We're gonna Need a Bigger boat

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John was in a fantastic mood. After extensive research into their current owners and the horses ancestry, he’d made an offer on a group of horses. While he hadn’t laid eyes on them, he had done his work thoroughly and had been relatively confident they would be fine creatures and complement his current stock very well.

They’d arrived that morning and after half a day spent checking them over, riding a few of them and having them looked over by the veterinarian, John was pleased to declare them perfect. He was already planning his first set of breeding in his head and trying to decide who he would take for racing and trials.

His immediate stop after he left the stables was Rodney’s office. It was a past noon and knowing Rodney’s usual schedule, he would be wrapped up in his work, snacking on stolen rolls from the kitchen, completely oblivious that it was time for lunch. John liked having lunch with Rodney and made it a point to stop whatever he was doing if he could and go rustle up his new husband to eat.

The fact that it ended in sex in the middle of the day 75% of the time had absolutely everything to do with it.

He knocked on the door and not waiting for an answer, swung inside, disappointed to find it empty.

Wondering if Rodney had just darted off for a moment, John decided to wait. He spotted a large trunk next to the desk and wandered over to it.

It was old. The carvings on it were well worn and there was no telling what they might have been at one time. The hinges were rusting and probably didn’t function without emitting a hideous screech. The wood was battered and chipped, long scratches marring the surface. Curious, John reached over and opened it. True to his thoughts, the metal gave a horrendous shriek as the lid cracked open, fine particles of rust falling from the hinges and onto the rug below.

It was full of paper. Crouching down, John picked up a handful and started reading.

Lord Kelvin’s Second Law of Thermodynamics applied to Engine Efficiency - MR McKay

Machine Making - Blueprints for a mechanical device that will generate the pulling power of equines - MR McKay

Complex Numbers and Their Applications in Modern Science - MR McKay

The Golden Ratio - Compelling Irrationality - MR McKay

How the Egyptians Built the Pyramids using Pi - MR McKay

Proof of Other Planets in the Universe - MR McKay

The entire chest was packed with Rodney’s papers. John knew Rodney was brilliant, but looking at the titles, reviewing the subjects the papers spanned, he was awed. Rodney’s entire lifetime of work was hidden away in this chest.

Hidden away.

No wonder Rodney was so focused on being published, and under his own name. The work in front of John was astounding. Most of the papers had marginal notes signed by RZ. Radek Zelenka, it appeared, read most of Rodney’s work. Some notes were short and to the point, stating that Rodney would likely revolutionize the science community when published. Other notes weren’t as glowing. There was one scribbled on a physics paper that read: If you are so determined to rip apart the fabric of space-time, I should think to have you arrested for genocide after you’ve destroyed the planet. PS Will you be at my viola recital tomorrow? I will play your composition based on Fib. number seq. RZ.

So it appeared Rodney wrote music as well.

John flipped through more titles wondering if he would find musical compositions tucked in the chest as well. If Rodney could publish, if there were a way that this work could be made public…

“What are you doing?”

John dropped a pile of papers on the ground and turned to find Rodney standing in the doorway of his office, carafe of coffee in one hand and a plate of small sandwiches in the other.

“I was just looking for you,” John said as he stood, tucking the papers back in the chest. “Is that lunch or a snack?”

Rodney looked from John to the chest and back to John. “Lunch. What were you doing?”

“I came to find you and you weren’t here and I saw the chest,” John said with a shrug, coming to stand before Rodney and steal one of the small bites of bread off his plate. “You’ve got a lot of work in there. Fantastic stuff it looks like.”

Rodney didn’t move from where he stood, watching John carefully. “My work is very important.”

“It looks it. Does Halling have more of these in the kitchen?” John asked, snatching another bite.

Rodney stared down at the plate. “Um, yes.”

“Let’s go have lunch in the dining room. I want to tell you all about the new horses.” John took the small platter from Rodney and gently grabbed Rodney’s elbow. “Have you been by to see ‘Jumper today?”

“Not yet,” Rodney said slowly, tossing a glance over his shoulder back at his office as John led him to the dining room.

“You should head down. He’s excited with the new horses, I think, but maybe a little overwhelmed. Big changes in the stables.”

“Oh. Yes. Uh, of course.” Rodney started to detour right away and John caught his elbow again with a chuckle.

“After we have lunch. We can head down there together.”

Rodney nodded and looking at John’s smile, he seemed to finally relax.

“So, new horses?”

***

Rodney tried to spend a bit more time with Puddlejumper over the next few days. The foal did appear to be a little overwhelmed by all the new horses and the comings and goings in the stables had doubled. Rodney liked to take him for a walk around the estate, leading him gently at an easy pace. It seemed to tire him out for the rest of the day, and the stable hands noted he was always much calmer after a long walk.

