"No!"
No seemed the best way in which to express precisely what eighteen-year-old Meredith McKay thought of his father's suggestion. The one syllable two letter word was nigh on a universal constant, a negative in almost any given language.
It didn't seem to affect his father in the least. Very little did once business magnate Roderick McKay made up his mind about a given subject. "I owe the man, Meredith. I offered everything, I even offered him Jeannie--"
"Jeannie!" Meredith -- god, how he hated that name! -- shrieked. Jeannie was only fourteen, not old enough for marriage or... or whatever debauchery the pervert who owned Pegasus Shipping had in mind.
"He didn't want her. He only wants the best and the brightest of the McKay clan." Oh. Meredith had seen that sneer before, intimately familiar with its mockery. "The truth is that he wants to humiliate me. If he can do that and make his queer pretty boy of an heir happy at the same time, then that's apparently even more of a delight."
"You can't just, just marry me off, though! How much do you owe him? What did he do that you're just handing your firstborn over to him?!" Not to mention his second born. Meredith had always known that his father didn't think much of Jeannie, of having a daughter, but there was not thinking much and then there was practically trying to sell her off like that.
Roderick scowled at him, leaning back in his executive chair. "You don't need to know, Meredith. You simply need to do as you're told."
Ha! As if he would just allow his father to dictate what happened to him, never mind that Meredith hadn't ever been able to tell his father no about anything. He'd always been intimidating, bigger than life, and this wasn't any different than it had ever been.
"Like hell I'm doing what I'm told! I'm not marrying anyone. I don't want to marry!" He folded his arms over his chest, staring down at his father even though he knew it wasn't doing to do a damn thing for him.
"Yes, you will." Roderick had that look, the one that had terrified Meredith since birth. "Sheppard has managed to manipulate most of our shareholders and all of our shares into a position where he now has a controlling interest in McKay Incorporated. He could break us." His father leaned forward. "Do you want to see your mother on the streets?"
Oh.
God.
His mother.
Elizabeth McKay had never been very strong, and having Jeannie had damaged her health greatly. Meredith could barely remember a time when his mother wasn't lying in bed, propped up by pillows, dark-eyed and tired.
She was still brilliant, though, and full of life. She was always writing, penning something, consulting the old fashioned way, she said. But it wasn't the same. She'd been bright and vibrant, once, amazing and... "You shouldn't have let him do that."
"When you're old enough to run your own business, tell me that again. In the mean time, Meredith, you need to do as you're told."
"But, marriage. I don't even know him, and that's not, that's not nothing!"
"No, but it will be everything." Roderick was firm and, for lack of a better word, vicious. Meredith honestly didn't want to believe he was Roderick's child, but they looked too much alike to doubt it. "It will give me time to regain control, Meredith, and then we'll crush the Sheppards. You'll get a chance to revenge yourself on the man and his son."
He exhaled hard, and ran a hand back through his hair. Married off. He was going to be married off, just like that, to a man, no choice, no consideration by his father about what he wanted, but at least it wasn't Jeannie. "When?"
"You're to meet him two days from now. The ceremony will be a week from today."
A week. As if a week was enough to actually accustom himself to the idea, much less have time for... well. Anything.
What was he supposed to do in preparation for a wedding? Not that it mattered, because he was sure it would all be planned without him, but Meredith still wondered, still ducked his head down and frowned, Fuck. "I'm not going to go off and be a good little wife."
The way his father leaned back and smiled was just a little malicious, or maybe a lot. "You don't have to." The way Roderick looked at him made Meredith shudder. "In fact, I expect that you'll be everything he doesn't desire in a wife. Husband. Whatever the pervert has in mind. You've always had a propensity for doing the opposite of what you're told."
"So that's your plan? I'm supposed to make him miserable?" Yeah, that probably was the plan, and Meredith was tempted for a moment to try to make things not miserable just to piss off his father.
"It's what you're best at, isn't it?" The implication that Meredith made his father miserable was impossible to avoid. It was also hateful, but that had never stopped Roderick before. "I'm sure it won't be a hardship for you, and if you do as I ask, there will be compensation when all's said and done, Meredith."
"Compensation. I'm not even..." Well, no, he was gay, and that was the problem, the whole reason why his father smiled at him, the whole reason why Meredith wanted to reach out and punch him.
"Any school you want into, Meredith. I'll pay for it. Otherwise... you can leave now, curse your mother and sister to misery and yourself to poverty. Really, it's so much easier to do things my way."
"Any school I want," Meredith repeated, and stared at his father. His ass, apparently, in exchange for any school he wanted and saving the family's pride. "Fine." Fine, because what else was he going to say? No? He had acceptance letters from all over the country, prestigious schools with equally renowned physics programs. He couldn't afford them without his father's money, though. Schools didn't offer scholarships to geniuses with rich families.
"I suggest you go pack, Meredith. We'll be leaving for Detroit first thing in the morning.
And then he'd meet his new husband and oh god.
Oh god. He was going to be marrying a complete stranger.
"Not just no, but hell no." That was pretty much the sum total of John Sheppard's feelings on the matter. Marriage at twenty-one wasn't something he wanted to do, no matter how bad his dad hated Roderick McKay. There was some kind of story there even if John didn't know what it was, exactly.
"Look, he's a handsome boy. You're a handsome boy, just shut up and enjoy what you're getting out of it." His father clapped him hard on the shoulder.
Yeah, no, that didn't work so much as far as John was concerned. "His name's Meredith, for God's sake! Who names their kid Meredith? Also, I don't need you to pimp me out, Dad."
"Apparently you do." His father waved the waitress over towards them, and shot John a glare again. "They're a respectable family."
"Respectable families don't offer up their kids for marriage with some random guy, Dad. I talked to Chuck when I came up to your office the other day." His dad's executive assistant was scary-perky, but he was also a great source of information. "You've been trying to pin this guy to the board for months now. What's going on?"
"I've got him pinned to the board," he shrugged. "If you marry into the family, you'll have access to get the rest of his company's stock, and that's what I want you to do."
John leaned back in his chair and watched as the waitress refilled their glasses, quietly removing soiled plates and readying the table for the desserts. "I take it he's got the shares listed in his kids' names."
"Of course. It's a safety net. His daughter is... fourteen, I think?" His father made a face. Great. Even he apparently had lines he'd draw. Thank God.
