2. John Remembers

John leans back in his seat, smiling at the scene before him. Rodney is such a dork. Not only does he need his little brother to drive him to his date, making smooching noises and giving the girl seductive looks the entire way (though John has to take some of the blame for that), but now he’s fumbling awkwardly with her bra strap. John snorts.

No wonder Rodney’s eighteen and still a virgin, despite the cute curly blonde hair and the amazing blue eyes. John shakes his head, crossing his feet on the dash. Yes, this is a complete abuse of the stealth capabilities of the puddlejumper and of Rodney’s privacy, but hey, it’s nothing John hasn’t seen before.

At fourteen he’s already had sex with two women and one man and Rodney is so jealous. Rodney’s problem is that he tries too hard, practically taking notes during stupid date movies and following the newer Marines around (the ones that haven’t already learned how hard Mom can kick their asses if she so much as catches them teaching ‘unbecoming gendered attitudes’ to her children).

John, on the other hand, has always been good with women, even before he started having the dreams. Really, all women want is for you to smile and be nice to them. They don’t like to feel like they’re being fed lines, or having their virtue bought. Like anyone, really, they just like to feel appreciated.

Rodney has been dating Tess for two weeks now, which is a record in the world of Rodney dating. ‘Two weeks about to come to a close,’ John thinks with a smile, as Rodney gets a firm slap across the cheek. It looks like John just won another two free puddlejumper joyrides off Sergeant Morris. Like taking candy from a baby.

John smirks and hits the decloak, bringing the jumper around and opening the hatch. All part of his master plan anyhow.

“Rodney! You let your little brother watch us! You pervert!” Tess yells, stooping down to grab her sandals and running for the back hatch of the jumper, hitting the door controls on her way. Tess is curvy and blonde (almost how John remembers a younger Kate Heightmeyer), the daughter of one of the diplomats just sent over on the Mercury. John looks over his shoulder and smirks at her.

Outside, Rodney is pounding on the door.

She didn’t have to run that far; the bosom heaving is clearly an exaggeration. John smiles to himself. It’s just too damned easy.

“Take us back,” Tess orders, imperiously, flouncing over to him and sitting in the copilot’s seat.

“What’d he do to you?” John asks, already setting a course back to Atlantis.

“Amelia was right about him. He doesn’t really listen, you know? He just wants in your pants and that’s it. I told him about five times already that I'm allergic to some compound in the sand here, so if he wanted to fool around he’d have to leave my shirt on, but he was too busy ranting about bee-stings and lemons to even register why I even gave him the stupid conversational opening to begin with.”

John winces. “Ooh. That was harsh. I’m sorry. And I wasn’t spying on you, really. I don’t want you to blame Rodney for that. I took a little joyride up and down the coast and just wanted to check up on you guys before I headed back.”

Tess bats her eyelashes, patting his thigh lightly as she leans closer. “Don’t worry about it, John. I know you’re not a pervert like your brother. I don’t even see how the two of you could even be related.”

John shrugs. “We’re not.” Very much not. If only Tess knew. Hell, if only Rodney knew.

“Oh. You were adopted?”

“You could say that.”

Tess babbles the rest of the way back to Atlantis, but John dutifully listens. After they land, she leans over and asks, “Walk me back to my quarters?”

John gives her his best ‘I really, really want to,’ regretful smile and then shakes his head. “I really shouldn’t have left Rodney out there on his own for so long. I know it’s just the mainland, but it is the wild part of the mainland.”

“Oh, right,” Tess says, looking down at her hands.

John grabs one of them, smiling. “Sorry about tonight.”

“It’s not your fault.” She leaves him with a kiss on his cheek and the smack of blonde curls against his face.

John’s not going to do anything about it of course. He already knows who’s right for him. There’s only one person – the man he loved, fought for, got pregnant for, pretty much died for. After all that, he deserves to get Rodney back. That’s how the world works – the hero gets the girl (or the guy, in this case), true love perseveres, and if you want something badly enough, there’s always a way for it to work out.

He sees Rodney as a long dot, sitting forlornly in the middle of the wide sandy beach, a faint blue in the light of the full moon. He puts the jumper in stealth mode before he lowers it right to the lip where waves meet beach, already shucking off his sandals.

The sand is sticky beneath his feet, and he can feel his own footprints as he makes his way slowly up the beach to where Rodney is sitting, head in his hands.

“Very funny, John,” Rodney moans, “come back to kick me when I’m down? You probably had sex with her on the jumper ride back.”

