"I want to go with you." Rodney knows he has that mulish look on his face that he doesn't usually have to resort to.

"Where?" John answers, and, god he looks exhausted. "I had the discussion with my dad, and I withdrew from classes this morning. There's no where for you to go."

They're sitting at the usual Starbuck's, with their usual drinks, in their usual chairs, except that John looks like he thinks he's just ruined his life rather than saved it.

Rodney sighs and drains his cup. "Where would you normally be going today?"

John looks down at the table. "Monmouth," he says, "Which I lost in the deal with dad: no Fordham - no flying."

"But you're paid up for this weekend, right?" Rodney talks slowly, the way he talks to people he considers stupid, which is nearly everyone.

"I guess, but I already missed the train, which means I'd miss the first bus, which means I'd miss the second bus, which means I'd just as soon not bother."

Rodney looks up at the sky as if for guidance, which might go over better if he wasn't an atheist. "Look," he says. "I rented a car."

"What?" John goggles at him. "Do you even know how to drive?"

"No" Rodney says, like it's obvious. "But you do. We can get a cab over to the rental place and be on the road in an hour."

"What about..." John starts, but Rodney just points at the suitcase he'd hidden behind the table when he got to Starbuck's before John.

"What about..." John starts again.

"Sitter," Rodney answers. "Look, I took care of everything, which - in retrospect - may have been a little presumptuous of me, but I really want you to have this, okay?"

John just looks at him, and Rodney wonders if he's made a massive tactical error. Sure, John let him talk him into ditching Fordham for NYU. He'd let Rodney walk him through a scholarship, a grant, and a student loan to cover what was left. He'd even started getting close to moving in to Rodney's house, which only made sense - he was there most of the time anyway. But, he thinks, this could be the proverbial straw.

Rodney lets go of the breath he didn't even know he was holding when John smiles at him. It's the kind of smile that John gets on his face when he talks about airplanes and helicopters, and it makes Rodney's chest feel tight to think that John cares about him that much. In John's world, flying isn't just a part of his life, it's a part of his heart, and it kills Rodney to think of him as an earthbound creature.

"Okay," John says. "Let's go." Rodney picks up the suitcase, and John throws their cups away. Out on the curb, he gives Rodney that brilliant smile one more time and hails a cab.

Rodney decides early in the drive to stop looking at the road and start looking at John. For every mile he drives, John seems to loosen up a little. He doesn't complain about traffic, but he lights up when they're able to get free of the gridlock and he can move again.

Rodney just looks at him and waits. He knows that John will talk about it when he's ready.

Finally, about an hour out of the city, John starts speaking quietly. "He wasn't a dick about it or anything." Rodney watches as John swallows hard. "He just listened to me and said I should do what I wanted. Then he said he understood, but that I was 'off the payroll'." He sighs. "It would have been better if there was some screaming match or he'd disowned me. I felt like I'd disappointed him."

Rodney sighs. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," John says, smiling. "Even with all the bullshit it was like breaking out of prison. I smiled so much when I withdrew from classes that I think the secretary thought I was nuts. It was pretty cool." Then the smile slowly drops from his face. "I just wish I didn't... I wish I didn't have to..." he trails off. Rodney knows that the rest of the sentence is something like "give up flying," so he just reaches over and puts his hand on John's leg and lightly squeezes.

After a while, John's smile comes back. It's a little smaller, a little sadder, but Rodney's glad to see it. "While you were being all sure of yourself," he asks. "Did you book us a room? I don't think we'd both fit in the twin bed in Red and Elona's guest room."

"Yes, I got us a room. I'm not an idiot. Plus, I didn't think your friends would appreciate us fucking in their guest room, either." He pauses. "And then there's the Hotel Sex Principle."

John glances away from the road long enough to boggle at him. "There's a Hotel Sex Principle?"

"Duh," Rodney says. "You have to have sex every night when you're in a hotel. It's a scientifically proven constant. Of course, it only applies if you're traveling with your girlfriend or boyfriend."

"What if you're traveling by yourself?" John purses his lips in what Rodney thinks might be an effort to not laugh. He's also glad that John has sidestepped his use of the word "boyfriend." In answer to John's question, he gives an evil laugh.

"Spanktravision, of course."

He grimaces when John starts flipping through the radio stations, and he's pretty sure that stopping on classic rock is a subtle dig.

"Can we..." Rodney starts to ask.

"Driver chooses the music; passenger shuts his piehole," John says, and Rodney has to laugh at that.

