Bethy's Fanfiction

In The Beginning

2008-06-18T02:31:15Z

Title: In The Beginning: A New York City Cats Story
Author: bethynyc
Rating: PG for violence
Pairing: John/Rodney, but not yet
Word Count: 2018
Written for: “Animal, Vegetable, Mineral challenge at sga_flashfic. Animal, obviously. Prequel to “When John Met Rodney”
Unbetad, please forgive and point out issues!

In The Beginning

Link goes to community, will be posted here as well after the challenge closes. Sometime.

SchoolVerse Chapter 19: Aftermath

2008-06-15T22:48:02Z

Title: SchoolVerse Chapter 19: Aftermath
Author: bethynyc
Fandom: Buffy/Angel
Pairing: School!Verse Giles/Wesley
Rating: Teen to Adult for themes
Word Count: 2880
Summary: The aftermath of Ethan's scheming breaks more than he expected.
Disclaimer: All things BtVS/Ats belong to Joss, ME, and various corporate entities.
Note: This is an AU where Giles and Wesley (and others!) are students at a mythical British Boarding School in the current day.
Thanks to lonelybrit for her beta!
School!verse icon created by the lovely and talented katekat1010
Previous School!Verse Here
Constructive Criticism appreciated; see user info for details

Wesley almost didn’t get up when he heard Rupert’s knock. Ethan’s invasion and subsequent ultimatum had shaken him to the core, and he almost couldn’t bear to look at Rupert. But he had to, and above all he had to act normal.

He got up slowly and opened the door. “Hi.” He smiled at Rupert, who leaned against the door, practically bouncing. “Come on in.”

Once the door was closed, Wesley put his hands on Rupert’s shoulders. “It must be good news; you’re vibrating out of your shoes! What is it?” He pushed the sick feeling down and away, and tried to pay attention to what Rupert was saying.

“It’s provisional, of course,” Rupert grinned widely. “But definitely accepted to Christ Church college—majoring in Classics, not Political Science!”

“How did you swing that?” Wesley was properly astounded.

“Just didn’t tell him. He can think what he likes, the bastard. He wants a PM in the family, he can damn well run himself!” Rupert looked so smug that Wesley wanted to kiss him, and so he did.

Something of Wesley’s inner turmoil must have communicated itself to Rupert, because halfway through the kiss he stopped and looked into Wesley’s eyes. “What’s wrong, Wes?”

Wesley shook his head, looking away. “I just, just missed you, that’s all.” He glanced back, and managed what he hoped was a shy yet nervous smile. “I’ve been thinking, about, you know, what we did.”

Rupert’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“And,” Wesley took a deep breath, “I think I’d like to try it from the other side.”

He didn’t think it was possible for Rupert’s eyes to get any bigger, but they did. “Oh!” He pulled Wesley close and wrapped his arms around him. “You sure?”

Wesley found his throat closing and breathed deeply to clear it. “Sure.” He hoped Rupert wouldn’t notice the tremor in his voice. He wouldn’t think about anything right now except for Rupert’s arms tight around him and his chin resting on Rupert’s shoulder.

Wesley could feel Rupert’s pulse speed up against his ear and turned to nuzzle at the fluttering spot under his skin. He was rewarded by the sharp intake of his lover’s breath and the tightening of their embrace.

He lifted his head the barest amount, just enough to put his mouth to Rupert’s ear. “I want this. Want you.” he whispered, before placing a soft kiss very precisely underneath his ear.

Wesley couldn’t think any more—all he could do was feel. He tugged Rupert’s t-shirt up and over his head, dropping it to the floor before Rupert pulled Wesley’s Henley shirt off. Their mouths met, filled with passion, and the incongruent gladness at having left his glasses on his desk flickered through his brain.

They toppled over onto the bed, each of them kicking off shoes and tangling themselves up in their trousers. Wesley laughed suddenly—the clumsiness was so typical of the two of them. It was a wonder they hadn’t given each other multiple concussions in the course of their lovemaking.

“What?” Rupert smiled at him, and Wesley had to kiss him again.

“It’s just funny, you know. Life.” With that, he rolled over onto his back, pulling Rupert on top of him. “Please?”

Rupert was more than happy to oblige.

~*~*~*~

Afterwards, when they were both sweaty and sated, an unbearable wave of sadness swept over Wesley. He sighed lightly, drinking in Rupert’s scent and committing it to memory.

Rupert noticed. “Wesley, what’s wrong? I know this term is stressful for you…”

“That’s…Rupert, we, we have to talk.” Wesley tried to keep the sadness out of his voice, but somehow Rupert knew.

Rupert sat up straight. “Those words never bode well.” He scooted back, leaning against Wesley’s headboard. “What do we need to talk about?” Rupert stretched out a long arm and snagged his discarded trousers, pulling out his cigarettes and a lighter.

Wesley could tell he was nervous; Rupert almost never smoked around Wesley, and never in Wesley’s room. “This term. It’s only been a week and I’m swamped. Between catching up with the Lit module, my regular classes, the Latin, the Greek, and the creative writing class, I’m going full out. Rupert, I don’t have time for myself this term. And, even though I hate it,” Wesley took a deep breath and looked directly into Rupert’s eyes. “I don’t have time for you.”

Twitching his fingers around the cigarette, Rupert got out of the bed and sat by the curtained window. He opened it a crack, and the flash of the lighter illuminated his face in the dim light of the room. “Thought this all out, haven’t you.” A statement of fact, not a question.

Wesley nodded and pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. This was more difficult than he had thought. “I have. Rupert, it’s for you too. You need to concentrate on this last term to make sure you get into Oxford. I can’t be a distraction.”

“You weren’t.” Rupert took a long drag and blew the smoke out of the cracked window. “In point of fact, both my grades and yours were better last term than any term previous. You noticed that yourself.”

He had, actually. A term relatively free of Ethan-induced stress, plus having Rupert and regular sex taught Wesley to not only relax, but to enjoy his classes again. Time to try another tack. “Last term, my parents were together. Even though I didn’t get along with my father, I can’t help but wonder if I’m ready for such an intense relationship. Mum…Mum was barely twenty when she met Father, and they married while she was still at Oxford. What…What if I’m doomed to repeat their mistakes?”

“Do you have so little faith? In me? In us?” The hurt and anger in his voice supplanted the coldness.

“In you, yes! In me…no.” Wesley started to get dressed. “We both have so much ahead of us, and, really, we’re still children in some ways, I know I am.” Rupert was dressing too—apparently he couldn’t argue properly naked either. Wesley’s skin itched from dried sweat; he wanted nothing more than to drag Rupert into the shower and forget all about breaking up with him.

Instead, he took a deep breath and steeled his resolve. “That isn’t the only reason. I want to be sure that this isn’t just…infatuation.”

“Is that what you truly think, Wesley?” Rupert wasn’t looking at him at all, staring instead through the cracked window. “Because I don’t believe you. There is something else going on.”

A wave of desperation crashed over Wesley. “Can’t you just accept that I’ve thought it over?”

“No.” Rupert flicked the cigarette out the window. “But I don’t want to force you. Ever.” His eyes met Wesley’s, and the naked longing there almost made Wesley confess the whole problem. “I don’t want this to be over, and I wish you’d talked to me, you know, before making such a command decision.” He stood, and his sorrow was clear in every line of his body. Rupert walked over to Wesley, placed his hands on his shoulders, and gave him a single tobacco-flavored kiss. “Goodbye, Wesley.”

With that Rupert walked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

“It’s for your own good.” Wesley whispered, as Rupert’s footsteps faded down the hallway. “And I wish…”

But he couldn’t speak the wish out loud. Instead, he sat down at the computer and began to write.

~*~*~*~

Ethan positioned himself at his window so he could spot Rupert’s return unseen. And there he was, dragging like an old cat that’s been beaten. The Prig must have done the deed. He shivered in malicious glee—his enemy was defeated and Ripper would come back to him. Everything would be like it was. At least, until August.

But that was months away.

He double checked his room to make sure all incriminating evidence of his involvement was hidden away. Sloppy work just wouldn’t do. He glanced back outside to see Ripper approaching across the quad from Wesley’s rooms. His head was down, hands in the pockets of his jacket, no hat, of course, but his scarf was thrown negligently over his shoulder.

Ethan wondered where he was going. Would he come here, to his room? No, more likely he would go moan on Spike’s shoulder. Ethan’s lip curled; Spike and Faith were a complication he couldn’t afford. Wesley was likely to whinge to Faith, who would tell Spike, who would tell Rupert if only to keep in Faith’s good graces.

Ethan had no idea why Faith terrified him, but she did, and he’d only met her at the fall party. He had the feeling that she could kick his arse without breaking a nail or a sweat.

So, best to lay low and work on Ripper directly, thought Ethan.

He heard Ripper’s steps along the hall, heard them pause by his door and then continue on to Spike down the hall. Ripper knocked his usual knock, waited a minute, then knocked again.

Ethan smiled to himself. He knew for a fact that Spike was drilling some first years in rugger formations, since it was the first dry day they’d had in a while. Football practice in January was bad enough without adding mud to the mix. Not that Ethan would know from experience, but Spike had played every year since they first met, and he always complained about January and February practices.

He grabbed some schoolwork and listened at his door for Ripper’s footsteps returning down the hall.

With perfect timing, he opened the door and ran right into him. “Giles! Long time no see!”