Down at the stables today, he had brought some apples and celery for ‘Jumper and set out on their daily sojourn. Unfortunately, the weather didn’t cooperate and he had to turn back early when it started to rain. At first the light drizzle was refreshing, the cool breeze waking up Rodney’s senses and ‘Jumper even seemed to enjoy it a bit himself. But then then drizzle turned to rain and Rodney was forced to head back to the stable early.

After drying Puddlejumper off an brushing him down like John had taught him, Rodney headed back up to the main house. He was surprised when he saw Radek’s carriage in front of the long drive. Decorated in the Bohemia style, Radek’s carriage was distinctive, set apart from the more subdued Atlantean style.

Wondering what the wily Bohemian was here for, Rodney quickly changed into dry clothes and headed back downstairs to track him down. He must have just arrived or someone would have been sent to the stables to fetch Rodney. He was just rounding the corner to find the butler and inquire where Radek was waiting when he heard the low rumbling of voices coming from down the hall.

From his office.

Frowning, he set off down the long stretch, pausing outside the door.

“All the papers in here are exceptional, Radek,” John was saying. “But we need to pick the best ones. I’m thinking the top five.”

Rodney stilled. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t continue on into the office and make himself known. Perhaps it was simple nefarious curiosity of hearing other’s speaking about him, unnoticed that made him pause. They were discussing his work, that much was clear, but why? Radek already knew most of Rodney’s work, having either argued it out with Rodney or proof-read the finished paper. He’d found John the other day, looking through his papers, but if he wanted to know something about them, surely Rodney would be the best to ask.

“Hmm. It will be difficult. I could pick you five from each subject and still there would be more that should be published.”

Rodney’s stomach dropped at the word. Published. It had been his goal for as long as he could remember. But he couldn’t publish, couldn’t even consider it because the laws said that those who weren’t titled hadn’t the right.

It was a never ending struggle. You found someone titled who wanted to publish who lacked the insight, the brilliance required to do the work. Alternatively, there were those like Rodney; gifted thinkers with astounding brains but sadly, common born. Radek was lucky enough to have been born brilliant and titled, the best possible combination. He was able to publish his work as he liked, but he did so sparingly. Rodney suspected that Radek felt guilty that some of his work had been spawned from discussions on Rodney’s notions and hence Radek wouldn’t publish it. Though he would never say it out loud, Rodney was grateful and touched.

But now John was in his office with Radek, discussing Rodney’s work, Rodney’s papers and publishing.

“If you had to pick, though,” John continued. “If you had to chose… I mean, I guess you do have to chose. I can’t get them all published at once.”

Rodney felt sick. John had promised, promised. He’d put it in writing. Rodney had read the papers over himself, had his solicitor read them over. There must be a loophole. Some small innocuous thing that neither he nor his solicitor saw.

And Radek, assisting John. Radek who knew how much Rodney valued his work, calmly discussing publishing Rodney’s papers and slapping John’s name on them.

He’d known Radek longer, but somehow, the betrayal by John hurt the most. How long had John been planning on stealing Rodney’s papers? Since the beginning? Had the whole episode where he stumbled into Rodney’s bedchamber drunk really been an accident?

Of course not. It really had been absurd, too absurd to be genuine, too ridiculous to be true.

Likely, the entire thing had been orchestrated from the beginning. Oh, how John must have laughed. How easily Rodney had played into his hands. Agreeing to marry him with only the simple promise of a dowry for Jeannie and a false statement to not publish Rodney’s work under his own name.

Rodney’s stomach clenched. He felt hot with embarrassment and shame at being duped. He stumbled away from the door. The smartest man in Atlantis and he’d been taken in, hoodwinked, deceived by a known rake.

It was all so obvious now. A rake like John Sheppard stumbling into his room, into his bed, and then ‘being forced’ to make an offer. Feeling ‘like his honor’ was at stake and offering for Rodney.

And Rodney had barely put up resistance! He’d hardly said no. All that John had to do was dangle a dowry for Jeannie and promise not to publish and Rodney had given in.

He walked upstairs with heavy feet, his legs like lead, his heart a solid mass in his chest. He’d always sworn to be published under his own name. Oh, how the scientific community would laugh at this. How they would crow! When papers started coming out published under the Maquis John Sheppard, they would howl with glee. The great Rodney McKay’s work, published under someone else’s name. After all his years of protests and speeches, swearing up and down he would change the laws or never publish at all.

The disappointment and shame sunk like a stone in his stomach. He finally made it to his bedchamber, theirbedchamber. He couldn’t even look at the bed. He’d been so wanton, so eager and it had all been a lie.

He was trapped. What could he do? Where could he go? He had Jeannie to think of as well as himself. If he ran away, disappeared, would John - no, Sheppard, he couldn’t think of him as John now - would Sheppard honor the agreement? Was there even an agreement to honor or was that a lie as well?

