TITLE: 1, Burns Close

AUTHOR: Demon Faith

CATEGORY: Romance, Angst, AU

SPOILERS: Up to 'Instinct', to be safe

TIMELINE: Set in an alternate future - I'm not sure this situation will ever arise on Atlantis

RATING: PG-13

WARNINGS: Unbelievable sap smattered with angst, naked Carson

SUMMARY: 'This simply wasn't happening to him. But it was, and he had to make the best of it. He'd never admit he secretly liked it.'

DISCLAIMER: Stargate Atlantis is owned by competent and capable human beings - huzzah! David Hewlett and Paul McGillion belong happily to themselves.

NOTES: I'm feeling all domestic as I buy shocking amounts of kitchen utensils. FYI, 1, Burns Close is my dream house.

For Mags, for she ended my indecision.

He sat on the miserable little station platform in the miserable little town where he was currently stranded. The train was two hours late, as the one before it had been, making him a sum total of four hours late. And his cell had no signal in this godforsaken place, so he couldn't even be sure Carson would be there when he finally arrived.

Rodney couldn't quite believe the ridiculous conglomerate of situations that had him nursing cold coffee in The Middle of Nowhere, Scotland, but he wondered if he really should be complaining at all. It was in his nature to complain - he was one of those people who laboriously answered all the questions on the Customer Care forms and never rated anything above Average, and he was quite contented that way. However, on this particular occasion, he was only slightly damp and cold, whilst Carson...Carson...

It had been six months since Rodney had last seen him. They'd both been more than a little angry - Rodney with himself and Carson with the world, a most horrible manifestation in the bright and bubbly doctor that Rodney had been frankly terrified. Rodney had regretted the parting ever since and, in a most un-Rodney-like gesture, had tentatively written a letter of apology.

Much to his surprise, it had been gratefully received and he'd received a little video package with the next set of letters, Carson in front of his computer, smiling and waving and inviting Rodney to live with him.

It had been a slight shock to say the least. More shocking still had been the strange palpitations in his heart that urged him to do so immediately, quitting Atlantis without a second thought and moving to Scotland. And Rodney, to the surprise of everyone on Atlantis including himself, did just that.

Liz and John lamely tried to talk him out of it but as they'd been on the receiving end of his bad temper for the past six months, their protests weren't all that great. Rodney promised to return with Carson as soon as possible, but as none of them knew when that might be, it was quite the empty threat.

He absently patted the bag that contained the various gifts he had for Carson from the Atlantis denizens - he was still incredibly popular and sadly missed, so Rodney had been burdened with quite a number of parcels and packages. Teyla had been going on and on about some herbal balm that Ronon had traded for and had pressed quite a large jar into Rodney's hands, much to Ronon's disgust. They hadn't been the best of friends recently, each silently blaming himself for Carson's departure, but the big man had told him quite sincerely that he would be missed.

Rodney never realised he had so many friends until he had to leave them behind. He wondered if Carson had felt the same.

Finally, the train rolled in and Rodney heaved his two suitcases and holdall into the carriage. He managed to snag a window seat and almost fell asleep, lulled as he was by the soft Scotch burrs humming around him. He couldn't wait to hear Carson's voice again, to see him, to hold him...

Rodney shook his head. Just because Carson had appeared better on the video didn't mean he was that well. Rodney closed his eyes against the image of Carson lying in the infirmary, whiter than the pillow beneath his head and barely able to stutter out a sentence. His mobility was near zero, his chances of recovery slim and Rodney had watched as they'd shipped him back to Earth like so much rubbish.

Yet that video was proof - Carson was recovering and maybe, someday, they might even return to Atlantis. But, for the moment, Rodney had done the unthinkable - he'd left his work and the biggest adventure of his life to play house with his estranged lover. Put like that it sounded like a bad Mills and Boon novel, but Rodney held a strange feeling inside of him, one that called softly at night and told him he was going home.

The train came to a halt and Rodney shook himself awake, hauling his numerous bags onto the platform and looking cautiously around for evidence of Carson. When none was immediately obvious, his heart sank - maybe he'd come all this way for nothing, maybe Carson didn't want him anymore, maybe...

"Rodney!"

His head whipped around so fast he thought his neck would break. His wide eyes drifted down to see Carson smiling up at him from a chair, fingers nervously playing with a joystick and revealing his anxiety. Rodney just gaped.

"Well, are you just going to stand there? C'mere, you great oaf!"

Rodney's legs carried him forward of their own accord and he found his face being seized by Carson and eager lips meeting his. He returned the kiss with fervour, until he realised their location and jolted back.

