SquidgeWorld Archive

Strangely Familiar
by JiM

That crooked mouth was good for something besides smiling tiredly and soaking up gin and tonics, Ryan thought happily, allowing his fingers to tangle in the man's fine hair. The hands that had moved so quickly in conversation were now skimming slowly up and down Ryan's forearms, the light stimulation a delightful, maddening counterpoint to a damned fine blowjob.

All in all, it was turning out to be a much-better-than-expected night. Dinner with his parents and his peripatetic cousin hadn't exactly been high on his list of Saturday night plans. Oh, he loved his parents and his cousin, too, but not even a meal in one of the finer restaurants in New York could transform his parents' unwavering discomfort with anything having to do with his professional or private life into an amusing family evening. Neither the runaway success of his TV series or his self-care product line could convince them that he wasn't just wasting his life. Of course, the lack of a steady boyfriend also worried them audibly. His colleagues on the show found it moderately hysterical that his parents were far more disturbed by the fact that he was a nationally-known hair stylist than by the fact that he was recognized coast-coast as a queer.

Conversation at dinner had been necessarily stilted. His parents wouldn't talk about Ryan's life and John couldn't talk about his. John had been out of touch for over two years this time and apparently, it was mostly classified. Wherever he had been, he had seen a lot of sun, eaten some pretty poor food and lost a lot of sleep. Ryan had watched him start to bolt his food several times before visibly stopping himself, putting down his utensils and sipping his one self-rationed glass of wine slowly. The smile he had turned on his aunt and uncle had been bright, charming and utterly false. Ryan, who knew his cousin better than most, had quirked an eyebrow in question. John had given a minute shake of his head and shrugged quickly. He let it drop, accepting John's tacit promise to discuss it later.

But, after putting his parents into a taxi at the curb, Ryan had taken a really good look at his cousin and decided that it could wait.

"You look like hell. Jet lag?"

John had smiled and, even through the yawn, Ryan could see there was no humor in it. "Like you wouldn't believe."

"Why don't I pick you up tomorrow around 10 and we'll go to brunch and you can tell me what's really been going on with you?"

"S'classified."

"Then you'll tell me the non-classified parts. I'll tell you why you're being an idiot. It'll be just like old times."

John had smiled at him, he had grinned back, and then they were hugging like the boys they had been. John was too skinny, but his arms were just as strong as they had always been. Ryan had patted him on the back, said, "See you tomorrow," and sent him upstairs to bed.

The bar off the hotel lobby looked quietly inviting and it was still early, so Ryan took himself in for a drink. The place was mostly empty, save for two men sitting at the end of the long oak bar. He had slid into a seat, smiled winningly at the bored bartender and ordered a martini. Nothing fancy, just a plain, lovely martini with a twist. The two men at the other end of the bar had been talking rapidly over one another, grabbing at a single cocktail napkin between them, scribbling furiously before slapping the bar or stabbing petulant fingers at one another as they made some point or other. The smaller man kept running a single hand through his hair, rumpling it wildly as he argued. The other hand, when not engaged in scratching out whatever his colleague had written on the battered napkin, had been busy pushing his old-fashioned glasses back up his nose.

"Rodney, as always, you do not listen. Without a converter, it will overload and the whole city will explode like fireworks!"

"Look, I keep telling you, we don't need a converter if we simply route the power through here," a stab at the napkin, "and here."

The other man had sat back, folded his arms with a mulish expression and said, in heavily accented English, "It will not work, Rodney. You need a converter to stabilize the natural fluctuations. Find me something to convert the energy into a more stable output and I will sing your praises. If you don't, I will curse your name when you blow me up, along with the rest of the city."

"You already curse my name, Radek. Don't think I don't hear you mumbling in Czech every time." The intense look had faded slightly to a tired smile.

The wild-haired foreign academic type had grinned back. "I never curse you, Rodney. Always, it is your mother and father I refer to."

As performance art, Ryan had found it fairly amusing and he had snorted softly. The sound was loud enough to carry and the two men had looked up and seen him. Their mouths had opened and the shorter one had started to say, "Col..." before trailing off, looking confused. The broader one, Rodney, had stared, blinked once, then looked away, a slow flush climbing his face. Well, that was an interesting reaction, Ryan had thought, possibly even a promising one. As long as the man wasn't a fan. Even people who starred on reality makeover shows had to contend with star-fuckers and he was tired of having his underwear stolen by his dates and sold on E-Bay before the hangover had even faded.