"It's not like the shares are going to come with the marriage," John drawled, shaking his head. "It won't be any use. I'll just end up married to some guy I don't even know. What makes you think he's my type?"
John didn't have a type. He'd gone through a phase that had mostly been about pissing off his dad, one that involved a lot of drinking, a lot of gay clubs, and one very tattooed and pierced 'boyfriend' who was actually the brother of the woman he'd been dating.
"I don't. I've never even met the boy." His father flashed a smile at him.
Great. Just great. "Okay. So what makes you think I'm going to do this for you? And before you go smiling like that again, just remember I know where all of the bodies are buried." Maybe not literally, but close enough.
"Because you want to make your father happy." His father threw that one out there for the joke it was. "How about 'because I say so'?"
"Or what?" John felt obligated to ask that question. "You'll take away my trust fund? Sell my skateboard? What?"
"Which would hurt you more? I'm thinking that it's the trust fund. I'm also thinking that I could say a few things to the right people and have you end up in jail."
Yeah, that one was pretty scary. If John had actually done something that had deserved it, he'd be concerned. As it was, all he could do was smirk. "I'm so worried."
"You should be. Look, I'm just trying to take the easy way to get back at this guy. You're not the only single homosexual male I know. You're just about the same age." His father made a vague hand gesture at John. "If you meet him and you decide you can't handle the idea of the guy, just tell me."
It didn't sound so bad, but John knew his father a little too well to be fooled. "So I tell you he doesn't seem like my type and then what? We're both just free to go? Collect two hundred dollars, continue to Reading Railroad?"
"No, you go free, go back to being a man-whore or whatever it is you do in your free time, and I marry him off to someone else in my company." His father shrugged slightly.
"Define someone else." John had an idea, and he didn't like it. Not in the least.
"My vice president. He's single. He'd do it for the company. He'd do it for me, which is apparently more than I can expect my own ungrateful bastard of a son to do."
"Yeah, well, he hasn't caught you screwing around on his mom three times and then divorcing her for a blonde that's barely my age." Yeah, there was that. On the other hand there was Kolya, and John knew a little bit too much about Acastus Kolya to be happy about the man. Some people would even call it an intimate acquaintance, if getting molested in the file room when he was thirteen counted. Son of a bitch. "I'll meet him." And he'd marry him, too. He just didn't want to give his father the satisfaction yet.
"Be polite. I'm just trying to make a respectable man out of you. And if I can humiliate the McKays at the same time..." His father shrugged his shoulders again, all casual. "They're flying in. It's not like it's going to inconvenience you."
John tossed down his napkin and rose, ignoring the fact that dessert was on the way. He could find dessert somewhere else, a willing woman, something. Anything. "Fine. When do I meet him?"
"Tomorrow morning. I'll call you with a time and location, so leave your cell phone on this time. If you try to plead 'I was out of the area', you miss your chance."
If it came down to Kolya getting his hands on some guy who was probably still in his teens or John giving up his freedom and having to figure out what to do with dick, there wasn't a lot of question about what he planned to do.
"I'll be there," he said, and rose to leave.
When he'd stepped out of his hotel room, his father had taken him by the shoulders, turned him back around, and frog-marched him into the bathroom because he didn't look good enough.
So it was really Take Two for the day when he walked into the neutral location that his father and the other madman had agreed to. Meredith felt as if he had a bulls eye marked on his back, one that just asked for someone to hit him squarely in the center and kill him dead.
Pausing, he glanced through the hotel restaurant, hoping against hope that he wouldn't see his father and would be able to escape. Unfortunately, Roderick McKay was in plain sight with two other people -- one, a handsome man with a face of stone, the other... Oh. Meredith sincerely hoped that wasn't the person he was supposed to be marrying. He was old with terrible skin and a vicious look to him that made Meredith sincerely afraid for his life.
"Meredith!"
As if he didn't know what direction he was supposed to head in! He just didn't want to, he wanted to turn around and make a run for it. But then Meredith remembered his sister, and his mother, and swallowed before he started to walk forwards. Fine. He could do it.
He could face it. If he had to.
Reluctantly, Meredith made his way through the tables, the faint twitch beginning to start in his left eyelid making him grimace. Great. Just great. As if the utter horror of the day wasn't enough, now he was going to get minor annoyances as well.
His father barely glanced at him when he reached the table. "Meredith, I'd like you to meet Will Sheppard and his vice-president, Acastus Kolya."
Oh god, okay, neither of them looked like they were a son. There was no Will Sheppard Junior, but if he was going to be stuck marrying someone he at least wanted to meet them beforehand. Wasn't that what they were there for? Meredith stuck out a hand to the men. "Good to meet you." Maybe if he tried to be extra manly...
Mr. Kolya nearly crushed his hand when he grasped it, and Meredith couldn't help giving a little squeak of pain. Ow, ow, ow! Oh, that was so very unpleasant, and okay, he was giving up on manly now because the guy was practically laughing at him. "Nice to meet you as well, Meredith."
Will Sheppard only gave him a nod, thank goodness. "I spoke with John a few moments ago. Apparently, there's a wreck on 375. He's taking the back route."
John? Oh, oh, god, okay, and if the guy was the son of the older but not bad looking guy, and not the one who looked like he'd tangled with gravel and lost, Meredith might be okay. He sat down quickly beside his father.
"So." This was definitely uncomfortable. They were all just looking at one another and at Meredith, as if he was nothing more than a bargaining chip, and in actuality he wasn't, was he?
"Meredith, would you like something to drink?" It was nice enough of Mr. Sheppard, he guessed, even though what Meredith wanted was to be a thousand miles away. He'd settle for one town over if he didn't have to be with any of these guys.
"Coffee, I guess." He tried not to shift too much, tried not to look as uncomfortable as he was. Why was the guy's vice president there? What exactly could be the point? Was he going to break Meredith's shins so that he couldn't run away? Meredith had heard that crazy Americans did things like that, shins, knees, something along those lines, and he began to sincerely worry about it even while Mr. Sheppard ordered the coffee and the waitress brought it, gently patting his hand as if he was twelve and not eighteen.
After almost ten minutes of silence, Mr. Sheppard cleared his throat and gave the most brilliant, scary smile Meredith had ever seen. "Well, it looks like John isn't going to make it, so why don't we get this show on the road?"
"I, uh, how can you get the show on the road if your son's not here? I thought the whole point was that you two decided I was going to marry your son whether I wanted to or not?" He twisted, glaring at his father, and his father had the audacity to kick him under the table.