Ripper smiled, a mere stretching of the mouth for the sake of politeness. “Ethan. Haven’t seen you for a bit.”

Ethan shrugged. “Throes of creativity. And editing. You?”

Giles sighed and sagged against the wall. “Got into Oxford.”

“And therefore, the moping?” Ethan looked at him meaningfully. Ripper just looked uncomfortably. “Well, if you’d rather not talk about it…” Ethan turned away.

“Wait.” The word sounded like it was the most difficult thing to say. Ethan swiveled back on one heel and faced Ripper. “Inside?”

Ethan inclined his head and opened the door.

Despite the clutter, Ripper found a place to sit simply by pushing the pile of laundry off a chair and falling into it. Ethan offered him a cigarette and Ripper accepted it, lit up and puffed away. “Not sure if you were aware I was seeing someone.”

Dryly, Ethan replied, “I’d gathered that, thanks. What with the disappearing act these last few months.”

“Yes. Erm. Well, we just…he just broke it off, and I…I’m…I don’t know what to do.” Ripper suddenly looked lost, and Ethan felt an unfamiliar twinge.

“Well. Not sure what to say.” Ethan glanced out the window, mind whirling furiously. If he badmouthed the Prig, Ripper would defend him. If he was sympathetic, Ripper might attempt to enlist him in some mad scheme to reinvigorate the relationship. “I’m sorry.”

Rupert stared, incredulous. “What did you say?”

“I’m sorry. Sorry you are going through a bad time.” Ethan shrugged. “I’d offer a complicated scheme for revenge, but I don’t think that’s what you want right now.”

A shrug from Ripper was highlighted by another drag on the cigarette.

The silence between them grew uncomfortably long, until Ethan finally asked, “Did he give any reasons?”

Ripper shifted uncomfortably. “Um, yes. Rather good ones, actually.”

“And…?”

“That we both need to concentrate on schoolwork, that he feels he’s too young for such an…intense and serious relationship, and that he’s afraid it is just infatuation, a crush.” Ripper studied his shoelace very intently before glancing about for an ashtray. Ethan handed him a coffee mug that he’d used earlier, and Ripper gratefully tapped away the ash. “Can’t really argue with him. Just wish he’d talked to me about it.”

Ethan sat back in his chair, deceptively casual. “Not so pleasant, is it? Not having a say in your relationship.”

“No. Not at all.” Ripper paused, then the mental anvil hit. “Oh. Shit, Ethan, I’m…”

“Gone and past. Apparently I wasn’t the great love of your life.” Though you’re mine, you bastard. And I’ll break you for it. thought Ethan.

“Still, I didn’t think. I know we’ve grown apart these past few months, but that’s no reason for me to…” Giles sounded desperate.

With a shake of his head and a smile, Ethan leaned forward. “It’s forgotten, Ripper.”

“Don’t…don’t call me that.”

Ethan was surprised. “I’ve been calling you that since we met.”

“I know, but I’m not that person any more.” Giles looked away.

This pissed Ethan off. “What, you’ve ‘grown’?” he shot back sarcastically. “No more Ethan, he’s got all the emotional maturity of a twelve year old? You’ve forgotten, then, about certain wild summers in Bath?”

Giles snarled at him, “No, I haven’t bloody well forgotten! Did you ever think about the people we hurt during those summers? Those girls we led on, the old people we tortured with pranks?”

“Those were the best times of my life!”

“They were the worst of mine!” A shocked look crossed Giles’ face, as if he realized just what he said.

Ethan froze in his own shock, before recovering enough to stalk over and open the door. “I see what trying to be a good friend gets me. Get out.”

“Ethan, I…”

“Thank you. For finally being honest enough to tell me how you really feel.” Despite his outer calm, Ethan was shaking with rage; an emotion he generally only felt in the presence of his parents.

Rupert opened his mouth, closed it and shook his head. He dropped the stub of the cigarette in the mug and walked out.

Closing the door behind him, Ethan sat on the bed and buried his head in his hands. Why did he still want Giles? Even when he burned with anger, he wanted him, wanted those hands on him, god, he was still hard from being in the same room as Ripper. Rupert. Giles. Whatever.

The worst part was knowing that Giles would choose The Prig over Ethan in a heartbeat. That Giles didn’t want him with the same intensity that Ethan felt in his gut and groin. It hurt so much, to the point where Ethan longed for Giles to feel that same pain and fall back into his bed.

It wasn’t working out quite as he had planned.

But the main part, the breaking up part, that had worked. And even if Giles didn’t want to be Ripper any more, even if he didn’t want to be with Ethan any more, he still wasn’t with The Prig, and that was victory enough.

Even if he didn’t have anyone to gloat to.

~*~*~*~

Wesley stared at the screen. Over ten pages written, a letter that Rupert would never see, that detailed how he felt and how much he didn’t want to break up. It all came down to Ethan, who, for whatever reason, wanted them apart. Wesley tried his best to be neutral about Ethan, but a certain acerbic quality crept into his language when writing about him.

He ached for Rupert, in his heart and in his body. Wesley was glad for their last lovemaking. Receiving Rupert felt completely right, and he was glad they had experimented with fingers so he could get used to stretching.

It was wonderful, and Wesley would never forget it.

His throat closed up, just thinking about what he had lost. Part of him hoped that when they were both at Oxford (if he got in, of course) they could rekindle the relationship, but the brutally honest side felt that Rupert would never want to have anything to do with him again.

If only he were braver, he would stand up to Ethan, tell Rupert about the blackmail, and they could face him down together. When he was with Rupert, he felt like anything was possible. Without him, he had to reach out to someone else.

Wesley flipped open his cell phone and stretched out on the bed, trying not to nuzzle the pillow that still carried Rupert’s scent. He hit his speed dial. The phone rang twice and was answered.

“Wesley?”

“Hi Mum.” Despite clenching his stomach and jaw to keep calm, a wobble still seeped into his voice. “Can…can I come home for a couple of days?”

“Of course you can, Wesley. I’ll call the school.” He could hear her bustling about. “Do you want to take the train, or shall I pick you up?”

“I'll take the train, and call you from the station. Thanks, Mum.” Wesley said gratefully.”Is-is Faith there?”

“Doing homework, I'll call her.” He heard her put the phone down, call out to Faith in the kitchen where she preferred to study.

He heard the click as Faith picked up the extension and winced as she hollered “I got it!” to Mum. “Hey, Wes, what's up?”

Wesley felt his throat close tight again from emotion. “Oh Faith,” and his voice cracked as he said the words out loud, the words that made it real. “I broke up with Rupert.”

Orpheus Ascends

2008-05-05T02:24:10Z

Title: Orpheus Ascends
Author: bethynyc
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3130
Any warnings/spoilers: Tao of Rodney alternate ending.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, Sci-Fi Channel and MGM do, and no infringement is intended.
Thanks to: helenakacan for her lovely beta work! (squishes)
Written for: tragedyoptional, Where Fandom Meets Opera!
Prompt: Orpheo ed Euridice (well, sort of.)

Rodney was gone. John still couldn’t believe it. He’d just…dissolved into a pool of light and disappeared.

He couldn’t do that.

A voice, Rodney’s voice, spoke quietly in his head. “John, I wish I'd told you I loved you.” Then it was gone too, the memory of the words echoing through John’s brain.

Suddenly he was angry, furious with Rodney for leaving and saying that, of all things! He glanced around, hoping no one noticed the set of his jaw.

Teyla was next to Elizabeth, and their eyes shone with unshed tears. He noticed that they were holding hands, tightly, leaning on each other for support. Carson stood quietly, head bowed and eyes closed; Ronon in much the same position.

John couldn’t stand it any more. He stalked out of the infirmary and headed for the gym, where he pummeled the heavy bag until a squad of Marines came in to work out, then he pummeled them until the Lieutenant called Ronon to take him away.

He ran all around Atlantis, Ronon pacing him for every step, until he couldn’t breathe right and his legs trembled. They kept trembling even when he showered with the water as hot as he could stand, and trembled when he fell into bed, still damp and angry.

The only thing that ran through his brain was, “What the fuck was that, Rodney?”

Finally, exhaustion overtook his body, and he fell into restless slumber.

***

John woke up to a glowing light in his room. “Rodney?” he called.

“No, John.” The voice was female, tinged with sadness and regret. The light coalesced into a figure he had grown to know very well.

“Teer? What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to guide you, John. The Ascended are not so blind as you may have thought, and your grief for Doctor McKay has penetrated the highest realms.” She stepped forward. “Would you bring him back?”

“Yes!” John stood up, and suddenly he was dressed in his BDUs and boots, wearing his favorite black t-shirt and carrying a P-90. “What the…?”

Teer smiled gently. “This is not a journey of the body, John, but one of the spirit. I will guide you, but it is up to you to pass the dangers of the journey. If Doctor McKay is truly who you desire, you should have no problem bringing him home.”

John stepped back. “Wait, what? Desire?” An uncomfortable feeling circled his stomach, something he had been ruthlessly suppressing for a long time.

Teer looked surprised. “Do you not?”

A thousand different memories slammed through John’s brain in a rush: Rodney bouncing with eagerness as John prepared to shoot him in the leg, his surprise at learning that John was good at math, shooting the ancient Wraith after losing Gall, countless of off-world missions where Rodney had come through in the end.

Every time they shared a geeky joke that no one else got, laughed at the same spot while watching a movie, or jockeyed for the last blue jello filled his mind. John realized that he did care, did love Rodney.

