Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/41914.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Stargate_Atlantis
  Relationship:
      Rodney_McKay/John_Sheppard
  Character:
      Rodney_McKay, John_Sheppard
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Prostitute, Prostitution, Alternate_Universe_-_Vegas
  Series:
      Part 2 of In_Ways_You_Can't_Possibly_Imgaine
  Stats:
      Published: 2009-05-06 Words: 3520
****** In Ways You Can't Possibly Imgaine 2 ******
by Telesilla
Summary
     Rodney's not the easiest road trip companion John's ever had.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Looking at Rodney in the harsh light of the truck stop diner, John can't
believe that only three hours ago, he'd thrown the kid down on a bed and fucked
him. What the hell was I thinking?
And really, that's it--he hadn't been thinking. It had been bad enough to find
that, in this other universe he'd found himself in, McKay was still a kid and
on the streets too. But when he'd picked Rodney up and talked to him, he kept
seeing little bits of the man he'd barely known back in his own universe buried
under a veneer of mixed toughness and fear. And that had been too much; John
had wanted answers and all he got was a teen-aged hooker. He'd been furious and
frustrated and he'd taken it out on the kid.
Although really, he thinks, it isn't fair to say that all he got was a teen-
aged hooker. He's got a destination now and a name, and any cop knows that a
lead, however shaky, is better than nothing.
And I seem to have company.
Watching as Rodney shovels a huge breakfast into his mouth at speed, John
wonders if that's a good thing or not.
"What?" Rodney says, glaring at him. "I'm hypoglycemic."
"I had hollow legs when I was your age," John says without thinking. It's
weirdly easy to talk to Rodney because, unlike his experience with the grown-up
McKay, he's got the upper hand here.
"This is different. It's a medical condition." Rodney looks pissy and John
sighs.
"Yes, I know that."
"I'm also deathly allergic to citrus." He takes another bite. "And bees."
"You carry an epi-pen?"
Holland had been allergic to bees and she'd always had an extra pen or two with
her. Not that there had been a lot of bees in the deserts of Afghanistan, but
you never knew.
"Yeah, with the extra condoms and lube." Rodney rolls his eyes. "Not on the
street; I don't have the room for one. It's one of the ways to die I've thought
of. One of the more upsetting ones, because I've never been shot, you know? But
I've gone into anaphylactic
shock a time or two so I know what it's like."
"Being shot hurts like fuck." John can't help it; he rubs at his chest. A few
inches to the right and....
"Thank you for that bit of wisdom, Detective Sheppard." Rodney pauses. "You
said that Wraith thing shot you?"
"Yeah."
"You really are a big damn hero." It's not sarcastic or hostile, but still,
John flashes back to the motel room and feels his face go hot.
"Thanks," he says shortly.
"Sorry," Rodney says and he actually looks repentant.
"I just...I shouldn't have done that." John hopes he won't have to explain
himself.
"But you did, so...." Rodney shrugs. "You said you'd been there before, so I
don't know what your deal is."
"Seedy hotels and other guys, yes." John rubs a hand across his face.
"Seventeen year olds, not so much."
Another shrug. "Did you know that the age of consent in Canada is sixteen? Of
course, there's Section 159 of the Criminal Code, the section helpfully labeled
'Anal Intercourse.'" Rodney pauses and makes finger quotes. "It says no buttsex
for you if you're not eighteen and unmarried, but two different courts have
ruled that as unconstitutional." He grins at John. "Ottawa in '95 and Quebec in
'98."
"The age of consent in Nevada," John says, "is also sixteen, but only for sex
with another minor. Also, prostitution is illegal in Clark County."
"Ah," Rodney, says holding up a finger. "But you never actually paid me."
John laughs, just a little; the kid is a trip. "Okay fine, so we're back to the
fact that you're seventeen."
"And how in hell are they going to charge a dead man with statutory rape?"
Rodney gestures with his fork. "I think you have bigger problems."
"There is that."
"Well, now that that's settled, wanna fuck?"
John stares at him, aware, after a second, that his mouth is hanging open.
"You're unreal."
"Coming from you, that's a compliment," Rodney says as he mops up the last of
his egg yolk with a corner of toast. "And I don't really know why I asked.
You'll say no, but we'll do it again."
There's a world of experience behind the matter-of-fact words and John suddenly
wonders about what drives Rodney, why he chose the streets when there were
other options.
Something must have shown on his face because Rodney rolls his eyes. "Oh God,
you think you're going to reform me."
"I...." John's really not sure what to answer there. He's hardly straight and
narrow himself--he thinks about the black satchel buried under some junk in the
trunk of the car--but this is different. "What do you want me to say? I've seen
who you become and...."
