John had a turkey sandwich and a piece of apple pie and he was happy. Sure, Rodney’d missed a lunch date, again, but he also didn’t have to spend it listening to Zelenka and Toderov bitch at each other in Russian. The banter was more amiable now, if no less annoying. He was sure it was just unresolved sexual tension – like he and Rodney, though not half as clever.

John was perfectly fine eating alone, but smiled when Sam slid her tray over next to his. “Hey.”

“Hey. How are you?”

“Good. How’s Natasha?”

“We broke up.”

“I’m so sorry, John,” she reached across the table to pat his hand. “She didn’t get too upset with Rodney’s behavior, did she?”

“Actually, she did. But that’s not why I broke up with her.”

“Oh. Her lack of knowledge of all the ways our planet is constantly in mortal peril?”

In truth, he wasn’t sure exactly why. “Something like that. Thank you, by the way. If you weren’t there, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

“Yeah. I was pretty mad at Rodney afterwards. I mean, now that I . . . well, now I sometimes forget that to other people he’s just as much of an asshole as I thought he was when I first met him.”

“I know. I should’ve expected it.”

“You know, I think he was jealous.”

John shrugged. “He’s never liked me dating beautiful women. You should’ve heard the stuff he said to me when I had this thing with this Ancient girl. I didn’t know she was one at the time, of course, but Rodney was so pissed.”

Sam bit her lip, like she wanted to say something important, but restrained herself. “He calls you Kirk.”

“Yeah, it’s annoying. I keep trying to tell him I like Sisko the best, but he never listens.”

Sam laughed. “Not really his strong suit. You’re not still mad at him, are you?”

“Naw. Like with Chaya, he helped me see what was really wrong with the relationship.”

“Ah. I know the whole double date thing went disastrously, but if you ever want to try it again, I’m game.”

“Yeah, if I ever want to introduce my girlfriend to people from work, I’d be better off with Felger, Combs, and Teal’c. Even the Soviet slapstick routine would be better.”

“Desperate words. If it ever gets to be a sticking point, Daniel and I’d go.”

“Thanks.”

“I did enjoy our conversation when Rodney and Natasha weren’t, you know, trying to kill each other. You should come out with us more often. We won’t make you a third-wheel; I promise.”

“I’d like that.” Strangely, he meant it. He really did like Sam a lot, and of course he liked Rodney.

“Though, I have to admit that my joining you today isn’t completely without ulterior motive.”

“What? Sam, I’m outraged!” he joked.

“Oh, get over it,” she giggled. “It’s just that Rodney’s birthday’s coming up and I wanted to know if there’s anything he’s got a burning desire for.”

“On Atlantis, I always gave him coffee or chocolate, both equally effective.” Especially when John himself had been covered in said chocolate. “But here he’s gorging himself on so much of both . . . honestly, with the obscene amount the government pays to keep him, plus all the investments he made through insider trading with his college-buddies’ tech companies, he’s got enough to get everything he could ever want, and he’s not one to hold back on pampering himself. If you want to do something for him, I’d say take him somewhere – something he’d never do himself. He’s convinced that his birthday’s cursed though, so make sure it’s something safe.”

Sam smiled, then winced. “You know, I know something that’d be perfect, but . . .”

“But, what?”

“I have to be off-world that day. It can’t be rescheduled.”

“What do you mean, ‘it can’t be rescheduled?’”

“Naquadria trading negotiations on Langara. Frankly, Daniel, Teal’c, and most anyone who’s worked with our Naquahda reactors before could handle it; it’s just Rush’s new policy of a mandating a member of the US military on every off-world team . . .”

“I’ll cover for you, no problem.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

“Oh, John, thanks so much. I’ll make it up to you; I promise. Coffee, chocolates, double-dates, a favor, whatever you want.”

“Don’t worry about it, Sam. Friends help friends out.”

Her smile was warm and so bright. John could see why Rodney was so infatuated with her. “Well, thanks anyway.”

“But, there’s a condition. You’ve got to tell me your plan.”

“I’m going to take him to the New York Philharmonic.”

“That’s great. Rodney loves classical,” much to John’s horror. He didn’t care what anybody said, there was nothing he hated more than hearing some old dead European’s concerto playing during sex.

“Yeah, he used to play the piano.” He was surprised Sam knew that. It wasn’t something Rodney told a lot of people. Then again, they’d been dating for several months now.

“I know. Too bad about his teacher.”

“He plays wonderfully, though, doesn’t he?” He’d played for her?

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Well, you’ve got to get him to play for you some time.”

“It’s okay - classical isn’t really my thing.”

“I heard. I was playing ‘Satisfied Mind’ one day and he had a minor freak-out and turned it off, complaining about how many times you’d forced him to listen to your music.”

“Yeah, I don’t see how he thinks you can concentrate to all that vibrato and drum-pounding but not to good ‘ole Johnny Cash.”

