Work Text:
John shakes out his hands as he marches out of McKay’s lab. The thought of sitting through another meeting with Bates has his blood boiling, especially now that he knows the truth. It’s his fault that the Wraith are trailing them, not Teyla’s, and the guilt of that sets his teeth on edge.
“Major.” That’s McKay, hurrying after him up the corridor. John doesn’t slow down. They’ve got to get to the bottom of this right now and bring Teyla and the Athosians back into the conversation. It’s gone on long enough.
“Major.” McKay’s voice is more forceful this time, closer too, and John almost jumps when McKay grabs his arm and pulls him to a stop.
“What the hell,” John snaps, yanking his arm out of McKay’s grasp.
McKay glowers at him, though, and pushes him back against the wall, his hand seeping heat against John’s shoulder. “Get it together,” McKay says, twisting his fingers in the fabric of John’s shirt.
John pushes back against McKay’s hold, almost surprised at the strength behind it. “Let me go,” he says and very deliberately keeps his hands at his sides. He’s not going to fight McKay.
“You need to calm down before you go in there,” McKay says, pushing harder against John’s shoulder.
Glaring back at McKay, John says, “He’s an asshole, McKay. And now we have evidence that we were right all along—”
“So let the evidence do the talking.” John’s never heard that note of steel in McKay’s voice before and it sends a shiver down his spine. “You can’t go in there and yell at him—and you sure as hell can’t bust that son of a bitch.”
“McKay,” John tries. He feels flush with anger and embarrassment and a hundred other things that have nothing to do with the heat coiling in his gut.
“No. He’s right. You are emotional about this. I’m emotional about it too—so’s Elizabeth. This is about Teyla—it’s personal.”
John breathes out sharply through his nose. He wants to look away, wants to storm right into the meeting room and punch the hell out of Bates—wants McKay to push just a little bit harder, because he’s right. Of course he’s right.
“We’re going to go in there,” McKay says, tone still hard and even, “and you’re going to let me and the evidence do the talking, okay?”
And that’s it—John can’t stop himself from pulling McKay in, opening his mouth for a kiss that seems just as inevitable as it does monumental, looping his arms around McKay’s shoulders and hanging on.
McKay’s grip on John’s shirt goes slack and John has to lean heavily against the wall, afraid his legs won’t support him. “Oh,” McKay says, when John pulls back. He blinks a few times, brow furrowed in confusion and John worries for half a second that he’s read everything wrong.
But there’s a smile at the corner of McKay’s mouth. “That’s what it took?” he asks, and John pulls him back in.