"Lacking John's arrival at a predetermined time, we have a fine replacement in my vice president."
"That wasn't the agreement." Roderick wasn't just annoyed; he was outright pissed. Then again, he'd probably have been pissed regardless, Meredith figured.
Even if the ultimate plan was for him to try to make the guy's life hell and take him for everything he was worth, that hadn't been what his father had in mind. "No, no, no, I'm not doing it! The one I'm supposed to marry is just stuck in traffic!"
"Meredith, be still!"
Oh, as if. No, no, no, no and no, and...
"Hi. You guys wouldn't start without me, now would you, Dad?"
Meredith exhaled a breath he hadn't known he was holding, and sagged back in the chair. At least the younger Sheppard was good looking. He was probably stupid and snotty, but there had to be at least one godsend.
"You were late. We discussed it," Mr. Sheppard said easily enough. Mr. Kolya looked terrifyingly disappointed. "Pull up a chair, John, and meet your fiancé, Meredith."
Hazel-gold eyes turned his way, looking him up and down. Meredith knew he wasn't exactly a perfect specimen of manhood -- his hair was too curly, his nose too snub, his lashes too long, his mouth more crooked than anything else. Still, that didn't seem to bother John. "Hi."
He shifted, half stood up from the chair. "Hi. Your uh, father was going to move on without you..."
"Yeah, he's kind of impatient like that." The slinky way John moved made Meredith shiver. He was gay, yes, but not like that. It wasn't as if he had experience or, well, anything even close to it. Sex practically sang off of John's skin, all pretty mouth and smoldering eyes and wild black hair. "Nothing to worry about, sweetheart. I'm here."
And then Meredith got the very first kiss of his life.
It was good. It was fast and pressure, and he pressed his mouth back against John's because his lips were soft and the friction was delicious. Just pressure and a little twisting, and oh. Oh, he could like that. He could like that very much, and when John pulled back, giving him a little smirk, all Meredith could do was gasp for breath.
"Why don't we have a seat and work out the details of things then?"
"Better that than this disgusting display," Meredith's father snorted, and John wrapped his arm around his waist, tugging him close.
"Mm. Well. Shall we, then?" Mr. Sheppard was terrifyingly smug. Obviously John had inherited that facial expression if it was noticeable even with the lingering haze from that kiss.
Oh, okay, he could maybe go with the idea of it for a while. John could kiss, kiss like whoa, like those novels of his mother's that he'd pawed through when he was younger, and it was easy to sit back down, John pulling out a chair for himself.
Sheppard's Vice President cum hit man, or hit man cum vice president, just frowned a little.
"Kolya." John shifted his chair closer to Meredith's and slid his arm along the back, tugging him closer. It was a little embarrassing, and he could feel heat flushing in his cheeks. "I'd have preferred not to see you here."
"I was just thinking that myself." Meredith leaned into John, trying to ignore the way the man made a face at John and then sat back.
The senior Sheppard cleared his throat, and cut a smile at Meredith's father. "Details, details. What details do you want to start with?"
"Exactly what you're planning to give me in return for fulfilling your demands. I've brought him, just as you asked. Now I expect you to execute your own promises."
Promises? Meredith hadn't thought that there had been any kinds of promises made to his father.
"I expect you to back off and stop trying to reach Elizabeth."
"Done." The man smiled again. "What was the rest?"
"The shares." Roderick's voice ground out like rocks tumbling together. "You're going to quit bribing my shareholders."
"Not a problem. There's not much left to bribe them to do, but. You have my word."
It didn't seem like a lot to Meredith. It seemed like too little too late, and with John nudging at him gently, a subtle, easy flirtation while Kolya watched them across the table... well.
"Hey, Mer. Why don't you and I go do a little sight-seeing?"
"Oh, uh, sure." Since they were going to hash it out with or without them watching, and Meredith was starting to feel like a piece of meat. "Yeah, sure."
"No." His father's hand clamped down on Meredith's wrist quickly. "He's not going sight-seeing, he's not spending time alone with you, not until they're properly wed. Meredith's not exactly well-versed in anything except naivety. I'd prefer that he not be hustled off and seduced before the wedding and then dropped by the wayside without your promises being fulfilled."
"I'm sure my son just doesn't want him to... see the back and forth between us," the older Sheppard soothed.
"Oh, I'm sure. Meredith, you should return to your room now. Alone."
Alone sounded good, because John touching him was making him shiver, making him mortifyingly hard. John was pretty, and he seemed nice enough, except maybe he wasn't, and he was touching Meredith a lot in very pleasant ways. Nothing horrible or overt, either, just... just nice. The kiss had been great, and if that was what he had to endure for his father's half-assed plan, Meredith knew he could.
"Oh, uh..." And could he really say 'no, I don't want to'? "But we just got down here?"
"Surely it wouldn't hurt for them to go somewhere public?" Mr. Sheppard smiled. "I don't doubt you've brought along one of your very reliable bodyguards. They can keep a close eye, be sure things don't... devolve into something of which you'd disapprove."
Roderick gave Meredith a look that Meredith knew was a message not to screw up, and then nodded vaguely. "I suppose I could."
Okay. Okay, that was a lot better than being sent to his room to be bored. He could live with that.
"We'll head out to Dearborn. They've got the early flight exhibit at the Ford Museum there. You'll like it," John promised vaguely, and yeah. Anything was better than their current place, especially if he got to eat on the way.
Meredith downed his coffee, and nodded. Early flight exhibit, that was a strange thing for anyone to suggest, but it wasn't particularly something Meredith was going to protest. Flight was physics, and that sort of thing was interesting to him. "That sounds great. Shall we?"
"Make sure that you keep Eugene in sight at all times."
He had never actually asked about the serious-faced American. He was Roderick's executive assistant and his bodyguard, and he seemed unassuming most of the time. Rumor had it he'd killed three men for looking at him funny, though, so Meredith had never wanted to try that one.
"Yes, Father." He turned his head, and caught sight of the man lingering off against one wall of the restaurant they were in, unassuming as always, and Meredith turned to smile tightly at John Sheppard. "Shall we?"
It earned him a grin, and a jingle of keys that looked pretty impressive. "Follow me."
Following wasn't so much an option as it was a necessity, since John took his hand and tugged, pulling him after him as he went along. It was nice, too, Meredith had to admit. Almost like being wanted, and John was hot, so maybe... maybe it wouldn't be too bad.