It was so confusing. Why would he go through the effort of having a room made of for Jeannie, or having Jeannie move in if he didn’t intend to honor it? Surely he would have preferred Jeannie to stay with the duke and duchess?

Rodney rubbed his hand over his eyes. What did it matter why Sheppard did what he did for Jeannie? Perhaps the offer was real, perhaps it wasn’t. It didn’t change the fact that Sheppard was going to steal his work. Sure, the community in Atlantis would know it was Rodney’s (and oh, how they would rub in that it wasn’t under his name!) but the rest of the county, the rest of the world would never know Rodney’s name, never know he existed. It would all be attributed to the great Marquis John Sheppard. Rodney would become a footnote in the books of history, if that at all.

“Mer?”

Rodney glanced up and saw Jeannie hovering in the open doorway to the bedchamber. He stared at her with wide, hurt eyes and saw shock and concern echoed back in her face.

They’d both always had the most expressive faces.

“Mer, what’s wrong? Has something happened? Are you all right? Is John all right?”

She stepped into the room and crouched down on her knees in front of where he sat on the bed.

“Oh Jeannie, I’ve made a horrible mistake.”

“What? What is it? We can fix it, Mer, tell me what it is and you, John and I can fix it.”

Her hands were hot compared to his cold palms and she rubbed her fingers over his briskly.

“Jeannie, I…” he swallowed thickly, the words stuck in his throat. “Jeannie. My papers… John… he’s going to publish them.”

She stilled. “Pardon me?”

“I heard him, in the den, with Radek, they were discussing publishing my work. My work, Jeannie. Oh my god, I’ve… I’ve been….” His face felt hot, the blush spreading across his cheeks, up his ears and down his neck. “I’ve been a fool.”

“What? No, that’s impossible,” Jeannie protested, shaking her head. “He said he wouldn’t. You signed an agreement.”

“And what good would that really do me in a court of law? He has enough money to hire a thousand lawyers to get it overturned and I have nothing, nothing! I can’t fight it. I knew the law, I knew he could publish my work if we married. There would be a line of disgruntled and angry scientists a mile long waiting to state how clearly I knew the law.”

Jeannie paused, staring up at him. “Let’s run away, Mer.”

“What?”

“We’ll pack up all your papers and run away. We’ll leave Atlantis. Go… I don’t know where, somewhere.”

“And live off of what money?”

“I don’t know, but you’re brilliant, I’m smart too. We’ll think of something.”

Rodney shook his head, touched that she would offer but he was, if nothing else, a realist. “We can’t. That’s no life for you. And I wouldn’t be able to continue my work.” He sighed. “I suppose if I stay here, I can still work. You’ll be taken care of, and I’ll…” never kiss him again, never hold him again, never trust him again, “… have my work, I suppose.”

Resignation filled his face and he saw it mirrored on Jeannie’s. “Oh, Mer,” she said lowly, bowing her head and resting it on his knee. “I’m so sorry.”

He petted her hair lightly, the blonde strands so familiar to him. “Me too.”

***

It had taken Radek three hours to pick five papers he thought were the best representation of Rodney’s work. They were intellectually stunning, were written on diverse topics and had cross-discipline insights.

John flipped through the papers. He’d tried to read them and while they were engaging and interesting, he simply got lost through four of them. He thought he might understand the more mathematical one, but the ones on physics and astronomy were over his head.

But Radek assured him they were all inspired and highlighted Rodney’s genius. Tomorrow, John would take them to a copy-master and have copies made and then would make arrangements with his solicitor to have them shipped to Asuras.

John had been disappointed when his searches into the publishing rules of other colonies had come up empty. Venting to Ronon and Teyla about the situation, he’d been thrilled when they both had recalled the Asuran Colony. As it turned out, publishing in Asuras was under no restrictions of title or peerage. The papers would go through an extraordinarily strict scientific vetting which, Radek assured John, Rodney’s would easily pass, and then, once approved, would be typeset and mass-published. It would cost a fortune to get them there, but money was something of which John had plenty.

John intended to order one thousand copies and present them to Rodney as a gift. He could hardly wait to see the look on Rodney’s face when he could read his own name on published work. John would have a small number sent to the estate, for Rodney to autograph, the remainder being distributed amongst Atlantis’ scientific circles and bookshops.

Being relatively certain they had at least the morning to work in Rodney’s office, John had invited Radek to sort through Rodney’s papers. Since the arrival of the new horses, Rodney spent the majority of his mornings down at the stables with Puddlejumper. John had been increasingly nervous as the day went on and Radek was still perusing, but there’d been no sign of Rodney. It was now late afternoon and John hustled Radek off the estate, breathing a sigh of relief that they hadn’t run into Rodney.

