"You can't buy friendship, father!" Rodney yelled at the top of his voice.

"Bullshit," Max McKay replied. "That's just something poor people say to make themselves feel better. He'll be here at 7:00."

That's how Rodney got a new best friend.

"Look, I'll pay you double to go away," Rodney said, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the guy lounging in the doorway to his wing of the house.

"Yeah, he said you'd try that. He'll match whatever you offer me plus ten percent, though - so feel free to bargain." He pulled one hand out of his pocket and held it out toward Rodney. "I'm John Sheppard, your new best friend."

Rodney stared unmoving at the hand. "I can't have a new best friend if I never had an old one. Go away." He turned and stomped back to the sofa, falling into its loving embrace and picking up his game controller. He didn't look up from Grand Theft Auto when the couch dipped beside him. He didn't look away when a pair of sneakered feet propped themselves on his coffee table. He didn't look up when he heard the crinkle of cellophane.

"Get your hands off my Doritos," he said.

"Yeah, whatever," the guy - Sheppard - said through a mouthful of chips.

"Aren't you supposed to do what I say?" Rodney asked, casually running over two hookers.

"I'm supposed to be your friend, not your servant." Sheppard stood up, still holding the chip bag. "I know you've got a fridge in here."

"Behind the pool table," Rodney said. "At least a servant would be useful."

"You already have servants - I saw a butler and a maid on my way in." Sheppard came back with two cans of Mountain Dew, setting one down in front of Rodney.

"They're not mine. I only get to tell them what to do within reason."

Beside him, Sheppard drank, then belched loudly. "So, what do you do all day? I know you don't go to Hartford." He named the local private school.

"I blew that joint two years ago," Rodney said. "I just finished a BSEE at Tech and I'm cooling my heels until I start my first PhD in the fall."

"No Masters?" Sheppard asked sarcastically.

"I'll pick it up along the way," Rodney said. Onscreen, he died, so he tossed the controller onto the table and picked up his soda. "How did I get to be your summer job? Has summer break even started?"

"Tomorrow's the last day of school. My stepdad works for your father," Sheppard said, crushing his Mountain Dew can and flicking it toward the wastebasket in a perfect three-pointer. "Dr. Zelenka."

"Radek's your dad?"

"Stepdad," Sheppard said. "He and my mom got married a couple of months ago. My real dad gets sent out of the country a lot, so here I am."

"Too bad," Rodney said. "If Radek was your biological father, you might be smart enough to actually hang out with me."

"I can see why your father felt the need to purchase you a friend," Sheppard said.

Sheppard didn't come back on Friday, but he showed up Saturday about 2:30, hungover.

"Go away," Rodney said, pausing The Venture Brothers.

John went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of Gatorade, drinking half of it before walking over and sinking onto the couch. He gestured at the screen. "Doctor Girlfriend is not a man!"

"Yes, I belong in here. I just have a deep voice," Rodney replied without thinking. "Rough night?" He restarted the TV but turned the sound down.

"Graduation party," John said, drinking more Gatorade.

"Hmm," Rodney sniffed. "Like you have the brain cells to spare."

"You don't know me well enough to insult my intelligence," John said, capping the bottle and setting it aside. "Save something for when we're BFFs."

Rodney snorted. "You hungry?"

"I could eat," John said. "Just nothing too...red."

"Red?"

"Don't ask."

"Ooookay." Rodney picked up the phone. "Cadman, anything good for lunch?" He turned toward Sheppard. "Steak sandwich okay?"

"God, yes," Sheppard said.

"For two," Rodney said into the phone. "Yeah, yeah - up yours. And if you spit in my sandwich, I'll have you fired. Again." He hung up.

"You're really nice to the help," Sheppard said.

"Cadman and I have an arrangement - she doesn't poison me and I help her out with a few things."

"Like..." Sheppard said.

"Well, there was this guy who dumped her...I kinda flooded his house. And her car doesn't show up on police radar anymore."

"Do a lot of people try to poison you?" Sheppard asked. "I mean, not that I blame them..."

"Ha ha. I have several life-threatening food allergies. Cadman has proven that she can pay attention. She used to be a Marine."

"Cool," Sheppard said finishing off his Gatorade. "I'm going to the Air Force Academy in the fall."

"Good for you, what an outstanding way to waste your life." Rodney turned the TV up one notch. "What does your dad think of that?"

"He's in the Air Force, McKay." Sheppard kicked at Rodney's foot.

"Oh, I meant Radek - what does he think about it?" Rodney turned the TV down one notch.

"He thinks I should do what makes me happy. And that I should major in mathematical sciences instead of aeronautical engineering, but that's a fight he's gonna lose."

"Wait, you're good in math? Has Radek taught you 'prime/not prime'?" Rodney actually muted the TV.

"Duh," John said. "7867."

