When John Sheppard turned ten, things were pretty good. They'd been at Lackland for over a year - long enough for John to brave the turbulent waters of being the new kid and to actually have enough friends to have a birthday party. The theme of his party was airplanes. At age ten, the theme of John's life was pretty much airplanes.

John's mom had gone all out - there were airplane cups and plates, napkins with wing insignia, and the cake had a runway going down the center of it with a biplane at one end, ready to take off. His friends brought gifts, and they wore hats and blew noisemakers and played Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey, even though John thought it was a kids' game.

Later, John's mom let them splash around in the plastic pool out back, which was filled with clean water that had been baking in the sun all morning so it wouldn't be cold. John's father sat on the patio with a beer, and he occasionally smiled at the antics of the kids. Later, he brought out the hose and the water balloons, and watched as John and his friends went nuts.

When everyone left, John's mom hosed his grassy feet off at the door and wrapped him up in a soft towel. John's dad picked him up and took him upstairs. He helped John change into his pajamas and half-heartedly dry his hair before putting him to bed with a rough hug.

A little later, John's mom came in to give him a goodnight kiss. "Did you enjoy your birthday?" she asked, sitting on the side of his bed.

He yawned hugely, only remembering at the end to cover his mouth with his hand like she'd taught him. "It was the best birthday ever," John told her, and she leaned down for a kiss and a hug, whispering, "I love you," into his damp hair.

By John's next birthday, they had moved, but it didn't matter. His mom had died a month before and it was just him and his dad.

When John Sheppard turned twenty, he was in his second year at the Air Force Academy. Some of his friends found out and decided to take him out on a 24-hour pass. Jeff and Billy and Stan, who were a year older, took him to a bar and kept buying him beers. John was a little bit loopy by the time they piled into Jeff's crappy old car.

"Where are we going?" John asked, his voice slurred.

Billy and Stan exchanged a look. "Strip club," they yelled.

John went along with it, even when the other guys bought him lap dances. He pretended to be interested and dutifully slipped dollar bills into the girls' g-strings. A few more drinks and he was able to pretty convincingly fake drunkenness. They went to Denny's and ate greasy food and drank lots of coffee, while the other guys debated the relative merits of one stripper over another.

When asked, John said he'd liked them all.

They managed to sneak back to their dorms without getting caught.

The next year, John said he had to go visit his dad, but he went to Denver and stayed in a hotel for two days.

When John Sheppard turned thirty, he didn't even notice until three days later. He was too busy sitting alone in his apartment. He'd believed Jenny when she said she was pregnant from a drunken one-night stand, and they'd gotten married that same week. After four months, her belly was still as flat as ever, and he started to get suspicious.

John confronted her, and she cried and pouted and begged and pleaded. But in the end he asked her to go. The divorce was final the day before his birthday. The next week, he requested to start working his way to being able to fly every helicopter the Air Force made. Four years later, he volunteered to fly Apaches in Afghanistan.

When John Sheppard turned forty, he was in a different galaxy. He had no intention of returning to Earth and found himself surrounded by a very strange family of choice, not chance. He also found himself in bed with loud, acerbic, difficult, incredible Rodney McKay.

"Is that good?" Rodney asked from his place between John's legs.

"God, yes." John made a sharp, cut-off noise when two of Rodney's thick fingers slid into him, turning and pressing. He rolled his hips, shoving himself down onto Rodney's hand.

Rodney raised his head from where he'd been licking the strip of skin between John's balls and thigh. "It is, isn't it?" he said smugly. "You want three?"

"Fuck," John moaned, pushing down again.

Rodney stretched him gently for a little longer, not even shaking off John's hands as they buried themselves in his hair and tugged lightly.

"Oh, you want me up there?" he asked, sliding his fingers out.

"Please," John moaned. "Oh, god - please."

He moaned again when Rodney slithered up his body. He caught one leg in the crook of his elbow and shouldered the other to the side. He guided his cock to John's ass.

"You sure?" he said.

"Don't be a tease," John said, but there was no heat behind the words.

Rodney hummed, but he still didn't move.

"Fuck, Rodney," John moaned. "Come on. Put it in - I want you in me."

Rodney kissed the center of his chest and pushed in.

John choked off a cry and rolled his hips up as far as he could. Rodney stayed still, letting John loosen up a little around him. When John started clenching down on his cock, Rodney took the hint and started to fuck him, easy and careful, his pace maddeningly slow.

"Faster," John begged. "Harder."

Rodney braced his hands on the bed, pulling John's leg up higher, nearly to his chest. John wrapped the other around Rodney's ribs and pushed up against his solid warmth. Rodney paused and waited until John looked at him, then he smiled softly and kissed John's mouth.

It was sweet and hot and slow, and John fell into it like he always fell into Rodney's kisses. John had been kissing Rodney for eight months now and he still never got used to how good it felt to have Rodney over him, around him, beside him, inside him.

Rodney finally started moving - deep, hard strokes that pushed John up the bed a little more each time. He curled his hands harder around the breadth of Rodney's shoulders and buried his face in Rodney's sweaty neck.

They were so close together that John could rub his cock between them, getting the friction he so badly needed. He made nonsense noises into Rodney's throat, biting and licking at the tendons of his neck.

"Come on," Rodney said, more impatient than a guy balls-deep in another man should probably be.

"Okay, okay," John moaned, speeding the pace and rubbing his sweat-slicked cock against both their bellies.

"I want to feel it when you come," Rodney said, and that was all it took for John, tightening around Rodney like he'd never let him go. John's whole body locked up, and he felt the hot splash of his own come between them. He fucked into it until he was too sensitive. He looked up at Rodney's face. Rodney had his teeth caught in his lower lip, and his eyes were closed, his head back.

"Come on," John said, mimicking Rodney. "Come on."

With one more hard shove that felt like it split him open, John felt Rodney's cock pulsing inside him in time to his little breathy groans of pleasure.

Rodney let John's leg down before pulling out carefully. He reached for the towel he'd placed on the bed table earlier and cleaned them up. John was entirely too fucked-out to help very much, only lifting his hips enough for Rodney to scrub at the wet spot a little.

John drifted, sated and happy. Rodney slid into bed beside him and turned out the lights, leaving the room brightened only by the moonlight shining in through the softly-colored Atlantean windows. Rodney pulled John into his arms.

"Happy birthday," he said. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Best birthday ever," John said into Rodney's neck. Just as he was falling asleep, he thought he might have felt Rodney press a kiss to his hair and say, "I love you."