“Well, to each his own.”

“You?”

“Always kind of liked jazz, big band, swing, the old classics, like Frank Sinatra and Bobby Darin.”

“Ah, a woman with class and style.”

“I don’t know about that. I guess I’m just not extreme.”

“You do find a good medium between the two of us, don’t you?”

“Yeah, though I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“Equal parts insanity?”

“Pretty much.”

John looked down at his watch. It was almost time to meet Teal’c to get his ass handed to him at hand-to-hand. He missed Teyla - at least she’d go easy on him.

“Hey, I don’t want to keep Big-T waiting.”

“Yeah, you really don’t want to see Teal’c cranky.”

“Teal’c cranky? Never.”

They laughed as John stood to clear his tray.

“Hey, thanks again for doing this. You’ll enjoy yourself. Jonas is a great guy. You’ll get along. I’m sad to miss the chance to see him.”

“Hey, don’t mention it. Anything I can bring you back?”

“A kiss?” she teased, waving him goodbye.

As it turned out, Sam wasn’t all that far off. It took John seven hours on Langara to break his 'no sex with men' rule. It only took him about twenty minutes to decide that he was going to.

John wasn't a big believer in love at first sight, but he certainly believed in chemistry. How could he not with a city that reacted to his very thoughts?

The first time he laid eyes on Jonas Quinn he felt the same way he had coming to Atlantis for the first time - thrilling with excitement and the wonder of experiencing something new, while at the same time feeling something deeper and more comfortingly familiar.

Jonas was showing them around some of the newer naquahdria mines, explaining the mining operations in technical terms. Zelenka looked intrigued, but not particularly thrilled. He was quiet, only asking a question or two here and there - a strange shift from the usual loud arguments and bantering in Russian that John had become so accustomed to. Teal'c just stood back, but his stoic expression looked far more like a smile than usual. Daniel too, looked happy, though not particularly interested in the mining operation.

John could care less about Naquahdria. It was the Milky Way's version of bartering for foodstuffs, and he knew that Jonas would deliver whatever it was he was supposed to deliver, and not just because Daniel and Sam and Teal'c trusted him, but because John trusted him, and he wasn't usually one to trust after knowing someone for just a few moments.

But Jonas . . . he just looked at John (and he did a lot of appreciative, but subtle, looking) and it was electric.

After showing the rest of the team to their respective rooms, Jonas stayed close, leading John down twisting corridors that almost reminded him of a darker version of Atlantis.

"Want to come in?" John said when they reached his room, and even though it was a familiar line, it didn't feel like a reflex. It felt heavy, significant somehow.

"I'd like that." Jonas had a boyish grin and an infectious enthusiasm. He was genuine in a way that John hadn't experienced in a long time. He was an open book, a lot like Rodney.

The second the door closed they were kissing. They didn't need words. They didn't need flirtation or negotiation because the second they saw each other, they just knew.

The kisses were passionate and sensual, so fast, yet perfectly coordinated. It was magnetic, and John felt as though he was losing time, their motion was so fluid, indefinable. When one thing became another, when Jonas sunk to his knees and lowered John's pants, when John pulled him back into his arms, when they fell back onto the strangely squishy mattress, when Jonas was in him, each thrust exquisitely forgettable, it all became one thing. It was a sensation, a pull, so many motions and yet all just a single touch, because it only took one and the rest was an inevitable extension of the first.

When they lay curled together and panting, John finally felt compelled to speak. "I don't normally do that, you know."

Jonas heaved a sigh, stroking John's belly absently. "Neither do I."

And then they talked. They talked all night about the most inconsequential things. About Earth, about cultures, about Ferris wheels, and Peter Jennings, and the Stargate Program. They talked about being aliens and Sam and Daniel Jackson, and the first time they thought they'd fallen in love.

Jonas was quick witted, even if he didn't get all the Earth references. He was like Teyla, only not half as judgmental as she could sometimes be and without the undercurrent of teasing.

When the sun started to rise, they had sex again, slower this time, and a little more meaningfully. It was good. It was even better than it had been with Rodney, though they'd never had the time to fully enjoy it, with the constant threat of death by life-sucking alien. John should have been frightened by how easily he could get used to this, but he wasn't.

The next day, Daniel and Teal'c went back through the Gate to finalize the Earthside part of the trade agreement. John said he'd stay and baby-sit Zelenka, but he ended up leaving the scientist in the lab to join Jonas at a remote sensing station at the peak of one of the tallest mountains outside the city.

The mountains were grey and the top of this one was in a state of constant storm, thunder rolling like the laughter of some great god, lightning striking the mineral rich hills all around them, a natural firework show. It sparkled different colors, sending up smoke and dancing across the ground in patterns John had never seen on Earth. It was amazing.

"I know it's strange, but I come here to think," Jonas said with a grin.