That was why those final words were so devastating. The feelings for Rodney were buried deep, out of a fear that he wouldn’t love him back and that he would lose the friendship that meant more than he'd ever expected.

“Yeah,” he said, and wonder filled his voice. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

With that, he checked the tac vest that appeared on his body, making sure he had equipment for everything he might need, from C-4 to Powerbars in Rodney’s favorite flavors. After a final pat on his extra spare hidden knife, he nodded at Teer. “We ready?”

She lowered her eyes and inclined her head, before taking his hand. A whirlwind of fog surrounded them, blowing Teer’s wavy hair across her face. He felt the puff of air and wondered if it was his mind creating the wind or Teer’s, and decided to experiment a bit. After all, he was known for being able to manipulate his inner environment.

John closed his eyes, and opened them to see the familiar HUD of his favorite puddlejumper, with Teer sitting beside him. Somehow she managed to look both inscrutable and confused, before she smiled at him. “Such abilities are why I believe you will Ascend one day.”

That calm assumption of his future rankled at him. “What if I don’t want to Ascend? I mean, the whole reason for this is to bring Rodney back from being Ascended. Daniel Jackson came back twice, if I recall. So, really, Ascension isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” He gave her the arrogant grin, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

Coolly, she changed the subject. “We are approaching the testing ground.” With that, she pointed West, and the fog parted to reveal a cave with a convenient landing spot in front.

John landed easily and they walked up to the front of the cave. He peered inside, but could only see darkness. “What’s in there?”

Teer gave him a cryptic smile. “Only what you bring with you.” With that, she and the puddlejumper disappeared.

“Crap.” He didn’t think Teer would give him the Yoda treatment, but there it was—a cave that looked disturbingly familiar. He thought for a moment about creating a lightsaber, but realized that he probably couldn’t use it anyway.

He tightened his grip on his P-90 and stepped into the cave.

***

The cave was still familiar, but rather than the swampy, snake-filled pit of the Dark Side where Luke had failed his test in Empire, John found a dry cavern made of sandstone. His breathing sounded large and harsh in his ears, and it was only when the strange breeze from nowhere fluttered over his face that he realized what was going on. He fell to his knees and tumbled forward, barely escaping the whirling blades of the trap from the end of the Last Crusade.

John smirked to himself, remembering how Rodney made fun of Harrison Ford’s action hero status when they had a Raiders movie marathon. He pushed his hair back, only to discover a brown fedora on his head. Looking down at himself, he saw the leather jacket, whip, and revolver of the celebrated Indiana Jones.

“Cool.”

The blades were still spinning, so he found the rope and hooked it so the blades came to a stop. Rodney had claimed that the trap was physically impossible from an engineering standpoint, but did admit that it was a pretty cool effect.

John recalled Rodney sitting next to him in the dark, warm thigh pressed against his, bogarting most of the popcorn. The memory brought John back to his task. It had been a while since he'd seen the movie, but vaguely remembered that the next obstacle involved jumping from letter to letter over a deep chasm.

Sure enough, there were the letters, down a narrow, twisting corridor that made it impossible to jump over the trap. John grinned, thinking of how Indy started to spell ‘Jehovah’ with a ‘J’, when in the Latin it began with an ‘I’. Well, he wouldn’t make that mistake…

He scrambled for the solid rock when the thin pottery shell crumbled beneath his foot.

“What! It starts with an ‘I’!”

In the back of his mind, he could hear Teer’s amused tone. “And are you seeking Jehovah?”

John started to roll his eyes and thought for a minute. His eyes flickered over the letters as he mentally spelled. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile, and he jumped, mostly, from letter to letter, spelling DR RODNEY MCKAY, which led him to the other side.

Though the passageway was less narrow, it was more twisty than the previous one. However rather than the huge chasm he'd expected (and the picture of Indy with his hand on his heart, trying to summon up some scrap of faith, flickered through his brain) there was a door. A simple door with a lion’s head in the middle.

Cautiously, John opened the door.

Rather than the expected room filled with Holy Grails guarded by an ancient knight, he saw the interior of a diner. A slightly Gernsbackian, fifties era diner, complete with gum-cracking waitress in a pink uniform with a starched cap.

Said waitress offered him a menu. “Just one, honey?” Her nametag read ‘Oma’ and John didn’t understand why the name was vaguely familiar.

He smiled his most charming smile—the one he used on alien dignitaries—and answered, “I’m meeting a friend.”

She nodded. “Right this way.” She led him to a booth in the back, and a wave of relief swept over John as he saw Rodney in the booth, busily tucking into an omelet with Canadian Bacon.

But when he got to the booth, Rodney wasn’t alone. There were two other Rodneys there with him. The one he first saw was dressed in the black combat uniform; the other two in orange fleece and the science blue and khaki respectively. All were eating as if the food was going to run away, and Oma cheerfully refilled their coffee mugs.

“Colonel.”
“Colonel.”
“Colonel.”

After acknowledging him, they all went back to their food. Oma smiled and gave him a menu.

John sat in the booth next to CombatRodney, across from ScienceRodney and diagonally from AntarcticaRodney. “Well. This is…different.”

“You’re telling me…us.” AntarcticaRodney snorted.

John couldn’t help himself. He stole a piece of bacon off ScientistRodney’s plate and received a familiar glare in return. “So why triplicate?”

Oma answered this question, setting down a cup of piping hot coffee just the way he liked it in front of him. “It’s part of the test. You have to pick the Dr. McKay who ascended.”

John shifted uncomfortably. “Who are the other two?”

“Other ascended beings, taking on the guise of Dr. McKay for the duration of the test. Each of them believes he is the real Dr. McKay.”

“What if I pick the wrong one?”

The three Rodneys stopped eating and stared at him. Oma sobered. “He stays. No second chances. You will wake up with no memory of this journey, and Rodney will stay here.”

“The food is decent.” said ScientistRodney.

“The coffee is good.” said CombatRodney.

“But it’s boring here!” finished AntarcticaRodney.

Nope. That didn't help. “So, how do I choose?”

“You may ask them questions, but no more than three.” Oma turned, and in a flash was back with steak and eggs, hash browns and a freshly toasted English muffin dripping with butter. She winked. “Specialty of the house—knowing what you want to eat before you do!”

“When did this turn into the dating game!” John sighed, picked at his breakfast, and tried to think of three questions. Finally he set down his fork. “Okay, what was the first thing Rodney ever said to me.”

Three identical eye rolls, and “Major, think about where we are in the solar system,” emerged from three identical and smirking mouths.

John conceded the point. “Okay. That was obvious.” He applied himself to his eggs, mind whirling.

He was still thinking when Oma refilled his coffee with a smile. “Do, um, I have any kind of time limit?”

She shook her head. “Time doesn't mean a lot here. Except that it's always breakfast.” She wiped a drip of coffee off the table with her rag. “Of course, you probably shouldn't take too long. Time is still moving back on Atlantis.”

That spurred him to think, and one evening watching DVDs came to mind. “What is the airspeed of an unladen swallow?”

“African or European?” The answer, again in triplicate, bounced back at him right on cue.

John groaned. This was much harder than he thought!

He finished his breakfast, and considered his final question. Something else nagged at the edge of his mind. He could swear that one of the Rodneys was answering his questions just a hair ahead of the others. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell which one.

Then it came to him.

“Okay, this is what we’re gonna do. I’m going to go to that empty table. Each of you will come over to me. I’ll ask the question, and you whisper the answer to me. And no sneaky listening with Ascended hearing, either!” John glanced at Oma, who nodded slightly.

He drained his coffee and set it down before he walked to the deserted corner of the diner.

A minute later, AntarcticRodney came over. “Ready?”

John nodded. “What was the last thing you communicated to me before you ascended?” he whispered directly into that Rodney’s ear.

Rodney jumped for a second, then answered. “I’m going to miss you, Sheppard.”

John smiled. One down. “Okay, go wait over by the counter until I've seen the other two, okay?”

With a grin, that Rodney obeyed.

ScientistRodney was next. His whispered “Good luck with Zelenka” made John wink in encouragement before sending him over to stand with the other Rodney. It wouldn’t do to give the game away prematurely before the Ancients could pull a fast one on him.

The third, CombatRodney, didn’t look happy when he heard the question. “I thought telling you once would be enough,” he snapped.

“Just whisper, McKay.”

Rodney sighed. “John, I wish I'd told you I loved you.” He looked defeated. “Now you’re going to leave me here.”

“Rodney, don’t be a moron.” With that, John grabbed the black tac vest and dragged Rodney into a rough embrace. “I wish you had, too.” He kissed him hard and dirty, a promise of things to come.

He didn’t notice the other two Rodneys look at each other and dissolve into white light.

Oma and Teer stepped forward. Teer looked at him sadly. “Now for the final test, John. The puddlejumper is right outside. Once you both get into it, you cannot look back. Rodney will be sitting behind you, but you cannot look at him or speak to him until you are safely back in Atlantis. If you do, you will lose him. He will come back to us, and you won’t ever see him again.”

John clutched at Rodney’s shoulder, and felt the answering squeeze. “Why all these tests? What are you testing for, anyway?”

Gently, Oma replied, “We are testing your fitness, John. We tested your courage, your ingenuity, and now your strength of will. Those three qualities are what will lead you, both of you, to Ascension. Eventually.”

Rodney, the real Rodney, snorted. “Being pure energy isn't as much fun as you claimed. Believe me, your marketing campaign needs work.” He hung on to John, who was enjoying it.

