Zelenka was back. As much as he hated to admit it, Rodney had been right: restaurant hours sucked. After three years, he'd had enough of the pace, the annoyance of keeping good staff, and the way he had to be nice to the patrons. He missed Rodney. It was disturbing.

Radek made a deal - Simpson would take over the restaurant. In return, Radek would work as Rodney's support staff. Since Rodney was also training an apprentice, the three of them could handle the business. The question was: could Radek deal with Rodney? After three years away from Rodney's particular brand of leadership, Radek wasn't sure his ulcer could take it.

"Radek! Cherry pie!" Rodney's shout nearly caused Zelenka to drop a white china plate bearing a perfect slice of pie. Its cherry filling oozed attractively onto the plate, its crust was a perfect golden brown all over. He slid the plate onto the hero food table just as Rodney turned to his apprentice.

"See," Rodney said, pointing at the plate, getting his finger as close to the pie as possible without touching it. "As much as I hate to give Zelenka any credit, his is perfect. Yours sucks."

Radek looked down. The slice of pie next to his had too much filling leaking out, an uneven crust, and a red thumbprint on the edge of the plate.

"Gosh, I'm sorry, Mr. McKay."

Radek looked at the apprentice. His name was Quinn something or something Quinn, and he could have fallen right out of an Ivory Soap ad. He was as all-American as Radek'd ever seen - he was what Radek had expected everyone in the US to look like, long ago in Czechoslovakia. Tall, blond, earnest to a fault, and infinitely patient with McKay's outbursts. Obviously, Radek thought, he was from another planet altogether.

"Sloppy filling," Rodney said. "How do you fix it?"

"New plate?" Quinn ventured.

"New pie, moron." Rodney swept the offending plate into the utility sink. "Look at Radek's. Radek's filling stays in the pie." He looked up, glowering. "Why do you think that is?"

"Uh..." Quinn looked like he was going to pass out he was blushing so hard.

"Radek," Rodney said.

"More chalk in the mix," Radek said. Watching Rodney go off on someone else never got old.

"Yes! And the crust?"

Radek simply handed him the small blowtorch.

Rodney turned back to Quinn. "You have a question?" Quinn looked about half a minute from raising his hand like a schoolboy.

"Uh...won't the chalk make the filling look dry and gloopy?"

"Gloopy? Gloopy? I see they're using a new vocabulary book at the CIA. Radek!"

Radek slid the bowl of glycerin across the table, followed quickly by an un-doctored slice of his own pie. He couldn't help laughing when Rodney's acerbic "you're going the burn the studio down!" and "gently, idiot - you'll make it look like it just came out of the rain!" followed him to the back area, where he happily set about pouring milk and shining forks.

The next day, John was in the studio. If he didn't have an assignment he would sometimes come down to wherever Rodney was working and hang out, sometimes help Radek, and take Rodney to lunch. John sat on a high stool at the far end of the prep table with his laptop in front of him. He occasionally called Rodney or Radek over to ask their opinion about a photograph. On one of the times that Rodney came to look, John leaned in to kiss his temple while Rodney looked at the picture on the screen, blushed and stammered, and quickly returned to work. John just beamed. Radek didn't even want to know.

Radek listened in when Quinn walked over to John and introduced himself.

"Jonas Quinn," he said holding out a hand. John shook it, then looked down at the smear of flour on the back of his hand. "Oh, gosh! I'm sorry," Quinn said. He whipped the dishtowel off his shoulder to wipe the flour away.

John laughed. "It's okay. So, what do you do around here? Prep?"

Quinn looked at John, a small frown marring his handsome face. "I'm Mr. McKay's apprentice. We've been working together for a couple of weeks now."

Radek saw John's eyes narrow. "Oh," he said. "Rodney hasn't mentioned you."

In the cab home, John finally couldn't help speaking up. "So," he said, mock casual. "How's the new guy working out?"

"Fine," Rodney said, looking out the window.

John put his hand on Rodney's knee. "You never mentioned him."

"He's not important," Rodney said, putting his hand over John's. All the way home, John looked at Rodney and Rodney looked out the window.

They were curled warmly together when a phone rang. It was Rodney's. Seriously, John thought, Hail to the Chief? He reached over Rodney and grabbed the phone. "H'lo?" he muttered.

"This is Jonas Quinn." Oh, god help him, John thought; Quinn sounded perky. "I had a question for Mr. McKay."

John yawned into the phone. "If you ask a question at..." he looked at the clock. "Nine o'clock on a Saturday morning, I can guarantee you the answer will either be 'no' or 'don't be such a moron'. You might want to try back around noon."