"No, it's not strange at all." John remembered standing on a balcony, watching the waves black in the distance with lightning flashing far out to sea, so bright that it was impossible to judge the distance, letting his thoughts melt into the storm and the warm wind. He'd always loved the weather, as much as he loved flying through the clouds. Even the giant storm and the Genii near-coup hadn't put a damper on that.

Jonas smiled humbly, looking willing to believe, and John smiled back. They leaned shoulder to shoulder and John didn't even know how the hours passed in the center of the storm, only that they did and that he regretted leaving like he hadn't regretted anything since returning from Atlantis.

“So how was the symphony?” John said, sliding into his seat and automatically dumping his chocolate pudding onto Rodney’s tray, next to the three empty pudding cups.

“Oh, you know . . . the conductor was an idiot . . . I mean, I could’ve done better. Though I am a genius . . . . But still, who follows a Mozart violin concerto with this improvised modern crap? I mean, who cares if it’s supposed to sound discordant to represent the failures of capitalism or whatever? It sounds like my cat scratching a blackboard combined with about five car wrecks.”

“So you didn’t enjoy yourself then?”

“Well, my dog didn’t die and I didn’t almost get struck by lightning, so all in all it was one of my better birthdays. And Sam wore this . . . oh, wow, she looks good in black.”

They said John looked good in black too.

“Glad you had fun.”

“I did, thank you. How was your mission? Did you bring me back any fissile material?”

“And a t-shirt. It was,” spectacular, amazing, surreal, “okay.”

“Sam says Langara’s nice, if you like planets constantly on the brink of civil war. Personally, I prefer abandoned ones . . . unless we have to hike.”

“Hey, I like to hike.”

“Duh. Masochist. And how was that . . . you know, the little alien guy.” Rodney waved his hands vaguely in what John had determined was always his attempt at Vogon sign language.

“He . . . he’s a pretty cool guy.” Or an amazing lay, both worked equally well.

“Hmmm . . . I always thought he was a spineless, nerdy Pollyanna, but maybe he’s different in his natural habitat.” Not that Rodney wasn’t all of those things . . . well, except the Pollyanna bit.

“You know Jonas?”

“Of course I know Jonas. He’s the weird alien who helped Sam and I save the world once. I thought he was hot.” John was not jealous. After all, he was the one sleeping with Jonas, not Rodney. He could have anyone he wanted, why worry?

“You sleep with him?” That would be kind of awkward.

“God, no,” Rodney said between bites of pudding. “The man puts oranges and French fries in his chocolate milkshake; he obviously can’t be trusted.” Rodney, the king of the Canned-Sausage and Pork-Rind Empire, was not one to judge people by weird food habits.

John knew he should’ve told Rodney. Rodney was his best friend, regardless of the complete and utter unhelpfulness of his relationship advice.

“Like food preferences would really deter you . . .”

“He wasn’t interested. I didn’t feel like making the effort. He’s a solid scientist, if you’re worried about that. Political and overly chipper, but better than these idiots they force me to straighten out.”

“Wow, coming from you that’s almost worship.”

“I know, I know, I’m getting soft . . . all Sam’s fault. Why are you so interested in Jonas, anyway?”

“Oh, you know . . . he seems like an interesting guy. Might be fun to get to know.”

“Sure, if you like hallmark greeting cards and Christmas movies and ‘It’s a Small World After All.’ Oh, and don’t forget the Weather Channel. You think he’s hot?”

“He’s all right.” That was the closest he’d ever come to actually lying to Rodney, and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was that he liked the secrecy, maybe it was because of ‘don’t ask don’t tell,’ maybe it was because it wasn’t really Rodney’s business; but it was most definitely not that overwhelming sense of betrayal, like if he was going to break the rules for someone, that someone should be Rodney not some alien with a perfect smile and a fanatic devotion to meteorology.

It was only two weeks before Jonas Quinn stepped through the Gate along with the latest naquadria shipment. John could barely contain his smile.

He would’ve thought he’d be nervous. He’d never been one to invest himself too much in a relationship, enough to worry about it, but still, it was a fling. And with flings there was always the awkward ‘morning after.’ But he wasn’t nervous, and he certainly wasn’t worried. Something about Jonas’ smile was so open, so readable, that he knew the second he stepped through the Gate that Jonas didn’t have a single regret.

“Colonel Sheppard, good to see you again.”

They shook hands, John risking it just a little to give Jonas’ a subtle stroke. “Same to you.”

Then Sam practically skipped down the ramp, already wearing jeans and a light blue blouse. She wrapped Jonas in a tight embrace. “Oh, Jonas. It’s so good to see you! How have you been?”

“Great. Thanks, Sam. The negotiations have been going really well. We’ve finally got the last draft of the constitution ratified and are preparing to finalize planetwide congressional elections.”

“Jonas, that’s wonderful! But, how have you been?”

“Busy.”

Sam laughed. “Of course. Did you make up with . . .”