John broke in, “So those are the rules? Rodney sits in the back of the 'jumper, I can't look at him or talk to him. What if he talks to me?”

Teer just shrugged. “What usually happens when he talks to you?” She sounded a little snippy, and John realized that she was probably disappointed. Well, she was Ascended, she'd get over it.

He thought about what she asked. “I...answer him. Usually. If he's being annoying, I tell him to shut up.” The enormity of that possibility struck him. “And then I'll lose him.”

Rodney, who had been obviously looking forward to a puddlejumper ride where John couldn't speak, stared at him, eyes wide with fear. “I don't know how long I can keep quiet.”

John bit his lip and frowned. “Rodney, you have to. Otherwise it's boredom and brunches for eternity.” He gripped Rodney's shoulder strongly. “Okay, buddy?”

With a nod, Rodney lifted his chin and clenched his jaw shut.

Oma smiled. “Good luck, gentlemen. I hope it is a long, long time before I see you again.”

“Ditto.” John turned to Rodney and kissed him deeply. “Just...try?” At Rodney's nod of assent, John stalked out to the jumper.

He didn't look back, just walked in, sat in the pilot's seat, and waited for a good ten count before closing the hatch. No noise from Rodney.

The puddlejumper ride was the most surreal of his life. He kept wanting to turn around, make sure Rodney was really there behind him. He couldn't hear him breathe, no clicking of laptop keys, none of the usual sounds that had always reassured him that Rodney was right there, watching his back.

They flew past the mountain, and John wanted to tell Rodney all about his Indiana Jones adventure. He wanted to gossip about everyone they knew. He wanted to make plans to watch the newest Doctor Who DVDs. He wanted to turn around and look at the man who had been beside him through thick and thin and tell him that he hadn't even realized how much he loved him until he was gone.

Instead, John angled the puddlejumper up and out of the atmosphere towards the space gate.

As he started the dialing sequence, the HUD popped up and showed him three darts heading for his position. He aborted the dialing sequence and started evasive maneuvers. He wanted to yell at Rodney to get up here and get him more power, but somehow he managed to stay silent. He fired off one drone before he realized that they couldn't possibly be real Wraith—it was part of the test.

He stopped firing, almost expecting to hear Rodney's loud complaints. Closing his eyes, he focused on the darts firing on each other and blowing up. John heard two explosions in quick succession, and opened his eyes.

They were alone in space again, aside from the gate and some debris. With a little grin, John almost turned around to gloat with Rodney before he remembered. Instead, he fired up the DHD and the gate whooshed open.

John wasn't taking any chances; he landed in the eerily empty jumper bay and opened the hatch. He counted to thirty before stepping out of the jumper...

...to find himself in his quarters, with Rodney standing there, grinning at him.

“Did...did we do it?”

“You did it, John.” Rodney glanced away. “I, er, understand if you didn't mean...”

John interrupted him by dragging him into a deep kiss. “Rodney, we've wasted too much time already.” He wrapped his arms around his scientist and fell backwards on the bed.

~*~*~*~

Later, after the welcome back makeout session and blowjobs, John drowsed in Rodney's arms, finding comfort where he never thought to look before Rodney's Ascension.

Rodney had one last thought before sleep claimed them both. “So. When are we going to tell them I'm back?”

John made a non-committal movement with his shoulders. “Dunno. Maybe when they come knocking on the door to see if I've finished grieving yet.”

Rodney hit him with a pillow.

Just What I Needed (Simon Tam/John Sheppard)

2008-05-04T15:29:06Z

Title: Just What I Needed
Author: bethynyc
Rating: PG
Fandom: Firefly/Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: Simon Tam/John Sheppard
Word Count: 2269
Written for: Crossover challenge at maleslashminis for wesleysgirl, prompt at the end.
Thanks To: caoilainn for her insightful and speedy beta.
Disclaimer: I don't own Simon. Joss does, but he's not playing with him right now. SGA is owned by MGM and Sci-Fi, and no infringement is intended.
Notes: Set in SGA-verse between “Trio” and “Midway”, vague spoiler for “Trio”

They found him on P2X-592, an uninhabited world that had been culled by Wraith and bombarded by Replicators into human extinction. Other than that, it was a relatively nice place, temperate weather, no large predators, and most importantly, no bugs.

McKay found him, of course, after following a strange energy signal to the wreck of a small spacecraft that piqued John's interest, as new things to fly always did. The pilot was severely dehydrated and on the brink of death.

Keller flew in with four Marines and stabilized the pilot enough so that it was possible to bring him back to Atlantis. John caught a glimpse of dark hair and pale skin before the stranger was surrounded by medical equipment.

The Daedalus picked up the ship, and McKay was able to break into the log. The ship was a shuttlecraft belonging to the cargo ship Serenity, the pilot was one Simon Tam, a doctor returning to Serenity after a mercy trip to another ship. Cerebus' Captain had severe abdominal pains, and after an emergency appendectomy, Tam needed to catch up to Serenity, which had continued on it's way. Before Tam reached them, a space anomaly swallowed the shuttlecraft, blinding the instruments and briefly knocking the good doctor unconscious.

When he woke up, he found himself low on fuel and the only habitable planet nearby was P2X-592. John was impressed by how comparatively minor the damage was to the shuttle, considering Dr. Tam was making his first dead stick landing on an unknown planet.

That was four days before they found him. Dr. Tam was a lucky bastard.

John just happened to be in the infirmary getting his knees checked out when Dr. Tam woke up. He wanted another look at the the man with the courage to travel alone through space in a craft clearly meant for short hops, all to save the life of a stranger.

Amber, the nurse, had been checking John’s knee when a very agitated Simon Tam woke up. He was swearing in Chinese, of all things. John hopped off the exam table and moved to Tam's bedside to help while the nurse ran for Keller.

“Hey, buddy, it’s okay! You’re safe here.” John tried to put comfort as well as command into his voice. This man wasn’t a soldier; telling him to stand down wouldn’t work.

The man looked at him with wide eyes, obviously scared. “Where am I? Where’s River?”

John took a deep breath. “Just calm down, doc. I don’t know River, but if you just relax, we can help you.” He caught one flailing hand and tried to keep the man from crawling out of the hospital bed.

At his touch, the man calmed down. “Right. Keep calm, assess the situation.”

John smiled. “Now, My name is Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. What’s yours?”

The man returned his smile and shifted his grip to shake hands. “Doctor Simon Tam.” His eyes drifted and widened again. “Kaylee?”

Dr. Keller stepped forward. “No, I’m Dr. Jennifer Keller.”

Dr. Tam whispered something that sounded like cursing, and squeezed John’s hand tightly, as if seeking something solid to hold onto. Simon cleared his throat. “You look…very like her. Kaylee.”

Keller smiled brightly. “Guess I have a double out there! Now, let’s first get you healthy, then figure out what happened to you, all right?” She bustled around the bed, checking vitals and hydration levels.

Simon nodded, and finally let go of John’s hand.

John didn’t think about why.

~*~*~*~

After a week, Simon was well enough to participate in a briefing. Colonel Carter brought in McKay and Zelenka, Keller, Lorne, Teyla and Ronon, and John. Carter smiled reassuringly at the young man. “Just tell us what you remember. The logs were somewhat sketchy.” She sat at the end of the table, broken leg propped up on a stool, crutches within easy reach.

Simon launched into his tale. He was a doctor, trained at Alliance hospitals, and had been very successful until he learned that his sister, River, was being held against her will in a government facility. With some assistance, he infiltrated the laboratory where she was being held, and rescued her. In the course of their flight from the authorities, they found a ship, Serenity, and became part of their crew. Serenity was a cargo ship, not always legal, and Simon found himself regularly digging bullets out of shoulders and legs and sewing up knife wounds. There was always the fear of Reavers, horrific once-humans who raped and cannibalized their way across the outer rim territories.

McKay, having been shushed by both Carter and John throughout the story, finally burst out with “Sounds like a TV show Fox would cancel!”

“McKay!” Carter snapped, and Simon smiled.

“Just think, Dr. McKay. You live in a floating city, the city of Atlantis! Some would call that fodder for entertainment.”

John grinned; Simon obviously had no problem handling McKay.

When Simon described the anomaly that enveloped his shuttle, and the surprising solar flares at the same time, both Carter and McKay got very excited and talked at each other about natural stable wormholes and rifts in the fabric of space and time.

As they technobabbled, Simon leaned over to John. “Do they do this often?”

“Only when needed.” John grimaced. “It’s Rodney’s method of flirting.”

Simon smiled, and John felt warmth grow in the pit of his stomach. “Tell me about your world.”

“Well, technically, this isn’t our world. It isn’t even our galaxy, really. Teyla and Ronon, they’re from here. We call this the Pegasus galaxy. Most of us are from the Milky Way galaxy.”

A strange expression crossed over Simon’s face, but all he said was “So where are you from?”

“Little planet we call Earth.”

Simon’s eyed practically bugged out of his head. “Earth? Earth-That-Was?” He swore in Chinese again before asking, “What year is it?”

The rest of the table had silenced at Simon’s outburst, and were now listening to their side conversation. “Two thousand and eight.” John replied.

Simon swore again. “It can’t be. Earth doesn’t exist any more. It’s gone, dust, the past. How could I have traveled through time?”

Carter shrugged. “It happens. Happened to me.”