"Oh," Jonas said, sounding abashed. "I'm so sorry I woke you."

John snapped the phone shut, put it on the table, and put his arm back around Rodney. "Who was it?" Rodney asked blearily.

John pressed his nose to the back of Rodney's neck. "Nobody."

Later, after slow morning sex and a late breakfast, John considered giving Rodney the message. Instead, he lured Rodney out of the apartment with the promise of going to the cookware store. They were out of the house by 11:30 and Rodney's phone was still sitting on the bedside table.

A few days later, John asked about Jonas. Rodney said, "He's not a complete idiot."

John started to worry. Just a little.

Typical, Radek thought. Trust Rodney to be utterly clueless. "John's been around a lot lately," Radek said to Rodney while they were browning the outside of a raw turkey covered in corn syrup.

"I guess," Rodney said, his eyes on the blow torch he was holding.

Radek also kept his eye on the food. "I suppose he's sorry that this turkey is raw. He would probably like a sandwich."

"I guess," Rodney said again, not lifting his gaze from the food.

Radek finished his side of the bird and walked over to John as Jonas joined Rodney for a critical look at the turkey.

"Hello," Radek said quietly.

John was rapidly sorting photographs, pulling most of them into the trash folder. "Hey," he said, looking up. When his gaze fell on Rodney and Quinn his lips tightened. "The new guy seems to be working out."

Radek shrugged. "Who knew Rodney could be a good teacher?"

John looked down at the monitor again and muttered, "Maybe he just needed the right student."

Radek patted John on the arm and went back to work.

John sucked a row of kisses down Rodney's spine, thankful to feel Rodney shudder beneath him.

"God," Rodney moaned. "John."

"That's right," John said roughly. "Me." He twisted his fingers inside Rodney, pushing hard.

Rodney moaned. "Come on, John, come on. Please...do it."

"No," John panted. "Not yet. I don't think you want it badly enough."

Rodney reached back and clutched at John's hip, trying to pull him forward.

"I said 'no'." John was practically growling. Rodney had a big project the next day, and John wanted him sore the whole time. He wanted Rodney to have trouble sitting, and John wanted him to squirm. And he wanted Rodney to do it all in front of Radek and Quinn.

John worked a third finger into Rodney's ass, and Rodney groaned: that hoarse, raw cry that meant he was close. "Don't come," John rasped out. "Do I need to get the cockring? You know I will."

Rodney panted, and John stopped moving his hand. "No," he panted. "I can hold on. I swear."

John started moving his hand again while sucking up a dark mark at the top of Rodney's ass. He sank his teeth in. Rodney moaned long and low and John took the opportunity to push hard, stretching Rodney with all four of his fingers.

"Fuck, oh fuck." Rodney bucked back, and John pulled out. He wiped the lube from his hand onto his cock. Lining himself up, he grabbed Rodney's hip and shoved into his ass, not stopping until they were skin-to-skin.

John gave no quarter, fucking Rodney as hard as he could. He wanted to leave his mark, wanted to leave bruises. He didn't often feel possessive, but this time he did. Rodney was going to the studio the next day with all the marks John could manage. He'd already bitten and sucked a large hickey onto a conspicuous place on Rodney's neck.

John drew his attention back to Rodney and pushed a finger in alongside his cock. Rodney's head dropped to the bed and he moaned John's name as he came. John kept going as long as he could before freezing and coming hard. As soon as he caught his breath, he eased them both onto their sides.

"John." Rodney's voice was rough.

"That's right," John said, running his hand through Rodney's hair. "Me."

Radek smiled to himself when he saw Rodney. As if the huge hickey and the careful way he was walking weren't enough, Rodney's glassy eyes and small smile were testament to the sort of night he'd had. Radek turned back to the cookies he was baking, but he had to smile at John's tactics. The man was a genius.

He listened in when Jonas asked Rodney a question, and nearly burst out laughing when Rodney waved him off with a 'whatever.'

The hickey faded. The next time John visited the studio, Rodney managed to spend a few minutes with him between setups.

"He's doing really well," Rodney said, leaning over John's shoulder to look at the photos on the screen.

John turned his head to kiss the side of Rodney's face. "Radek always does well," John said. "He had the best teacher."

Rodney looked up, staring at the prep area. "No," he said, not looking at John. "Jonas. He's a natural." He clapped John on the shoulder and straightened up. "See ya," he said absently, then walked to the prep area without looking back.