"Carson, we're in public!" he hissed. The doctor shot him a look.

"Aye, and I know these folks. Afternoon to you, Sheila," he said politely to a bemused-looking lady who shyly waved back.

"Should I be jealous?" Rodney whispered, wondering if he was grinning like a fool as he slipped his hand into Carson's free hand.

"She's old enough to be my mother," Carson said dismissively. "Now, how are we going to get these things home? There's enough to furnish a castle!"

"Hey, my entire life's in these bags!" Rodney protested, then caught himself. "Except for you, of course," he finished with a mumble.

Carson laughed out loud, scaring a flock of birds into the trees. "Oh, Rodney, I knew I'd find your romantic soul someday! Come on - hang those smaller bags on my chair and drag the cases." He lowered his voice. "You might have to release my hand."

Rodney extracted his hand and considered the bags and the chair. "You won't tip over?" he said worriedly and Carson smiled patiently.

"You're the physicist, Rodney, you tell me."

He decided to risk it and carefully balanced the holdall over the handles of the chair before taking up the suitcases and letting Carson lead the way.

It wasn't as far as Carson had made it sound, was really only just round the corner, and Rodney took in the sight with something close to awe. There was a row of neat little cottages before him, with carefully maintained cottage gardens except for the one on the end which was overgrown, more resembling a jungle than a front lawn. Rodney pegged it as Carson's immediately, would have even before he caught sight of the large golden money tree peeking out from behind the bright kitchen curtains.

“Do you like it?” Carson said softly and Rodney could only nod as they approached the cottage along the smooth tarmac of the front path. Carson fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a key, sliding it into the low lock about halfway up the door.

Rodney found his voice. “How long have you been here?”

“About a month now. One of the first things I did when I got out was make you that video.”

The low ceilings caused Rodney to duck a couple of times but, of course, they posed no problems to Carson and he led them through the slightly-shadowed hallway into the kitchen. Rodney’s first thought was that it was designed for children, but then realised the surfaces were the perfect height for Carson to work on. Rodney realised prolonged backache was in his future.

“You hungry?” Carson said, opening his fridge door and peering inside. “I can probably manage a cheese sandwich.”

Rodney’s stomach growled over his denial and Carson laughed again before collecting the various foodstuffs and utensils, aided by a device that largely resembled a mechanical claw. Rodney sat down at the kitchen table and watched him work, marvelling at the ease with which his hands sliced and buttered the bread, grated the cheese, compiled the sandwich.

It was presented to him with a quite a flourish and Rodney realised he was proud and said as much.

Carson blushed. “This? It’s nothing special. I just…discovered my limitations weren’t quite where I thought they were. And then I got used to it.”

“Still,” Rodney said, “I’m proud of you.”

“Aye,” Carson conceded, “but let’s talk about you. Never in a million years did I expect you to come here.”

Rodney hesitated a moment, not entirely sure what to make of that. “Does that mean…that I shouldn’t be here?”

Carson looked at him and sighed. “It was the fondest desire of my heart expressed to the man I loved – I’d just stopped believing in miracles.”

There was silence in the wake of that intense burst of honesty and Rodney carefully laid his hand over Carson’s, which had started trembling in his lap.

“I can’t promise miracles, Carson, but I am here.”

They spent a few precious moments just watching each other and enjoying the warmth of that single point of contact and Rodney realised just how much he’d missed the other man, how truly lonely Atlantis had been without him. How must Carson have been feeling, stuck out here with no one who knew the truth, reduced to relying on miracles?

“Eat up, Rodney, you’ll waste away. I must just call my mother and tell her you arrived safely – she’s been worried ever since she heard about the strikes in Edinburgh.”

Carson departed and Rodney was left to wonder at the fact that someone’s mother worried about him, and that the lady in question was the closest thing he’d ever have to a mother-in-law.

He polished off the sandwich and then decided to investigate Carson’s house. Correction – their house, and wasn’t that a strange thought? Rodney walked somewhat dazedly out of the kitchen and back into the hall. He espied a room opposite and wandered in – it was a lounge area, complete with fireplace and the computer terminal where Carson spent a lot of his time, if the coffee rings and pile of post-its were any indication.

Rodney peered at a strange-looking seat – strange until he realised one arm was folded up and the metal bars on the floor were for docking the wheelchair. It was quite the exhibition in home adaptation and Rodney absently recalled that the USAF had been paying them rather well. He sat in a more normal-looking chair and flicked on the television, watching the news with considerable confusion.

“I didn’t even know that was a country,” he muttered to himself before turning it off. He stood up again, suddenly filled with restless energy, and moved over to the computer, absently wiggling the mouse and causing the laptop to awake from hibernation.