Now that he had time to think about it, and wasn’t focused only on not being caught, it was strange that they hadn’t seen Rodney. John frowned and wandered into the kitchens. Halling noted Rodney hadn’t been by, but that Miss Jeannie had stopped to take a tray for the both of them for lunch. Wondering if Rodney wasn’t feeling well, John thanked him for the information and left.

Knowing Rodney wasn’t in his office, as that was where he and Radek had spent most of the day, John checked the library and secondary den on the main floor before heading upstairs. He stopped off at their bedchamber and then headed to Jeannie’s room.

He knocked efficiently on the door and when Jeannie came out, his face immediately brightened into a smile.

Until she slapped him. Hard.

“You!”

He rubbed his cheek. This was eerily reminiscent of their first meeting. “What the hell was that for?” he demanded, unapologetically swearing at her.

“I can’t believe you,” Jeannie hissed. “He trusted you. I trusted you. And what’s worse is I think he lo…” she cut herself off and raised her hand to slap him again.

He grabbed it easily, stopping her. “Jeannie, I swear to god, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

She put her hands on her hips and stomped one of her feet. “He heard you. He heard you and Radek discussing publishing his papers.”

“Oh, so he knows?” John said excitedly.

“Yes he knows, you heartless wretch. How could you steal his work like that?”

“What?” asked John incredulously, dread coiling in his stomach. “No, it’s not like that, I swear.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Really, what’s it like?” she asked dryly.

“I found a way to get him published under his own name,” John defended quickly. “I wanted it to be a surprise so I had Radek come over to chose the best papers. It’s supposed to be a surprise,” he repeated.

Jeannie looked conflicted. She bit her lower lip and her eyes narrowed. “Published where?”

“Asura. They have different laws and if you can afford to get in, and your work is scientifically sound, they’ll publish.”

Jeannie visibly deflated. “Oh. Really?” she hedged.

“Really. Where is Rodney?” John asked intently. If Rodney only overheard half of the conversation, if he thought John… if he misunderstood… “Where is he?” he repeated.

Jeannie stuttered. “I… I think he went back to the stables. Look, I’m sorry. It’s just… you have to know that people have tried to steal his work before. It’s… he’s had to deal with people trying to use his emotions to get to him, get to his work.”

“I’m not like that,” John snapped.

“Well, how was he supposed to know?” Jeannie snapped back.

“Because I love him, that’s how!”

“Oh.” Jeannie raised a hand to her chest. “You do?”

John stunned himself with his own quick confession. “I…” he took a step back. “I’m…” Panic bubbled up in his chest. He’d never said those words before. He’d thought about them, thought that maybe he just wasn’t cut out for love. While he always liked his partners just fine, he never had the feeling he had in his chest now. Like if he didn’t find Rodney and explain, make him understand it would all just spiral away, uncontrollable and terrible. He felt jittery and panicked and he suddenly realized that his whole life depended on making Rodney understand.

What if Rodney left him? What if Rodney packed his things and John never saw him again? Rodney with his blue eyes and his sharp tongue and his genius mind gone forever. John’s chest felt tight as he turned and headed straightaway to the stables, leaving Jeannie staring after him.

This was disastrous. He couldn’t believe that Rodney had overheard him talking with Zelenka. Couldn’t believe that Rodney had misunderstood what he was hearing. Why didn’t he burst into the room and demand to know what was going on? How could he believe that John would steal his work?

But then again, how could he know that John loved him when John himself didn’t even know until he’d uttered the words out loud? Rodney must have heard part of the conversation and thought that John was just like the other people who’d tried to steal his work in the past. That hurt, but John couldn’t blame him for it. Rodney’s work was unbelievable and gifted. If John had any scientific leanings himself, he’d probably be insanely jealous of Rodney. But as it was, all he wanted to do was make the world see Rodney’s intelligence as he saw it; bright, sharp and impressive.

Now he just had to find Rodney and make him believe it.

***

The rain had petered off and it was a shame. It would have made Rodney’s foul, melancholy mood fantastically more depressing. It would have been fitting if it had been raining. If it had been raining, he could have looked up at the sky and cursed. He could have cursed the sky for raining, cursed the stupid laws for not allowing him to publish, cursed science for being too intriguing to resist.

Cursed John Sheppard for making him care, for making him fall in…

No. He wasn’t going to even think the word. It was inconceivable not only to be duped into believing Sheppard, but to fall in love with him. That would be utterly ridiculous and even more foolhardy. As if he didn’t have enough to be ashamed of already - getting tricked into marriage - being love with the rake who married him only to steal his work would be salt on the wound.

Big fat chunks of salt being ground into his painful gaping wound.

