"You're a moron, Sheppard, you do know that, right?" Rodney usually resorted to insults when he was stressed and confused; he was neither at that very moment. He truly thought John was being an idiot. It wasn't in his nature to hold back, and couch his thoughts in generalities, or pleasantries – he said it as he meant it. Sometimes this backfired and exploded in his face, creating more problems than those he was attempting to solve.

Like now. Rodney watched as John's neck relaxed, at least for a moment, before he tightened his entire body to roll over and face Rodney.

"What the fuck? Who pissed in your Wheaties, Rodney?"

Oops. Odds of an imminent explosion definitely not in Rodney's favor. Offensive tactical maneuver number two operational as of right now. And clearly he spent too much time with the military if that was how he was thinking.

"Oh, that's nice." Sarcasm was always a good offensive tool, Rodney found.

"You started it."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"What are you, four?"

"Five. The question still stands – what the hell did I do?"

"See? This is why I don't talk to people." Rodney knew he sounded petulant, but really, it was so annoying having to explain himself all the time. "Not only are they too stupid to bother with, they're also childish and immature. It's clearly not worth my time and considerable talent."

"McKay." Only now John sounded pissed, instead of surprised, and Rodney decided that prudence was the better part of valor here, and it might be a good idea to tell John exactly why he'd called him an idiot. Even with John lying down and cocooned in a sleeping bag, Rodney didn't fancy his chances if the man decided to attack.

"Okay, keep your hair on, Colonel Impatient. You're a moron because if you want me, all you have to do is ask me."

John stared at Rodney for a full five seconds, his mouth hanging open in astonishment, before his mouth snapped closed, his face shut down, and Rodney swore the temperature in the tent dropped at least another five degrees – Celsius, even – as his glare became downright icy.

"What the hell makes you think… Jesus, McKay, you can't… I'm not… Fuck." John was looking more and more pissed as he tried to finish a sentence. Rodney was starting to wonder if he'd made a massive tactical blunder to rival that of Custer, perhaps. Last stand on a hilltop, or tent as the case may be – not the way he was looking to go. Regardless of what John might feel toward him, it was looking as if he would rather not deal with it at all. Classic John Sheppard, really – avoidance of anything personal, at all costs.

Well, fuck that. This concerned Rodney, too. His track record with relationships wasn't any better than John's, either here in Pegasus, or back on Earth. And unlike John Sheppard, Rodney was under no illusions as to his looks. He was damn sure that if anybody was attracted to him, it wasn't for the hair on his head, or his body. His only physical draw, in his mind, was his height, and John even trumped him in that department. Life was patently unfair.

Of course, the cards were well stacked in his favor when it came to brains, and some did fall for that. Both Katie and Jennifer were intelligent women – in their own fields – and they respected Rodney for his mind, a fact that not many laid claim to. Sadly, they also spent all their free time either trying to change him, or too afraid to speak up for themselves. It took far too long for Rodney to see that that sort of behaviour was just not going to work for him. It really wasn't a good basis for a lasting relationship.

John was blessed with both brains and balls enough to stand up to Rodney, and didn't see the need to change Rodney's behaviour. He appeared to like Rodney just fine – although therein lay the problem. He liked Rodney, and refused to admit it. Well, no more. If John wasn't going to admit it, or act on his feelings, then Rodney would just have to be the aggressor.

With that thought uppermost in his mind – well, that and the very real, possible prospect of immediate bodily injury should John turn violent – Rodney lifted his upper body up off the ground and looked down at John. It would be rather like assaulting the Great Wall of China with a knife and fork, but Rodney knew it was now or never. Man up, or wuss out forever. Now that the words had been spoken, he couldn't take them back. He had to act on what he'd said at this moment, or their friendship was ruined for all time.

He didn't give John time to blink, or open his mouth, or anything. He simply leaned forward and pressed their mouths together, letting his weight settle over John in a more-than-likely vain attempt to hold him in place.

Really, having Rodney in the tent was awesome and awful, all rolled together. John was no longer cold, as the temperature just seemed to immediately climb by ten degrees whenever Rodney was close, yet he was still as tight as all hell, thanks to the fact that Rodney was just too close. His dream come true, and his worst nightmare manifested, that was Rodney McKay. Or maybe it was just John's own fucked up response to the man. Chalk it up to the fact that he wanted Rodney, and didn't know what to do about it – or even know why he wanted him in the first place, considering he'd never been one to even look at a man before. It was obviously just Rodney that was flipping John's metaphorical switches.