“And you got back, got home?” Simon asked eagerly.

Rodney broke in. “Of course! We’re the smartest people in two galaxies. If anyone can figure out how to send you back, we can!” His confidence seemed to hearten Simon, who sat up straight and nodded. After a long look at their time-traveling guest, the physicists went back to their discussion, incorporating the new information into their theorizing.

Zelenka leaned forward to a much calmer Simon. “Please, do you know if your ship took readings? Ummm, measurements of the space around you?”

Simon gazed into middle distance for a moment before answering. “I believe so. I’m not much of a pilot, to be honest.”

This pleased Zelenka. “We have pilot. Colonel Sheppard is best pilot—I’m sure he can decipher your craft.”

The three of them left for the pier where the Daedalus had deposited the shuttlecraft. Zelenka and the other engineers had mostly left it alone, aside from the logs and patching some of the more obvious holes. John had already made a couple of furtive, late-night trips to the shuttle. Spaceships were inherently cool.

They stepped inside, and Simon went over the basic operating system of the shuttlecraft with John while Zelenka took readings. They powered up—not enough to fly, but enough for diagnostics to let them know that the engines needed serious work before the craft would be spaceworthy again, and found the readings the system had gathered automatically during his trip through time that would help Simon to get home again.

The thought made John a little sad. He’d found in Simon the incisive brilliance he craved, without the barriers of team dynamics or rank.

The three of them worked on the ship over the next few weeks, as Rodney and Carter filled whiteboards with calculations that made even John’s head ache. Soon they were taking short trips in atmosphere, and managed to upgrade the shields and install a non-gene required cloaking device. Simon spent more and more time in the infirmary, learning the equipment and adjusting his skills from the future.

John noticed that Simon made an effort to call Keller ‘Doctor’ or by her first name, since her last name was too close to “Kaylee” for comfort.

He found himself watching Simon more and more. John told himself that he was merely keeping an eye on a possible threat to Atlantis, but he didn’t really believe it. Simon also seemed to seek out his company, and despite the vast difference between their backgrounds, they were friends.

At least, John hoped so.

Simon had been in Atlantis for about a month and he and John were on their way to the mess for a well-deserved supper when Carter hobbled up with her cane, a recent replacement for the crutches. “Dr. Tam, could I speak to you for a minute?”

“Certainly, Colonel Carter.” After a nod at John, they sat on a couch in the hallway.

John continued on to the mess, considering whether to wait for Simon or snag a table, when Carter’s voice spoke in his ear. “Colonel Sheppard, please come back.” Something in her tone made him walk quickly, almost run back to where they had stopped for their conversation.

Carter was struggling to stand, leg out at an awkward angle. “John, go after him!”

“What happened?”

She reddened. “I didn’t handle the situation well, that’s what happened. From the logs and the information, he didn’t just travel through time and space, but across realities as well. We…can’t send him home. We can't be sure he'll get back...” Carter shook her head, and John saw how frustrated she was with the problem, and how sad she was for Simon. “I was about to offer him a place here, god knows we can use more doctors, but he ran off before…”

John set his jaw. “I think I have an idea where he went. Let me try.”

“Go.” Carter looked anguished, but John had no time for her.

He ran, not to the shuttle, but to the far end of the West Pier.

Simon was there—he could see his figure silhouetted against the setting sun—and John slowed down, not being stealthy at all.

Simon was standing on the edge of the pier, hands curled into fists. He was staring out at the ocean, but not really looking at it.

John stood next to him, not quite touching, but almost. He didn't say anything, just looked out at the sun setting over the water.

“I'm never going to see River again. My sister. Kaylee. Mal, Zoe, Inara, hell, even Jayne. I was...I don't know what I was doing, but I thought it was good. Wasn't it?”

“Don't know.”

“I loved her.”

“Kaylee?”

“River. I did everything for her, and then she was better, and she didn't need me any more. Didn't need me to protect her. Didn't need me to care for her. She became the pilot of Serenity, once we...once we learned the secret she kept inside but didn't know.” Simon sighed.

John had no idea how to react to that. “Is...is it so bad here?”

“No!” Simon turned to John, anguish clear on his face. “That's part of the problem. This city, it's so fantastic! And all these people, all working for a common cause, brilliant, amazing, dedicated people! I never even realized how much I missed being with a group of people who could talk all night about where philosophy and physics meet. I missed...being needed.”

“Hey.” John put a comforting hand on Simon's shoulder, and Simon's eyes glittered with emotion.

“And then there's you. So smart too, though you try to hide it.” Simon gently reached out and touched John's cheek. “And so...beautiful.”

A surge of feeling, long ignored and repressed, washed through John at Simon’s touch. He drew in a quick breath, afraid of these emotions that his simple gesture brought to the surface. Simon was just what he needed, and maybe he, and Atlantis, were what Simon needed as well.

There was only one way to find out. He leaned forward and kissed Simon, softly, on the mouth.

The other man froze for less than half a millisecond, before melting into the kiss. Simon stepped forward and John wrapped his arms around him.

At the end of the kiss, they leaned against each other, forehead to forehead. John wanted to say so many things to Simon, but instead he blurted “Please stay.”

Simon laughed brokenly. “Where would I go?”

“Anywhere.” John insisted. “You could take the chance of getting back. You, you could go to Earth. Your Earth-That Was.”

Simon shook his head, moving it back and forth against John. “What would I do there? I talked to Ka-Dr. Keller, and she told me about the training and insurance and all the bureaucracy that doctors have to deal with. I don’t…”

“Carter…Sam is offering you a place. If you wanted to stay.” John tried not to sound too hopeful.

“I’d like that.” Simon cupped John’s chin and kissed him again, a little wilder than their first. “I’d like this, too.”

“Yes.” John whispered. “Very much.” He pressed his body and mouth against Simon, and was rewarded by an equally enthusiastic response.

The sun cast golden light around them as it set, but neither of them noticed.

Prompt:
wesleysgirl wanted a crossover with Stargate Atlantis, starring Simon Tam and paired with John Sheppard (among other possibilities!) She wanted mention of Simon's hand curled into a fist (for any reason) and did not want either of the main characters to be seriously injured/killed, BDSM.

School!Verse Chapter 18: Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

2008-04-01T00:41:02Z

Title: Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
Chapter 18
Author: bethynyc
Fandom: Buffy/Angel
Pairing: School!Verse Giles/Wesley
Rating: Teen to Adult for themes
Word Count: 2874
Summary: In the new term, things are different. And yet, the same.
Disclaimer: All things BtVS/Ats belong to Joss, ME, and various corporate entities.
Note: This is an AU where Giles and Wesley (and others!) are students at a mythical British Boarding School in the current day.
Many, many thanks to eloise_bright, who is my beta goddess and shall be worshiped forever herewith.
School!verse icon created by the lovely and talented katekat1010
Previous School!Verse Here
Constructive Criticism appreciated; see user info for details

The post-holiday blues—also known as the return to Charles House for the new term—didn't seem quite as bad to Wesley as it had in past years. He and Rupert were solid; he felt that right down to his bones. Certainly they would have to keep it secret until Rupert graduated, but once they were both at University, it would be nobody's business but their own. Wesley could get through the next eighteen months being discreet.

His stomach couldn't help but churn fitfully in his stomach, though, when he received a note in his mailbox for a private meeting with Professor Wolfe. He tried to calm down by reminding himself that Wolfe was his advisor, and as he was in his second to last year at Charles House, he would need to decide on direction of his course of study.

Wesley stared at the note, then sat down suddenly on his bed. His father had originally planned out his future with Wolfe, back when Wesley had first started. But with the divorce...would there be changes?

He wished for time to discuss this with Rupert, to have his soothing voice murmuring in his ear. Unfortunately, Rupert had his Head Boy duties, and Wesley would find out soon enough what Wolfe wanted to address.

~~~

Wesley perched on the edge of the overstuffed armchair, attempting not to drop the teacup. Wolfe glanced at him over the rim of his own cup, eyes crinkling with suppressed merriment, and Wesley just knew the man enjoyed having uncomfortable teenagers squirming in his parlor.

“So. We received word from your mother about the recent alteration in your family status,” The professor set his cup down on the side table. “And I wanted to go over your schedule for the next few terms, see what changes you might like to make.”

“Changes, sir?”

Wolfe smiled in an attempt to be reassuring, but it only ended up alarming Wesley even more. “It hasn't escaped my notice that your father's priorities and your talents were not always in harmony, as it were. Why don't you take a look at the courses being offered over the next few terms, and see if you can't find classes more to your liking.” Wolfe handed over a folder. “Your strong points have been, well, not neglected, but certainly not encouraged to flourish as they might. I've marked some courses and activities that will stimulate them.”

Wesley shifted uneasily in his seat. “Sir. What about...?”

“Your mother has made it clear that your future is your choice now. Your...Mr. Pryce has been removed from first contact lists, and since he isn't paying your tuition, he has no say in your education.” Wolfe leaned forward and caught Wesley's eye. “Your mother wants you to follow your own inclinations, not the plan your father set out for you when you began at Charles House.”

With a nod, Wesley sipped from his teacup again. “Sir, I wonder if my mother told you that, that I'm changing my name.”

Professor Wolfe coughed and spilled his tea. “No, um, no she didn't. What are you...?” He reached for a napkin and mopped the liquid off his jumper.

“Simply Wyndam, sir. I've no desire...well, there's no other family to placate, and since Mum is going back, I thought I would as well.” Wesley took a deep breath. “I'm a legal adult now, and the solicitor said there wouldn't be any problem.”

“Well.” Professor Wolfe took a deep breath. “You are certainly entitled. You'll have to fill out some papers with the bursar and administrative office once the change is legal, but I see no problem. I'll notify your professors.”

A thin smile stretched Wesley's mouth. “Some may have problems with calling me anything but Pryce, sir.”

“I'll speak to those who are more set in their ways.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You're welcome, Wyndam.”

