romancingmcshep | Day Nine -- Fic: Mutually Beneficial Substitution (SGA, John/Rodney, pre-slash, G) (Reply)

Author:

selenic76
For:

romancingmcshep
Title: Mutually Beneficial Substitution (Also on my LJ | on AO3)
Pairing: John/Rodney
Characters: John, Rodney, Radek, mention of Rodney's cat
Rating: G
Word count: ~2000
Warnings/tags: None of the usual, unbetad / pre-slash, a smidgeon of angst, fluffy ^_^
Disclaimer: Don't own or profit from them

Summary: "Let me see if I got this right, you're complaining because he's being nice?"

Author's notes:I had two completely different ideas that I considered writing, but neither really got off to more than a shaky start. But I love this pairing so much and wanted to write something for them and for this fest, so finally this little fic was born :) It's totally unbetad, all mistakes are mine. Huge thank you to

melagan for setting up the fest again, and for all the inspiration and support *hugs*

Mutually Beneficial Substitution

"Let me see if I got this right, you're complaining because he's being nice?" John said, and stopped so abruptly in the middle of the hallway that the Czech scientist trailing behind almost ran into him. In the few months the Expedition had been on Atlantis John had picked up a habit of dealing with the lengthy way the scientists had of actually getting to the point by picking only the important bits out of the conversation and ignoring the rest. Now he wished he'd paid more attention.

"Yes!" Radek exclaimed, with clear exasperation. "Were you not listening, Major Sheppard? Rodney is not himself, and if I have to choose between him being nice to me and actually saying thank you for once or him being cranky and insufferable, I would pick the latter, because that Rodney saves lives." Radek sounded really worried. He and Rodney had somehow formed a weirdly working pair from day one, bickering with each other half the time, but the other half they were like conjoined twins working with four hands and one brain. Even John had noticed that Rodney wasn't quite as sharp with his tongue as he used to be, and if Radek was that concerned about him, something was definitely wrong.

"Is he getting less smart or something?" John asked, and he had to admit that in their current situation that was a frightening thought. As if he didn't already have a million things to keep track of, check up on, or make sure didn't kill them, and the possibility that Rodney McKay was losing his mind was not something John wanted to add on that list. They had been relying quite heavily on Rodney to solve all the most critical problems that trying to keep Atlantis afloat while avoiding detection by the Wraith had brought along. "Has Carson checked him for any brain injuries?"

"Nothing wrong with Rodney's brain, just his mind. He thinks slower, is less focused," Radek said, and then sighed. "We all have a lot on our minds, Major, but this is something different. I have tried talking to him, but Rodney has still retained enough stubbornness to not say what is the matter. Perhaps you will have better luck. Will you please go see him?" Radek's plea sounded almost desperate.

"Me?" John asked, slightly surprised. It was true he and Rodney got along, but something like this seemed more Elizabeth's area of expertise, or Kate Heightmeyer's. "You sure you're asking the right person?"

"Well you are the only one Rodney trusted to shoot him in the leg and push him off a balcony while wearing the Ancient shield device," Radek simply noted, and he did have a point. John and Rodney had developed a sort of a friendship, which John suspected was based mostly on mutual straightforwardness and banter, but also mutual respect. John only hoped Rodney would trust him enough to talk about what was going on. They needed him cranky and sane.

"Alright, I'll give it a go," John promised, and Radek was visibly relieved, and even smiled a bit.

"Thank you, Major," he said as he turned to leave. "And good luck, for all our sakes."