Maybe.
It was like he was playing the biggest prank of his life.
In retrospect, it made the trick he'd played on his father a lot less funny, because he wasn't gay at all, and here he was stringing along this kid who, okay, apparently was, and thought John was going to marry him. Not that the kid was bad looking or anything, but he had one thing that John wasn't interested in: a penis.
In the long run, he guessed he'd do it just to keep Kolya from getting his hands on the kid, but mostly he was pissed about it, especially when he realized that they'd be taking a limo with the creepy Bates guy driving instead of his own red Mustang.
"So. You're Meredith."
"It's a family name," he answered a little defensively. "Yes. That's me."
The way his shoulders hunched told John he'd gotten a lot of teasing about it, but he couldn't help smirking and sweeping his gaze over the kid. "Yeah, well. You're pretty enough to be a girl." He reached out a hand and gently tugged on one blond curl. "Except your mouth."
That turned down into a sharp frown at him, and he lifted a hand to smack John's hand down. "Well, I'm a guy. That's what your father said you wanted to marry."
John leaned back in his seat and smirked, ignoring the fact that McKay -- it sounded better than Meredith -- had slapped his fingers like some kind of girl. "Yeah, well, I like my men to be men," he drawled, gaze sliding over the kid, more than a little insulting. "You'll get there over the years I guess."
"I'll get there?" His chest puffed up with anger, and he lifted his chin angrily. "Look, you said you wanted to marry me. I don't have a choice in this."
That was interesting. It put them both in the same boat. "And why is that, Meredith?" he drawled, reaching out a hand to let it longer on one thigh. He wasn't about penis, but he knew how to intimidate a virgin, something learned accidentally when he'd been one himself.
Meredith squirmed slightly, and the muscles of his thigh shifted. "Because my father ordered me to."
"Yeah? You do everything he tells you to do?" John let a thumb stroke to the inside of that leg, gentle, easy.
He could see the way Meredith's breath caught, could see the way he went straight-backed. "When it's important, mostly."
His hand shifted, moved a little higher, slow and easy. Frightening, probably. "And what's so important about this?"
The kid was so nervous that it was almost bothersome. Almost. "I, uh, he won't let me go to university if I don't."
"Yeah?" Right. Maybe that was the reason, but John didn't think so. Not really. "Doesn't seem like much. I'd be willing to pay for you to do that in exchange for a few favors..." John smiled, and his hand finally cupped Meredith's crotch. Meredith. It was almost laughable.
Meredith sucked in a miserable breath. "And your father has strings attached to the deal."
"What kind of strings?" John let himself stroke, slow and easy. "Maybe I could pull a few for you. Get things more to your liking."
Meredith chewed at his bottom lip, and he was clearly trying not to shift into John's hand. "I, uh."
"I could help you out." John was nearly purring. This wasn't so hard. Meredith was sort of pretty, and John had a cock of his own. It wasn't difficult. "Could make things more to your liking. Pay your way into a good university. Fix the rest of the things you've having problems with."
"I, uh, thought you wanted me to marry you?" Which would moot all of his offers, or make them valid already, yeah, but.
John shrugged. "It's a beneficial business arrangement. I'd be just as happy if we just..." He made a particularly obscene hand motion and smiled. The kid was gay, and sex was sex, so maybe he'd be happy with a hand job and money, right?
"It's some kind of shareholder issue. We need your father to stop bribing them. It, uh, look, I don't want to marry you, no offense. Marriage is sort of a big thing, but..."
"But?" Always a but. Yeah, John should have figured it out, all things considered, but he had a feeling that his father had an ulterior motive of some sort and he wanted to know what it was.
"But I have no idea what they're agreeing to back there or how pissed off they'll be if we do something else."
Great. Just great.
John pulled his hand away and leaned back in his seat, narrowing his eyes as he watched the kid squirm uncomfortably. "You that scared of him?"
"No, but I have my sister and my mother to think about and if things go to hell for him, they're the ones who'll suffer." He crossed his legs, and glared at John.
Reaching up, John rubbed at his face and gave a heavy sigh. "Great. Charming." Of course there were other people involved. "So I guess we're getting married then. Unless you'd be more interested in Kolya..."
"No. No, no, no, no. I don't want to get within ten feet of him.
It wasn't like John could blame him. "So you're going to make me marry you for your own good then, even though I could get the money for you if you'd just...."
"What the hell is wrong with you? I thought this was your idea!" His voice got louder, higher, and okay, that was sort of manly if he was a man without balls. "It's not that I prefer one over the other!"
Leaning back, he let a smirk slide over his mouth. "My father wants to make an honest man of me. I have other inclinations." Pretty simple, a proposition, straightforward. John could let his virtue go, maybe. He might even get hard, considering.
Meredith folded his arms tightly over his chest. "So, neither of us wants to do this."
"Got it in one, pretty Mer. I can make ways around it for you, but only if you'll cooperate."
He canted his eyes towards the bodyguard who was driving the limo, then nodded. "Fine. I'm open for suggestions at this point. You don't want to do it, I don't want to do it, it's a stupid idea."
"Good. We'll talk about it at the exhibit, then. See what we can figure out."
Yeah. It was all gonna work out. It would be just fine.
"So. You'd rather be Sheppard's whore than anything else."
Meredith had barely stepped into the hotel room, leaving John at the door after allowing himself to be kissed again, a ravenous, terrifying sort of kiss.
A tempting kiss, an amazing kiss, but the feelings that went with it plummeted in his chest when he turned around and saw his father standing there, arms crossed in anger. "What? What are you talking about?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Meredith. He offered you money and safety for a fuck." The word alone made Meredith flush, heat rising in his face. "He offered you whoring, and he's not going to come through on that promise. Do you think you're the first young man he's fucked and left?"
"Look, he doesn't want to get married either! Neither of us wants to get married -- why do we have to?" And it had seemed so logical, such a good idea, talking with John about it.
His father gave a sound of disgust and reached to the dresser, picking up a fat manila envelope and tossing it on the bed. Glossy black and white pictures spilled out when it burst, too ripe at the seams. There were pictures of John there, with girls, with boys. Meredith didn't have to look at them to see that. "Would you like names? Their families are all big business, or they were before Sheppard got his son involved."
Meredith clenched his jaw, and started to rifle through them, just idly. "What happened?" There was no way that one person could wreck that much havoc on anything.