~~~

Rupert also had an interview, just as uncomfortable, but on a slightly different level. He knocked on the door of the dorm room. It opened, revealing the jet-lagged young man.

“Ethan.”

“Ripper. How good of you to visit.” Ethan opened the door wider. “Do come in.”

Rupert stepped in Ethan's room. It had never been neat, but was even more cluttered than usual with spare computer parts, papers, and other miscellaneous equipment. The suitcase was open in the corner of the room, and it was obvious that Ethan was living out of it.

“H-how were your holidays?” Rupert really didn't know what to say to his former best friend.

Ethan stared at him for a second, then stuck his thumbs behind nonexsistent braces. “Top hole, old chum, simply spiffing! And yours, mate?” Ethan spouted in a fake posh accent, sarcasm thick enough to cut with a chainsaw.

“Fuck off, Ethan.” Rupert said, though without heat. “You know I never know how to start.”

“I know. It's one of your more endearing qualities.” Ethan plopped down in his desk chair with a sigh and pointed to a small clear space on the unmade bed. “This isn't a room inspection, is it?”

“No, not 'til tomorrow.” Rupert sat, suddenly uncomfortable in Ethan's presence. “How was America?”

Ethan considered for a moment. “Loud. At least, New York was loud. California was sunny. The universities were encouraging. I'm going to go with whoever gives me the most money. And you?”

“I, um, spent the holidays with Wesley and his family.”

Silence filled the room, lengthening uncomfortably, until Ethan finally said, “I see.” and turned back to his computer. More silence, until finally he said what he was thinking. “Fuck him yet?”

“That's...none of your business.”

Ethan scrutinized him carefully for a moment that went on just a hair too long. Finally, he looked away and toyed with his watchband. “I suppose not.” He lifted his head, and Rupert could see the old smile, the one from long ago when they first became friends. “How'd the Oxford interview go?”

“God.” Rupert leaned forward, head in his hands. “I honestly have no idea. Part of me wonders if I fucked it up entirely, and another part felt like I just fit at Oxford. The history, the grounds, it felt like I was coming home.” He shook his head. “Sounds daft, I know.”

Ethan shook his head. “No, it doesn't. I felt that way on set. Even running about to get coffee and holding up light reflectors, I belonged.”

Rupert stood. “Are we okay, then?”

With a smile, Ethan stood and offered his hand. “We certainly are.”

Ruppert shook his hand and walked out, never noticing the predatory turn that Ethan's mouth took after he turned away.

~~~

Wesley was hard at work, glancing over the course selections for the next term, as well as his own schedule for the current term. After a brief phone consultation with Faith and Mum, he wrote down a list of all of the activities he enjoyed, whether they involved schoolwork or not.

1.RG
2.Reading, esp. fiction
3.Writing stories for F & R
4.Translations from Greek
5.Being with family.

He wasn't quite sure what this would lead to, but there it was. Nothing else really came to mind, although half a dozen other things swirled around, they weren't as fascinating to him. He had already decided to drop the Economics class, and was wavering on dropping the History course as well. He didn't need it to graduate, and if he was going to choose a course he actually liked at University, then there was no point in taking A-levels in something he wasn't going to follow up on.

Wait.

The middle three all had things in common. Words. He loved words, loved reading them, writing them, coming up with ways the Greek plays and histories could have gone, all of that. Perhaps...perhaps Literature was the way to go. He quickly scanned the offerings for the current term, and found a module on English Literature, currently working on the Victorian Novel that met at the same time as his Economics class, and a small Creative Writing class that only met twice a week and required a story to be submitted before you could attend. He could arrange for a tutor to make up for the first part of the Literature module; his English GCSE scores were certainly good enough.

Wesley dashed off an e-mail to Professor Wolfe, detailing the changes that he wanted to make, and asking if it would be too late to submit to the Creative Writing class. Before the email program finished sending, he had already opened up a Word file and started writing.

A snippet of a dream that he had while at Rupert's house hovered on the edge of his mind, and he snatched at it quickly, nailing the words down as they flowed from his mind onto the screen. He didn't notice the light change as the sun set on the last Friday before classes began again.

~~~

Rupert knocked at Wesley's door, at first quietly with his special knock, then louder.

“Come in!” Wesley finally called out, and Rupert could hear the noise of the keyboard, keys clacking faster than he had ever heard them before. He stepped inside, to see Wesley hunched over his desk, nose practically glued to the screen with his glasses pushed up to the top of his head. He'd only seen Wesley like this one other time, when he was writing up the final translations and report for their special project last term.

He rand his hands through his hair. “Was I knocked unconscious and miss a whole term? What are you working at?” Rupert walked over an rested one hand on Wesley's shoulder.

Wesley looked up suddenly, as if Rupert had just woken him up. “Rupert?”

“Yes, that's my name.” He smiled down at the younger boy and rubbed Wesley's shoulder gently. “Working on something?”

That smile, brilliant and innocent at the same time, spread over Wesley's face. “Mum had a talk with the school. I'm to study what I want, instead of what Father set out. So I'm switching from Eco to Lit courses, and joining the Creative Writing seminar that Johnson teaches as an extra. I think I'd be happier doing that instead of Linguistics, or even Classics.”

Rupert nodded. “I agree.” He moved to stand behind Wesley, settling his hands on his shoulders and almost wincing himself at the tension there. Carefully, he started kneading at the muscles of Wesley's neck and shoulders.

Arching a little into Rupert's touch, Wesley hit save and print. “Would you take a look at this for me? I'm afraid I might have a plot hole or an embarrassing typo or something.”

“Sure. After I get you to relax, though.” Rupert dug his hands into the tense muscles of Wesley's shoulders. Wesley dropped his head forward and hummed in pleasure.

“You have the most amazing hands.” Wesley sighed, and Rupert could feel the stress trickling out of him. He smiled and leaned down to nuzzle the nape of Wesley's neck, just to hear him catch his breath. This was going to be a lovely evening...

Just then, Rupert felt his phone vibrate. “Bugger!” He stopped to check his phone.

Wesley turned in his seat. “What is it?”

“Father.” They both rolled their eyes at that. “I'd better...” Wesley nodded, and Rupert answered the phone. “Hello, Father.”

“Rupert! Good news! Letter from Oxford today, addressed to one Mr. Rupert Giles.”

Rupert staggered back a little and sat heavily on the bed. “A letter? From Oxford? Already?” Wesley leaned forward eagerly. “What...um...does it say?”

His father barked a short laugh. “You'll have to open it yourself! Hop in that disaster of a car and get down here! You should miss most traffic, and be back at school Sunday. I'll fix it with the headmaster—you get on the road!” With a final laugh, he hung up.

Rupert stared at the phone. “He wants me to come home for the letter. I...guess he wants to do...something. I've no idea.” Helpless to stop himself, he giggled uncomfortably. “He actually sounded...proud.”