The shorter man had gotten up clutching the tattered napkin in his hand, muttered something to Rodney and begun to walk toward him. Ryan prepared himself to smile, chat pleasantly and sign his autograph. But as he had come even with Ryan, the man had said, "Forgive me, I did not mean to stare, but you remind me of a coworker. The resemblance is quite remarkable." He had kept walking and Ryan had watched him out of the bar, aware that he had probably looked slightly foolish. Well, he hadn't wanted to be recognized, had he?

"I hope you don't have a thing for Czech engineers; his dance card is full," the acerbic tone had carried down the length of the bar.

When he turned back, the other man, Rodney, had been staring at him with piercing blue eyes. Maybe there was a hint of defiant invitation, maybe not. He had decided to test the waters some. "Why, do a lot of men want to 'dance' with Czech engineers?"

"You have no idea," the other man had sighed, staring at his fingers rubbing a long line up and down the side of his glass. "It's the Geek-Chic thing; the little bastard has it in spades, apparently. He's dating a Marine; last month, it was a trauma surgeon and a nurse."

"Have you dated him?"

Rodney had looked convincingly horrified and Ryan had just concluded that he wasn't being picked up that night when the man said, "God, no. It would be like dating my sister!"

"He reminds you of your sister?"

"I don't have a brother," Rodney had muttered, scowling slightly at the laughter in Ryan's voice. "Besides, you'd have to know my sister."

Ryan knew a good opening line when he heard one. He had picked up his drink and headed down the bar, seating himself on the departed Czech's stool. "Well, let me meet her brother first. I'm Ryan." He had held out a hand.

It had been taken and gripped firmly in a callused hand. "Rodney."

Ryan had held on a little longer, then let go, smiling slightly at Rodney's stare. "So, why are you drinking here on a Saturday night with your sister, Rodney?"

The other man had snorted, then smiled crookedly. "I've spent two solid days arguing with the idiots that the UN calls scientists. I expect to spend most of next week doing the same thing. I don't know anyone else in town that isn't sleeping. You?"

"Family dinner. Ended early for a Saturday night, too late to get a date."

"I wouldn't think that would be much of a problem for you," Rodney had said frankly, that slightly defiant invitation back in his eyes.

"I'm sort of hoping that, too, Rodney."

He thinks that maybe the shit-eating grin was what did it. A half-wary smile, a twenty dollar bill thrown onto the bar and then Rodney had been leading him upstairs to his room.

Rodney turns out to be a good lover, inventive and attentive. His fingers explore and caress, calling sensation from surprising parts of Ryan's skin. He is also vocal, in a strangled whisper that gives Ryan delightful shivers as it plays against his skin. His arms are well muscled, his mouth tastes like gin and his ass is a solid double-handful.

Ryan likes Rodney's frank appreciation of every caress he gives him. He is charmed by Rodney's eager blush and stammer when Ryan asks to fuck him. He laughs out loud when Rodney grumbles as he gets up and goes into the bathroom to raid his shaving kit for condoms and lube.

"Don't laugh - I haven't needed these in so long they could be dried up like pork rinds." He tosses a strip of foil packets and a single-serving cell of Wet onto Ryan's chest and plunks back onto the bed beside him.

"And here I thought this was because of my amazing lovemaking skills," Ryan reaches down and curls his hand in a light caress around Rodney's thick and eager red cock.

Rodney gasps and his fingers curl into the coverlet beneath him. "That and the fact that you're fucking beautiful," he manages to get out between gritted teeth.

For that untutored and heartfelt compliment, Ryan kisses Rodney until he's whining softly and rubbing his leaking cock up against Ryan's thigh. "C'mon," he mutters, moving restlessly against him as Ryan rolls a condom onto himself, then bites open the little packet of lubricant.

Rodney drops onto his back with gratifying speed, spreading his legs and hooking one ankle around Ryan's waist to pull him closer. He doesn't want slow and careful loosening, he wants hard fucking right NOW and Ryan is perfectly happy to give it to him.