A few minutes of deep thought later, John perks up. "Do you think the brothers on that show are doin' it?"

Rodney's head snaps around. "That is the most disgusting thing I've ever heard. I can't believe you just used the phrase 'doin' it'. What are you? Twelve?"

John just grins at him. A couple of miles later, he pipes up again. "Which one do you think is on top?"

"The taller one," Rodney says.

John looks at him sideways. "What kind of logic is that? I'm taller than you, and I'm on the bottom way more."

"Well," Rodney draws the word out. "You look really good on the bottom."

John snorts. "When we get there, I think we need to mix the Hotel Sex Principle with the Height-Related Top/Bottom Status Corollary and see what we get."

Rodney looks at John's smiling face and is happy just to see him being playful again. The last couple of weeks, filled with self-doubt and recriminations, had not been fun at all. A depressed John sloped around the house picking things up and putting them down again, looking out the window, and sighing a lot.

"How do you feel about repeatability?" Rodney asks

The hotel's nice, and Rodney immediately unpacks their bag and stows it in the closet. John looks at their few belongings neatly laid out in the drawers. "Uh, Rodney?" he says.

"Don't even." Rodney's blushing a little; he can't help it. "It's a thing. I have to unpack."

"You're pretty weird," John says, catching him around the waist and kissing him gently. "I take it you put the lube in the bed table?"

Rodney nods. "Research time?"

"Oh, yeah," John says, and pushes him onto the bed.

And, really, it's true - John spends a lot of time on the bottom. That first night together - with John bottoming twice - had somewhat set the pace. And Rodney's not lying when he says John looks really good on the bottom. His face flushes, his hair goes wilder than usual, and he gives it up like it's the most important thing in the world.

Not that Rodney doesn't like to get fucked - he really does - but he's not as bendy as John and it always seems to take more planning.

John jumps on top of him and buries his face in Rodney's neck. His stubble is more than five-o'clock, but Rodney raises his chin for it, for the scratch and drag. John lifts up for a kiss, and Rodney cups John's face in his hands and opens to his tongue. John's an excellent kisser, and Rodney is theoretically jealous of anyone who's kissed John before him; of anyone who has had that total focus and the easy play of lips and tongue and, occasionally, teeth directed at them.

John pulls away, and Rodney follows him up until a gentle hand on his chest pushes him down flat. "Go take a shower," John murmurs. "And bring a towel when you come back."

Rodney still tries to arch up, chasing John's mouth, and John pushes him back down. "Keep up, Rodney," he says. "I want to rim you." He moves to the side and gives Rodney a push. "Go."

Rodney goes. It's a fairly quick shower, much shorter than the usual 45 minutes that John mocks him for, and he dries off in a haphazard manner before wrapping the towel around his hips and going out o the bedroom. Just the thought of John's talented tongue licking him and pressing inside has got him hard and ready. He finds John sitting naked on the end of the bed, his cock just as hard.

"Hands and knees," John says, and Rodney complies, unwrapping the damp towel and tossing it playfully at John. In retaliation, John tries to pop him with the end, but he misses on purpose and drapes the towel over one corner of the bed. He wastes no time, opening Rodney with his thumbs and licking a long hot line.

"Oh, fuck," Rodney says.

John lifts his head. "That's next, so hold off for me, okay."

"I'll try," Rodney moans, and he will, but this isn't something they've done a lot, and it's new enough to ratchet the excitement way up. He moans again when John lowers his head. The stubble that felt god on his neck feels incredible against the skin of his ass, and he can't help pushing himself back. John rolls with it, licking a lot and sucking a little, his big warm hands opening Rodney even further.

It doesn't take long before Rodney's riding the knife-edge of orgasm; he's moaning steadily, his head hanging down. "John," he says, his voice gone husky. John. I can't...please."

With one last flick of his tongue, John pulls away. "It's okay," he says. "My jaw was starting to hurt anyway." He places a big hand on the center of Rodney's back. "Stay there and cool off a minute."

Rodney does, and he can hear John step into the bathroom and brush his teeth. He appreciates the nod to his delicate sensibilities. He also appreciates the time to take a few long slow breaths and back himself away from the edge. If he's going to get fucked, he wants to last for more than thirty seconds

John comes back and rummages in the bedside table for a minute. "Nice," he says. "Astroglide and the Gideon Bible. Excellent combination."

"I'm an atheist," Rodney says. "And I thought you'd appreciate it as a queer, ex-Jesuit ex lawyer."