Despite the fact that he had seen him this morning, Puddlejumper immediately started to whinny and neigh at the sight of Rodney coming toward him. Cloud barely looked over from where she stood in the corner as Rodney came in and led Puddlejumper out of the stall he shared with his mother.

Puddlejumper stamped his feet happily and pushed his nose into Rodney, searching his pockets for apples, carrots or celery.

“Sorry, buddy,” Rodney breathed, bending over to speak. “Didn’t bring any with me.”

‘Jumper pushed his snout at Rodney to nuzzle at his armpit. A smile ghosted across Rodney’s face. ‘Jumper snorted hot air softly into him and he should have been slightly disgusted but instead he was touched by it. It made his melancholy sharper somehow, though, more tangible than before and he sighed. He hooked up Puddlejumper’s harness and led him out of the barn into the damp air for a walk.

They walked into the forest and Rodney tried to convince himself that Puddlejumper couldn’t possibly know that he was upset, couldn’t possibly sense it; he was a horse for crying out loud. But it didn’t stop him from being grateful when ‘Jumper kept pausing in their walk to nuzzle at his hand or stamp his feet in a ‘look-at-me-look-how-cute-I-am’ manner. ‘Jumper let Rodney get a step ahead and then pushed his head against Rodney’s back playfully, earning a small huff of laughter from Rodney.

By the time the rain started up again, Rodney realized he’d walked farther than he planned, farther than he’d been before. His mind had wandered while his feet plodded ahead of him on the ground and he was deep into the forest. With a heavy sigh, he turned around. The foliage sheltered them somewhat from the rain at first, but as the boughs of the trees became laden with their wet burden, they willfully surrendered the water , soaking Rodney and ‘Jumper thoroughly.

It was a miserable ending to a perfectly miserable day, and though he was unhappy, wet and cold, he felt somewhat vindicated by the weather finally matching his mood perfectly and the universe showing up to put the final touches on his misery.

It didn’t occur to him that to think such a thing was to tempt the universe even further. As his foot slipped out from underneath him on the muddy slope and he twisted his ankle and then slid down the sloppy embankment, he thought well, it really can’t get much worse now.

It was another positively foolish thing to toss out in front of fate and as the small rocks and detritus dug into his body as he tumbled down path he saw a large boulder jutting out. His had a split second to wonder if it would knock him unconscious before it did just that.

***

John reached the stables and found ‘Jumper and Rodney gone and after checking in with the stable hands he discovered that they’d headed off into the forest for a walk about thirty minutes before he arrived. He resigned himself to waiting impatiently for them to come back. He paced restlessly in the stables until a nervous boy had lurched forward and stuttered that his energy and pacing were distressing some of the more sensitive horses and suggested perhaps he wait outside.

The boy visibly sagged with relief when John tersely nodded and headed to the pens to wait for Rodney.

When it started to rain, he began to worry. It wasn’t a hard or heavy rain, but it was solid, pouring down and soaking him quickly. He leaned against the side of the big barn, his eyes on the tree-line. When Rodney and ‘Jumper didn’t appear right away he reminded himself that Rodney probably wouldn’t have noticed the rain until it hit, and even then, he might have been at the far end of his walk and would have to make his way back. Rodney never went too far though, and after another half hour when he still hadn’t appeared with ‘Jumper in tow, John’s worry increased.

He’d gone with Rodney on only two walks, but he knew Rodney always took the same route or close to it. Rodney may like to explore strange and foreign things with his mind but with his body he preferred to keep things to the mundane. He never wandered too far from the stables, he told John, and always on the pathway. John decided to saddle up one of the horses and head out, meet Rodney halfway or close to it. No matter how distressed Rodney felt, how angry he was at John, he wouldn’t turn down a ride back to the stables where he could get warm and dry. ‘Jumper would be able to keep up with his long coltish legs and they could sort this all out over a hot drink, preferably in front of a fireplace.

John was nearly finished tacking up his horse when the same nervous stable boy from earlier came rushing up to him and said that ‘Jumper had just been spotted in the tree-line, but without Rodney. John rushed outside and saw one of the other stable hands already jogging out to corral the small black horse. Puddlejumper darted away from him quickly and stamped his feet, changing directions several times. The stable hand made deft leaps for ‘Jumper’s rein and finally snatched it up, leading him back to the stables.

“Is he all right?” John asked, heedless of the rain dripping into his face.

The stable hand nodded. “I think so, sir, but he’s a mite upset about something.”

John ran quick hands over the horse and didn’t find any injuries. “What happened, boy?” he murmured lowly, checking the gear and finding it all in place. ‘Jumper seemed fine, if distressed. It didn’t look like he’d been hurt. The horse pushed his wet face into John and stamped his feet again.