"I'm not good at this stuff," Rodney said, holding the basketball warily.

"What 'stuff'?" Sheppard had his hands on his hips, and he flicked his hair out of his eyes with a toss of his head.

"Physical stuff," Rodney said. "I'm better at intellectual pursuits."

"There's only so much Venture Brothers you can watch," John said.

"And after that there's Robot Chicken," Rodney replied. "I don't see a problem."

"Throw the ball through the hoop, Rodney," Sheppard said, pointing. "It's angles and spatial relations, you can do it."

"Of course I can do it - it just gets complicated when you add in the other people trying to screw it up."

"That's what makes it fun," Sheppard said, and pounced.

"This isn't fun," Rodney said, looking down at his bloody knee.

"I said I was sorry," Sheppard muttered, standing behind the petite strawberry blonde woman who was carefully cleaning Rodney's scrape with peroxide and cotton balls.

"Yeah, Rodney, suck it up," Cadman said. "It's not fatal." She pressed a band-aid over his knee and patted it gently. "Good as new."

"What, no cookies?" Rodney said, turning his best puppy-dog eyes on her.

Cadman laughed and brushed the hair back from his forehead affectionately. "There's oatmeal raisin in the jar. And get a haircut, McKay."

Sheppard was already getting a double handful of cookies, so Rodney limped exaggeratedly toward the door. "No," he said. "And don't forget to call us for dinner."

"I like your hair," Sheppard said, handing over half the cookies.

Rodney reached up with his free hand to push it out of his face. "Really?" He never really thought anything of it - his hair was blond-ish and tended to curl all over the place when he forgot to get it cut. Like he'd forgotten to get it cut for...six months or so.

"All you need is wings and a halo - you're like a cherub." Sheppard walked ahead of him into Rodney's wing, dumping his cookies on the coffee table before heading for the refrigerator.

"Fuck you," Rodney said. "People with floppy hair shouldn't throw...and, crap, that metaphor just fell apart. Is there milk in there?"

Sheppard held up a carton and shook it at him before coming back over to the couch. He ate a cookie, swigged some milk, and passed the carton to Rodney.

"Why don't you call me by my name?" he asked. "I mean, John - you call me 'Sheppard' or, you know, 'dick.'"

Rodney drank some milk and frowned. "So I don't forget. That you're not really my friend." He looked away, setting the carton on the table.

Sheppard toyed with a cookie. "I would be, you know. If you'd let me."

Rodney didn't answer.

"Your dad's going out of town? We should have a party!"

"Yes," Rodney said, leaning forward to flick the wheel of the iPod to change songs. "We could invite all of my friends. Oh, wait - they're already all here."

"I know people," Sheppard said. "We could get a good crowd."

"Sure. A whole bunch of people who will come over and ignore me as long as they get to use the indoor pool and the sauna and the game room. That didn't get old until at least the fifth grade." Rodney looked out over the lawn from the shade of the verandah.

"There's an indoor pool?" Sheppard's eyes were huge.

Rodney nodded.

"And a sauna?"

Rodney nodded again.

"Well, hell," Sheppard said. "We don't need anyone else - party for two."

Rodney smiled.

"I'm staying over," John said, dropping a duffle bag onto the couch.

"Yeah, I guess that engraved invitation got lost in the mail." Rodney barely looked up from his issue of Condensed Matter Physics and his bag of Cheetos.

"Rodney."

When he looked up, Sheppard was standing there with his hands on his hips, giving him a look.

"Your Dad is gone for the weekend, I bribed Cadman to buy us beer and go away, and the pizza's on me - what more could you ask for, here?"

Rodney ate a Cheeto, then looked up. "Well, when you say it that way...Meat Lover's, thick crust."

"What's the magic word?" Sheppard said, pointing at him.

Rodney took a deep breath and smiled just a little. "John," he said.

"We should have heated the pool," John said, his teeth chattering.

"I turned it on this afternoon, but the v-v-v-volume of water is too much..." Rodney wrapped a towel around his shaking shoulders. "The sauna should be hot, though."

They raced to the frosted glass door and both sighed happily when they were hit with a wall of steam. Rodney spread his towel on one of the benches and relaxed down onto it, happily breathing in the hot, moist air.

"Oh, this rocks," John said, propping himself against the wall and stretching his feet out in front of him.

"Yeah," Rodney agreed.

"So maybe we save the pool for tomorrow, huh?"

"Good plan," Rodney said. "Freezing to death isn't very high on my list of fun things to do."

They laid around on the benches for a few minutes, then Rodney sat up with a huff. "Okay, beer now," he said. "And a stupid movie, I think."

"The Fast and the Furious?" John suggested.

"Oh, good god," Rodney moaned.

"Top Gun? The Rock?"

"Well, those are certainly stupid," Rodney said, standing up and gathering his towel. "Come on, you owe me pizza."