The desktop was practically devoid of programs, but it did display a stretched photograph – Carson affectionately smearing cream on Rodney’s nose and Rodney doing his best to pretend he was annoyed. He vaguely remembered it being taken by Kate Heightmeyer and Carson carefully saving it to his laptop one afternoon, but beyond that, the situation escaped him but they looked happy and in love and it was that fact that caused his stomach to flip and made him sit down hard in the non-existent chair.

“Ow,” he moaned softly as he lay sprawled on Carson’s wooden floor, wondering if carpet would hinder the progress of the wheelchair.

“Rodney, what are you doing?” Carson said, voice torn between concern and laughter.

“Sitting. Or that was the intention.”

He hauled himself to his feet and rubbed his ass self-consciously until he realised Carson’s eyes were darkening.

“Want me to kiss it better?” he said sultrily, and Rodney flailed like a parrot.

“You…you…can you?” Rodney squeaked and Carson put his head on one side.

“Want to find out?” he said gamely and Rodney tried to hide his obvious, overwhelming fear.

“Of course, if you don’t want to, I’ll understand,” Carson said dully, staring into his lap and causing Rodney to push aside his own misgivings and kneel in front of Carson’s chair, taking his hands in his own.

“I just don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, “but…I think I love you and that…that means everything that comes with you.”

When Carson looked up, Rodney realised his eyes were full of tears and, with alarm, stood to envelop him in his arms, listening to the disjointed sobs in his ear.

“I missed you so much…and I didn’t think you’d come…but you’re here…and you still love me…and I never expected…”

Rodney shushed him awkwardly and soon the tears stopped and Carson was able to pull away from him, red-rimmed eyes regarding him apologetically.

“Not exactly a prime catch, am I?”

“Well, Carson, if you’ll have me, I’ll most definitely have you. Do you realise Radek has the mother of all crushes on you? And I always thought he was interested in me.”

Rodney sighed dramatically and that elicited a small smile from Carson who took his hand again, pressing his palm lightly.

“Come to bed with me, Rodney?” he asked tentatively and Rodney couldn’t deny him anything.

~

Rodney woke the next day with an incredibly silly smile on his face. He chanced a glance at Carson who was still dozing and thought back on their previous evening well spent.

It had started out as awkward as a first kiss, when you bump noses and no one knows where to put their tongues, and they had dissolved into helpless laughter. In the same spirit of manly giggling and gentle exploration, they had reached a satisfying albeit hilarious conclusion, with both falling asleep with grins on their faces.

Blowing softly on his lover’s face, Rodney wondered whether he should confess to Carson it was the most enjoyable evening of his life. Carson shifted and woke, smiling as he realised he wasn’t alone.

“I’ve missed waking up with you.”

“The feeling is very much mutual. Want me to get breakfast?”

“Toaster’s beside the fridge,” Carson murmured and dozed off again, leaving Rodney to crawl out of bed and pull on his boxers, carefully avoiding the hoist and the wheelchair, to stumble down the hallway and into the kitchen. This much was normal, he considered – Rodney’s stomach always prompted him to wake earlier than Carson and fetch something edible before crawling back to bed.

He’d missed jam on the covers.

Digging some crumpets out of the bread bin, he shoved them in the toaster and started to slice the cheese, flicking on the kettle as he worked. Soon, he was humming to himself and it was only when the toast jumped out and he carefully strained the tea that he realised he had been domesticated.

He went to sit and consider but realised that the crumpets would get cold so picked up the tray. He cried out – he’d done it again! Who was he and what had he done with Rodney McKay, confirmed bachelor and science geek? He had even set the knife in the dishwasher and wrapped the cheese in cling film and now he was hurrying to bring his lover breakfast in bed! This wasn’t normal!

Rodney briefly considered rebelling, setting down the tray and making Carson fetch it himself but not only was that downright mean, it was also outside their established pattern. Did that mean he had become like this without him even realising it? Or was there really a difference between fetching ready-made Athosian porridge and making crumpets?

Troubled by his own thoughts, he set the tray carefully beside the bed, absurdly glad there was no rose in a glass accompanying the food. Carson lazily opened one eye and regarded the offering.

“I certainly have you well-trained, Rodney.”

Rodney sat down on the edge of the bed and just resisted putting his head in his hands. “I’m turning into a woman,” he whined and Carson blinked at him in surprise before sitting up and hooking a finger in the waistband of his boxers to peer inside.

“You look all man to me,” he said seriously and Rodney burst into slightly-hysterical laughter.