He slides into Rodney with a long, slow push that has them both breathing out noisily. Rodney is biting his lower lip and his eyes are closed, so Ryan holds still, waiting for Rodney to adjust. When his eyes flutter open, Ryan grins at him and pushes just a little deeper. Rodney gasps, then curls his other leg around Ryan's waist, smirking at Ryan's huff of surprise as he is pulled deeper still.

And then they are moving together and it is straining, sweaty, sticky and fun.

Rodney comes first, his hand moving busily between their bodies. His orgasm quirks his hips in just that perfect twist that sends Ryan soaring, ramming home into Rodney with a groan. Then they are laughing and panting and Ryan is pulling out of Rodney's ass, shaky fingers keeping the condom on until he can flop sideways onto the bed.

The air-conditioned breeze raises goose bumps on their sweaty skin and Rodney's nipples are bright red and standing straight up. Ryan reaches over and gives one a friendly tug, grinning at Rodney's breathless grumble. One of Rodney's muscular arms reaches down and pulls Ryan closer, slick skin catching against his own. Blunt fingers skim up and down Ryan's arm, pleasantly soothing.

They lay together, listening to the air conditioner hiss and their own breathing for a while. Then Rodney sighs and rolls to his feet, standing and blinking unsteadily for a moment before stumbling off to the bathroom. Ryan lies and listens to his own pulse humming happily through his veins, hears the toilet flush and the water running in the sink. The condom is clammy and loose on him. Now is the time that he should start getting himself up and ready to go. But before he moves, Rodney is back and a warm wet cloth is being dropped onto his stomach. Careful fingers remove the condom and he feels the bed shift as Rodney stretches to reach the trashcan. Then Ryan is being gently bathed and he sighs contentedly and enjoys Rodney's kindness.

"You want to stay?"

Ryan manages to crack open an eye to check Rodney's expression and make certain the offer is genuine and not merely good manners. Rodney is yawning, one loose fist barely covering his mouth. Ryan opens his mouth to reply and finds himself gaping just as hugely. Rodney just grins at that and pokes him until he slides over enough for him to pull down the covers and get them both into bed. They punch at pillows and yank at the blankets until they are both comfortable, settling down with Rodney's head on Ryan's shoulder. Rodney's hand fumbles for the light switch and he mumbles "Thanks," before apparently dropping into sleep. Ryan smiles up into the sparkling darkness for a moment, then he, too, falls asleep.

He woke early, as usual. Watery gray light filtered through the sheer curtains and Ryan stretched in contentment. Rodney slept on beside him, face mashed into his pillow and his breathing steady and deep. Ryan smiled at him and slid out of bed as quietly as he could. In the bathroom, he took a quick sponge bath, borrowed a dab of Rodney's toothpaste and brushed his teeth with his finger, then took a swipe of Rodney's deodorant, finger-combed his hair and judged that he could be seen in public. He was starving and nothing but a huge breakfast was going to do and soon.

In the dimness of the hotel room, Rodney was still deeply asleep, so Ryan scribbled a jaunty "Thanks!" on a hotel notepad, signed it and left the note in a prominent position beside the lamp. He let himself out, pushed the "Do Not Disturb" card into the electronic key slot and wandered down the hall, whistling tunelessly.

Once down in the lobby, he checked the time and figured that John was military - he ought to be able to deal with being awakened at 7:22 a.m. He found a blue house phone and asked the operator to connect him with Col. John Sheppard.

John's voice was a little too crisp when he answered and Ryan knew he'd awakened him from a sound sleep.

"Breakfast time, bro. Up and at 'em."

"Do you know what time it is, you lunatic?"

"Breakfast time. What room are you in?"

"1420. I'm ordering room service and you're paying for it," John snapped then slammed the phone down.

Ryan hung up and headed back to the elevators, again whistling softly. It struck him as funny that he was heading right back to the floor from which he had come. As he strolled down the sedate blue carpeted hallway on the 14th floor and passed Rodney's door again, he spared a happy thought for the man with whom he had spent the night. When he noticed that John's room was the next one down, his slight smile deepened into a smirk. Very convenient but he wouldn't bother mentioning it to John, who was as open-minded as any straight guy could be but would probably still balk at knowing anything exact about his cousin's sex life. It was only fair - he didn't particularly care to know anything about John's sex life, either.