"The same thing that happened to you today. He made an agreement with them," Roderick spat. "An agreement that he never fulfilled. He fucked them and he told his father he wasn't interested anymore. That's what he does."
"What does that have to do with anything at all?" So, so the guy got around. It didn't make sense to Meredith why he needed to marry him for anything.
His father sat on the bed and tugged his tie open, watching Meredith with that look that said he was stupid, so stupid. "It all began with the kind of offensive his father's been using on McKay, Inc., Meredith. They offer this as a way out, and instead, they choose to ruin a man's family as well as his business when children like you aren't bright enough to tell the man no."
"So, what changes if I actually go through with it?" He still didn't believe that his father was telling the truth, didn't want to. John had seemed so... so very real, actually.
"You'll be living in California instead of Detroit. They have community property laws. Sheppard's agreed that you won't have to sign a prenup. You'll actually have something left in return for your body, which is more than we've got now, Meredith, and he'll put in writing his promise to leave the business and the family alone."
"But he doesn't want to be married to me...." And Meredith didn't want to be married to him, and there had to be an easier way to do it.
Like taking a hit out on the older Sheppard.
"That's right, Mer." He'd never seen his father look so tired. "He doesn't want to be married to you. He wants to fuck you and get away with everything, leave us destitute because you believe him."
Meredith closed his eyes. "Why can't you do something?"
"You don't think I've tried? They've got me over a barrel. He even knows about your mother, and he's managed to hinder most of her connections, as well."
"So you want me to go off with his son and just. You think that's going to solve everything?"
"I think having a few contracts will be better than having nothing. We're all going to be on the streets if you don't. Do you want that, for Jeannie? For your mother?" His father had never liked him, had always held the fact that Jeannie was a girl against her, but he obviously adored their mother.
So it was basically time to throw Meredith to the Wolves. Sheppards. "Fine. Fine. Just... keep him away from me until the wedding, then."
The fact that Roderick seemed grateful made Mer feel nauseated. "We'll go back home. I'll tell them your mother's not well. That will give you plenty of distance in the mean time."
"Fine." He kept his arms crossed over his chest, trying to shake the feeling that, yes, maybe his father actually meant how desperate they were. That he really was the last option. "When's it supposed to be?"
"Five days. They're making all of the arrangements. Meredith..." He looked up, thin lips pressed together. "You and I, we've never... we've always been at odds. We haven't been close." He took a deep breath. "If there's anything...."
"Stop calling me a goddamned whore when I'm doing this for the family. Just because you gave me incomplete information doesn't mean I was trying to whore myself out. At least not anymore than you seem determined to do." It would have been easier if he'd had any inkling of something he'd specifically done wrong, other than simply having been born.
His father's face tightened again, shifted into anger. He looked away, and that made Meredith breathe out, a shaky release. "Fine." As if that was that, made simple and easy. "I'll have Eugene get plane tickets for the trip home, then."
"Fine." Then he had a few days to drive himself crazy thinking about what was going to happen.
He didn't think it was going to be nearly enough.
Meredith hadn't shown up.
John had worked like hell to scrabble together enough money to put the kid through at least six years of MIT and support his mother and sister simultaneously, and the brat hadn't even bothered to come up to his hotel room.
There had to be some reason behind it, had to be, and the reason was named Will Sheppard, and Will Sheppard was an asshole.
All he'd wanted to do was make life easier for everyone involved. No marriage, no starving to death, hey, everyone was happy. So, either the bodyguard had ratted on them -- a possibility -- or his own father had pulled the plug on what'd been an awesome idea.
Either way, John was pissed, and he full intended to let his dad have an earful, right up until he ran into the stone wall that was Acastus Kolya, pervert extraordinaire.
Perfect.
"Kolya," John gritted out, trying to keep his hands from balling into fists.
"John." Kolya took a back step, and they both knew it was more for John's benefit than his own. "I was just coming down to tell you that your beau had to skip town until the wedding. Seems his mother's on her deathbed again."
Oh. "Really." Why didn't he believe that? "Well, he mentioned that she wasn't exactly well. You and Dad wouldn't be using that to your advantage, now would you?"
"What advantage do I have if your husband-to-be leaves town?" Kolya kept standing there like a wall, a wall John knew he couldn't very well get past.
"Right offhand? I'm not sure, but there's always an angle with you, so I wouldn't put it past you." John shifted to the right, and Kolya shifted with him. What the hell. It had been worth a shot.
It was always worth that.
"It was as much as surprise to us as it was to you. They've gone back to Alberta until the wedding."
His stomach dropped somewhere around his ankles, but John kept his smirk up all the same. "Well. I guess you'd want to see your mom before you got married. I sure would." His own mother had finally slit her wrists after his father had remarried for the fourth time, all the way up to the elbows. Just thinking about it made John sick so of course it was the first thing that John thought of.
"I'd help you, but your father would kill me if I killed you." Kolya flashed him a smile, all wide teeth, and John wanted to punch them out.
He'd have to settle for being a bastard instead. "He's just your type, isn't he? Young, pretty, looks more like thirteen than eighteen. That is what makes your dick hard, right? Shame he's mine."
It was almost worth it for the way that Kolya's face twisted up. "You don't even want him. We both know that."
"Given a choice between shackling myself to the kid and letting you have him?" John leaned in close. "I'll fuck him three times a night if that's what it takes to make sure you don't get him."
It was hard to tell if the guy was more torn up that John was taking something just to keep it from him, or that the guy liked the mental image John had just given him. "You should just save yourself the trouble."
"I kind of like trouble. Now, if you'll let me by, I need to have a talk with dear old dad, if it's all the same. Good to see you, Kolya."
Kolya smiled slightly, bowed, and stepped aside to let him through. "Have a pleasant chat, then."
God, that made him nervous. "Don't worry. I'm sure we will." Yeah. Or not, but it wasn't like there was a lot John could do one way or the other.
Stiffening his shoulders, he headed further down the hall and slipped into his dad's front office, eyeing the empty assistant's desk. There was no way Chuck would be wife number five, John figured, and didn't bother knocking when he pushed open the door to Will's office.
He wished he had bothered knocking, actually, because his father was turned to face the picture window and that was Chuck kneeling between his legs and Jesus, there were some things people never needed to see.
"Hey, hey, learn to knock!"