“No. She left on one of scientific ambassador programs. I . . . I . . . um . . . think I found someone promising though.” Jonas held John’s eyes.

“And did you actually ask her out yourself, chickenshit?”

Sam swatted him playfully, guiding him down the ramp. John followed behind, feeling a bit out of the loop, despite the fact that they were actually talking about him.

“This time it wasn’t a problem.”

“Oh, one of those . . .” Sam winked.

John felt sick to his stomach.

“So, as you know,” Sam said, “we don’t finalize the trade agreement until tomorrow, so you’ve got yourself all night to spend on Earth. You wouldn’t be opposed to going out with us, would you?”

“Of course not. I’d love that. They’ll have milkshakes, right?”

“I’m sure we can find you a milkshake, Jonas,” John interjected with a smile.

“Daniel and Teal’c are in the locker-room changing into civvies. Is it okay if my boyfriend, Rodney, tags along? You two have met. When Anubis tried to blow up our gate, remember?”

“Yes, I remember. But, correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you used to say that you thought he was a . . .”

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Rodney met them in the corridor wiping some strange bluish machine oil on his dress pants. “Hey . . . Josh . . . Jerry . . .”

“Jonas.”

“Jonas . . . right . . . of course. Nice to . . . um . . . er. . . see you again.”

“Likewise.”

Rodney clapped his hands together in anticipation. “So, where are we going?”

“You’re the guest,” Sam said to Jonas.

“I don’t know. Where would you recomend, Colonel Sheppard?”

“Oh, John doesn’t eat . . . anorexia and all . . .”

“Shut up, Rodney.”

“Well, seriously, you don’t. How about O’Malley’s, hm? I’m in the mood for a good steak. Got to watch my blood sugar . . .”

Like Rodney ever laid off the sweets.

“Sure, sounds great,” Jonas said with a smile.

Daniel and Teal’c met them in the parking lot and they all headed out. For some reason, Rodney was being even more insufferable than usual. John’d have to remember to ask Sam what exactly happened that time they all saved the world together.

The bar wasn’t bad, and it certainly was amusing playing pool with Rodney against Sam and Jonas. It turned out that they were pretty evenly matched. When they finally sat down to eat, Rodney crowing their victory almost obscenely, John had a smile on his face.

And the smile just got wider as he felt Jonas’ foot stroking along his ankle, moving deftly higher. He had no idea how Jonas managed to keep doing that while still following whatever conversation he was having with Sam and Rodney about Naquahdria decay ratios.

Daniel raised his eyebrows at John from across the table. Big-T was just as stoic as ever.

“So,” John said, talking across the heated argument about purity testing methods, “How’re you guys?”

Daniel shrugged. “Good. We found a really interesting artifact on P4Y-832 that actually helps to prove the Asgard presence on Earth much earlier than documented worship of Norse gods and goddesses, suggesting . . .”

“Okay, enough shop.” Not that he wouldn’t mind knowing what it was that Lin was digging around in the dirt for before the debriefing, but this was downtime. “See any good movies recently?”

“Not really, no.” Daniel frowned as though movies were a totally alien concept.

“You, Big-T?”

“Braveheart.”

“Mel Gibson is his new hero,” Daniel amended.

John decided he needed another beer, or two.

But before he could even waive the not-unattractive waitress in the short black skirt over, Jonas was standing. “I think I’ve forgotten where the bathroom is.”

John almost knocked his chair over in his rush to follow. “I have to go too. I’ll show you.”

When they got there, Jonas unzipped his fly, John stepped forward, and Jonas turned around to actually pee, looking over his should and asking, “Don’t you have to go?”

John’d had a few beers, after all. “Um . . . yeah, all right.” It was easy to forget that Jonas was an alien, after all. An alien with a really big . . .

When Jonas had finished, he didn’t zip his fly back up, standing patiently, waiting for John. When John was done, Jonas pounced on him, pushing him back into one of the stalls, covering him in passionate kisses.

“You had me for a minute there . . .” John mumbled into Jonas’ mouth.

“I had you with what?”

John laughed, rubbing himself up against Jonas, even as he knew that too much longer would be conspicuous. Even surrounded by friends, he felt isolated somehow. No, not isolated, intimate. It felt like they were still back on Langara, a world apart. Whatever they did, nothing bad could come of it.

“God, I missed you,” John said, though it’d only been a couple of weeks.

“I missed you too,” Jonas whispered, cupping John’s neck. “You’re amazing, John. I had to see you.”

John thrust harder, sliding his hand down between them. Jonas gasped.

“So good.”

It didn’t take much and John was pretty good at this after all, because then they were coming together into John’s hand, all panted breaths and gasps and names like whispers in the wind, fading into bliss.

John looked in the mirror, tried to wash to contented glow from his face, zipped his pants and buttoned his shirt and tried to rid himself of the thick musk of sex. Jonas tucked in his shirt for him. It was strangely intimate.