Even he heard the confusion in his voice, so when Wesley kissed him firmly and said “Congratulations, Rupert. I knew you could do it!”

~~~

Rupert left shortly afterwards, a copy of Wesley's story in his notebook and Wesley settled down to a quiet evening of study.

A disturbance on the ground floor of the dorm—probably a couple of the youngest fighting again—drew Wesley's attention away from Bleak House for a moment, just long enough to hear a knock at his door.

He closed the book, finger saving his place, and listened carefully.

There it was again: Rupert's special knock. Wesley didn't think about how fast Rupert must have driven to get to London and back in a day. All he could think about was Rupert at Oxford, a thought that made him happy and yet also brought a pang of sadness to him. He called out for Rupert to come in, and shuffled in his desk for a scrap of paper that didn't have notes on it to use as a bookmark.

Wesley turned back to face Ethan Rayne.

His happiness faded, replaced by suspicion. He straightened his shoulders and put the book down. “Rayne. Why are you here?”

Ethan smirked. “Why, Pryce, you sound almost butch!”

“Wyndam.”

An expression of confusion flickered over Ethan's face. “What?”

“My surname is Wyndam.” Wesley folded his arms and glared at Rayne. “Say your piece and get out. I have work to do.”

Ethan paused for a moment, then seemed to gather himself. “I have physical evidence of a highly inappropriate and illegal relationship between yourself and Rupert Giles.” He smirked and held out a CD. “Proof, certainly proof enough for the school administration.”

Shocked, Wesley took the CD. He looked at it without comprehension before speaking. “What...? Why...? Are-are you blackmailing me?”

“Not the word I would have chosen, but certainly appropriate. Yes, I'm blackmailing you.”

Fingering the CD, a thought occurred to Wesley. “Is it trapped? Some sort of virus on here, and you just want me to put it in my computer?”

With a roll of his eyes, Ethan sighed. “I don't, actually, give a shit about your schoolwork. If you're that paranoid, here.” He pulled a laptop out of his messenger bag. “I'll show you on mine, to keep your precious system uncorrupted—probably the only uncorrupted thing about you now.”

Wesley ignored the jibe and didn't move. Ethan snorted and appropriated a spare chair, setting the laptop on it and sliding the CD in easily. He brought up the directory, and Wesley could see, even from where he stood, that there were many pictures and short videos. A cold weight settled in his stomach.

Ethan was in his element now. “Shy? Well here, let me show you one of my personal favorites.” His finger traced on the touchpad, and one of the movies opened to show Wesley on Rupert's bed, wrists bound with school ties. He was naked and blindfolded. He heard Rupert's voice speaking, Now I'll show you what it really means to be head boy, and Rupert came into view, blocking the camera and the clip ended.

Anger as well as fear blossomed inside Wesley. “How did you get that?”

Ethan smirked again. “Wouldn't you like to know. What if I told you that Rupert knew all about this?”

“I wouldn't believe you.” In that Wesley was certain, though a small doubt niggled at his mind.

With a shrug, Ethan turned back to the computer and chose another icon. This one had Wesley kneeling before Rupert, school cap on, Rupert's hands on the back of his head. If Wesley didn't know everything that had happened, he would think... “You've edited.”

“Of course.”

“What-what do you want?” Wesley just wanted to get this over with, get Ethan out of his room so he could throw up.

Ethan tutted. “We aren't at that point in the program yet, Prig.”

“Money? Your homework done? What?” Wesley's arms dropped, hands clenched into fists. He was shaking with anger and didn't know what he would do. “Tell me.”

Ethan shut down the laptop and stood. He was shorter, slightly built, and had to look up a little to meet Wesley's gaze. “I want you to break up with Rupert.”

“Is that what this is all about? Jealousy?” Wesley was stunned.

“Doesn't matter why. All that matters is that you do it. You're a smart one; figure it out.” Ethan narrowed his eyes. “If you don't break up with him within a week, I'll give copies of this to the administration and they will break you up, and ruin both your chances at university.”

That horrible stutter overcame Wesley again. “Wh-what if he-he doesn't...”

Ethan stepped forward and got right into Wesley's face. “Do it. And don't tell Rupert about this, or I will make your life even more miserable than before.” He stepped back and picked up his laptop.

“I'm making you an offer you can't refuse.” The door closed behind him. Wesley stared at the simple silver disc on the chair, unable to form a single coherent thought.

A/N: I am sorry it took so long to get another chapter up. Real Life Shit, you know. But I have the boys firmly in my brain again, and will do my best to post a chapter a month until it is done! Thank you for being so patient!

To Chapter 19

Clean Living

2008-02-11T00:36:00Z

Title: Clean Living
Author: bethynyc
Rating: PG
Pairing: Simon/Mal
Word Count: 761
Written for: Simon challenge at maleslashminis for inviolet, prompt at the end.
Thanks To: wesleysgirl and alizarin_nyc for their beta work under pressure!
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Joss does, but he's not playing with them right now.

Kamaria was one of those planets that took to terraforming like it was going out of style. Trees and water flourished on what was once an airless moon, and the farmers who settled there to grow their crops were successful and generous. Mal had always liked Kamaria.

On their last trip, Wash had located the perfect parking spot for Serenity, right in a tiny little cup of a valley. A stream ran through it, culminating in a shower-like waterfall that filled a tolerably deep pool at the southern tip of the valley. The pool was fed by a hot spring, which, when combined with the cool stream water, made it bathwater temperature. The only space large enough to land Serenity was a bit of a walk from the pool and needed transport to get goods back and forth from the settlement, but since there wasn’t a proper spaceport, Mal was willing to make do. Especially since this parking spot meant the crew could enjoy the luxury of an outdoor bath in the spring-warmed stream.

The ladies especially enjoyed the chance to clean off the grime of accumulated hours in space that sonic washers simply couldn’t deal with. Mal allowed that a bath did improve his mood, though he pretended he didn’t care.

The trading was profitable—skipping between Kamaria and their trading partners on Newton was a solid, profitable run. Newton sent cloth and finished products to the merchant’s consortium on Kamaria, who returned the favor with flash frozen vegetables and preserved fruits. The merchants generally threw fresh food in for Mal’s crew as thanks, in addition to payment.

After a day of hard bargaining, Mal was ready for a soothing shower of his own. Stopping in his quarters only long enough to snag a towel and a clean pair of trousers, he trotted down the path to the pool and waterfall.

It wasn't until he was nearly at the pool area that he realized it was occupied.

A light tenor voice sang a pop song from the previous decade, popular on Alliance worlds. Mal slowed down and slipped behind the trees that screened the pool from the path. Carefully, he peered out from behind a tree.

Simon was thigh-deep in the pool, singing with the unselfconscious gusto of a person who felt completely alone. He leaned back into the waterfall—really, more of a trickle than a proper fall—and rinsed his hair.

Mal's eye's widened at the sight. The curve of Simon's body as he arched his back, slim, muscled and lean, was amazing. He never knew just what Simon hid under the city-boy clothes. Now he did, and he wished—he could keep watching.

Simon ran his hands through his hair, wetting it thoroughly. A bucket floated nearby, and he reached in to grab some sort of liquid soap and rubbed it into his hair. There wasn't much lather, but Mal couldn't look away from the way the lines of Simon's chest moved and fit together, how strong his arms looked as he ran his fingers through his hair.

A breeze galloped through the valley, and Simon shivered as the chill reached him. He turned around and stuck his head under the water again to rinse the soap out. Mal caught his breath at the sight of Simon bending over, showing how perfectly his back, butt, and thighs all worked together.

Simon straightened up suddenly and looked around. Droplets of water fell from his hair, curling from the wet. Mal pulled back behind his tree, hoping that the leaves would hide him. The only thing worse than watching would be to get caught watching, and that would be more than he could stand.

After a quick glance around, Simon finished his shower and walked out of the pool to where his towel rested on a branch. Mal took advantage of this distraction to backtrack and loudly jog down the path.

He met Simon, still damp but wearing his trousers and an unbuttoned white shirt. “How's the water, doc?” The shirt clung to his chest in interesting ways, and Mal tried to keep his eyes on Simon's face.

“Chilly, but refreshing, Captain.” Simon met his eyes, and quirked up an eyebrow. “Enjoy.” With that, he shouldered past Mal and walked up the path, still rubbing his head with his towel.

Mal undressed slowly, looking around. Something told him he was being watched, but he shook off the feeling and took advantage of his freshwater bath.

He wondered if he would ever see Simon naked again.

Prompt:
inviolet wanted Simon paired with Mal, someone shirtless in cool air, (I hope naked counts as shirtless!) accidental (but nonetheless enthusiastic) voyeurism, a tiny smile and didn't want an established relationship

After He Died, His Life Began

2008-01-26T21:57:08Z

Title: After He Died, His Life Began
Author: bethynyc
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Wesley Wyndam-Pryce/Captain Jack Harkness (Ats/TW)
Word count: 500
Once upon a time cheesygirl asked for some Wes/Jack. Here it is!
Posted for the crossovers prompt in slashthedrabble
Set shortly after Never Fade Away, which is set during the day before the night of the Angel finale Not Fade Away.

Wesley felt his life ebb away, and asked Illyria for the lie. Just for a moment, he wanted to feel loved. Seeing the representation of Fred, though, turned out to be more painful than the knife wound. As his eyes drifted shut for what he thought would be the last time, the image of a man with intense blue eyes floated through his brain.

“Dammit, Wes, I told you to wait for me!”

~~~

He didn't know how he got from the floor of Vail's mansion to this...place, but Wesley did realize that he was alive. Somehow, he was alive. He felt better than he had in a long time. Since Illyria.

A man, somewhat familiar, sat next to him and put an arm around his shoulders. "You all right?"

Wesley tensed. "What—who are you?"

“Captain Jack Harkness,” The man held out his hand to shake, and his grip was solid and comforting. "The TARDIS brought us to you, and you were dead. We brought you back." He nodded at the other occupants, who were concentrating on a large—something--in the middle of the room.

“Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.” A thought crossed Wesley's mind. "And you did something. You kissed me!"

Jack's smile had a bit of a leer to it. "Hope you don't mind. I have a thing for smart, British, and mostly dead."

"No problem." Wesley shook his head. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Jack's eyes glistened with emotion, and the depth of his loneliness hit Wesley like a blow.

"Hey." Wesley reached out and put a hand on Jack's knee. "You saved my life. What is it?"

Jack looked away. "You're like me now. The Doctor said. The heart of the TARDIS somehow reached out to us while I was bringing you back. You can't die any more, not permanently."

"Beheading?" Wesley was skeptical on this point.

"Beheading might actually do it. I haven't been beheaded. Shot, starved, drowned, burned, eviscerated, gassed, strangled, and stabbed, but not beheaded." Gently, Jack touched Wesley's cheek. "We're different. And the Doctor will keep us around long enough to do what needs to be done, and then drop us off somewhere." Jack dropped his eyes to Wesley's mouth. "And is it wrong for me to say I'm glad? Because it's been so lonely..."

Wesley felt drawn to this man, more so than at almost any other time. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against Jack's in a gentle kiss. "I know."

"You don't."

"I'll learn." Their eyes met, and suddenly they were kissing, strong and hard. Wesley knew he'd found something special. That in dying, he found a new life.

Jack pulled away for a moment. "You sure?"

"Yes." Wesley pulled him close again, reveling in the joy of a strong, hard body against his. He pushed Jack's coat off his shoulders and wrapped his arms around his waist. Jack moaned a little into Wesley's mouth, and somehow Wesley knew that he had found a home. Wherever they would be.