Watching Radek's retreating figure, John thought he could use all the luck he could get.

~~~

Rodney wasn't in any of the labs, nor in the mess hall, so John headed towards Rodney's quarters. When he entered, John found the scientist quietly sitting cross-legged on the bed with his computer on his lap, looking blankly at the screen. His fingers were poised for action but there was no hurried typing on the keyboard, no sign of the usual deep frown of concentration or the wide satisfied grin of a problem solved—just a worryingly forlorn stare. Even in the brief time since stepping through the Gate into another galaxy John had seen Rodney in varied states of deprivation from sleep, food, caffeine, or all three, and in moods ranging from merely irritated to full of wrath, but somehow this was worse than any of those.

Rodney eventually noticed John, and at least some life came back to his features.

"Oh, hi, Major," he said, a sad attempt at a smile briefly appearing on his lips. "What brings you here?" Absolutely no hint of 'why are you wasting your time here instead of somewhere out of my way' in the question. Very disconcerting.

"Nothing much," John replied as casually as he could, putting on a smile of is own. "Just checking up on your progress on the, uh, thing, that you're working on." He really should have paid more attention to what Radek had said, even if it hadn't seemed like a critical matter at the time. Rodney glanced at his laptop, looking slightly puzzled as if he didn't remember what he'd been doing. Then he groaned.

"I should have been done with this hours ago," Rodney complained, clearly mad at himself. He sighed—and it was such a resigned sound—and put the machine on the bedside table. "Can't seem to get anything done these days," he muttered, straightened his legs and stretched them a bit, then leaned against the headboard and closed his eyes.

John had quickly learned that despite often seeming uncaring, Rodney was the kind of person who always pushed himself hard to find the solution to any danger facing them, and John would be the first to admit he'd been pushing Rodney pretty hard too. Now he wondered if the strain of everything was getting too much for Rodney to bear.

The very thing John had feared loomed before him; he would have to actually ask Rodney what ailed him, and that might lead to discussing... feelings. Definitely not John's strong suite. But he couldn't just leave Rodney like this. Not just because he knew how much depended on the brilliance of this one man, but because he worried about Rodney too.

John walked closer, sat on the edge of the bed, and tried to think of something appropriate to say.

"I miss my cat," Rodney blurted out before John even got a word out. Not at all what John had expected, but it was progress. "I miss going home and not having the place feel dead empty like here where there's not even a damn potted plant in sight. I miss how he shamelessly begged me for food when I got there, making such a noise and butting my leg with his head, leaving cat hair all over my pants." Rodney opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling as he talked. "Jones ruined my furniture with his nails, woke me up more than once in the night when he jumped on and off the bed during his nocturnal adventures, and generally behaved annoyingly, but give him a bowl of food and he became the best listener in the world."

John was hit by a pang of guilt. He'd been so wrapped up with all the responsibilities that had followed in the wake of becoming the ranking military leader of the Expedition that he hadn't honestly remembered to take notice of how Rodney was faring. John also felt a bit ashamed that none of them had thought that Rodney might actually be lonely. It had been too easy to assume someone who hardly made and effort to be likeable to others didn't want any kind of company.

"No-one listens like Jones did," Rodney continued, and smiled wistfully. "All day long I work with people who for most of the time either don't pay enough attention to what I say, or argue with me. Jones just listened, and I could tell him anything. He'd curl up on my lap later on and purr softly, and even let me scratch him behind the ears. Jones never allowed that otherwise, or for anyone else to do. He wasn't much of a people person." Something Jones and Rodney had in common.

John could imagine Rodney sitting on a couch, the cat happily purring on his lap while Rodney carried on talking, and he could see the appeal of the feline company. More than that, John could relate to it. While John had still lived with his father, he'd done a lot of riding, and the silent companionship his favourite mare had offered as they sped across the countryside was probably the only thing John really missed of that time, or of Earth.

Suddenly John was struck by a rather novel idea—a bit risky, but it might work.

"You could try me," he said tentatively, earning a pondering look from Rodney. "I think I can handle being quiet and just listening, and I wouldn't mind some food if you have any stashed here." Like he didn't already know that Rodney did—fear of getting hypoglycemic made Rodney keep food at all his more frequently used locations.

"There should be a few MREs in the kitchen," Rodney replied, a little baffled by the offer, "and I have some power bars in the drawer next to you." John opted for the latter for now.

While peeling the thing open, John settled into a better, more horizontal position on the bed. He quickly radioed Bates and told him to hold the fort, then signed off and put the headset away before the Sergeant could voice his disapproval. Rodney scooted over just enough to give John some room, and even fluffed a pillow and placed it under John's head. John took a bit of the power bar, and waited.

"Feels a bit weird, to be honest," Rodney confessed after a moment of awkward silence. But nevertheless, he started talking. John munched on the bar, and Rodney spoke. He told more about Jones the cat, and John found he liked hearing about the antics of the little beast, which Rodney described with increasing enthusiasm. No wonder Rodney had liked Jones; they both could care less what others thought of them, but weren't loners at heart, just picky about the company they kept.

By the time John was done eating, Rodney had switched the subject to the daily life on Atlantis, and all the things in it that caused irritation. Like for example the slowly dwindling supplies of coffee, and if it was really necessary for him to carry all that heavy gear on off-world missions, especially the guns. John coughed when an errant crumb tickled his throat, and without missing a beat Rodney picked up an unopened bottle of water from the table on his side of the bed. He nearly flung it across the room as his arm swooped over to John without proper aiming, but luckily John had quick reflexes and caught it in time.

Rodney moved on to current events, his speech picking up speed when he was angry, then getting more sedate when touching on things that he was concerned about, or frightened by. John learned more about Rodney in a few minutes than he had since the day they had met. He eventually finished the water too and put the bottle away—and somewhere along the line, John became aware of the fact that he was listening, truly listening, to every single thing Rodney said. With that knowledge came a liberating realization; right now that was all John needed to do. To just be there.

If being the occasional substitute for a cat was what saved the day in the end, John would be more than happy to comply. So John closed his eyes, and let his ears do all the work, though he was starting to find it oddly pleasant, soothing even. The tightness that John hadn't even noticed accumulating into his shoulders slowly melted away as the words poured over him, and the voices inside his head grew quieter, the insistent reminders of things to be done turning into whispered muttering. Maybe Jones had been on to something.

When Rodney's fingers somehow found their way into John's hair, he thought nothing of it. He just shifted on the bed until his head was on Rodney's lap. There was no gap in the flood of words, no pause in the motion of the hand as it began stroking John's unruly hair, and John wouldn't even dream of denying how nice it felt.

And even though humans really weren't built for purring, the soft, contented sound John was making came close enough.

~~~ End ~~~