Warnings: spoilers for Sunday
Thanks: to cinaed for the read through and to blue_raven, who said, "we need more suit porn."
Rodney closed the door behind him, making sure to turn the lock before leaning against it, wearily, and letting a sigh escape his lips. Finally, a moment’s peace. His pain wasn’t as fresh as it had been on Atlantis following Carson’s death, but here, among all of Carson’s friends and family, where many of them had his same wide, concerned eyes and strong, worried brogue, he couldn’t escape his memories.
His nerves were frayed and his skin felt raw and even his hair was tired, and he’d barked at a young man serving refreshments after the service. The room had fallen silent and people gave him those wide, concerned eyes, and Sheppard nodded, ever so slightly, in the direction of the stairs. Rodney had sighed, petulantly, at the time, but his emotions were evident in the shake of his hands and the tremor in his voice and so he’d offered them his last condolences and retreated to his room for the night. All of the Lantean contingent had squeezed his shoulder – hell, Sheppard had even hugged him, in that manly, military, hit you so hard on the back you forget to breathe sort of way – on his way out. All except for Zelenka – that scheming Czech bastard – he’d disappeared. Rodney hoped he hadn’t wandered off on his own, since he had a terrible sense of direction. His first month in Atlantis he never failed to get lost on his way to the lab, but Edinburgh was far, far larger than Atlantis and all the life-signs detectors in the world may not help him find one Czech scientist in a city of 400,000 people.
Rodney stepped away from the door, moving hesitantly in the dark, unfamiliar room. The innkeeper, who’d grown up with Carson, had been kind, giving all of Dr. Beckett’s friends rooms of their own, despite all the other customers he’d had to turn away.
For once, in his dark and quiet room, Rodney wished he wasn’t so alone. He moved cautiously in the strange place, one foot in front of the other, pulling at the knot in his tie with one hand and trying to maintain his balance with the other. How much had he had to drink, anyway?
It wasn’t until he stubbed his toe against the bedside table, making it thump against the wall and causing something glass and probably irreplaceable to hit the floor, that Rodney finally gave in and sobbed, wetly, loudly, finally.
He couldn’t be sure how long he’d been sitting there in the dark, fumbling with his fucking tie and cursing Carson and the Ancients and their fucking brilliant, tumor-inducing technology, when he heard something. Or, rather, noticed something, since his eyes were growing used to the dark and he could make out shapes and hey, what was that sound, and this was all very James Bond, mercenaries laying in wait in his hotel room to torture him for information the goon would probably be too stupid to understand anyway, and…
Rodney pushed various buttons and twisted various protrusions beneath the lampshade until the room was lit in a halo of warm, buttery light, and then he realized several things.
First, he’d broken an ashtray, by the looks of it. It lay in several small and undoubtedly sharp and dangerous shards next to the bed.
Secondly, he’d found Radek Zelenka, curled up on the window seat and blinking at him with heavy lids. “Rodney,” he asked, his voice husky with sleep.
“Yes, genius, Rodney,” he answered, although he found more difficult than usual to be angry. “What are you doing in my room?”
At this Zelenka pushed himself a bit more vertical and looked about. Rodney bit back a laugh at the sight of what the heavily-upholstered window seat had done to Radek’s smooth cheek. “Is not mine?” Radek scratched at his messy hair, which wasn’t helping his look at all, in Rodney’s opinion, and pushed his glasses further up his nose. “My apologies,” he said. “Was very tired when I came up here. Just thought to lie down for a moment. What time is it?”
Rodney didn’t even know the answer to that question, and it seemed pretty basic. He couldn’t find his watch this morning when he’d woken up and he had no idea where he’d left it the night before and he’d lost his best friend in the whole of two galaxies, and he had no idea what to do now.
“I don’t know,” Rodney answered, trying to hold back the rising panic in his throat. “God, Zelenka, I don’t even know.” Please don’t sob, he told himself. Just don’t make a sound.
Radek frowned and rose from his place, weaving through all of Rodney’s luggage (no wonder he’d tripped) to sit next to him on the bed. His suit was rumpled from sleep and his face was all patterned and dented from the window seat and Rodney thought maybe Radek had spilled something on his tie, because it looked like something had been smeared on it. Jam, maybe?
Zelenka made a humming sound in his throat and pressed his fingers against Rodney’s forearm, which seemed random and shouldn’t have helped at all, but something in his chest let go and he could breathe again.
“Rodney,” Radek spoke, softly, almost like Rodney could feel the words coming out, instead of hear them. “It is so hard for you, yes? You are not used to kindness. You push everyone away so they cannot hurt you, and then.” Radek drew a long, labored breath. “Then you discover that some people, Rodney, no matter how hard you push, they get inside of you anyway.” Radek’s long, agile fingers stroked down to Rodney’s palm, then covered his hand. Rodney didn’t dare look at him, for fear he would break. “You did not realize that Carson had crawled inside until he was gone,” Radek said, voice wavering. Out of the corner of Rodney’s eye, he could see a tear spill over and slide down Radek’s pale cheek.