"Whoa, whoa! Holy fuck!" Spinning around, John slapped both hands over his face. "Jesus CHRIST, Dad! You've only been married to Barbie for eight months!"
"Get out! It can't be that important!" He had a hand on the back of Chuck's head and John wished he'd never seen that. Some things, a guy wasn't supposed to see, no matter how old he got. Since the better part of valor was discretion, John got out and settled in at Chuck's desk. Geeze. He was never, ever getting over the trauma.
Ever.
He still settled in to wait. He wasn't sure for a minute if they were in there still going at it, or if Chuck was just getting himself together before he stepped outside. The short length of time that he had to wait told him which one it was, and Chuck didn't even try to reclaim his desk as he hurried past him. Probably too mortified, all things considered.
John waited another minute or so before going to the door and knocking on it, listening for his father's voice before stepping inside and shutting it behind him. He managed about three seconds of calm before he couldn't stand it anymore. "Jesus Christ, Dad! You haven't even been with Barbie a whole year!"
"Her name is Barbara," Will began.
"Barbara, Barbie, fucking she-whore, whatever! Eight. Months. And you've got Chuck on his knees!"
"Hey, I was just giving what you and Kolya seem all fascinated with a... a test drive." He flashed John a smile. "Forget it ever happened." Yeah, and John smelled bitterness over the prenup on its way. "What do you want?"
"Why'd Meredith go back to Alberta?" Might as well outright ask. If it was his father's idea, if there was something else to it, he'd probably admit it. Will tended to spill to John, something about him looking like his mother. Guilt was a bitch.
"His father said that his wife was sick, and they needed to be at home as much as possible 'in case.' In case she dies, I guess. That's kind of a shame." Like hell he thought it was.
"Because you didn't have the honor of driving her to it?"
So. Meredith was obviously on the run. What was the money John could put together for him compared to the money he could get with a guarantee of no prenup? Huh. He felt stupid.
It was a hell of a lot easier to marry John and get fucked by him that way, and end up taken for half of everything he had, John guessed, but he'd liked the whole idea of money for no long term trouble.
His father sucked in a sharp breath. "Look, I'm just trying to do right with you. Settle down. You can't be me."
"Yeah? I don't even know this guy. He's almost four years younger than me, barely even eighteen. He's hardly out of training pants, Dad! You think that's going to work out? Huh?"
"He's a genius. I mean, certifiable genius. One of those boy-wonder types. Look, you get to make it work," his father insisted, and flashed him a sharp smile.
"Like you did with Mom? Or Gina? Or Patty? How about Katherine-just-call-me-Kit? It's a miracle I remember Barbie's name," John snapped. "You guaranteed them no prenup. You're after his father's company down to the last drop or you wouldn't have arranged all of this, so what's the deal, Dad?"
"This one's personal." And while his father probably wouldn't tell him how personal, exactly, it was more than John had known when he'd started.
He'd have to do some digging. John wasn't above getting his hands dirty, if he had to. Necessity dictated it on occasion. "So they should just feel lucky that you're going to let them keep what they've got." He knew his dad wasn't always that kind. He was a shark, especially once he got a scent of blood.
"I figure I can leave them the company they have, and just sort of... ruin them personally a little. That was why, if you didn't want to marry the kid, Kolya would've. It's about tearing McKay senior apart, and let's just leave it at that."
Yeah. Yeah.
John could be a selfish bastard, and maybe he'd been angry earlier. Maybe he'd figured the kid had run out on him, but maybe it had been his old man instead. He'd have to make a few phone calls, but he was going to get to the bottom of it.
"Okay. You making all the arrangements?" He sounded stiff, but he couldn't help it.
"Of course." There was a flash of smile again, disconcerting. Yeah, he knew his father well enough to know that he was probably going to end up with a huge, tacky wedding despite the fact that he didn't want one at all.
Might as well suck it up.
It wasn't like he could change anything, one way or another.
He wished his mother was there.
That his mother or Jeannie or someone other than his father was standing on the other side of the room, frowning at him as he straightened his tie again. Meredith didn't even know why he was straightening his tie. It didn't matter, because he didn't care how he looked for the Sheppard that he was going to be marrying.
Oh, god, Marriage.
Just the thought of it sent his stomach sinking down into his shoes, made him quake. He hadn't slept since they'd left Detroit five days ago, had barely been able to think. Thank God for Carson Beckett, his best friend, to whom he'd told everything. He'd been stupid and pitiful and fretful about it, and Carson had kissed him and sworn that he'd run away with Meredith if he wanted. Meredith had said no, no matter how badly he had wanted to leave with Carson.
He really did. Anything other than being married off to some stranger who apparently went through people like water. Being married to him, Meredith figured, wouldn't change things at all. Except that it would tie him to someone he didn't know, didn't want. Didn't know what to do with at all, either.
A hand landed almost gently on his shoulder, Meredith's father standing behind him. "Ready?" he asked, and Meredith wanted so badly to say no. They'd made the trip to Windsor, literally just across the river from Detroit, and they'd stayed overnight. John hadn't called, or even tried to see him. Nothing.
He should have known it was all a ruse. It was a ruse that was going to turn into a sham, and he should have run away with Carson.
"As much as I can be."
His father drew in a deep breath. "You're a good boy, Meredith. You're saving your mother, and this family."
"I'm marrying a bastard." He shifted, straightened his tie again, and turned to face his father. There was just nothing for it, no solution.
"I promise you. I'll make the best of it, Meredith. I'll take care of it, and I'll get you out of it as soon as possible."
Just like his father had gotten him into it. "Fine." He lifted his chin a little. Pride. He could still have his pride, even if he was going to hate the bastard because he had lied to Meredith. "Let's get this sham on the road."
There was that squeeze of his shoulder again, just a little, and Meredith wanted to scream. He wanted to, but he didn't, just steeled himself and pulled away from Roderick's heavy touch and moved towards the door. It shouldn't have been a surprise when it opened before he could get to it, revealing John Sheppard looking rakish and not at all like a proper groom. He looked like he'd been out drinking and come in before he'd managed to dry out properly.
"Heellloo, Mer'dith."
"Oh, god. John, you're..." A mess was what he was. Drunk before they could even get anywhere. Meredith didn't know what to think or where to start.
"Dear God, Sheppard, couldn't your father control you long enough to at least have this be semi-respectable?" Roderick choked out.