Rodney shakes his head and interrupts. "No, you haven't, and you really need to
not do that. I'm not him. Maybe, although I doubt it, I'll grow up to be him,
but right now making that comparison is useless and, frankly, kind of
insulting.
"Look, I'm not some stupid teenager who ran away because he didn't know what
else to do when the going got tough. I looked at all the options and made a
well thought out decision."
"Oh yeah?" John asks, stung. "How's that working out for you?" He's remembering
the crappy little studio apartment Rodney was living in and how all Rodney took
from it was a back pack with some clothes and a laptop bag.
"Pretty damn well, actually. You'd be surprised at how much I have hidden away
in various accounts." He pats the laptop bag next to him. "And it's not like I
can't hook at night and work during the day. Hell, I've had some pretty
impressive insights in the middle of giving a blowjob."
John doesn't really know Rodney well enough to tell if what he's seeing is real
confidence or bravado, but he's guessing it's a combination of both.
"How about this?" he says and maybe it's a kind of defeat, but he's beginning
to realize that he's not likely to win a war of words with Rodney. "I won't try
to reform you if you won't try to seduce me."
Rodney glances down at his empty plate and then looks up a John through his
eyelashes. "Okay."
John sighs; three hours in and it already seems like the longest road trip in
history.
* * *
Rodney eats all the time and talks constantly, often managing both at the same
time. Most of the time during that first day he's working over the problem of
fixed wormholes, often wandering off on tangents that John can't really follow.
It's embarrassing really; John's not an idiot and he has a degree in
mathematics from Stanford, for God's sake, but still, much of what Rodney says
makes no sense. It's a little surreal; the landscape outside doesn't really
change as John drives through eastern Nevada and John could almost believe they
were in an old movie with the same background looping past as the car stood
still as Rodney delivers nine-tenths of the dialog.
Finally, around four in the afternoon or so, Rodney trails off. John glances
over to find him asleep, leaning against the car door, a bottle of water
propped between his legs and a smear of chocolate from a Hostess cupcake on his
chin. John's breath catches painfully in his chest; unguarded and stripped of
all defiance, Rodney could serve as the model for a Botticelli angel. A very
young Botticelli angel.
John looks back at the road. He doesn't get it. Sure, he's pretty gay, but he
hasn't gone for boys this young since he was one. Last night, he tells himself,
was just an exception; he was angry and confused and Rodney was pushy and
available.
You'll say no, but we'll do it again.
Rodney, John decides, was wrong.
He reaches out and turns on the stereo, keeping the volume low in hopes of not
waking Rodney. The stereo had been his one indulgence when he'd bought the car
and it had cost more the car itself, but now, as Johnny starts singing, John
thinks it was totally worth it.
And now, with nothing but the road stretched out ahead of him, he finally has
time to think about all the things he's been avoiding since he woke up in this
world. First, after finding a doctor he'd heard of back in his own world,
someone who patched people up for cash with no questions asked, he'd been
healing. After that, he'd spent all of his time trying to find people, starting
with one John Sheppard. In a way it had been a relief to learn that he was dead
in this place; he really had no idea what he'd have said if he'd come face to
face with himself.
After that he'd tried to track down Richard Woolsey and Rodney McKay. He'd
found more than one Richard Woolsey (and more than one Rodney McKay, for that
matter), but none of them were the right one; for all intents and purposes,
Agent Woolsey doesn't exist here. Or if he does, John can't dig deep enough to
find him.
As for the right McKay...well there he is, completely different from the man
John had hoped to find.
It makes him glad he didn't try to find other people, people who had once meant
something to him. He knows Holland is dead; she'd died with that other
Sheppard. But what about Dave? His parents? For all John knows, his father
might still be alive.
And what would you do? Show up on their doorstep, the very image of their dead
son or brother? He hadn't gone to them for help in his own universe and they
aren't even his family in this one. No, better to assume he has no family here;
it's only the truth, after all.
"Where are you?"
John blinks, wondering how many miles he's driven while on auto-pilot. "In
another universe," he says without thinking.
"Better than this one?"
"I don't know yet," John says, keeping his eyes on the road. "I don't have the
debt here that I racked up back over there," he adds, trying to keep it light.
"You've got a fair amount of cash for someone in debt."
"Have you always been this observant?"
Rodney snorts. "I'm a scientist; it's a vocational hazard." When John can't
help glancing over at him, Rodney frowns for a moment and then surprises John
by laughing. "Okay yeah, I know...I'm hardly the picture of genius, but
seriously? I'm quite possibly the smartest person you'll ever meet."
"Why'd your grant fall through?" John could have put a snide twist to the
question, but he doesn't.
"I thought you knew everything about me."
"It's possible I might have exaggerated a little to get you to talk." John
shrugs with one shoulder. "Vocational hazard, you know."