And it seemed all his switches were turned to the 'on' position now. John was so hard, he ached. For his straight friend. John, the straight military man, had a dick like a steel rod for his straight best friend. He was so fucking fucked. And that thought just conjured up images that certainly didn't help. If John was by himself, he could maybe do something about it, but no, Rodney was directly behind him, and just a little too close for John to be pushing his hand down into his sleeping bag. It would be far too obvious. Yeah, John had learned over the years to take care of his needs quickly and quietly because of others being nearby, but he'd never been infatuated with any of them. He'd never had to worry that his self-control would fail and he'd want to roll toward his fantasy and just pounce. And John had certainly never had to take care of himself with a tent mate just a couple of inches behind his back – again, a tent mate that he found himself lusting after.

"You're a moron, you do know that, right?"

What the fuck? Where the hell did McKay get off calling him stupid? Well, that sort of talk just automatically brought the child out in John, and it was no hardship to respond accordingly. It was all he could do not to poke his tongue out at Rodney as their back and forth degenerated into a repetition of 'Did not, did too'.

Of course, John really wasn't expecting McKay to out him as he did, telling John to go ahead, and be bold and ask. Just because John was harboring a secret desire for McKay didn't mean he was going to act on it, and it was a hell of a shock to know that McKay knew of his longing. And back the fucking truck up – McKay was straight, wasn't he? So where the hell did he get off even suggesting such a thing to John? It was completely out of character.

This was why Rodney leaning up over John and pressing his lips against John's… well, setting him on fire would be an understatement. How to react, though? John was melting, yes, but frozen in place. Oh, and that needed to change quickly, because Rodney was pulling back, and he really didn't want that to happen, not now. No, now that Rodney had taken charge – and thank god he had, because John knew he'd never have done it – John wanted this to continue, despite his little rant of just a minute ago. He thought he'd been hard when Rodney was just breathing on the back of his neck, but no – just this quick, tight press of lips on lips had John feeling like he could pound nails.

Rodney was staring at him, his eyes warm, but wary. Okay, he could do this. If McKay – Rodney – could be bold enough to act, then John could return the favor, and at the very least, kiss him back. Maybe even more, if he could find his much vaunted courage – although probably not so much through two thick sleeping bags, and two pairs of BDU's. But John needed to do whatever he was going to do quickly, because Rodney was pulling away, his expressive eyes showing disappointment and maybe even a touch of fear now.

Dragging his courage up from his toes – couldn't be from his boots, they were at the end of the tent – John lifted a hand and gently touched Rodney's cheek, sliding his fingers down to his jaw and then along to his lips. He could feel it in his fingertips as Rodney sucked in air, and could hear a quiet gasp as he pressed a little firmer against the plump flesh of Rodney's lips.

Rodney wasn't a genius for nothing; he got the message immediately. His mouth opened, just far enough that John's fingers could be slipped in to the moist heat within. Rodney immediately closed his lips around them, sucking lightly and running his tongue around the tips. It was glorious, and made John's head swim with lust and desire. Reluctantly, he pulled his fingers free, trailing them around Rodney's jaw to cradle the back of his head and tug him down to meet his own mouth. It was time to kiss again, to really kiss, with teeth and tongue and full-on intent.

With a groan, Rodney crashed down on him, his hands settling on either side of John's head. Their mouths slanted back and forth, their tongues danced and duelled, and neither cared that oxygen grew shorter. Even through the two sleeping bags, they were pressed tight together, rocking frantically in a futile bid to feel some sort of physical relief. John didn't think to stop kissing Rodney long enough to wriggle free, however. When the thought finally crossed his mind, it was too late; Rodney jerked to a stop above him, breaking off the kiss to gasp in much needed air, his entire body rigid. Just watching him, and feeling his weight along his entire body, hips shuddering convulsively, John too fell over the precipitous cliff edge, which was sort of amazing really, considering the thickness of the material that separated them. Blinding lights, shaking earth, white noise – John suffered it all, and never wanted it to end. In fact, he really wanted to try it again, this time without all the barriers between them.

Rodney tucked his head in the crook of John's neck, once more breathing warm, moist air over sensitive skin. It made John wonder how he ever questioned why he wouldn't – or couldn't – want it. It was obvious, as evidenced by the slowly cooling mess in his shorts, that he and Rodney were compatible, regardless of preconceived notions of gender and orientation. The only possible reason he could think of, at least at this particular moment, was the stupid rules the military operated by. Don't Ask, Don't Tell. Only that was no longer in effect, and there were openly gay airmen, sailors, soldiers and Marines on active duty now. It wasn't easy for them, but they were doing it, serving their country and still living the life they deserved. If they could do it, John could do it, and he wasn't even gay. Maybe just gay for Rodney.

So what was his excuse for putting it off for so long? John didn't know, and wasn't sure he could answer, not at this time. Post-coital bliss was clouding his judgement. Better just to wrap his arm around Rodney and hold on tight, because no matter what his motivations were, before or after, he had no intention of letting go now.