John climbs back onto the bed between Rodney's legs. "I was never a Jesuit anything," he says. "My family is Methodist."

"Can we not discuss religion just before we have the kind of sex they don't like?" Rodney looks over his shoulder. "I think the popular phrase is 'fuck me'."

"Well," John says, snapping the lube open. "It's certainly popular with me."

Rodney hangs his head again and tries to control his breathing as the first slick finger goes in. John's fingers are slim and elegant, much prettier than his own wide, blunt-tipped ones. However, John seems to like his, and Rodney likes John's, especially when the second joins the first and John starts to twist them slowly.

"Come on," Rodney says, trying to thrust back.

"Relax," John says, "I'm gathering information for the Height-Related Top/Bottom Status Corollary."

"What else do you need?" Rodney pushes back even more. "You're taller and you're on top; theory disproved. Fuck me."

"Where does topping from the bottom work into the research?" Rodney can hear the smile.

"It works into that place where you fuck me hard," Rodney says, and he makes a sharp noise when John slowly pushes in with three fingers. The fingers pull out, and Rodney hears the lube cap again. Either John's going to go for four, a concept of that makes Rodney shake with both want and trepidation, or he's finally going to get fucked.

He feels the head of John's cock pressing against him. He takes and releases a deep breath and wills his body to relax. It works, because John is able to slide slowly inside until his hips are flush with Rodney's ass. It feels strange, having a cock inside, but it also feels good. Rodney forgets sometimes how good it can be, and he knows why John likes to be on the bottom so much.

"Is that good?" John says, and he's breathless and playful at the same time.

For once, Rodney decides to forgo the smartass approach and simply tell the truth. "God, yes."

John pulls out about halfway and then eases back in again. "I thought we weren't going to talk about religion."

"Calling out the names of deities doesn't count," Rodney says. "That's classic sex talk."

John pulls out slowly and slides back in just a tiny bit faster. "You are much too coherent for my liking."

Rodney pushes back against him and says, "So shut me up, then."

And John does. His gentle glides turn into the hard fucking that Rodney hadn't even realized he needed. His arms can't even support the weight of John slamming into him, so Rodney folds them on the bed and rests his head on them and just lets John go.

A few minutes in, Rodney realizes what's going on - that John needs to bleed off his anger, that he needs to control at least one part of his life. If fucking Rodney half to death is what he needs, Rodney will give it up. In fact, he already has.

Rodney braces his elbows on the bed, his hands digging into the sheets. He turns his head just enough to the side that John will hear him. "Do it," he says. "Don't hold back."

John takes him at his word, and his fingers dig into Rodney's hips hard enough that there are going to be bruises. John powers forward, putting every bit of anger and strength in his body into fucking Rodney, into working out his frustrations on a willing body, and Rodney's cock is so hard he thinks it could probably cut glass.

He's not just willing - he is right there with John, for once able to take on some of the burdens that John's been carrying. He can't get his hand down to touch himself, but when John's cock slides over his prostate over and over, he comes. He keeps his ass in the air, no matter how much he wants to collapse. John doesn't even slow down.

Rodney's knees are shaking and he's more than a little sore when John pulls him back, slams in and comes, making a noise that almost sounds like a sob. Once he's done, he slumps down onto Rodney's back, and they fall together in a heap onto the bed.

Rodney lets him rest there for a minute or so before shrugging his shoulders. "Need to breathe," he says, and makes a small pained noise when John pulls out of him - maybe not as carefully as he could - and rolls to the side. John puts one forearm over his face and pants roughly. Rodney rolls up onto his side and lays a hand on John's sweaty, heaving belly.

"Did I hurt you?" John pushes the words out between panting breaths.

"A little," Rodney admits, and he hopes he's not going to be walking funny in the morning.

"I'm sorry," John says in a small voice, and Rodney looks at him. From underneath the protective arm, a droplet runs down the side of John's face.

"Oh, god," Rodney says, horrified. "You're not, oh my god."

Before he can work up a good panic, John lifts the arm to reveal dry eyes. He wipes the side of his face and looks at Rodney incredulously. "It's sweat, you jackass. I'm not that sorry I hurt you."

"Fuck you," Rodney growls, and he gets gingerly off the bed.

"Well yeah, probably," John says. "I think you may have to carry out the sworn duties of the Hotel Sex Principle's top researcher for the rest of the trip."

Rodney aims a smack at John's hip, but he misses. "I hate you so fucking much right now."

John laughs. "So that means you want me to join you in the shower, right?"

