Summary: He'd been stupid and that was unforgivable.
Warnings: Cheating!John (Bastard)
All he could see when the door slid silently open were flashes of dark skin covering familiar pale. Strong shoulders, curled around a body that had long been his to love. His breath stuttered in his chest, tightening painfully, leaving him gasping for air. When hazel eyes locked on his he was spinning on his heel, turning for the door, the hall, his room. He didn't remember how he got there but that wasn't important. Falling to his knees he emptied the contents of his stomach in the bathroom, rinsing his mouth and staring into the mirror.
He'd been stupid and that was unforgivable. Rodney McKay was not, had never been a stupid man—until John Sheppard came into his life, tore down walls that Rodney had spent years perfecting, worming his way into Rodney's heart and then ripping it out with as much care as an indifferent butcher.
Stripping off his clothes, Rodney climbed into the shower letting the water scorch his skin, trying to burn away the memory of seeing John with Ronon; trying to burn away the memory of the last six months spent wrapped in John's arms, in John's bed. When he was done, skin red and raw, the slow job of rebuilding his walls begun, he walked back into his room, got dressed and went to the lab.
Twenty minutes later the doors to his lab hissed open, revealing John, arms wrapped around his chest, eyes staring at the floor, hair wet from a hasty shower. Rodney's heart quickened; he didn't want to hear excuses, didn't want an explanation; didn't want anything from John ever again. "Colonel, was there something you needed?"
John's eyes fluttered around the empty room before landing somewhere over Rodney's left shoulder. "I wanted to…" He cleared his throat, eyes darting to Rodney's and away again. "I never meant to…"
"I really don't want to hear it, Colonel." Rodney said through gritted teeth, adding another layer of brick to his protective wall. "It's fine."
"It's not fine," John said so earnestly, eyes pleading as he took a step forward. "Rodney—it's not fine."
Standing quickly, hands clenched into fists, Rodney hissed, "What do you want me to say? You let Ronon fuck you and now you're sorry and that's supposed to make things alright?"
"No! I just…"
"I don't care if you're sorry! Jesus, I don't care!" Rodney screamed, breath coming in gasps as he tried to rebuild his walls faster.
"Rodney, please…" John held placating hands up.
Closing his eyes, Rodney took a steadying breath. "Get out," his voice cold and flat.
When he heard the quiet hiss of the doors he opened his eyes to the empty room. Slumping into his chair, he braced his hands on the countertop. It would take time to completely rebuild his walls, until he could look at John, at Ronon, without feeling nauseated, angry, hurt.
With long practiced detachment he typed up an email to Elizabeth requesting a transfer from John's team. He couldn't work with him now, maybe never again, but definitely not right now. Hitting send, he shut down his laptop and walked slowly back to his room.
It would take time but he'd rebuild—and this time no one would ever be able to tear down his walls again.