“I brought you breakfast in bed!” he gasped. “I made the tea properly and I didn’t even spill any! Tell me, Carson, is there something in the water? Am I being attacked by oestrogen? Carson, you have to help me?”

Rodney laid despairing hands on Carson’s shoulders and the good doctor looked quite terrified.

“There, there, Rodney, a bit of cooking doesn’t make you a lass. You can put up some shelves if that’ll make you feel better…”

“They’d probably fall down,” Rodney said miserably, reaching for the tea mugs and giving one to Carson. They each took a sip and Rodney realised he was being a bit of a fool.

“Do you just keep me around for entertainment?” he asked Carson with some embarrassment and Carson smiled.

“Aye, and your tea-making skills.” Rodney scowled then and bit into a crumpet. This simply wasn't happening to him. But it was, and he had to make the best of it.

He'd never admit he secretly liked it.

~

When Rodney had first heard about Mrs Beckett, it had been in abstract terms – as in ‘Carson’s really fond of his mother, that’s nice’. Now that he was standing on the lady’s doorstep, with Carson sniggering at him because he had extracted a bouquet from the mess in the garden, it was a whole different story.

Sure, he had met parents before, but those occasions were few and unanimously involved women. They were also curiously devoid of all guilt that he had almost single-handedly put their child in a wheelchair.

Carson hadn’t mentioned anything but Rodney still felt that responsibility resting on his conscience. He wondered if Mrs Beckett knew any of that, if she had any notion of his part in Carson’s life. He very much doubted it and that was both comforting and fairly disquieting. Rodney almost felt as if he’d lied to the woman before he’d even met her and he had a feeling that wasn’t the best possible start to a relationship.

The brightly painted door opened and a stout woman peered out at them. She was fairly upright and dressed in a t-shirt and plain trousers, a walking stick and her long white hair, which was tucked neatly into a bun, the only concession to old age.

“And you must be Rodney!” she said in a thrilled squeak. “Carson, dear, shut the door as you come in.”

Rodney looked at Carson in alarm, but he just smiled and moved carefully up the ramp especially laid down for the occasion. Rodney followed the lady into her sitting room, marvelling at the doilies over the tables and the crowded mantelpiece. He wondered if his mother would have turned out like this.

“Now sit down, Rodney – that nice big chair by the window, and give me those lovely flowers. How do you like your tea?”

“Uh…milk, two sugars,” he said absently, mechanically handing over the flowers, and she nodded before disappearing again. Carson just drifted closer and laughed at his shell-shocked expression.

“I’m just grateful the attention is on someone else for a change,” he confided with a smile and Rodney glared at him.

“What exactly have you told her?” he whispered furiously. Carson just smirked.

“Oh, this and that. She’s a bit innocent though – I left out most of the sordid details.”

Rodney managed another glare before Mrs Beckett wheeled in the tea things, including some shortbread. Rodney stared at it for a moment before he felt Carson’s eyes roll and he reached for some of the sweet, crumbly biscuit.

“So, Mrs Beckett, how are your petunias?”

“Oh please, Rodney, call me Mairead! And they’re beautiful – come out and see them! Are you joining us, Carson?”

“No, no, you two go ahead,” Carson said with a sickly sweet smile on his face. Rodney wished he could knock it straight off, but he smiled back and followed Mairead out into the garden.

She was right, the petunias were beautiful, but as she took hold of his arm, he realised that wasn’t why they were in the garden.

“Carson’s a good boy,” she started thoughtfully. “He used to write letters when he was nearby, and then when you went off on your little adventure,” Rodney awkwardly cleared his throat, “I didn’t hear from him for some time until he sent that little video through the military, saying he was safe and well and that his friend Rodney hoped to help him get home soon.”

Rodney coloured at that – the saving of Atlantis had so very little to do with him it was untrue, he could think of so many people more involved than he…he once more caught himself and realised he didn’t know himself anymore. That was a disturbing thought.

“Despite what Carson likes to believe, I am not blind. He’s been pining after you these past six months and finally, you’ve shown up! What could possibly have been more important I don’t know, but there you have it. You’re here now and that’s what matters.”

Rodney would be having words with Carson Beckett when they got home, but amongst them would be ‘pining’. He wondered if that would get him smacked or laid.

“I want to assure you, Mairead, that I love him.”

Where the hell had that come from? He had barely been that honest with Carson and here he was, spouting forth to his mother like there was no tomorrow! This domestication thing would really need thinking about.

“Oh, aye, I think you do,” she said approvingly and squeezed his arm. “But I know something happened between the two of you, and whether it was to do with Carson’s accident or not, I don’t want to know,” Rodney reflexively cringed, “but I don’t want it happening again. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Mairead,” he said obediently and she patted his cheek.