"Duh," Rodney says and walks around the bed to pull John up by his arm.

When Rodney wakes up in the hotel bed wrapped around John, his first words are, "Complimentary Continental breakfast."

John informs him that Elona will kick their asses if they don't come to breakfast and then kick them again if they aren't hungry for her food. So Rodney gets out of bed and showers, complaining the whole time about bagels and coffee and stale doughnuts. To shut him up, John goes through the drive-thru at Starbuck's and gets him the giant scary espresso he prefers. Red's place is about fifteen miles off a main road, which makes sense, as he has a runway and two huge hangars on his large property. A sign at the turnoff has a big arrow and "Red's Airport" painted on it, with the addition of "Lessons Available" in a nicer hand.

Rodney slurps at his coffee and watches John's smile get bigger and bigger as they get closer. When they get to the property and drive around the first hangar, Rodney can see a white two-story farmhouse nestled in a stand of trees. It has a big wraparound porch that faces the runway. When they drove up, a tall, light-haired woman steps out onto the porch.

John parks the car and gets out, then looks at Rodney to make sure he's following. Rodney waves him toward the house; he can almost see the nervous energy coming off him in waves. When John gets to the porch, he grabs the woman around the waist and swings her in a circle. She throws her head back and laughs, pulling John into a tight hug once her feet are back on the ground.

She whispers something in his ear, and he nods. About that time, Rodney's made it to the stairs, and they both turn to look at him, John holding out a hand to pull Rodney to his side.

"Elona Gordon, this is my partner, Rodney McKay. Rodney, this is Elona."

Rodney shakes her hand and she beams at him. "It's so nice to meet you, Rodney," she says. "John never shuts up about you."

Rodney looks at John, who is blushing, and decides to hold on to that one for later.

Elona turns to look at the first hangar and bellows, "Red! Breakfast!" John and Rodney exchange looks, Rodney's alarmed and John's fondly amused.

"Got a set of lungs one her, doesn't she?" John says, and all Rodney can do is nod.

"Come on, boys," she says in a regular tone of voice. "If he doesn't get his ass in gear, he'll miss the waffles."

"Waffles?" Rodney says, looking at her with something like love.

Elona laughs and smacks him lightly on the shoulder. "I like a man with a good appetite."

"Then Rodney's going to be your favorite forever," John mutters under his breath, then ducks away when they both try to smack him.

Inside, the table is set with a cheerful yellow tablecloth and large coffee mugs. Elona pours Rodney a cup, and he drinks half of it off the top with no hesitation at all. Elona refills the mug with a laugh before moving to the stove and pulling a plate full of waffles out of the oven. She plunks it down on the table and tells them to help themselves. They're halfway through their first stack of waffles and working on a pile of bacon when a short, stocky, bald man comes in and kisses Elona on the cheek when she automatically leans down.

"This is Red," John says, pointing with his fork. "Red, this is Rodney."

Red smiles as he sits down. "I'll shake your hand later, Rodney," he says. "Right after I eat my waffles."

Somewhere in the eating and drinking coffee, Red calls John "Johnny," and Rodney almost chokes on his bacon.

"Red," John says in a warning tone.

Red scoffs and waves a hand at him. "I've known you since you were five years old, Johnny Sheppard. I'm too old to adjust now."

"Yeah, Johnny," Rodney says.

Under his breath John replies, "Don't start, Mer," and Rodney holds his hands up in surrender before stabbing another waffle with his fork.

After breakfast, for which Rodney thanks Elona profusely, Red takes them down to the hangar. They stop next to a sort of bubble-topped helicopter with what looks like all its guts hanging out.

Red rubs his hands together. "You ready to play, Johnny?"

John looks at Rodney with pleading eyes and Rodney waves him off. He finds a couple of comfortable-looking deck chairs set up to one side and sits, watching Red and John don some greasy-looking coveralls and stick their hands inside the helicopter guts. John is smiling like it's the best thing ever.

After a few minutes, Elona comes into the hangar and sits next to Rodney. "Shep's not a bad guy," she says, apropos of nothing.

"You mean John?" Rodney's actually confused.

"No, honey," Elona says, patting his arm like he's not too bright. "Robert, his dad."

Rodney sniffs. "I've never met him," he says, "but John says he's okay."

"Robert's stubborn." She sighs. "Johnny's a little stubborn, too."

"No kidding." Rodney says, and they share a smile. "I just hate that he's losing this."

Now it's Elona's turn to sigh. "Red would take him on for free if we could afford it, you know that, right?"