With no warning at all, Rodney pulled Zelenka close to him, fists balled tightly into Radek’s suit jacket. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, or what he’d planned to do, other than hold him, maybe. Wait until he was through crying and then send him back to his own room. What he wasn’t planning on was for Radek to cling to him like a leech, all arms and legs and scratchy face buried into his neck; he didn’t plan on the dampness of his tears and the heat of his breath as he muttered to himself in Czech.
He didn’t plan on that little flip-flop in his stomach, either.
Radek seemed deceptively small in Rodney’s arms, but solid and warm and so real. Rodney cupped his neck with one hand and his cheek with the other and maneuvered Radek’s face into the light, brushing his cheek with his lips, which caused him to gasp and shiver but to not pull away. As a matter of fact, Radek seemed to go boneless, leaning further against him, and pressing their lips together soundly.
Kissing Zelenka was, suddenly, the best idea he’d had all day – hell, it was the best idea he’d had in months.
They shared an open-mouthed kiss, barely more than breathing together, sharing the same air, before Radek lapped at his lips. The moment Rodney felt that slick, clever tongue invade his mouth he moaned and knew he was lost – carried away beneath the tide, pulled along by Radek Zelenka, whose tongue was a force of nature and whose busy hands swept him along with the current. With what seemed like a flick of his wrist, Radek had Rodney’s tie undone and his shirt pulled from his pants.
“Oh,” shit, Zelenka’s hands were like ice, but they were warming up fast, and touching was the best idea ever, or at least since the kissing, and how many hands did Zelenka have, anyway? Seriously. Rodney’s clothes were rapidly disappearing, and Radek made needy sounds deep in his throat, and oh, Radek was licking the patch behind his ear, the one that made him just want to lie back and spread ‘em, which he did, although Zelenka was still clothed.
“Clothes,” Rodney gasped. “You. Less with the clothes,” he said, fumbling with his own shoelaces, which was the only impediment between him and glorious, glorious nakedness. Well, sure, he was still wearing his boxer shorts, but the way they tented in the front left little to the imagination, and what with the slit and all, they were fairly easy access.
Radek pulled his dress shirt off, wincing as he nearly beaned Rodney in the eye with a cufflink. Rodney glared, but found his libido not impinged in any way. The two of them scrabbled with Radek’s pants, which Rodney felt were designed not unlike a chastity belt. “Where the hell did you get this suit?”
Zelenka shrugged. “In Czech Republic,” he mumbled, batting Rodney’s hands away. “You’re doing it wrong. I will do. You lay back, get rid of your pants.”
“Pants,” Rodney repeated, watching Radek’s clever fingers undoing each button, snap and zip with precision. God, Rodney thought, there was something so hot, so confident, about Zelenka’s hands.
Radek’s pants gave way and, without ceremony, he pulled them and his plaid boxer shorts down and off, kicking his shoes away and standing there, for a moment, in just his socks.
“Pants,” Radek directed, his voice deeper and more tremulous than Rodney had ever heard it. Rodney’s dick twitched.
“Socks,” Rodney replied, arching an eyebrow.
They scrambled to get out of their remaining underclothes and then stopped, just looking at one another for a moment, until Rodney licked his lips.
Zelenka groaned deep in his throat before he launched himself back on the bed, kissing him so deeply, so suggestively, tongue sliding in and out between Rodney’s lips, that Rodney nearly came without any direct stimulation at all.
“Zelenka,” he warned between kisses.
Radek reached between their bodies and circled the base of Rodney’s cock with his fingers, nearly pinching with the pressure, and Rodney felt the imminence abate.
“Rodney,” Zelenka murmured, kissing and nipping at his neck, licking him again behind his left ear, and pinching his right nipple simultaneously. “Rodney,” he said again, his hips jerking, his cock rubbing in the hollow of Rodney’s hip.
“Yeah,” he answered between pressing his lips to Zelenka’s jaw and his Adam’s apple and between his nipples. He was more than happy to continue his journey, perhaps bite at Radek’s nipples and nibble the ticklish skin of his tummy before taking his slender cock in his mouth. It sounded like a plan, and Rodney was nothing if not methodical.
Radek seemed to sense what he was doing, though, and hauled him back up. “Later,” he murmured. “There will be time later. This time is fast and messy.”
“Sorry,” Rodney answered, licking into Radek’s hot, sweet mouth. “Missed the email about that.”
“Bastard. Never checking your email, yet we are all supposed to wait with baited breath for fearless leader to send us word.”
“Wait, did you say later?”
“Rodney,” the answering tone held a warning, while Radek’s hand on his dick seemed to say “yes, later. And again after that.”
“Right. Sorry,” he stroked the dick in his hand, listening to Radek’s pants and moans, feeling the tightening of his own balls that meant that he was almost there, and…
“Radek,” he breathed, and there was warm wetness between them, and he could feel Zelenka’s cock twitch and swell and then, ”milacku.”
“Wait,” Rodney spoke again. “What did you say?”
”RODNEY," Radek said, sternly, from where he’d collapsed next to him.