John watched the rest of the shoot, totally ignoring his laptop. At one point, Rodney smiled at Quinn. Not good.

"God, you smell like chocolate." John dropped his voice down low and wrapped his arms around Rodney's waist from behind. He sniffed Rodney again, then licked a smear of chocolate off his neck.

"Sorry I'm late," John said. "Shoot ran long."

"No big deal," Rodney said, leaning back slightly against John's chest. "You think this frosting is thick enough?"

John tightened his arms around Rodney's waist and looked over his shoulder. With five years experience, John couldn't help picking up some kitchen knowledge. "Looks too thin to me," he said.

"Thought so." Rodney reached across the counter, pulling himself away from John.

John patted Rodney on the ass, then stepped back. "How about I go to the bedroom and get ready for you?" John said, his voice growly. "Promise you won't be long, 'kay?"

"'kay," Rodney said, pushing his ass back to rub against John. "I promise."

John took a long shower, reveling in the heat and steam. He shaved carefully, then brushed and flossed.

Back in the bedroom, he remade the bed, smoothing out the crumpled sheets and blankets. He fell onto it naked and reached for the bedside drawer. He found the lube and eased himself back onto the pillows. When he'd told Rodney that he'd get ready, he'd meant it.

John spread his legs wide, then slid a doubled-over pillow under his ass. He wet his fingers with the lube, then reached down to touch the entrance to his body. Just that - that easy touch - was enough to make his cock start to harden. Soon enough, it would be Rodney's big fingers circling and easing inside, one sliding in and opening him up.

John touched his cock lightly and he pushed two of his fingers in, turning them as much as he could. God, he was hard, and he couldn't wait for Rodney to get in there. He didn't stretch himself too much, wanting to feel every inch of Rodney's cock opening him. John pulled his fingers out and wiped them on the towel he'd brought with him, then threw the pillow on the floor.

He thought about what position Rodney would like to find him in and decided that on his belly with his legs spread wide was best. Rodney would walk in the bedroom door and see everything; see how ready John was for him.

That's exactly how he fell asleep.

John woke up with Rodney wrapped around him. John took Rodney's hand off his stomach and eased it around to his ass. He heard Rodney's sharp intake of breath and felt one finger slide inside.

"Yeah," Rodney muttered, and John pushed back.

Two fingers pushed in, and John bent forward at the waist, moaning. "Rodney, please," he begged, and Rodney obliged him, replacing his fingers with his cock and pushing slowly in.

"Yeah," Rodney said, low and rough. "You feel good."

"Love you," John moaned, getting his hand down to his cock to stroke slowly.

John drank a long swig of his beer and looked at Daniel across the table. "Look," he said, "you can't tell Jack about this. Rodney either."

Daniel set his own beer on the table and tilted his head, frowning. "Okay," he said, drawing out the word.

John sighed and wiped a hand over his face. "You and Jack...you...you break up a lot, don't you?"

Daniel's frown turned into a sly grin. "About twice a year these days."

When John looked closely at him, Daniel's eyes widened. "No way," he said. "Not you and Rodney."

John dropped his gaze to the table. "I don't know."

It was Daniel's turn to sigh. "Look, John. Breaking up is part of our relationship - we like the make-up sex. And the angry sex, for that matter. It's just something we do; it's never for real."

John toyed with the label on his beer bottle. "I think Rodney might be...he might be..."

"No," Daniel said. "He wouldn't."

"I don't know." John looked up. "There's this guy - his new apprentice. Rodney said he wasn't a complete idiot. And I saw Rodney touch him twice."

Daniel gaped. "Rodney doesn't touch anyone but you."

John nodded. "That's why I think...it could be like you and Jack..."

"No," Daniel said firmly. "It wouldn't be the same." His voice softened. "You and Rodney would only break up once."

John looked down at the table.

"I'm going to be late," Rodney said.

John's fingers tightened on the phone. "Okay," he said. "Want to go for a late dinner when you get home? You in the mood for Thai?"

"Don't wait for me," Rodney said. "I'm working on some confectionary stuff with Jonas. It's a travesty that they let him graduate with what little he knows."

John tried to keep his voice level. "I thought Radek was your go-to guy for that sort of stuff."

"Yeah, uh...he's staying late, too."

"Okay," John said tightly. "I'll be here when you get home." He clicked the phone shut and set it down with exaggerated care so he wouldn't throw it.

Rodney was a shitty liar.