That gets a real laugh. "Touche, Detective." And then Rodney fell silent for a
long moment, staring out of the window.
"You know that it was a US government grant, right? Not something through Cal
Tech. In fact, the school wasn't really sure they wanted me that young, but the
CIA was worried that some Canadian school would snap me up. Or maybe the Brits;
I think there was someinterest there too."
"Why?"
"I built a nuclear bomb for a science project when I was thirteen. Not a mock
up, but a working model that would have devastated Ottawa if it I'd had access
to uranium."
"That's...impressive."
"It's okay, most people don't know what to make of it. I'm a headcase, you
know; I should totally be seeing a shrink and talking a lot about my mother."
"You and me both," John says with a grimace.
"Yeah?" Rodney waits but John says nothing. "Anyway, the CIA might have been
willing to accept the homosexuality, and God knows they'd have probably
encouraged the occasional drug use, but me wanting to concentrate on theory
instead of...shall we say, practical applications? That, not so much."
"They probably know you faked your death." That little stunt had slowed John's
investigation down a bit and led to a couple nights of heavy drinking, but he
isn't about to share that with Rodney either.
"Oh, I'm sure of it. I'm also pretty sure they know what I've been up to in
Vegas. They probably hope that I'll come to my senses and come crawling back
when I get tired of giving blowjobs." Rodney snorts again, and John can see the
echo of the older man on his face where his mouth dips down.
"I didn't see anyone actually tailing you."
"Oh please. I mean, yes, I have an exaggerated sense of my own importance and
all, but I'm still not a big enough threat that they'd have someone on me."
Rodney turns and gives John a broad grin. "At least that's how they see me."
"Should I be watching my back?"
"Nah, I'm more of a finger on the button, doesn't like to get his hands dirty,
type of mad scientist. You need anything blown up though, I'm your guy." Rodney
glances down at his lap top bag. "Also, hacking. I'm really good at that, which
pretty much makes us the perfect pair for one of those reluctant buddy action
movies."
"The next summer blockbuster."
"I'm also really good at blowjobs," Rodney says, and John blinks a little at
both the segue and the new topic. "I just want that out there because you
didn't actually get the full on treatment."
"Jesus, McKay!"
"What? I'm also a better lay than you got last night."
"I thought you weren't going to try to seduce me."
"That's your idea of seduction?" Rodney shakes his head. "Trust me, when I
seduce you? You'll know."
And really, there's nothing John can say to that.
"Do you mind?" Rodney asks, pulling a CD holder out of his lap top bag. John
thinks about the music he liked when he was 17 and winces a little.
"Sure," he says, ejecting one of the Cash CDs. Anything that keeps him from
talking about sex.
"God, it's easy to fuck with your head," Rodney says as the first sprightly
bars of something classical pour out of the speakers. "You should see your
expression."
"Give an old man a break, kid," John says. "What is this?"
"Mozart," Rodney replies. "It's a little simple, but listen...wait for it...."
It's odd music, somewhat more cheerful than John expected, and then Rodney
nods. "There, that horn. It's still a bit...oh, I don't know, happy happy,
right? But you've gotta love a French horn."
John can't imagine anything less suited to the desert outside; this reminds him
of the palaces he saw in Europe where men with powdered wigs and women with big
hair and bigger skirts once listened to this sort of thing while the peasants
outside starved.
"It's like he couldn't decide if the horn was leading or following, but it
doesn't matter, it's...there's something almost solemn about it, no matter how
pretty the music around it is."
"You're a musician too."
"No," Rodney says quickly, turning to look out his window. "A technician."
There's silence for the next while and John finds himself listening to the
music. At first it takes him back to uncomfortable suits and charity concerts
and his mother's rich friends all cooing about how much he'd grown since last
time. But then, as he pays attention to the horn and blocks his own memories,
he can almost see what Rodney meant.
"Two fixed points," Rodney murmurs. John glances over to find Rodney staring
through the windshield now, his fingers moving on his thigh as if he were
typing or playing a piano. "It comes down to forcing a wormhole to stabalize
between those two fixed points and then holding it there long enough...it must
take massive power."
"Back on the stargate thing?"
"Yeah. It's hardly a new idea, at least as far as science fiction is concerned;
you should see the arguments on the internet about the physics of Wormhole
Extreme."
"He said...McKay, I mean...." John pauses, trying to get the words right. "He
was talking about powering something else, this chair thing that was part of a
weapons system, but he said it ran on a power source that extracted energy from
vacuum space."
He shivers a little, remembering the odd feeling he'd gotten in that room, the
strange, almost subliminal hum that made him want to scratch as if it were
under his skin. Maybe that had come from, what had McKay called it? The....
"Zed PM. Said we'd call it a ZPM."