He picked up the complimentary newspaper left outside the door. A quick tap on the door brought him the sight of his cousin, yawning and rubbing at the back of his neck. Blue sweatpants and a gray undershirt showed just how skinny John had gotten. The dark circles under his eyes were emphasized by his unshaven cheeks and jaw. John just waved him into the room, jaw still gaping in another yawn.

"So, what's for breakfast?"

"For you? Cream of wheat, dry toast and sour milk."

Ryan grimaced, remembering the time when he'd been left to care for his 12 year-old cousin all alone over the weekend. He had been 14 and very proud of the responsibility, even a little inclined to lord it over John, at least until the first breakfast had rolled around. Glutinous cold cream of wheat, blackened toast and a large glass of milk that had turned because Ryan had left it out all one Louisiana summer night. Thank God there had still been Oreos and Tang in the pantry and frozen TV dinners in the fridge or they might have starved before his parents had come back the next evening.

"It's not fair to hold that against me. I've gotten to be a much better cook since then. Besides, I made it up to you!"

And he had. He'd taken John out for pizza four times that summer in apology. It didn't take much to gain John's forgiveness.

"Relax, I got you fruit and yogurt and you can have half of my pancakes."

"Excellent."

He watched John take a few distracted steps around the room before waving vaguely at the bathroom. "I'm gonna...gotta go..."

Ryan made shoo-ing motions with his hands and sat down in one of the room's armchairs to wait. He paged through the newspaper, barely listening to the toilet flush and then the splashes and absent-minded humming as his cousin showered. When room service delivered breakfast, Ryan paid without complaint but with a slight wince. He set breakfast up on the coffee-table, surveying the effect with pleasure. John had remembered to order herbal tea for Ryan even as he'd ordered a double-serving of coffee for himself.

"Yo, Sheppard, let's speed it up in there," Ryan called in a jubilant rendition of his own father's long-ago attempts to get his young nephew out of the shower before all the hot water had drained from the tank. The muffled curse he heard in response was certainly something his father had never heard from young Johnny Sheppard.

John added more clearly, "And keep it down, you lunatic. There are people sleeping around here."

Ryan thought about Rodney, sleeping soundly next door and grinned.

The door to the bathroom opened and John came wandering back in a moist cloud of Old Spice-scented steam. His damp hair was sticking up everywhere and Ryan shook his head mentally over its condition as John carelessly pulled on underwear and a pair of blue jeans. Watching John's tousled head pop through the neck hole of a faded blue sweatshirt like a demented gopher made him chuckle.

"What?" John's disgruntled expression melted away at the first sip of hot coffee.

"Who the hell's been cutting your hair, John, a Marine drill sergeant with a Flowbee?"

He murmured something into his cup that might have been, "She's an ordinance specialist," but Ryan decided not to pursue it.

"Why are you in such a good mood, anyway? And you're three hours early." John flipped a pancake onto Ryan's plate and proceeded to add enough butter and strawberry jam to the stack left on his own plate to make Ryan say a quick prayer for his cousin's circulatory system. He was still drizzling granola over his yogurt when he heard John's sudden snort and chuckle of comprehension. "You dog."

"One of the perks of being a single man in the city."

"It didn't work out with...Michael?"

Ryan shrugged and sipped his orange-scented tea. "Nope. But I'm over it. What about you, anyone special?"

John just shook his head and drank more coffee.

"Not even the ordinance specialist?" he teased and was interested to see John shudder at the very thought. He was even more interested to see the corners of John's mouth turn down a fraction before he pasted on a grin and said, "Hey, remember that time when..."

And they were off, reminiscing about boyhood hijinks.

It was an hour before Ryan was able to steer the conversation back to John in the present tense. "I know that most of your life is classified, John, but ... what's wrong?"