John was in bed when Rodney got home. He was pretending that he was asleep, but he listened as Rodney got ready for bed and slipped between the sheets. John rolled over into his arms, sighing. Rodney kissed him on the top of his head. Rodney smelled like chocolate and vanilla and burnt sugar.

Rodney was lying in bed, reading his James Beard cookbook like a novel. John was next to him staring at the ceiling.

"What's up?" Rodney asked, not looking away from his page. "You seem kind of preoccupied lately."

"A little," John said.

"Hmmmm." Rodney didn't look up from his book.

John seriously considered knocking it out of Rodney's hand and demanding answers: is there something going on with you and Jonas? and are you fucking him? and what the hell is wrong with you?, but he didn't want to sound like someone's wife. Deep down, he trusted Rodney. He'd done it for five years, and he wasn't going to stop now. That didn't stop him from worrying.

The third time Rodney called to say he'd be home late, he said that Radek was with them. John called Radek's cell. He was on a date and didn't appreciate the interruption.

Seething, he went into their bedroom and changed into faded jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt. He gelled his hair into more spikes than usual and left, hailing a cab in the cool, drizzly weather.

When he got home an hour and a half later, Rodney was sitting on the couch. He stood up as soon as John got all the way into the apartment.

"Where the hell have you been?" he snapped, his hands waving wildly. "You didn't take your phone! I couldn't get hold of you!"

"You actually called," John said snidely. "That's a new one. What happened, did Jonas stand you up?"

Rodney flushed, but he ignored the question. He walked closer to John, wrapping a hand around his bicep. "You smell like a bar," Rodney said. "And your hair's all wet."

John pulled away. "I went to a bar and it's raining, Rodney. Maybe you should start paying attention."

"I do pay attention," Rodney blustered.

John stared at him. "Where was my last assignment? How many days did it last?"

Rodney frowned. "It was at the museum...I think. And three days? Yeah, three days."

John rolled his eyes. "The Empire State Building and a week, Rodney. Now ask me."

"Uh," Rodney said, looking down at the floor. "What have I been doing this week?"

Well," John said, crossing his arms over his chest and assuming the least welcoming posture he could. "Monday and Tuesday you did the shoot in the park - the one with the picnic. Wednesday you prepped for Good Morning America, Thursday you were back in the park because the idiot photographer screwed up half the pictures. And today I don't know what you were doing because you didn't bother to tell me."

Rodney had the grace to look abashed.

"You want more?" John asked. "Because I've got more."

Rodney shook his head. "I've just been busy..."

"You came home late two nights this week because you were working with Jonas. I know that Radek wasn't with you tonight. Then there's the stuff I just think I know. What the fuck, Rodney?" John took a step forward, but he didn't uncross his arms.

"You went to a bar," Rodney said defensively.

"Yes, I did." John uncrossed his arms, letting them hang down at his sides. "I went to a bar, and a guy bought me a drink and came over to sit by me." He watched as Rodney's eyes narrowed. "He talked to me for thirty seconds, Rodney. Thirty seconds, and it made me sick to even think about it." He dropped his voice down low and tried not to sound accusing, even though he felt that way. "How did it make you feel to think about it, Rodney? To fucking do it?"

"I didn't...I never..." Rodney's eyes went wide. "I swear, I didn't."

"What about Jonas?" John said coldly.

Rodney grabbed him by both arms. "John, I swear. There's nothing going on with Jonas. I swear."

John looked up at Rodney, Rodney who was a shitty liar. Rodney who couldn't keep his feelings off his face to save his life. John could see that he was telling the truth, and he put his hands on Rodney's shoulders. He started to lean forward, but he saw something on Rodney's face. A flicker of...something.

John straightened, but he didn't let go of Rodney's shoulders. He waited until Rodney looked up.

"You thought about it, didn't you?" John said - softly, sadly.

"I..." Rodney said, then sighed. "I thought about it. A little. But I'd never..."

"Hush," John said, looking over Rodney's shoulder, his eye caught by the framed photos on the wall.

Rodney shook him lightly by the arms to get his attention. "I wouldn't, John. I wouldn't do it." His voice was soft and pleading.

John looked at his face. He could see the truth there. With a sigh, he laid his head on Rodney's shoulder and pulled him close. "I know," he said into Rodney's neck.

Rodney held him tightly, then turned his face into John's damp hair, his breath gusting across the top of John's ear. "Are we okay?" Rodney asked quietly.

"No," John said, and he could feel Rodney stiffen in his arms. He tightened his hold, and then took and released a shaky breath. "We're not," he said. "But we will be."