When they returned to the table, Rodney and Sam had moved the decay ratio argument into a discussion of the validity of the inherent assumptions in half-life calculations. Teal’c and Daniel looked sort of bored - well, as bored as Teal’c ever looked.

The second John stepped out of the bathroom, despite the fact that Rodney was so involved in arguing that he didn’t even look up, John felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. Rodney would know. Rodney knew what John looked like after coming. He knew far too well.

And he was right. The second Rodney lifted his eyes, his jaw dropped and his eyes widened and he dropped his fork on the floor. Sam and Daniel were just as oblivious as always, and if Teal’c knew, he certainly didn’t appear to care.

John shrugged back at him, which seemed to upset Rodney even more.

“I’m going to play pool,” he said, and promptly lost three games and a couple hundred to some teenaged idiot that Rodney could’ve cleaned the floor with on any other occasion.

It was close to midnight when Rodney finally dropped John at his apartment, leaving Sam asleep in the back seat of the car. He had been driving increasingly frighteningly, even for Rodney, which was saying a lot. They hadn’t spoken the entire time.

The second they were in the door, Rodney rounded on John. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Standing here.” Nonchalance: it had protected him through a hundred asshole superiors, his family, his various relationships, and it was going to save him now.

“Do you know how much trouble you could get in for this? Rush hates you. He’d love to see you locked up for something idiotic like this.” The same argument John had used on Rodney what seemed like a lifetime ago.

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Well, you certainly don’t act like it. God, John, in a public restroom - on Earth? How dumb are you?”

“Very dumb, apparently. But even if Rush finds out, he’s not going to do anything.”

“What do you mean, ‘he’s not going to do anything?’ It’s against military law!” Also known as regulations.

“They’ve made exceptions at the SGC before. Look, first off, we’re not going to get caught.” Special-ops training was useful, after all. “And secondly, we’re not doing anything wrong!”

“Not according to . . .”

“Jonas is important. He’s basically the key to the whole mining treaty with Langara. Rush is political enough to know not to fuck with him.”

“I wouldn’t count on military intelligence,” Rodney huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “And besides, I wouldn’t count on your new boyfriend coming through for you, either. If Rush calls the bluff, he won’t choose you.”

Maybe that was true. One of the things John loved about Jonas was that he was so dedicated. He was willing to give up everything for his people, and that was a quality John admired, thought he himself posses, but always pushed the limits to test it anyway.

John knew Rodney was right, but at the same time, the stupid petty little boy in him resented it. “You wouldn’t, either,” he said. It was a compliment . . . maybe, if you squinted.

“Goodnight,” Rodney said with a scathing finality and walked away. They’d never fought like this before. They’d never fought in a way that left John feeling so powerless and in the wrong. Even with Chaya, he hadn’t felt the guilt until afterwards.

After the negotiations, Jonas asked Rush if he could spend a few days more on Earth. John (as the official diplomatic liaison, of course) took him to a football game, only to find that Jonas had memorized all the current stats and rules the night before, just because John had said he liked the game. It was so ridiculously touching that John didn’t know whether or not to be embarrassed about the huge smile on his face every time Jonas asked him about one of the players. They had amazing sex in some storage closet and then again on Rodney’s old couch back at John’s apartment. And in the shower, and on the counter of the kitchen island, and finally in the bed. And even that wasn’t really enough to keep John from thinking about his fight with Rodney.

John was in a foul mood. Four amazing days with Jonas: football and Ferris wheels and gigantic continental breakfasts and hiking and, of course, amazing sex, only to have to watch Jonas leave when all he wanted was more time together. And now John’s bed, and his couch, and especially his kitchen felt disgustingly empty. Maybe Toderov was rubbing off on him, because he was definitely brooding. It didn’t help that he had almost a week’s worth of paperwork to catch up on.

And it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Rodney wasn’t talking to him.

He dumped another stack of files into his outbox. They would magically disappear sometime during his lunch break. He didn’t know where they went to, but he definitely had a mental picture of munchkins feeding them to a giant paperwork-eating dragon in one of the sub-basements.

He sighed, rubbed his temples. When did this headache start? Probably the second Jonas stepped through the Gate. Maybe earlier.

Then pounding . . . a knock on the door. His head snapped up, even though judging by the very fact that whoever it was chose to knock at all (and timidly), it definitely wasn’t Rodney.

“Colonel Sheppard?” It was Combs. Nobody else’s voice cracked quite like that.

“Yeah.” He smiled, even though he didn’t feel it.

“Do you have a minute? Because if you’re busy, I could always . . .”

Maybe Combs would be willing to go slay the paperwork-dragon so he wouldn’t have to finish this. They’d have to find him a pretty big suit of armor though. “Do you know where my paperwork goes?”

“What?” Combs was too surprised to even be polite.

“Do you know where my paperwork goes?”