"I'd guessed," Rodney says.

They don't talk much after that, and they both just watch quietly as the guts are put back into the helicopter and Red and John grin like idiots.

John lopes over, dirty and sweaty and as happy as Rodney's seen him in months. "We're going to take her up for test flight. You wanna go?"

"Uh, no," Rodney says. "I like the ground just fine."

"Elona?" John says, turning to her.

"It's all right," she says. "You boys go have fun. Rodney and I will just watch you and get to know each other a little better."

John smiles that bright smile again and returns to Red, who is looking appraisingly at the helicopter. He nods, and they both strip off their coveralls before pushing the helicopter out of the hangar. Elona gets up and picks up her chair; Rodney follows. They settle just at the edge of the hangar and watch as John and Red go through some complicated whatevers. Even from a distance, Rodney can see the joy on John's face when the rotors start turning.

As they leave the ground, Rodney turns to Elona. "Do you know how to fly?" It seems like an obvious question.

"I know how," she says, smiling. "But I don't love it like Red and Johnny. They're born to it; I just learned because it made Red happy."

They talk for a while about nothing much, and Rodney's pleasantly surprised to find that they have some common ground. Late in the morning, she looks at her watch. "I need to go in and make lunch. You want to help?"

Rodney nods and follows her to the house. He doesn't have the first clue how to cook, but he can make sandwiches and open chip bags and put things on plates. It's almost like takeout.

Elona hands him a bag of Cheetos to add to the bags on the counter. "For Johnny," she says. "They became his favorite all of a sudden about a year ago. You know anything about that?"

Rodney nods. "I do," he says, but he doesn't give up any information, he just smiles a crooked smile.

John and Red come in a little later, wiping grease off their hands and talking animatedly about the flight until Elona clears her throat. They look sheepish and shut up about it before sitting at the table and jumping on the food like starving lions. John steals Cheetos off Rodney's plate and they share a private smile.

Once lunch is done, Elona throws them out. "You two go take a walk while Red helps me do the dishes."

John walks Rodney down to the other hangar where a small plane sits with its cowling up and a bunch of tools laid out neatly on a tarp on the ground.

"Cessna 150," he says. "She's an older model, but Red keeps her in good shape."

They're quiet for a minute or so before Rodney can't wait anymore. "You love this," he blurts out.

John's eyes go hooded and he looks away. "Yeah," he says quietly. "Yeah."

"I...will you let me pay for the lessons?" Rodney says, pushing the words out fast, dreading John's reaction.

John doesn't look back at him when he says no.

"I can afford it," Rodney says.

John abruptly sits down on the ground, knees up with his arms wrapped around them. "I can't let you," John says. "I already depend on you too much."

Rodney sits besides him and bumps their shoulders together. "You've got that backwards," he says quietly.

John bumps him back. "Thanks, but this is different. This is actual money - actual money that I can't pay you back."

"I dunno," Rodney says. "You could promise to keep me in my old age. When I'm fat and bald and no-one will love me anymore."

John looks away again. "I will," he says.

"You'll let me pay for your lessons?" Rodney's heart leaps in his chest.

"That too," John says.

It takes Rodney a second to get it, and when he does, his mouth goes dry. "You..." he stammers. "You have to know that I...I mean, me, too." It's the best he can do, so he lays his head on John's shoulder and sighs when John kisses the top of his head.

Red and Elona join them in the hangar, and John kisses Rodney's head one more time before going to join Red next to the plane. There are two more chairs, but Rodney can't sit down - he's nervous and happy and doesn't quite know what to do with himself. He finds a legal pad and pencil and finally goes to sit next to Elona.

He scribbles several pages of equations. She watches him with a smile until John and Red start pushing the Cessna out of the hangar.

"He's going to let me pay for his lessons," Rodney says, and she just smiles and nods at him. It's the most subtle 'thank you' he's ever gotten.

John and Red are in the plane, John in the pilot's seat. Rodney looks down at the pad in his hands. He points at the last equation on the page and turns to Elona. "You see that?" he says. "That's why airplanes fly."

She gives him a knowing smile. "That's sweet, honey," she says. "But that's not why airplanes fly." She points at the Cessna, where John and Red are visible through the windscreen, They both have enormous grins on their faces as the propeller starts to turn. "That," she says. "That's why airplanes fly."

Rodney lets the pad drop next to his chair and watches the old plane taxi down the runway, gathering speed before taking off into the cloudless sky. John may be the one who's left the ground, but it's Rodney who soars.