“How did you lose Rodney?” John questioned, not really meaning to say it out loud. At the name, ‘Jumper huffed. “Take him inside and brush him down. I’m heading out to find Rodney,” he said firmly. Leaving ‘Jumper in capable hands, John retrieved his saddled horse, mounted up and went into the forest.

The ground was wet and slick, but John was a competent, confident rider and his horse was no stranger to the rainy weather. He stuck to the path, not going as fast as he would have liked in order to ensure that he got a good view of the dense forestry on either side, searching for signs of Rodney. Worry made him clench his jaw tight and keep a fierce, white-knuckled grip on the reins. It was cold and wet and Rodney was out there somewhere.

His heart lurched painfully in his chest fifteen minutes later when he spotted Rodney lying prone on the ground, seemingly oblivious to the rain and the chill. John urged his horse faster and seconds later was next to Rodney, sliding off his horse fluidly and down to the ground where he fell to his knees heedless of the muck. He placed a careful hand on Rodney’s shoulder and felt it moving slightly as Rodney breathed in and out. John was nearly dizzy with relief.

“Rodney,” John said firmly, applying a light shake to Rodney’s shoulder. When nothing happened he said Rodney’s name louder and pressed down on his shoulder.

Rodney groaned lowly, hands twitching slightly as he blinked his eyes open. His face was lying inches from a puddle of rain water and John’s lungs clenched at the thought that Rodney could have easily drowned.

John felt a surge of relief as Rodney blinked back to consciousness, looking up at John blearily. He started to push himself upright and John cautioned him.

“Careful, are you hurt anywhere? What happened?”

With a grunt and some help from John, Rodney managed to push himself up and over. John cradled his head as he rolled to keep it from smacking on the ground. Rodney had a bloody gash on his forehead and John’s eyes darted over to the rock Rodney had been near, putting two and two together easily.

“I slipped. Fell. Hit m’head,” Rodney mumbled.

John’s lips curled up in a smile with relief at hearing Rodney’s surly tone. “You have to keep that head safe, buddy. It’s got a lot of important stuff inside it,” he said, his voice a little breathless. He pulled a wet handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped at the blood on Rodney’s head.

Rodney batted his hand away with a grimace. “S’all you care about. M’brain.” He tried to roll away from John but John held him easily still.

“I know you’re angry with me and I can explain everything but let’s get you back to the house first.”

“Lost Puddlejumper,” Rodney managed.

“He came back to the stables. That’s how I knew to come look for you. He was very upset to have lost you.”

“Slipped. Fell.”

“So you said,” agreed John easily. “Can you get up with help? And then we’ll have to get you on my horse.”

“Don’t need help,” Rodney groused and then he lurched to a seated position, pushing at John. John’s hands hovered helplessly around Rodney as he clumsily struggled to his feet, wincing as he placed his weight.

“Did you hurt your foot?”

“Ankle,” Rodney said tersely, swaying slightly. John steadied him with an arm and when Rodney tried to get away and nearly stumbled John pulled him close and gripped him tight.

“I know you’re not happy about this but let’s just get you back to the house. We’ll call Carson to have a look at you and then we’ll talk.”

“Don’t wanna talk.”

John huffed wryly. “Well, that’d be a first.”

It took a lot of groaning, grouching and cursing, but John finally managed to get Rodney up on the horse, leaning slightly forward. He swung up easily behind him and then eased the horse into a gentle canter back to the stable.

John paused briefly at the stables, not stopping to dismount, to let the men know he was taking Rodney up to the house and to ask one of them to ride into Atlantis and fetch Beckett. As one of the lads took off, John eased the horse back into a slow gait and headed up the slight slope.

Jeannie and the house staff met him at the front door. With the butler’s help and a heaping pile of cursing from Rodney about people with grabby hands they managed to get Rodney onto one of his feet. With one arm slung over John’s shoulder and the other over the butler, they hopped up the stairs while Jeannie tried to mop at Rodney’s brow with a dry handkerchief.

When they finally deposited Rodney on the bed, he snatched the cloth away from Jeannie to hold it to his own temple and she snatched it back.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she muttered.

“Oh yes, because I slipped and fell on purpose,” Rodney retorted.

Although John felt slightly useless standing at the foot of the bed, Rodney’s sharp tone made him feel better, normal.

“You may as well done it on purpose, being out there in the rain and the muck. Honestly, Mer.”

Rodney yanked the handkerchief back from her. “Don’t you have some needlepoint that requires your attention?”

Jeannie harumphed and started to work on unbuttoning his shirt.

“Hey, hey hey,” Rodney protested starting to slap at her hands.

“Oh please, what am I going to see, your midriff?” She rolled her eyes. “Be still my fragile sensibilities.”

“Jeannie.”

She pursed her lips. “You’re sitting there in wet clothes on the bed. If you won’t let me undress you, then John will have to do it.”