After three slices of pizza and three beers, Top Gun was actually kind of good. Rodney had to admit that the planes were cool, but Meg Ryan was seriously getting on his nerves.

"Rodney?" John said from his seat afoot away on the sofa, and his voice was low with a tone Rodney'd never heard before.

"What?" Rodney finished his beer and put the bottle on the table. John handed him his empty, and Rodney set it down, too.

"Look," John said. "Don't get mad or take this the wrong way, but are you gay?"

Rodney could feel his face heating up, and he involuntarily flinched away from John. "Damn, I knew I was watching the volleyball scene too avidly. Are you gonna kick my ass?"

"No," John said, turning halfway toward him, his eyes on his hands, twisting in his lap. "I might...I mean, I think I...might be. Gay. Too."

"Really?" Rodney squeaked, then cleared his throat. "Really?" he said again, in a more normal tone.

"I don't know," John said. "How did you know? That you were? Are?"

Rodney sighed. "I just did. I kind of always knew that I liked guys. I was a couple of years ahead of my age group, so it was really weird, but I figured it out, with some help." He smiled faintly, remembering Peter.

"Help?"

"Peter Grodin - we did some projects together in undergrad." Rodney smiled again.

"I thought you didn't have any friends," John said, looking up long enough to level a smart-assed smile at Rodney.

"We weren't friends," Rodney said. "We were actually rivals. Rivals with benefits, I guess."

"What happened to him?"

"He's British; he went back to England after his BS. Left about six weeks ago."

"Do you miss him?" John tilted his head to one side, looking at Rodney seriously.

"Parts of him," Rodney said.

John barked out a laugh, then fell silent again. "What did you do...together?"

Rodney stood up and went to the fridge, coming back with two more beers. "Everything," he said, handing one bottle to John. "We did everything. Well, not everything, I guess. But, handjobs, blowjobs, frottage, sixty-nine, fucking..."

"What's frottage?" John asked, breathless.

Rodney took a long sip of his beer, then blushed. "It's...uh...rubbing off on each other. It's better than it sounds, trust me."

"You guys...fucked?" John's face was as red as Rodney's, and they were breaking their necks to avoid looking at each other.

"Yeah," Rodney said. "Peter - he liked getting fucked. He never did it to me, but he really...seemed to like it." Rodney could clearly remember some of the truly obscene noises Peter had made under him. And while riding him. They hadn't really liked each other, but they'd had great sex. Usually followed closely by screaming arguments, but great sex nonetheless.

John took in and released a big breath. "Do you, uh...want to?"

"With you?" Rodney asked.

John nodded.

Rodney nodded back.

They stared at each other for ninety looooong seconds. Rodney counted.

"Okay," John said. "Where do we start?"

"I could...I could kiss you. Would that be okay?" Rodney cringed a little. He didn't know if John wanted to kiss. He and Peter had, sometimes. But, he figured that John wouldn't want to, that he was just trying this out, using Rodney to experiment. And Rodney was really 100% okay with that. Really.

"Yeah," John said. "Kissing's good."

They both put their beers on the table, and Rodney ran his damp palms over his sweat pants before turning and reaching toward John. He touched the side of John's face gently, letting his fingers slide back until they cupped the curve of John's jaw, raspy with stubble. He ran his thumb across John's cheekbone, drawing in a quick breath when John's eyes drifted closed.

The kiss was slow and soft, and it was so much better than any kiss Rodney'd had with Peter. John's lips were full and soft, and they parted easily when Rodney slid his tongue along the seam. John's mouth tasted like beer and pizza, and his tongue was wet and silky. Rodney brought his free hand up to grip John's shoulder, sighing when John's warm hands bracketed his face and he leaned into the kiss.

They kissed for a long time, moving as close together as their seated positions would allow. Finally, John broke the kiss with a frustrated noise. "Do you want to lay down on the couch?" he asked.

"No," Rodney said, stroking his hand down the side of John's neck. "Can we go in the bedroom? I've only ever done this in storage rooms or Peter's dorm and, uh, that once in the library stairwell. We could stretch out...have room."

"Okay." John stood and held a hand out to Rodney. "Take me to bed or lose me forever," he said, grinning widely.

"Oh, god, you're a moron," Rodney said, but he grinned back, and he didn't let go of John's hand until they were standing beside his bed.

"This is a big bed," John said blankly.

"California King, prescription mattress," Rodney said. "I have a bad back."

"Okay," John said. He turned back to look at Rodney. "Should we get undressed?"

"Yeah," Rodney said. "Yeah."

He watched as John grabbed the hem of his tee shirt and pulled it off. He'd seen John's bare chest before - lean with a nice proportion of muscle, and John had a good bit of chest hair.