"And he didn't say what the letters stood for?"
"I didn't ask."
"Jesus," Rodney mutters. "I'm surprised you acutally remember."
"I've got a pretty good memory."
"And you've told me everything he said about the stargates?"
"Yeah," John says. "It wasn't much."
"The problem with trying to figure this all out--I mean aside from the fact
that you really didn't ask nearly enough questions--is that it's found
technology. So he...they might not even know how it all works."
"Sorry, but I was kinda trying to solve a serial case at the time."
"Well, I suppose you can be forgiven, but it leaves me with very little to work
with." Rodney frowns at John as if he hadn't actually forgiven him.
"You're a fucking trip," John says.
"I get that a lot."
Rodney goes back to muttering about wormholes and vacum energy and John tries
to keep his eyes on the road. It issn't easy; he's tired and the effects of his
last Moutain Dew wore off a little while ago. Finally, as much as he hates to
admit it, he knows he's got to get some sleep.
"I'm gonna have to pull over and let you drive," he says.
"Yeah, but no," Rodney says. "Can't drive." When John stares at him in
surprise, Rodeny shrugs. "Oh, I'm sure I could figure it out pretty quickly,
but it's not like I've ever needed to."
"Figure it out on someone else's car," John says. "I'll just pull over at the
next rest stop and nap for a few."
Rodney digs out the road atlas he'd picked up at the truck stop. "Twenty five
miles up the road there's a tiny little town. They probably have a Motel Six."
Although John's pretty sure he doesn't want to spend the night in a hotel room
with Rodney, he has to admit that the prospect of a shower and some air
conditioneding sound really good. "Two rooms," he says firmly.
"Okay," Rodney says. "I'm sure I can find some business. Maybe there's a truck
stop."
"Damnit, Rodney...."
"What?" Rodney gives John a big-eyed look.
A half hour later, John's sprawled on the bed in their room, listening to the
sound of the shower and wondering if he'll make it through the night. Rodney
had stripped before going into the shower and while he'd been matter-of-fact
about it, John had still found himself glancing at his ass. He's not sure if
Rodney noticed, but it doesn't matter. Yes, the kid has an ass to die for--and
the rest of him isn't bad either--but that doesn't mean that John's going to
take advantage.
"You want some help with that?"
John blinks and stares up at Rodney. "Huh?" He rubs his eyes and it takes a
minute to realize that he'd fallen asleep while Rodney was showering.
Rodney sits down on the bed and rests a warm hand high on John's thigh. "Looks
like you were having a good dream." He runs a finger lightly over John's fly,
and John swallows hard.
"Stop it." He doesn't sound as certain as he'd like and so he rolls away from
Rodney and sits up. "Can I trust you not to go out and pick up a trick in the
time it takes me to shower?" he says, his voice cutting and hard. "Or is that
just too much to ask?"
"Fuck you," Rodney mutters, turning away.
John feels like an asshole as he heads into the bathroom. He's just a kid and
he's not sure of himself and he's scared and he's doing the only thing he knows
will give him some control or power and....
John remembers being seventeen, the confusion, the anger, and the weird defiant
embarrassment that went hand in hand with being rich. He wouldn't have lasted a
week on the streets of Vegas; that Rodney's done it for a year says something
about just how tough he is. And how focused.
Rodney's asleep, or at least faking it well, when John comes back into the
room. Settling down next to him, John sighs. "I'm sorry," he says softly, but
Rodney doesn't stir.
With another soft sigh, John rolls over and lets himself fall asleep.
-tbc-
End Notes
     This took a little longer to get out than I'd have liked; sorry about
     that. I'm going thank
     [[info]]
darkrose for looking this over.
Three other things. One: this has been bugging me ever since I sat down to
think about it: how did John have a picture of Rodney? Fortunately, I worked
that out and since it's not something that will show up in the narrative, I'mma
tell you here. Between the time he left Area 51 and the time he quit his job,
he did some digging and found the picture from some list of attendees at a
conference. He found out very little about Rodney, but kept the pic, intending
to use it to track down more info about him. It wasn't that John really cared
that much about Rodney--although yes, he did think Rodney was checking him out-
-it's more that for a guy like this John, information is power and Rodney knew
a lot more about him than he did about Rodney.
Two: I assume that we didn't see all of the conversation between John and
Rodney while John was at Area 51, so while I'm mostly concentrating on the
things said on camera, I'll refer to things that we never saw on the show.
Three: The CD Rodney plays is a recording of Mozart's Horn Concertos 1-4. While
John may not think of it as road trip music, it totally was in my family (along
with the Muppet Show Album and a fair amount of yacht rock--finding something
that two adults, one teenager and one grade schooler agreed on wasn't always
easy).
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