Rodney narrowed his eyes at her as the smug look came across her face. She stood up. “I trust I can leave you to it,” she said simply. With a little flounce she stood up, gave John a knowing look and left the bedroom.

Rodney avoided looking at John as he held the handkerchief to his forehead.

“I don’t need your help,” Rodney sneered.

“I wasn’t stealing your work,” John replied, figuring there was no point beating around the bush.

Rodney rolled his eyes nearly exactly the same way Jeannie had moments before. “I heard you. You and Zelenka, treacherous Bohemian bastard.”

“He was helping me pick what to publish.”

“I know, I told you, I heard!”

“Publish under your name,” John said loudly, hands gripping the footboard.

“Right. Because the laws of Atlantis changed last night while I was sleeping.”

“Of course not. But the laws of Asura are different.”

Rodney paused, his wary glance clearly indicating he wasn’t buying into anything John was saying.

“I’ve never heard of Asura.”

“Not many people have. Ronon and Teyla told me about it. If you have money, which I have, and you’re work is correct, which it is-”

“Of course my work is correct!” Rodney interrupted.

“Then you can pay to have it published. Under any name you want. Under your name.”

Rodney pressed his lips together. “I don’t believe you.”

John sighed and came around to the side of the bed, sitting on the edge. Rodney inched away from him.

“It’s true. I asked Radek to come over to help me choose the best of your papers to publish. Under your name.”

“Why? Why would you do that? Why do you care?”

John’s hand fisted in the sheet and he felt sick with nerves. “Because you’re brilliant and so is your work and it’s sitting there locked in a chest where no one will see it and… because… I love you,” he said quietly. 

The silence in the room was heavy. John couldn’t look at Rodney, intent on the sheet clenched in his hand, watching the fine grain of fabric stretch and distort under the pressure of his grip.

Rodney finally spoke, his voice soft and still mistrustful. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to surprise you.” John chanced a look up at Rodney. “Why would I lie to you now? What purpose would it serve?”

Rodney gave a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. But… people have been trying to take my work for years.”

“I know.” John took a chance and reached out, placing his hand on Rodney’s thigh and giving it a squeeze. “But I’m not one of them.”

He could see the battle going on inside Rodney’s head written all over his expressive face. Suspicion, doubt, tentative belief, exhaustion, apprehension, and then… maybe a little bit of scared trust.

“Published with my name on them?” Rodney asked, his voice hesitant.

John leaned forward, hope springing up in his chest. “Yes. Your name.”

Rodney frowned. “Well, I better check that hack’s choices before you send them off, god only knows what he picked.”

John’s grin felt like it might split his face wide open. He leaned over and kissed Rodney firmly, licking at his lips and he moaned in happiness when Rodney opened his mouth underneath him. He scooted up closer to Rodney on the bed, pressing his tongue deep into Rodney’s mouth, tasting and lapping at him.

“Now,” John said, his grin still wide, “let’s get you out of those wet things.”

***

Beckett declared the head would minor and the ankle only sprained. Rodney argued that it could hardly be minor, he’d lost consciousness for god’s sake and really, if all Carson was going to do was look into his eyes and check his pulse, Rodney should just ask for the horse doctor next time.

Carson replied that would be fine and when Rodney finally broke his leg, Carson would be sure to shed a tear when Rodney was shot.

By the time Halling sent up a tray of hot soup and tea with the little sandwiches Rodney loved dearly, Rodney was in warm dry clothes, and the bed linens had been replaced as well. Rodney was silent for a whole ten minutes while he ate and John vowed to give Halling a raise.

John took the finished tray from Rodney and set it outside the door turning back just in time to see Rodney shiver slightly.

“Cold?” he asked.

“A little” Rodney hedged.

John eagerly stripped down to nothing and crawled into bed under the covers. They both scooted downwards, adjusting until John was spooning Rodney, his chest to Rodney’s back. He pulled Rodney close.

“Jesus, you are cold!” he said, trying not to flinch at the press of chilled skin.

“Mmm,” Rodney answered, luxuriating in the warmth John produced. “I probably have hypothermia.”

John tossed a leg over Rodney’s and wiggled in closer until his hips were snug against Rodney’s equally bare ass. He tightened his arms around Rodney.

“Better?”

“Mmhmm,” Rodney murmured, tucking his chin down into the warmth and canting his own hips back against the cradle of John’s.

John really had shimmied into bed to warm Rodney up, but now with his cock pressed up against the round firmness of Rodney’s ass, it was a little hard to convince it that he was only there for warmth.

Fortunately, it seemed Rodney had the same idea and when he rocked his hips slightly in tiny, choppy movements against John, John felt his heartbeat speed up in anticipation. He pressed forward, his fingers tightening on the bones of Rodney’s hips to pull him back even closer, harder.