John blew out a breath and looked anywhere but at his cousin. Looking at his hunched shoulders, Ryan made a tactical move. He got up, slapped John on the shoulder and pointed to the desk chair. "Sit." He flexed his fingers meaningfully and John nodded after a moment. He stripped off his sweatshirt and tossed it on the bed, then went to sit where he was told, straddling the chair to leave his back accessible. Turning him to face the mirror over the desk, Ryan started to massage his shoulders, not really surprised at the shuddering tension he found just below the surface.

He had practiced on John many times as he worked toward his certification as a massage therapist and it stood him in good stead now. John's eyes closed and he seemed to let go of his mask as Ryan's strong hands worked over his shoulders and upper arms.

"It's not all wrong," John said quietly after a while. Ryan just hummed and started tracing the tight muscles banded over John's shoulder blade. Encouraged, John continued speaking.

"I got promoted." He gave a short laugh that jerked his left shoulder up. "I never thought it would happen. And it shouldn't have. But it did. And I'm doing... ok with it.

"I work with good people, Ry. Really good. The shit we have to face -- you'd think they'd just curl up and die, but most of them just hang in there and give as good as they get."

"And?" Ryan prompted after a long silence.

"And it's been hard and scary as hell and some parts have been really bad, but I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"So?" Ryan dug his thumbs into the nerve bundles on either side of the spine to release the locked in tension he found near the scapulae. John groaned and pushed back into Ryan's hands.

"I think I'm about to screw it up."

Ryan sighed and gentled his massage some, thinking about what John had said. The fact that he could sabotage himself faster than anyone Ryan had ever known had been apparent since they were pre-teens. High school, college, the Academy and the service and there had always been those moments when John simply had to "screw it up". Ryan blamed John's father, at least he had when they were kids. They were adults now, though, and John had made his own decisions for a very long time. He had made some spectacularly bad ones, however.

But the fact that John was actually thinking about it seemed new.

"Why do you want to?"

John groaned and dropped his head onto his hands which were clenching the back of the chair. "I don't, that's the point."

Ryan let his hands slow to a stop and just left them over the quivering muscles of John's back, warming and soothing, thumbs barely moving. "But..." he prompted.

John took a deep breath, shoulders rising and falling under Ryan's palms. The muffled words that came next weren't anything he'd been expecting.

"When did you know you were gay?"

"John?"

His cousin lifted his head and met his gaze in the mirror. His jaw was set as he waited for a reaction to his oblique declaration. And that's what it was -- Ryan knew him well enough to figure that out. He smiled gently.

"Switching teams kinda late in the game, aren't you?" He started tracing the wire-tight muscles up John's neck to his scalp.

"Surprised the hell out of me," John said ruefully.

Ryan decided to jump ahead a few chapters. "Does he want you to leave the Air Force?"

John shook his head. "He doesn't know."

"So the gay thing is..."

"Theoretical, right now."

"OK, let's review the bidding here, bro. You're in the Air Force. You have a tough but challenging command that you love. You have even been promoted beyond where you thought you'd get. You're asking me if you should explore your theoretical bisexuality even though you know it's likely to get you thrown out of the Air Force." Ryan's acerbic tone made it clear what he thought of the situation.

"Well, it's not like I'm asking you if I should go out cruising the West Village," John snapped, pulling away from Ryan's hands.

More serious than he'd thought, then.

"Who is he?" He firmly pulled John back into a position where he could start a gentle scalp massage through the still-damp hair. He watched John's eyes fall closed, almost against his will.

"A friend."

"Military?"

"No...a civilian contractor. Scientist. Smart as hell, Ryan. And brave. He's always whining about being in danger and then he walks straight into the shitstorm... he's saved my life and everyone else's a lot."

Interesting. Ryan had been expecting to hear a catalog of the guy's physical attributes. John's past girlfriends and ex-wife had always been introduced by their looks before he'd ever been told about who they really were.

"Is he gay?"

John shook his head. "He goes for women; pretty and smart is his type."

"Could be bi," Ryan offered. "After all, you are."

"Theoretically," John snorted as Ryan let his second and third fingers lightly circle John's temples. "Maybe it's just a weird crush or something?" He opened his eyes and looked vaguely hopeful.

"You're not in high school any more, John. How long?"

"About a year, maybe a year and a half."

Not a crush, then. Ryan poked John to sit up straighter, then pulled him back to rest against his abdomen while he started to massage his face. John's eyes closed again.