“There’s a good boy. Now, go and eat your biscuit with Carson.”

~

“You pined after me!” Rodney said smugly and Carson sighed.

“Aye, do you want to make something of it?”

Rodney just grinned and cleared away the dinner things. He was slowly coming to terms with the fact that his life was taking a dramatic swerve. There wasn’t a tremendous amount of nuclear physics to be found in Carson’s cottage – though Radek had already sent him two rather panicked e-mails – and so he’d have to find something to do, wouldn’t he?

He’d already discovered that Carson was occupying a part-time general practice post in the village and that he would need an occupation of his own, besides assisting Atlantis and the USAF remotely. And if that role was ‘house husband’…

If you’d mentioned the possibility to him a year ago, he would have laughed it off as absurd, he would never be that man. Yet here he was, with the possibility strangely attractive. Carson had assured him he wasn’t turning into a woman, had performed a thorough examination just to be sure – Rodney shivered at the thought – but for such a shocking, life-altering decision, it seemed remarkably easy.

He was living with Carson in their little cottage in Scotland, Carson had a job and he didn’t, and he’d suddenly discovered a talent for making tea. He had a feeling he might go stir-crazy if he didn’t find something else to keep his mind occupied, but for the in-between times, actually sleeping and doing normal, everyday things was very appealing indeed.

And having the time to appreciate Carson properly.

“You look tired,” he said softly, resting a hand on the tight knot of Carson’s left shoulder.

“Aye, I feel it too. These last two days have been…strenuous.”

Carson’s eyes met his with a sparkle and Rodney leant down to kiss his nose.

“Teyla gave me a gift for you – you have a massage table around here?”

Carson’s face lit up, a wicked glint in his eyes, and Rodney reflected that his lover was insatiable. He led the way to a small room off their bedroom where there was indeed a table.

“Uh…should you…use the bathroom first?” Rodney said awkwardly, and Carson sighed, disappearing into their bedroom to get to the en suite.

Rodney dived into the room to extract the jar and inhaled the scent of Atlantean wildflowers. He wound the table down to the level of the chair as Carson returned, eyeing the jar with glee. Rodney was reminded of the couple of occasions where they’d got hold of such balms on Atlantis and the playful pseudo-massage that had ensued.

This time, it was his turn to play and he could put his accumulated knowledge to good use. Slowly stripping Carson of his clothes, wincing in sympathy as fatigued muscles spasmed under even that gentle touch, Rodney helped him slide onto the table and roll onto his front, displaying a generous amount of pale skin for Rodney to attack.

Rodney watched him settle on his folded arms, closing his eyes as Rodney warmed some balm between his palms. Starting at Carson’s broad shoulders, Rodney dipped his hands in the crease between neck and shoulder, pulling the muscle back and letting his thumbs skim round Carson’s shoulder blades. He hooked his fingers over the curve of his shoulders and pressed down with his palms, small bursts of pressure as he moved down his lover’s back and towards the central ridge of his spine.

Carson sighed under his touch and Rodney’s movements gentled, fingers working tiny circles into the tense muscles until they started to relax, eliciting little moans and gasps from Carson as he worked.

“You carry too much here,” he whispered, as his fingers skittered over taut skin, worrying at the muscle beneath until it yielded to him. “Let go, let go to me…”

Carson snuffled softly into the pillow and Rodney grinned, scooping up some more balm, rubbing his palms together with joyful anticipation. He brought his hands back to the beckoning flesh, clever fingers insinuating themselves lover down his back, pushing in towards his spine in triumph, pulling away with regret.

His hands were drawn to the round globes of his ass and though Rodney knew he was brushing the edges of Carson’s sensory limit, he could see those muscles were equally abused and dug into the unresponsive thighs and calves, as if he could will them to work by the mere touch of his hands.

Rodney worked his way back up his lover’s body, proprietary hands eager to claim as they were to soothe. He leaned over to push up Carson’s arms all the way to the tips of his fingers, pausing there to lay a soft kiss on the exposed smiling cheek.

It was then that Rodney realised Carson was asleep. He didn’t know whether to be offended or pleased that he had finally relaxed. With a dramatic sigh, Rodney manoeuvred Carson onto his back and pulled him gently into a sit before, with great effort, hauling him over his shoulder.

“My body is not designed for this,” he groused, staggering under the weight of the sleeping Scot. Despite the strain, he carefully laid him down on their bed, throwing off his own clothes before snuggling under the covers, not particularly caring that it was still light behind the curtains.

“Just you and me now, Carson,” he murmured sleepily. “Love you.”