[ had a bad day again ]
by kHo

John finds Rodney hours after they left Carson in stasis, hunched over a lab table and typing furiously. “Hey,’ he says, stepping up behind him. “Kinda late, huh?’

“Yeah,’ Rodney says, not even turning around. “As they say, time's a wastin'.’

John watches the back of his head because Rodney won't face him. Part of him is glad, because he knows the look in Rodney's eyes might break whatever part of him that isn't broken already. “Let me rephrase that. Time for bed, McKay.’

“No,’ Rodney says, sounding impatient. Which is better than he had been sounding for the past few days which was alternately desperately hopeful and indescribably devastated. “Time for me to have a breakthrough, because we have to find Teyla.’

John sighs, closing his eyes and reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Yes, Rodney, and no one wants that more than I do, but you're no good to us as a zombie.’

“I can't stop,’ Rodney says softly, fingers finally stilling on the keyboard. “If I stop I start to think, and can't afford to think right now, Colonel.’

“Come on, Rodney,’ John says, laying a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “You can pick up where you left off tomorrow.’

“No, John, I can't,’ Rodney says, finally turning to face him. “Because we've lost Elizabeth and we've lost Carson, and.. and we've lost Carson twice, and we're so close to losing Teyla and I can't take it,’ he says, eyes wild and wrecked, glistening with exhaustion and something John can't think too closely on. “We can't-- I can't-- afford to lose any more friends.’

“Rodney,’ John says on a sigh, tightening his hand on Rodney's shoulder, thumb rubbing along his collar. “We're not going to lose Teyla. We're not. We're going to find her, and we're going to bring her back.’

Rodney shakes his head, mouth twisting on an ugly smile. “You just keep telling yourself that, John. Maybe that's what works for you. The power of positive thinking, be the ball, imagine your destiny, whatever. For me though, that's not an absolute. That's not how it works for me.’

John racks his brain for what to say, what to do, to make Rodney just give himself a break. To take away the hurt and the pain he knows he's going through. Watching Rodney with Carson these past few days was one of the most painful things John's ever witnessed, he can't even imagine what pain it had been for Rodney himself. “Listen--’

“You were there,’ Rodney says, interrupting him, hands agitatedly flying as he speaks. “You heard what Halling said Michael was doing, you know what he's doing to them.’ He swallows, shaking his head. “You know our time is limited, we can't afford to sit here and do nothing, we have to act, we have to fix this, get her back before… before he can…’

John steps forward and grabs the back of Rodney's head, because he can't listen to this anymore. He can't think about this anymore. He can't just stand here and watch Rodney completely self-destruct because he thinks that'll take him apart just as effectively, so he seals his lips to Rodney's. He kisses him, fingers threading through Rodney's hair as he mutters “shut up, shut up, shut up,’ against his mouth.

There's a moment of hesitation before Rodney's kissing him back but the instant that Rodney does John loses the ability to speak at all because Rodney is taking all the breath out of his lungs, his fingers digging into John's hips and pulling him closer, little whimpering sounds coming out of his mouth and into John's, shooting through is whole body.

And John's thought about this so many times he's lost track of when it started and he's wanted this so much that there is no part of him that can resist. His free hand tugs on Rodney's shirt and yanks it out of his pants and pulls it up and over Rodney's head and he leans Rodney back against the lab table, his mouth latching onto the side of Rodney's neck as Rodney breathes against his ear.

“I can't,’ Rodney hisses, his breathing ragged and hitching as John's hands splay all over every part of him he can reach. “No more, I can't do it, I can't lose anything else, I can't do it--’

“Shh,’ John whispers, Rodney's skin hot and so soft under his hands. He's inching between Rodney's legs to get closer, impossibly close, so that there is not even an inch of air between where Rodney's body ends and John's begins. If he could, he'd swallow Rodney whole right this very second and never let him go again.

“We're in the middle of my lab,’ Rodney says suddenly, pushing on John's chest.

“Shut up,’ John says, impatiently pulling back to look at Rodney. “Just go with it.’

Rodney's mouth quirks on a smile and it's worth everything, every court marshall and possible consequence, just to have made that happen. “John. We're in the middle of my lab.’

John shrugs. “So?’

“Okay,’ Rodney says, a short laugh escaping him and making John smile. He reaches forward and pulls John close again by looping his fingers through John's belt loops. “If you don't care, who am I to stop you?’

“Exactly,’ John says, kissing him again, because at this point there's no turning back, no stopping himself, he's wanted this and denied himself to long. Rodney's mouth is perfect, perfect against his own, and he tastes like nothing else but Rodney and John doesn't think he'll ever get that taste out of his mouth and is thankful for that.

John jerks him off right there, Rodney sitting on the tall steel lab stool with his back pressed against the table and his fingers digging into John's biceps. Rodney's not quiet, though he tries to be, and John can't even quantify just how hot it is to hear Rodney saying his name like that, to hear Rodney moan and grunt and sigh and breathe so heavily John feels like he should be checking for signs of a heart attack.

And when it's over it's not over at all because Rodney's right back to kissing him as soon as he's come and his hands are all over John's ass and his hips and then on the zipper to his pants. The only thing John can do is just gasp in surprise and lean forward against Rodney, his forehead pressed into the crook of Rodney's neck as Rodney's fingers, those nimble, long, impossibly talented fingers, close around his cock and start to stroke.

“This isn't a pity fuck, right,’ Rodney says in a low voice, right against John's ear just as he's about to come. “You've wanted this, right? Because I have, I can't even tell you, I've wanted this for so long and I just don't think I could stand it if this were just a--’

“No,’ John says, lifting his head and struggling to remain coherent enough to tell Rodney just how damn much this isn't a pity fuck. “I have too, for a long time.’ He closes his eyes as Rodney's grin widens and his hand speeds up, so close to cresting over the edge that he feels like there's little pinpricks of light shooting out of every pore of his skin. “Jesus, Rodney, I'm almost… I…’

“Mm,’ Rodney moans, and then he kisses John again, and the combination of Rodney's tongue against his and Rodney's hand on his cock and the other on his hip, digging in, and not being able to breathe, and the elation of finally, finally, finally getting to have this, all culminates together in one of the most powerful orgasms John has ever had.

John is still breathing deeply to come down when Rodney sighs against his neck and wraps his arms around John's back. It takes him a little more than a minute to figure out it's a hug, and when he does he smiles and wraps his arms around Rodney and hugs him back. “It really wasn't a pity fuck.’

“I know,’ Rodney says, and he still sounds sad and beyond tired, but he sounds like maybe he can handle it now, and that's all that really matters. “I just wanted to hear you say it.’

*

Additional note: The title, and general mood of this fic, is inspired by (read: blatantly ripped off of) Fuel's Bad Day. Download it here on sendspace. Or, possibly, Daniel Powter's You Had a Bad Day, which you can also download here at sendspace.