John strolled into the room, all loose hips and strutting motions, practically obscene. Meredith could see funny sparse black chest hair in the open vee of his white shirt, and it made him want to open his own shirt and scowl at the bareness of it. "He's not so good at controlling me, to be honest."
"Apparently we should trade dads." Meredith hovered back, eyeing John's shirt and his ass and god, he was good looking. "I didn't think this was going to be happening here in the hotel room."
That smirk thinned out John's mouth, made it twist unpleasantly. "I just wanted to be sure I was getting what I'm going to be paying for is all. Didn't want your dad to do something funny, like land me with some fourteen year old cunt."
Get what he was going to be paying for. Oh god, he was in hell. He was in hell. He rubbed a hand over his face. "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you inhuman?"
"I dunno. Maybe. Are you a greedy whore?" John moved close, towering over him, outweighing him, making him uncomfortable. Meredith was almost grateful when his father pulled John away from him.
"Keep your nasty mouth shut!" Apparently it was all right for Roderick to speak nastily to Meredith, but not anyone else.
Oh god. "Can we just get this over with?" Or maybe his father would back out. Meredith didn't care. He could still go home and run away with Carson. It wasn't like Carson would imply he was anybody's whore in any way, shape or form.
"Might as well. It's not like I'm going to get out of it whole, am I?" John pulled himself loose from Roderick's grasp. "C'mon, McKay. Getting it over with so I can get a little drunker sounds good to me."
"I don't want to do it any more than you do! Except that you, you, you make promises and don't go through with them and..." Meredith started towards the door, and John followed after him.
"Yeah? Well you didn't show up," John said, pushing Meredith's shoulder. He stumbled forward, nearly falling flat on his face. "So now we're getting married instead. Yeah?"
If he was going to fall on his face, Meredith didn't want to be there when he hit. "I didn't show up because I had to go home!"
"Yeah, well, I heard better. Your mother's not dying, which is what I was told, and now instead we're getting married, so shut up and let's get it over with."
Great. Just great.
"Fine. Fine, fantastic." He wrapped his arms tight around his chest, and walked fast to keep up with John's drunken stumble.
It was going to be the worst day of his life.
Six hours later, Meredith was almost certain that he was in some bitter, vicious level of hell reserved only for the young and stupid. The wedding had been a fiasco, the justice had been completely appalled, and then they'd gone back to Detroit -- Detroit!! -- for their honeymoon. They were supposed to go on to California in the morning, but that was tomorrow.
There was still the wedding night to get through.
The wedding night that he wished he was drunk through. Now that their fathers were out of the picture -- or not, because Meredith had horrifying mental images of them pressing cupped ears to the door -- it was just them, and Meredith didn't see why they had to do anything.
Or why he had to have sex with a drunk asshole.
Maybe he didn't. Maybe John would just forget he was there and pass out, or... or something. Or anything, actually, except sitting there and brooding, looking furious. Meredith was a little worried.
Okay. A lot worried. He didn't know enough about anal sex to fill his own coffee cup except what Carson had told him. They'd gone to boarding school together, true, and everyone always said boarding schools were places of pure perversion, but Meredith had never found that to be true.
At worst, he'd gotten a lot of teasing for having a girl's name.
It was ominous that his drunk husband was standing at the door to their hotel room, locking it behind them. Meredith loosened his tie, eyeing John's slightly swaying backside. "Maybe you want to sleep that off."
"And maybe I don't. Maybe I want a taste of what you're giving that Ca-arson guy." John had been drunk through the wedding and he'd kept drinking with dinner, Meredith's father scandalized, John's seeming worried. "I got pictures."
"Pictures." Pictures of him and Carson, and what the hell? He was spying on Meredith and they weren't even married then? "He's a school friend! What the hell were you doing spying on me? I've never done anything with him, even if he's ten times a better person than you are!" He was so drunk he couldn't even say a simple two syllable name right.
"Got pictures," John mumbled, stepping forward. "That wasn't any kinda school friend kiss. Not even close, McKay. First you make out like you're some kinda desperate virgin, get me into position for giving you a payoff, and then you decide it's worth more to marry me, but you're gonna fuck around some first. 's how it goes, isn't it? 's typical."
None of that had ever crossed his mind. He didn't know why he was trying to justify himself, but maybe it was that tiny voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his mother, telling him that he needed to try his best and that would be enough. Well, it didn't fucking well seem to be enough! "What? No, look, I've never had sex, and I went home to see my mother because now I'm married to you, which I didn't want to do in the first place!"
"Yeah, I've heard that before. Barbie was a-all about not needin' a prenup." Barbie? When had toys come into the conversation? "An' that's how it ends up, so we're all kinda screwed. So if I'm screwed, you're gonna be." John fumbled his way towards Meredith, and Mer honestly hoped he'd trip and land flat on his nose.
He took a back step, and halfway put his hands out. "Look, we're going to have to live with each other, so maybe you should sleep this off and we can start over tomorrow."
"You think you c'n explain better then?"
This was all so very very bad, Sheppard advancing on him, and he was so close that Meredith was thinking about scrambling over the bed to put that width between them.
When the back of one leg bumped the bed, he did that. He was sober, even if he didn't want to be. He could probably outrun Sheppard. "When you're not drunk, yes! I was saying goodbye to a good friend, which apparently you wouldn't understand."
Sheppard mumbled something about Barbie again, and wow. He moved fast for a drunk guy, because he was on the bed after Meredith so fast that Mer didn't even have time to catch his breath. He just found himself tossed back into pillows with a very manly shriek. Very manly.
Oh, GOD. Oh, god, because he started to push himself up onto his hands and knees and John was already there. "What the hell are you DOING?"
"What's it look like, McKay?" There were fingers, dipping in at his shirt collar, tugging at it, his tie long since gone. His jacket was by the door, and why had he taken that off, again? Oh. Yes. He'd figured John would pass out, the drunk bastard. "'m takin' care of business."
"What? No, no, we should really do this sober because I have no idea what I'm doing and..." And because it was polite, better to wait, because wasn't sex supposed to be good? Something people wanted, but he didn't want John tugging at his shirt collar like that, popping buttons while he tried to buck John off of him. "Let go of me!"
"If you're going to whore for Carson, then you're gonna whore for me," John murmured, giving a bite to the back of Meredith's neck that made him yelp as his shirt came down further.