“Um . . . to the General, I would assume.”

“Hmm . . .” He liked giant paperwork-dragon better. “No, I’m not busy. Is there something I can help you with?”

Combs blinked at him strangely. What? That wasn’t that weird a question, was it? Unless he’d said the dragon part out loud.

Combs stuttered. “Oh . . . yeah . . . right. Um, I’ve been sort of . . . well, I’ve been nominated, if you will, by a group of scientists, a secret society, of sorts . . . though we don’t really have any particular rituals or rites . . . unless you count D&D on Thursdays . . . anyway, you’ve got to stop it.”

Even without the monster headache, he wasn’t entirely sure that would make sense. “Stop what?”

“Stop him.”

“Who?”

“Dr. McKay, of course.”

“I’m sorry, but in case you haven’t noticed, Rodney and I aren’t exactly speaking.”

“And that’s why you need to . . . um . . . build bridges . . . socialize . . . do what you normally do to woo all the beautiful alien natives.”

“I don’t . . . did Rodney tell you that?” Asshole. John was going to go rip him a new one, right now.

“Yes, and you should discuss it with him – before he makes anyone else cry or blows us all up or both.”

“But he always does that.”

“He’s worse.”

Not possible.

“I don’t think . . .”

“Look, tomorrow’s our annual budget and project planning meeting. You have to get back together with him before he vetoes every single one of our proposals.”

“Woah . . . wait, get back together with him?”

Combs coughed, turned red and looked down at his shoes. He looked sort of like one of those talking tomatoes on . . . well, wherever you saw talking tomatoes. “I mean . . . make-out with . . . make-up with . . . you have to make him stop.”

“You think Rodney and I are a couple?” He couldn’t help the paranoid look around, suspicions built into him over a lifetime.

“No, no . . . of course not. I’m sorry. You’re not going to . . .”

John rolled his eyes. “No, Combs, I’m not going to beat you up now. I’m fine with gays.” More than fine, but even if Combs was his friend, he certainly wasn’t going to confide in him about this. “But, in case you haven’t noticed, Rodney’s with Sam.”

“I know . . . Freudian slip. I’m sorry. It’s just that there’s this pool . . .”

“There’s a pool?!”

“Oops . . . I shouldn’t have told you that. Look . . . if the regulations ever get repealed . . . I have five-hundred on you being straight, so if there’s anything you want to tell me . . .”

“No. I don’t have anything to tell you.” And he wasn’t going to ask, either.

Combs sighed in relief. John felt kind of bad, but, still . . . no way.

“Talk to him?”

“I’ll think about it.”

He thought, but then there was this little thing called pride that told him that Rodney was only jealous and he had no right telling John who he could and could not be with, especially when he had his own relationship to deal with.

Apparently, John wasn’t the only target of Combs and the secret society of scientists, because someone got Sam to come to Rodney’s planning powwow and rein him in. Of course that meant that John had to go off-world to some planet with mosquitoes the size of cats in her stead . . . Toderov was never going to let him forget the way his voice cracked at the briefing. John’d like to see how Mr. Superiorly Unenthused would react if he’d had a gigantic life-sucking dragonfly stuck to his neck. Not well, he’d bet.

And Toderov wasn’t such a cool cucumber when they interrupted the man-eating mosquito’s mating cycle and had to hide up to their necks in a mud hole for ten hours waiting for SG-4 to come rescue them. He could have sworn he heard Major Peterson laughing through the goddamned hazmat suit.

His only consolation was that when he got back, Jonas was waiting for him at the bottom of the gate ramp, his trademark grin on his face. He didn’t even comment on the mud and the stench of bog, only waited patiently for John to get cleared by medical.

“You ready to get out of here?” John asked, finally clean (mostly. He’d need another good half-hour in the shower to be sure.) and bug-free.

“Sure.” Jonas’ smile was almost enough to make this all worth it – except the fact that John knew he’d see it no matter what he did.

But when John turned toward the parking lot, Jonas grabbed his hand and steered him towards guest quarters.

“All right, then,” John leered – after checking over his shoulder, of course. Jonas did have the body (and the libido) of an eighteen-year-old, after all. Not that John minded.

Guest quarters were cushy, nicer than John’s on-base lodging, for sure. He thought they might’ve even had real light bulbs, not those awful florescent things that always gave John a headache.

Jonas looked spectacular in the softer light. John drew him into a soft kiss. Usually there was a tinge of urgency to their sex, but now he felt this odd leisurely cadence, like a waltz or even that crazy Japanese theater. It felt good to take time – it felt like it meant something, though he didn’t know quite what.

Jonas had a far off look in his eyes – like he’d spent his life staring at the moon and absorbing its light. He was so beautiful, all toned abs and soft muscles, a boyishness that John tried to pretend he’d never lost, an illusion like pictures men painted in the stars to find their way.

