Pairing: Peter Grodin/Carson Beckett
For: heuradys and paisleyparadox
Disclaimer: Not mine. Written in one afternoon while doing a whole bunch of other shit. It probably could be better, but it won't be. Some dialogue taken from the show. Unbeta'd. Would you like to?
Warning: First time I write this pairing. Contrary to the content of this fic, I'm a McBecker at heart. However, I can see this pairing now that I've given it some thought and actually written it out. I guess I'm equal opportunity.
And yes, I will get to all the requests. Except the CSI one because I've never seen the show. At all. :( Anyway, on with the fic. [And I'll write that cop thing later...]
How could they? They were too busy speculating in the wrong direction. He'd heard the rumours of how he and Rodney were supposed to have been 'so married' since Antarctica. Carson would just laugh and shake his head.
So would Peter.
Carson remembered that one day early on, when Peter had punched Rodney's personal shield and Carson had had to wrap his hand up for him.
"I'm thinking Mr. Invincible."
"Ooh, that's good."
"You guys done?"
"I've been working on this gene therapy for months; forgive me for wanting to celebrate that it worked on the first human trial."
Yeah, Carson and Rodney were so married. It was obvious to everyone else. Carson had smiled at Peter and received a perfect smile in return.
"How's your hand?" Days later.
"Good. Thanks to you."
Carson had taken it in his own hands and felt the ligaments under the skin, the muscle and bone. Marvelled at the contrast in their skin tones and found, surprised, that he liked how it looked.
How their hands looked together. How they fit. He held it for a little too long, until Peter cleared his throat.
Met his eyes. So much darker than Rodney's. Deeper.
"Aye, it's healed well enough."
They were alone in the infirmary, but Carson still felt exposed.
"Good," Peter said.
"Listen, I was think--"
"Would you like to--"
Both speaking at once, then stopping. Looked at each other. Carson could feel himself blushing, and noted again how much more obvious that would be on his pale skin. But Peter hadn't stopped smiling.
Nervous laughter. "Go ahead." And Carson looked down, cleared his throat. "Would you like to have a coffee sometime?"
"I'd love to."
"I know just the place, too." And they laughed because there was only one place to go for coffee.
They sat and talked over coffee and the latest in the kitchen staff's attempt at pastries. And nobody knew, because Rodney came into the mess hall and plunked himself down at their table halfway through, because he just had to tell Peter about the latest technobabble, and Dr. Simpson sitting at the next table looked over and assumed Rodney was being the jealous lover.
"So that wasn't the right place." Much later and Carson had to apologise, though he did so with a smile on his face because Peter was also smiling and it was contagious.
"It's all right," Peter said. "My place next time?"
There was nothing for anyone to know. Wild teenagers, ZPM's, Hoff, Genii, storms. Life.
"You still owe me a visit." Late in the infirmary, there for a headache that didn't exist.
"I know," Carson said, blushing this time with guilt. They could have all died during the storm. Was it worth getting involved? Was it worth not getting involved?
Carson looked around. They were alone. Nobody would know. And right there, the first kiss. They surprised themselves with it, though they'd both danced around it for weeks. And Peter tasted like coffee and honeyed pastries, and his hand was soft against Carson's skin. Carson took Peter's hand in his, linked their fingers together, looked at them a long time later, the kiss done. Neither of them let go just yet.
"Come home with me?"
Carson could not say no. Could not let go of Peter's hand and they somehow made it to Peter's room unnoticed. More kisses in private, a slow undressing, silence pockmarked by minute moans, sighs. Carson kissed the hand that Peter had injured long ago, took a finger in his mouth and watched the pleasure on Peter's face, the desire. "Please, Carson."
Carson let go of the finger, then nipped at the wrist, up the arm, buried his nose in the crook of Peter's underarm. Pulled a gasp from Peter when he nipped at his chest, worried a nipple between his teeth. Loving this because life was short, and death could come suddenly out here in the Pegasus galaxy.
Because he'd waited long enough to find someone to do this with, someone to feel. And people could speculate about him and Rodney all they wanted, but he'd never do something like this with Rodney. He liked the man fine, considered him a friend, but he wasn't what Carson needed. He couldn't imagine making love with Rodney like this, being held like Peter held him in his strong arms.
Being taken with such gentle strength, hearing nothing from his partner but aroused sighs and hitched breaths and murmured nothings. And afterwards, seeing that charming smile and easily returning it.
Nobody figured it out. Too busy fixing the city after the storm. Too busy waiting for the Wraith to come. Saying good-bye to their loved ones on Earth for what they thought was the last time.
He never got to say good-bye to Peter.
"You could've been killed," Peter told him.
"I bloody well know that! I had no choice."
"We lost Smith and Markham..."
"I know!" Fists clenched around conflicting emotions. He wasn't going to deal with them now. He was going to bite them back, swallow them down until he shook with the strain. He'd seen Sgt. Stackhouse after coming back to the gate room, stoic, neutral, in control. If Stackhouse could do it, so could Carson.
But as Peter took him in his arms he let out a shaky sigh, adrenalin draining out of him and leaving him exhausted. "I'm sorry."
"I could've lost you," Peter whispered.
As close to 'I love you' as it would ever get. It came and went and nobody knew.
'I'm sorry,' and Peter's world exploded.
'Sorry for what?' Question that would never be answered, question that Carson could never ask anyone else. Three days after the explosion and Rodney told him of Peter's last words, but Carson could not respond. Why cause his friend more guilt?
'I'm sorry,' and Carson was left behind.
"I love you," he said, and was met with silence.