Apparently Rodney has some pretty strange expectations both of John’s skills in the sack and his piloting ability.

‘Captain Kirk,’ he thinks.

“I didn’t steal her away from you, Rodney. You drove her off all on your own. All you have to do is listen to them. God, growing up with Teyla should have taught you to get past the urge to stare at someone’s rack.”

Rodney looks up at that, face cloaked in shadow. His face is red and angry but his eyes are wide liquid pools meant for weeping. “I hate you. You and your stupid hair and your moronic charm. You’re not even old enough to have a driver’s license and already they’re flocking to you. It’s just disgusting. They reward the sickly little stick-kid and reject the smart, strong, capable one, of actual legal age. What’s wrong with the world?”

“Have you ever considered that maybe you might want to, um . . . widen your playing field?”

He already knows Rodney is gay, so he’s not expecting the full on tackle he gets for it, punches already cracking up against his ribcage, one of Rodney’s hands yanking at his hair.

“What? So now I’m so pathetic that I can’t even hope to get a girl? Have to settle for a guy instead? Why should I take your advice? All you ever do is smile your stupid little pretty boy grin at all my dates and make kissy noises whenever they walk by! This just spanks of intellectual jealousy! You’re trying to sabotage me!”

It’s been a long time since they’ve really gotten into it like this (the last time being the regrettable ‘who blew up half of the auxiliary chemistry lab’ incident), and John finds himself relishing in the contact, skin pushing against skin, fists and palms connecting, muscles straining to push a heavier weight off himself. As always, Rodney’s older and more solid, but John’s faster.

It ends with John’s arms pinned above him, Rodney’s angry face panting down at him. “Why do you have to be so charming?” he breathes. “Why can’t you just be a normal gawky 14-year-old, instead of a wraith-spawn Tadpole?”

Rodney looks beautiful, backlit by moonlight. He’s thinner now, in face and body, and the hair is definitely a turn on, but there’s something missing still, the wisdom, the jittery exhaustion, the hostile resignation, the curiosity and the wonder.

But desire. Desire lurks in the way Rodney examines John’s face, relaxes his grip resignedly. And desire . . . it’s what John’s been feeling all along. He’s seen it in dreams, in the old classified files he managed to dredge up. This happened before, so it must happen again, right?

John grips Rodney’s head in his hands, pulling his lips down to his. Their kiss is angry and desperate, fiery hot as always, with hands roaming and breaths panted and yes this is what he’s been waiting for his whole life. This is why he sacrificed. This is why he fucking died.

Except, Rodney pushes back. “John, what the fuck?”

“C’mon, Rodney, tell me you don’t want this. You must’ve had the dreams too.”

“John. This is sick. We’re brothers. Maybe not biological, but does it matter? It’s just . . . it’s disgusting.”

Rodney rolls back and away from John, looking rumpled and delicious. “This is so not wraith-cocooned funny, John.”

“Rodney . . . I’m not,” John reaches out. “Please, you have to remember.”

“Remember what?!”

“You and I . . . we . . . we’re not . . . you’ve never had a dream, saving the city from the hive sships, the shield, a 10,000 year-old Wraith, 5/6 of a solar system, you and I together? None of that?”

Rodney shakes his head. “Never.” Then his gaze goes from angry to concerned. “John, are you okay? Maybe we should have Carson take a look at you. I mean, who knows what kind of Ancient technology has addled your brain this time, right?”

“No, there’s no technology. I’m not making it up. There are records, Rodney. Encoded files. I can show you.”

John pushes himself easily to his feet, feeling the sand swish behind him as he runs into the jumper, Rodney hot on his heels.

It takes Rodney three hours to read all of the files he wants to, though there are many many more. In their previous life, they did great things.

Rodney nods once then shuts down the data tablet, placing it to the side and standing. He and John are the same height now, so they can stare perfectly into each other’s eyes.

More memories flash. But this time he remembers a pervasive ache, Rodney’s worried eyes and his hand holding John’s as he coughed through the worst of it. He remembers the determined set of Rodney’s jaw as he insisted to the other Athosian boys that John was old enough to play. He remembers Rodney making fun of him and then patiently showing him again how to tie his shoe. He remembers a warm body and a thick rain, huddled close in a tent as Reka sat across from them spinning tales of Wraith and energy creatures and long lost heroes, Rodney’s breath warm and moist against his cheek.

“Maybe we were great together, but it’s not worth giving up what we already have.”

John nods. A part of him has always known this.

But another part wishes Rodney would remember how great they could be.