It was almost melancholy, but John found himself missing a metronome to measure out its pace. Maybe it was only adagio.

When they were laying together, on their backs this time, giving their skin room to breath out all the heat their friction had created, Jonas spoke, and his voice was oddly serious. It was the same voice he used to talk about all the things he wished he could change on Langara.

"I don't know how many more excuses I can make to come here," he said.

John turned to face him, but Jonas kept looking at the ceiling. "Visiting friends isn't enough?"

"Unfortunately, I'm one of the few officials in our government that has a reputation for being nonpartisan.” So Rodney was right after all. Even after the beautiful piece they’d played together, John wasn’t . . . would never be, worth it. “Before you were in the program, our world was divided among three nations that were very viciously competing against each other. I'm needed to keep them together. It's . . . it's a cause that's bigger than myself. It's what I was meant to do. I can't . . . I can't risk that."

John understood. He understood too well. That's why he'd always held back. He couldn't get too attached to anyone or anything because the mission always came first, even before Atlantis. And after he was fighting for not just his entire species, but to defend his friends, the people he considered true family, he could only understand better.

"I understand."

"I know." The way Jonas said it made John think about Han Solo, about to be encased in carbonite, though nobody watched Star Wars for the dialogue. Except maybe Teal'c.

"I have a lot of stored up leave. Maybe in a month or so I can try to wrangle something . . . get it spent off-world." It was a risk, considering that Rush wasn't stupid - he'd put two and two together eventually, but there was no way he could prove it without the cooperation of the Langaran government, which Jonas could probably block.

Jonas looked nervous, smiling sheepishly. "Come back with me," he said. It was so honest, it hurt. It was a plea that spoke directly to something deep in John's being, as though he'd said the exact same thing before, the exact same way, even if he hadn't. It was enough to make him wonder about past lives, if only for a moment.

And John considered it. It was a great fantasy, being with Jonas openly, exploring a strange new world, not having to deal with arguments in Russian or stuck-up generals or politics. But if he went . . . "I could never come back." There was no chance in hell they'd just let someone with his strategic knowledge just defect to another planet, even if it was true love, which it probably wasn’t. John didn’t deserve true love.

"I know." Jonas had made the same decision when he came to Earth the first time. But he'd done it for the good of his people, for protection against the Goa'uld. He did it for an honorable reason, not a selfish one. "You could still go through the Gate. You could have a team."

But he'd have to leave Earth. There was no Ancient Technology on Langara other than the Stargate, and there were no experts like Zelenka and Rodney that could make use of the gene - the damn thing haunted him like the scent of cheap perfume. He'd have to leave Ferris wheels and college football and surfing (not that he hadn't done it before), but he'd also have to leave friends. True friends like Zelenka and Sam and Daniel and Rodney. He and Jonas were great together, but was he really willing to sacrifice all that for an affair, no matter how passionate?

"I'm sorry, Jonas. I can't."

And Jonas said the same thing he kept saying, though the passion didn't dull with repetition. "I know."

They were silent for a moment before Jonas spoke again, voice shaky. "Then I think we should stop seeing each other."

John was taken aback. Even if they couldn't make this more, no matter how much they might want to, why throw away the great sex and fun times together? They were guys after all - they didn't give up a phenomenal fuck just like that. "Why?"

"Because then I might fall in love with you."

The words did not fall into the silence, just stayed suspended like smoke. John had never heard it articulated before, but he supposed it was something he always knew was true: sometimes you had to cut your losses. He was hesitant to do it in battle, but in his personal life, he knew the strategy really fucking well.

"I know," John said, looking into Jonas' bright green eyes and wondering if it wasn't already too late for a strategic withdrawal.

They parted the next day at the Stargate with nothing more than small regretful smiles. John didn't wait until he was off the base before he started drowning his sorrows. On Atlantis he would've flown and let the sadness melt into the wide blue sea. Here there was nothing but grey concrete and mountain and forest for miles and miles.

John didn’t exactly remember how he ended up at Rodney and Sam’s house, but at least he recognized it. He’d lost his bottle of Tequila a little while back. He did know why he was here though. He needed . . . he needed someone. He needed to talk to someone, and it was nine-o’clock in China, so Lizzie, good ‘ole Lizzie, wasn’t answering her phone. She probably had some important diplo . . . dip . . . some Very Important Person (with a badge and everything) to entertain or something.

And Teyla wasn’t here. He missed Teyla. And Ford. Good kid . . . well behaved. Not Russian, not broody, obeyed orders. Yeah, he liked Ford. Did he tell him? Not enough. Not enough like his Dad never said ‘I love you’ enough . . . like John never said ‘I love you’ enough. He should say it more. He should say it to Rodney. Yeah, he should apologize to Rodney.

The door swam . . . it was a tricky door, the door of a mad scientist. And then there was light (not in the biblical sense) and the swimmy door opened and . . .

“I love you,” John said, falling forward.