Rodney pulled his own shirt off. John's hand came up, but it stopped several inches from Rodney's chest.

"You can touch me," Rodney said. "You can do anything you want." He bit down on a moan when John's hesitant fingertips brushed his nipple, making the already-hard flesh tighten further. Rodney reached out and put his hand on John's hip, letting his thumb trace up and down the curve of muscle.

"You look...good," John said quietly, then, more forcefully. "You look good."

Rodney stepped in and threaded his arms around John's waist, palming the muscles of his back. He leaned in for another kiss. John met him enthusiastically, and Rodney could feel his cock throbbing, straining at his boxers, distorting the front of his sweat pants. And he could feel John's matching erection, and it felt so good. He moved so that their cocks were lined up and ground their bodies together, smiling when John gasped.

"That's frottage," he said. "It's even better naked."

John's hands went to the button of his jeans gratifyingly quickly. Rodney stepped back and stripped out of his sweats and boxers, then watched John push his jeans down over his hips. Once jeans and briefs cleared John's ass, Rodney pushed him down to sit on the bed, then knelt to work the jeans down and off.

John's hands came up to rake through his hair. "I really do like your hair," he said. "Cherub."

"Ass," Rodney said. He pressed his palms to John's thighs and slid them up, feeling the crinkle of hair and the twitch of muscle as he moved. When his fingers touched the smooth skin of John's hips, they both looked down, looked at Rodney's big hands framing John's cock. Rodney closed one hand around the base and leaned down further. He opened his mouth and huffed his breath over the head of John's cock.

"Rodney, god!" John's hips flexed, but Rodney moved with him. As soon as John stilled, Rodney did it again. This time, John managed to stay mostly still, so Rodney opened his mouth to take John in, working his tongue lightly around the ridge.

John's hands tightened in his hair, fingers digging into Rodney's scalp with just enough pressure. John moaned above him. Rodney bobbed his head a couple of times, then pulled off. "Not yet," he said.

"No?" John moaned.

Rodney stood up and watched as John pulled himself onto the bed, stretching out against the white sheets. John's body was long and lanky - his uniformly golden skin was bisected by the wide pale band usually covered by his swim trunks. His cock was rock-hard, lying against his belly, the skin shiny with Rodney's saliva.

"Please, Rodney," John said, his voice husky. "Come here."

Rodney crawled onto the bed and over to John, trying not to blush at the feeling of his cock slapping against his belly as he moved. He kept going until he was straddling John, then he leaned in close. John tilted his head up and they were kissing.

It was just as good as before, and Rodney groaned when John's hand came up to tentatively touch his cock. His fingertips were warm and just a little rough, and Rodney could feel John testing the softness of the skin, the hardness underneath. John traced the ridge and then the slit, and Rodney thought his head was going to explode. John broke the kiss and tilted his head back, and Rodney buried his face in the sweaty skin of his neck.

"Move your hand," Rodney said into John's ear. And when John did, Rodney lowered himself to his elbows, tangling their legs together and getting their cocks aligned perfectly. He pushed down with his hips experimentally and felt John arch beneath him. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," John moaned. "God, I...I didn't know it would be so..."

"Yeah," Rodney echoed, starting up a slow rhythm. "Fuck, yeah."

John's hands came up to hold his hips, then they slipped around and down, long fingers cupping Rodney's ass and squeezing hard as John grew bolder. The sweat on their bodies eased the slide, and Rodney started moving faster. John bent his knees and spread his legs, shoving his hips up, meeting Rodney on every stroke.

"Rodney," John gasped. "Oh, god, Rodney!" And Rodney felt the first hot splashes of John's come between them before he came, too, in a rush of heat and white light.

Rodney kept moving through it as long as he could, kept them pressed together until his too-sensitive cock demanded that he stop the friction. He heaved himself over onto his back, letting his head loll onto John's sweaty shoulder while he tried to catch his breath.

"So," Rodney said, once he could speak. "What do you think?"

"Good," John said. "That was really good. When can we do it again?"

"About half an hour," Rodney said. "You really liked it?"

John propped himself up on one elbow, smiling own at Rodney. "Yeah. I really liked it. I really liked that it was you."

Rodney felt his mouth fall open, and he struggled to close it even as he felt a blush heat his face. "Oh," he said. "I didn't know if you just wanted to...experiment, or..."

"Rodney," John said. "Yeah, I wanted to experiment. With you."

"Okay," Rodney said dumbly, grinning. Then he had a thought. "Do you think you should keep taking my dad's money? Wouldn't that make you a hooker?"

"No," John said slowly, like Rodney was stupid. "Your dad's money is going to buy me a car so I can come visit you on school breaks. Duh."

"Okay," Rodney said again. "But, I'm going to MIT - that's a long way from Colorado."

"So what?" John said, leaning down for a quick kiss. "I'll go wherever you are."