Never Fade Away

2008-01-26T20:31:29Z

Never Fade Away
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce/Captain Jack Harkness (Ats/TW)
Word count: 500
Rate PG-13
Originally written for caoiliann's prompt for my Labor Day Weekend Slash Captain Jack festival.
Edited and Expanded for the slashthedrabble crossover prompt

Illyria looked up suddenly, cocking her head at a blank space on the wall. Wesley glanced at her and noticed a strange noise, a mechanical throbbing sound. Suddenly, a large blue box swelled into existence in the middle of his office, neatly missing the desk and piles of books. It reminded Wesley of the police boxes in London from the sixties, but they hadn't been used for years. Wesley drew his guns and Illyria took a fighting stance.

A man stepped out of the box. He was tall and wore a long woolen coat in a military style, and his bright blue eyes flashed as he looked around the room. “What? No! Dammit!”

Illyria stared at the man. “This is wrong. You are not meant to be.”

The man glanced around. “I'm early is what I am.” He faced Illyria and frowned menacingly. “You. Bodysnatcher. Get out.” His voice commanded her in a way he knew only Angel could. She bristled, but upon meeting the stranger's firm gaze, she edged around the box.

The stranger stared at Wesley. A voice called out from the box, something indistinct. The man replied, “Back in a minute!

Wesley still had his pistols at the ready, but when the man grabbed him by the shirt and brought his mouth to his in a bruising kiss, he let his hands fall to his sides, dropping the guns on the carpet with a soft thud. “Wesley.” the stranger murmured, “I know you have to do this, just promise me you'll hold on no matter what happens. Okay?”

“What?” Wesley was confused, and yet somehow this wasn't the strangest thing to ever happen to him.

The man swallowed and blinked, as if clearing his vision. “Just look in my eyes and promise me. I can't lose you again.” His hands gripped Wesley's shirt tightly, and he could feel the tension vibrating off his visitor.

He didn't understand, he couldn't understand what this man, who was as familiar as something in a dream, or deja vu, was asking. “I promise.”

“Good.” The man kissed him again, softly this time, and Wesley felt himself melting into the kiss. Something wonderful, magical, flowed into him through the stranger's lips, and his heart lightened. For some reason, in his heart of hearts, Wesley wasn't afraid of dying anymore.

Jack. The name wandered through his brain.

With a last soft caress, the man stepped back. “Will I see you again?” Wesley asked.

The police box opened, and Jack stepped in before turning back with a smile. “Soon enough, Wesley. Soon enough.” The box faded noisily out of existence.

~~~

Illyria was back at his side, and his guns were still holstered. “What just happened?”

I'llyria sniffed. “A disturbance in time. Pay it no mind. It will not change the outcome of tonight's battle.”

Something inside Wesley turned over. Maybe it already did. he thought to himself, and touched his lip where he had been kissed.

Illyria stared at him, but he ignored her.

Love Lies Bleeding

2008-01-20T19:12:18Z

Title: Love Lies Bleeding
Author: bethynyc
Rating: R
Pairing: Mal/Jayne
Word Count: 1082
Written for: Mal challenge at maleslashminis for margarks, prompt at the end.
Thanks To: alizarin_nyc for beta
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Joss does, but he's not playing with them right now.
Notes: Title from the Elton John song. Set a couple of months after Never Happened

Mal woke up, gasping. The terror of the nightmare followed him into waking, and he struck out at the body next to him. He had to get away, dammit, it wasn't right, wasn't fair.

“Mal? What the fuck?”

That voice...no it was wrong, it was bad, he had to get out out now now now and somehow Mal found the ladder in the dark and climbed up and out, not realizing until he arrived in the corridor and Zoe arched her eyebrow questioningly at him and he fully woke up, oh crap, that he was naked.

“Mal?” He turned, and there was Jayne, solid, dependable, and not wrong. “Come, come back.” There was a lurking fear in Jayne's eyes, something Mal rarely saw. Last time he'd seen it had been after finding out about the Reavers.

He nodded and swallowed. “Comin'.” He could barely meet Zoe's eyes; she'd stopped smiling at the tone of Jayne's voice, and Mal could tell she knew something was wrong, even if she didn't know what.

Even if Mal himself didn't know what. Not for sure.

Shuffling his feet a little—it was still mostly dark in the corridor, after all—he made his way to where Jayne was, felt his friend's (and wasn't that still a shock to his system sometimes) hands guiding him down the ladder. No one ever saw this side of Jayne; even though Mal suspected that River knew, she kept their secrets.

River. God knows what his nightmares had done to her. He swallowed again, hard.

Jayne’s warm hands pressed firmly on his shoulders, leading him through the dimly lit room back to their bed. “Geez, Mal,” he said. “Get in here.” He pulled Mal into the bed, still warm from their bodies, and wrapped his arms around him. It was only then that Mal realized that he was trembling.

“Thought that was…buried. Deep.” Mal blew out his breath and tried to control his body. He failed miserably, shaking even harder.

Jayne kept holding on. “Do you wanna, you know. Talk?” His tone of voice made it clear that he would rather breathe vacuum than talk about feelings.

“Not really.” Mal chuckled, trying to squelch his rising hysteria. “Fuck me?”

Jayne was silent for a moment. They hadn’t done that, sticking mostly to hands for release over the past two months, ever since the incident with the fermented paca milk. They hadn't even kissed, not really. It signaled a change.

Jayne’s eyes opened wide. “Oh, hell yeah!” Mal felt his cock stiffen instantly against his thigh. He wondered if this would exorcise the demons or bring them out more, but, well, he wanted this. Wanted Jayne.

They shifted and turned and awkwardly bumped against each other. “Let me get the...” Mal said, and found the lube in the drawer. They had used it a few times, mostly for jerking each other off, but it was a symbol of Mal's fears in so many ways.

Jayne just nodded, and Mal got onto his hands and knees. Jayne stroked his back and butt with the same single minded intensity he gave to Vera; all business. Then he paused. “Mal? You sure?”

“Yes.” The ache in Mal's voice was clear to him, but he hoped Jayne would ignore it. He wanted the burn, the push, and it wasn't happening.

“No.” Jayne sat back on his heels and Mal turned around, shocked. “Not gonna do this unless you want it, too.”

Mal pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, resting his chin on them. He felt like he was going to fly apart, or fall apart, he wasn't sure which. “I-I do want. Jayne.”

The other man shook his head. “Too tense. It'd hurt. Let's just, just relax, 'kay?” He reached out and stroked Mal's arm.

Something inside Mal broke at that tender touch, as if Mal was unworthy of Jayne's rare shows of gentleness. He reached back to him, and drew Jayne closer to kiss him for the first time. It started out soft, but zoomed to passionate in a microsecond.

Jayne's mouth was hot and wet and everything he wanted—a kiss like fighting for the sheer joy of violence. Mal unfolded his legs and pulled Jayne down on top of him, and the lube rolled off the bed and landed on the floor with a little thump. They both ignored it in favor of kissing and thrusting against each other until they both came, first Mal, gasping into Jayne's mouth with his release, and Jayne with a groan a moment later.

“Wow.” Jayne rolled off of Mal and contemplated the mess smeared over their bellies. “Whyinhell'd we wait so long to do that?”

Mal shrugged. “Dunno.” He curled next to Jayne, snaking his arm under the other's man's neck.

Mumbling something incomprehensible and sleepy, Jayne just grabbed a shirt on the floor and made a half-hearted swipe at cleaning them up before wrapping his arms around Mal.

Mal rested his head on Jayne's chest and listened to his heartbeat as he fell asleep. Once he was sure that Jayne wouldn't wake for anything less than an alarm, Mal whispered his past into his skin.

“I was young, well, old enough to fool around. Pa caught me with Cam, caught us in the barn kissin' and messin' around together, the way boys do. He beat me until I couldn't stand, all the time hollerin' about God's law and abomination, then he propped me up and made me watch while he beat Cam. Cam wasn't...wasn't anybody, just the nephew of one of the tenants on that big ol' ranch. Pa ruled that ranch like a king, power to do anything he wanted, and he did. He beat Cam with a belt until he was whimpering on the floor, then he pulled out his gun and shot him in the head. Then he cocked the gun and pointed it at me and told me if I ever touched a man again, he would hunt me down, son or no. Next day I signed on as crew on a freighter and didn't go back until the war. But since then I never touched a man 'til you, Jayne, always went for women whores...”

“Mal.”

Mal's eyes shot open. “You're awake?”

“Am now. So shut up and let me sleep.”

A little smile crept over his mouth. “What'll you give me if I do?”

“Blow job in the morning.”

“Deal.”

Prompt: margarks wanted Mal paired with Jayne, with sex, angst, and backstory. Hope this makes you happy!

Just Another Day in New York

2008-01-01T14:29:17Z

Title: Just Another Day In New York
Author: bethynyc
Rating: PG-16
Pairing: John/Rodney, Teyla/Ronon, Cat AU, set in contemporary New York City
Word Count: 2760
Written for: Amnesty Animal challenge at sga_flashfic
Thanks To: tesserae_ for her beta
Disclaimer: I don't own them. But if I did, I probably wouldn't turn them into cats.
Notes: Look for cameos! Sequel to When John Met Rodney, Crack AU, as posted on sga_flashfic. You might want to read that first.

Just Another Day in New York

Link goes to community.