“Um . . . I love you too?” Sam responded.

“Hm . . .” Rodney was not this skinny or blonde or female. He shook his head, but failed utterly to clear it.

A soft hand slid around his waist and guided him inside. “John? What happened? Are you okay? Should I call . . .”

“Nope. Just drunk.”

“I noticed. Sit down while I get you some coffee.” John almost missed the seat. “Watch it there, you’re not Superman.” No, that was Rodney.

“Where’s ‘odney?”

“Working. Where else? He’s mad at me for green-lighting some of the projects he called . . . what was it? ‘A disgrace to all major American universities, society in general, and sentient or pre-sentient forms of life.’”

“Hmm . . .” Was Sam talking? What did he miss? Oh, yeah, Rodney was mad at Sam. “’M sorry.”

“Not your fault. Rodney gets ideas into his head sometimes and no matter how much he cares about you he’ll just steamroll right by. Don’t worry. It’ll blow over.”

John tried to stand. Sam pushed him back down and went back to making coffee. “No . . . no . . . no, Sam, you don’t understand. Rodney’s mad at me.” Rodney cared about John more. He was pissed at the world because he was pissed at John – John was that important to him.

“Is that what this is about, John? Have you even tried talking to him? I’m sure that whatever it is, you can get over it. He misses you.”

“I miss him.” It’d been what? A few weeks? “But this,” he waved his hands around vaguely, “’s not ‘bout that.”

Sam dropped a steaming hot mug of coffee in front of him. He stared at it. “Drink. What is it about then?”

“Significant other . . . dumped me.”

“Aw.” She came over and patted his shoulder. “What happened? I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

“It was secret . . . weren’t ‘posed to know.”

“She was on the base?”

“Can’t say. You’d be in trouble.” He trusted Sam not to rat him out, really he did. He would’ve told her. But . . . but he just . . . couldn’t. It was his thing. It was his cross, or whatever the fuck Father Perry had said all those years ago. He hated that man.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me who. Just tell me what happened.”

“They didn’t think it was worth the risk.”

“And you did?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. The sex was good.”

“Ah . . .”

Jonas’ thighs. His smile. His small breathy pants. The way he screamed John’s name without really screaming. “Really good.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Spectacularly good. Best I’ve had since . . .”

“Okay, I get it.”

. . . since Rodney. “No, you don’t get it! You’ve got your man and your discussions and your perfect home and I should be the one . . . I’m the popular guy with the fast planes and the girls and the normal life.”

“The SGC? Normal?”

“You know what I mean.” Maybe the coffee had kicked in just a tad. He was making more sense . . . at least he thought so.

“I guess I do. But maybe you shouldn’t wait for this perfect life to drop into your lap. I waited a really long time before I found Rodney. I started things with a lot of people, had a lot of justifications for never really letting myself love any of them. I even convinced myself I was in love with Jack at one point, but how could I? We were never even together. I don’t know if Rodney and I are going to work out, but he’s the only one that I’ve ever let be easy. He’s a difficult person, but it’s easy because with him, there’s no excuses. Maybe secrecy and even normalcy aren’t what you need. Maybe you need to just let yourself be with someone. Let yourself be happy.”

He didn’t know if it was the long lecture or the booze (though objectively, it was probably 98% tequila) but he was definitely going to be sick. “Maybe. I think I’m going to go throw up now.”

He made it to the bathroom just in time. After that, all he remembered were hands, rough and familiar against his forehead, strong arms supporting him into blissful softness, a hand running absently through his hair and then smash-zoom, fade to black.

When he woke up groaning he found a glass of water and some vitamins on the bedside table. He was at Rodney’s house, but he didn’t really remember how he got there. He’d talked to Sam about something, but he didn’t remember it all that well. She was a good friend though.

He stumbled out to the kitchen and found Rodney making eggs and Canadian bacon. “You look like shit,” Rodney said, and despite the pounding headache and the insult, it was music to his ears.

“Thanks.”

“So I heard Jonas dumped you.”

John looked over his shoulder.

“Sam went to the mountain. She’s telling Rush you’re sick.”

“Love her,” John said lazily. Did he say something like that last night? No, he meant to say that to Rodney . . . “Love you.”

“Still drunk?”

“No.”

“Oh-kay.”

“Really, love you. You’re my best friend. I’m sorry.”

Rodney smiled, humming a little, unless that was the buzzing in John’s ears. He squinted against the light.

“Apology accepted.” Rodney was smug, and John couldn’t even bring himself to care. “I’m sorry about Jonas.” It didn’t sound all that sincere, but then again, Rodney was crap at apologies.

Well, Rodney had warned him. “You were right,” John said, because he meant it, and because it was what he thought Rodney wanted to hear. Rodney never hesitated with the ‘I told you so’s.

“I know,” Rodney said, except he was far too loud and far too blurry to be Han Solo.

After that, everything was good between them.