The tension that John didn’t realize he was still holding onto eased slowly out of his shoulders and spine with each thrust of their hips. He heard Rodney’s breathing increase and catch every now and then. He released Rodney's hip to trail his hand up and over his chest, fingers pausing to tease one of Rodney’s nipples before he slid his hand down further, finally wrapping around Rodney’s cock. Rodney let out a low moan of pleasure and as he moved his hips back and forth. He fisted Rodney in the same rhythm; slow and unhurried, but hard.

He felt Rodney’s arm reach around him and clutch at his flank and he pressed kisses against the knobby base of Rodney’s spine, mouthing at the flesh.

Rodney was whispering his name, repeatedly over and over, his fingers digging into John’s flesh where he gripped him tight. John couldn’t help but let out a low, almost guttural whine, rocking against Rodney steadily harder, pre-come slicking between Rodney’s cheeks and making each stroke slicker than the last. His dick slid between the flesh of Rodney’s ass, hot and soft. Rodney’s breath caught and he gasped out John’s name spilling hot and thick over John’s fingers, still pushing back into John.

Hearing Rodney say his name that way, desire and pleasure lacing the tone, John felt everything in his groin tighten almost painfully and he came, his hips stuttering, tongue lapping at Rodney’s neck, lips mouthing sloppily on his skin.

They lay there silent and the final bit of tension that had crept into his spine and dug its claws in when he learned of their misunderstanding finally seeped away.

“I love you too, you know.”

Rodney’s quiet words spread into John’s chest and made him smile, his lips still against Rodney’s spine.

***

John loved Rodney. But if his published papers didn’t arrive today, someone was going to die.

He just wasn’t sure who yet.

Rodney’s papers passed scientific review easily and were sent for type-setting and printing. John was told it would take about four to six weeks.

They were at the start of the fifth week and Rodney would bounce around during breakfast, waiting to see if a carriage came up the drive. After taking Puddlejumper for his walk, Rodney would race back up to the main house to see if anything had arrived while he was gone. He’d then go to work in his office, poking his head out every hour or so to inquire if anything had yet been delivered. He rushed to the front door several times a day, certain he heard horse-hoofs coming up the drive.

Then, by the end of the day, he’d mope around dejected and woe be the person who tried to tell him that it was still well-within the projected time and they would come soon.

That person was usually John. He either got snapped at or ended up on the receiving end of the most woebegone look the world had ever seen.

When the large delivery carriage pulled up to the house, John thought he saw one of the maids crying in relief.

He knew exactly how she felt.

He accepted the large box and put it prominently in the middle of Rodney’s study. This box would only contain ten copies of each paper that were Rodney’s to distribute as he wished. The rest of the published work was being sent to bookshops and scientific communities around Atlantis.

Rodney rushed in from his walk with Puddlejumper half an hour later.

“Did they come? Anything?” he asked John breathlessly.

“Yes.”

“Yes?” Rodney repeated and just stood there dumbstruck. “Really?”

“Really,” John said, trying not to laugh at the look on Rodney’s face.

Rodney nearly pushed John aside to run to his study. It was the fastest John had ever seen him move.

“Scissors, scissors, Jesus, why don’t I own a pair of scissors?” Rodney was muttering as he tossed his desk.

John pulled out a knife he’d filched from the kitchen and cleared his throat. He waggled the blade when Rodney looked up at him.

Rodney snatched it from his hand, knelt on the ground and attacked the box like a rabid dog. Tossing the string and wrapping paper aside, he finally, reverently, opened the box and stared.

Frowning, John stepped over and knelt by his side. Rodney tugged at John’s sleeve.

“Look. I’m published.”

Small Particle Physics - An Examination and Hypothesis Regarding the Building Blocks of Matter - MR McKay.

“Yes, you are,” John said. He was wholly unprepared when Rodney launched himself over, clasping his arms around John, knocking them both to the ground. John laughed.

“Thank you,” Rodney whispered, his breath ghosting against John’s ear.

“You’re welcome.”

Just as quickly as he had assaulted John, Rodney pushed off him, his focus back on the box, pulling out all his copies and arranging them neatly in five little stacks of ten around him.

“I want to keep one of each for myself and a set for Jeannie of course. But I’m not sure how many I should keep for the children.”

“What children?” John asked bewildered, pushing himself back to his knees.

“Why, Jeannie’s children, of course. They should know first hand of the spectacular legacy from which they come.”

“Jeannie doesn’t have kids.”

Rodney rolled his eyes. “Not now. But she probably will.”

“Then we’ll get more copies made,” John said with a shrug.

“But these are first edition copies. They’ll be priceless!”

At the outraged look on Rodney’s face, John could only laugh again. “I love you,” he said somewhat goofily.

Rodney grinned. “I know. I love you too.”


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