was a liar, he’d told people about him, about them. The fucking bastard. Edging a few steps away from John didn’t make him feel any less betrayed, but at least he didn’t have to deal with the body heat issue anymore.

“Okay then, Johnny-boy,” Patrick said, the smile still on his face.

John looked like him, Rodney realized dully. Same cheekbones and skin tone. The hair and the hazel eyes must come from his mother’s side.

“We’ll leave you with your friends. Maybe they’ll be understanding, but I doubt it.” Patrick nodded amiably to everyone in the shop, then turned to leave. “By the way, Johnny, I meant it, if you want a job, all you have to do is ask. You were doing really well, this place will be a goldmine in no time, trimming off the excess fat is kind of your specialty, isn’t it? Maybe next time you can find more people for me to fire. I love it when you save me money.”

With that he left, David Sheppard trailing after him. He shot an apologetic glance at John and shrugged helplessly, ‘what can I do?’ John shook his head and looked away from his brother. David’s shoulders slumped and he left, looking remarkably like a kicked puppy.

The bell tinkled as the door closed and silence fell again in the little shop.