"So, what's the worst case scenario?"

John snorted again. "I could tell him how I feel, he could be disgusted, report me to my commander and I could be court-martialed and sent to Leavenworth for being a fag."

Ryan winced. OK -- he'd gotten John to consider the most extreme results, time to bring him back to the realm of the much more likely. "He's your friend. Do you really think he'd do that?"

John's lip pulled to the side. "No, he wouldn't. But it could really ruin our friendship. And, even if he wanted me... we'd probably screw up and I'd get outed and stripped of my command."

Ryan let his fingertips begin slowly and carefully teasing out the tension in his cousin's jaw muscles. He would bet that John ground his teeth in his sleep.

"What happens if you do nothing? Don't tell him and just keep things as they are?"

The jaw under his fingers tightened alarmingly. "I don't think I can keep doing it, Ry. It's just getting harder," John said quietly. "He's so bad with women and I keep watching him get shot down. That's even worse than when he actually finds one that's interested in him. Weird, huh?"

It wasn't weird at all. It was classic John Sheppard, hurting when his friends hurt, willing to suffer in silence until he broke, unable to reach out for what he wanted, too willing to settle for what crumbs he could get.

"Ah, Johnny," Ryan said, bending and wrapping his arms around his cousin. John let out a shuddering breath and reached an arm up and back to hold on to Ryan's neck as he rested his chin on John's shoulder.

How long they might have remained there mourning John's impossible love life was anyone's guess. But there was the sound of the connecting door being thrust open and a familiar voice speaking rapidly, mid-sentence.

"Colonel, up and at 'em, there's a breakfast bar downstairs calling our names."

"Rodney!"

"Ryan?"

"McKay!"

"What?"

Ryan wondered if they looked as stupid as they sounded. A quick glance in the mirror showed John looking stricken between laughter and irritation. Ryan himself just looked knowledgeably guilty. Rodney's fish-mouth and his huge eyes darting between the two of them probably cinched it for the win, though.

"I...um, I should go. Sorry to have...bye!" He retreated through the connecting door. The slam made both of them jump.

John gave a deep sigh and dropped his head back onto his hands. Ryan found himself echoing it as he straightened up slowly. John's voice was muffled as he asked,

"Do I want to know how you know Rodney McKay?"

"He's the guy?"

Of course he was.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news, John?"

"Good news. I could use some good news." John still wasn't looking up.

"I'm pretty sure he's not going to be disgusted when you tell him how you feel."

John raised his head. From the way he was staring at him in the mirror; Ryan could tell he wouldn't have to tell him the bad news. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Sorry." And he was, some. But Rodney had been a lot of fun.

"I never knew he was gay. Bi. Whatever."

There was a silence, then something occurred to Ryan. "You've known him how long?"

"Almost 5 years."

"And you never even suspected he might go both ways?"

John shook his head and Ryan started to grin. He grabbed his cousin and turned him around so they were face to face.

"So I guess he must be pretty good at keeping secrets?" He gave John a little shake, hoping he'd get it.

When he saw the light coming up in John's eyes, he knew he had. "Go get him," he said, squeezed John's shoulders and stepped back.

Without another word, John got up, strode across the room and was through the connecting door.

There was a mumble of voices growing steadily in volume. Before long, whole phrases were audible.

"--- Colonel Seduction!"

Mumble, mumble.

"-- slept with my cousin!"

Ryan winced. More mumbling, as if one of them was pacing toward and away from the connecting wall.

"Not my fault --- cloned...?"

"Rodney!"

Then there was a thump and silence. A lot more silence. To Ryan, waiting in his cousin's empty hotel room, it began to sound like a very busy kind of silence.

He reached for the scratch pad beside the phone and scribbled out his cell phone number and the words 'CALL ME', then left it in the middle of the unmade bed. He gathered up the breakfast dishes onto the room service tray and took it outside with him when he left.

Starting down the hallway, he paused a moment outside Rodney's door. Still very quiet in there. He grinned and touched a hand to the Do Not Disturb card as if in blessing. He suspected that Rodney had an awful lot to teach John. He was really looking forward to hearing from his cousin soon.

end