"I'm not a whore!" Oh, god, he'd just kissed Carson, a chaste thing that had just felt good, and he should have run away with him, he should have. He could have survived all right in Scotland. Meredith twisted, trying to crawl forwards, away from John. "Get off of me!"
He could feel John getting hard against him, and oh, that was a bad sign, a terrible sign, a fucking awful sign. "You telling me you didn't fuck him?" John asked, and it was obvious he was so drunk it'd be a miracle if he got it up.
"I only ever kissed him! What the hell is wrong with you?" Maybe he could just get a little hard, just, sort of useless hard, that was all he could be back there, and Meredith dug his hands into the bedding to try to pull himself forwards and away from his new drunk bastard of a husband.
It didn't work at all.
"You're lying!"
He wasn't, but John was ripping his shirt and working on his pants, and Meredith was starting to wish he had signed up for that Tai Kwon Do class, after all. Really, then he could bash John over the head and run.
He did try a deft donkey kick, and he twisted to try to punch at John, his arms, his shoulders, anything he could hit because apparently the drunk bastard wasn't going to listen. He could fight him tooth and nail, make him miserable. If he was lucky, he'd manage to kick him in the balls. Meredith didn't think he had that kind of luck.
"God dammit!" John cursed, and smacked the back of his head. It wasn't painful so much as it was shocking, and Meredith went still just long enough for John to get his pants down around his thighs. That fact made him shriek.
"Stop it! Stop it! I'll, I'll..." He'd yell, which he was already doing, and fight, and Meredith didn't think he could kill anyone, but he tried to elbow John hard, and when John pushed a knee between Meredith's thighs, Meredith tried to crush them closed against that knee.
"You'll what?" Sheppard's voice was slurring even further, and Meredith sobbed, unable to stop it. If he'd just, just pass out. If he'd just stop... "Yell? Please? Don't? Stop?"
"Stop! Get off of me!" John was bigger than him, heavier, more muscled, and Meredith wasn't strong enough, couldn't do a pushup with someone that heavy against his back. Every attempt to pull himself away from John just left him more tangled up with the bedding and John. He could feel Sheppard's breath on the back of his neck, hot and damp and terrifying, and even more terrifying was the slurp he heard and then a delving that made his own breath come in sharp, shrill gasps.
Fingers, barely wet, sliding down his back, to his ass crack, and there wasn't any getting away from them because he was flat out on the bed with John on top of him and oh fuck they were pushing in, there were fingers in his ass and it hurt, and John didn't seem to care that he was yelling, trying to get away from John again even though the headboard was all of three inches from his face.
"Not foolin' me," John mumbled. "Got pictures. Not... you're not..." Meredith couldn't imagine what sorts of pictures John thought he had, but it wasn't him, it wasn't, and he couldn't stop babbling, swearing that it wasn't. It wasn't, it wasn't, but that didn't stop John. Didn't stop him, and Mer hated him. He hated him so much.
He hated John and his father and John's father, hated them all, hated Carson for not making him leave with him, because he couldn't get out from under John and the fingers were shoving in and out and in and out, pulling at his ass cheeks, making his asshole burn. He wanted to scream, and all he could do was shake and plead, and that wasn't getting him anywhere. The fight was all gone out of him, leaving him a shuddering trembling mess, and he felt John shift away for just a moment. Just a moment, and he thought, thought he could be grateful for that, but then there was slick instead of spit, deeply wet, and that was almost a relief. Almost, except John was coming over him, and Meredith felt it, oh, God, felt it.
No work-up, no kissing or petting or anything else, just the feeling of John's dick pressing against his asshole, one hand smooshing his left ass cheek to the side, John's thighs pinning his down while Meredith tried to worm his way out one last time, but John was pushing in and it was too late. It was too late, and it hurt, forcing a choked sob up out of his throat even as he felt his shoulders fold in, hunching. Meredith couldn't stop it, either. Once the first hysterical breath worked its way loose, others seemed to follow it automatically, making him shake as Sheppard invaded him, deep and steady, moaning while he did it.
It wasn't just hurt, aching, but it felt crippling, made his legs shake and his back knot up and he couldn't move. Even if he did try, John would probably follow him and it, god, he hated his life, hated that that was his new existence, bastard fucking drunk and god, his ass was burning and he couldn't stop sobbing, choking, babbling at John for all the good it didn't do.
Begging.
Begging, because it hurt, and he was crying, and he hated crying. He hated crying, and he hated hurting, and John was doing things to him, things with his penis, and Meredith couldn't catch his breath. He hadn't had an asthma attack in years, not since that thing with the lemon tree during their Florida vacation, but, but, but he couldn't, it was...
It was impossible to breathe, to think, to move past gasping in air, shoulders shaking, body still trying to get away from John when he knew it was impossible, but John had to finish soon, didn't he? He had to, had to, had to, it had to be over, didn't it?
When Sheppard slumped against his back, Meredith didn't move. He just stayed there, flat and sticky and aching, and hoped that something would change.
But it didn't. Nothing changed and Sheppard stayed there, dick still up Meredith's ass, unmoving. He had a fleeting fear that the other man was dead, but the rise and fall of his chest against Meredith's back was a give away that he was still alive. He'd just passed out like the drunken rapist knave that he was.
Carefully, Meredith managed to wiggle loose, wincing and whimpering when John's cock pulled out of him. He hurt all over, and he didn't want to think about that, not, not at all. He didn't know what to do. Sheppard sprawled out near the edge of the bed, still dressed, once Meredith was out from beneath him.
He had no idea what to do. But he was married to that, and that was going to be his life until he got out of it. Drunken rapist bastard, and all Meredith could think was that he wanted a shower and he wanted to get out of there, and there was nowhere to go at all.
Nowhere to go except the bathroom, and so he shifted, rolled, moved his way stiffly off the mattress, clutching at the ache in his lower belly and stumbling towards it. It felt as though he had to go, and that was something he didn't think he ever wanted to do again now.
It was horribly overrated, over talked up, agonizing. His dick was half-hard, in a vague way, like it was as confused about what to do as he was, and the discomfort as he walked to the bathroom made it fade away more.
Yeah. He definitely had to go, so he lost his pants somewhere along the way, underwear fumbled loose a few steps later, and he found the toilet, sitting down and whimpering. Meredith couldn't seem to make that stop, even when squelchy, damp farts spilled out into the bowl.
Oh god. Oh god, he was going to be sick, and he was going to hide in the bathroom forever, because there was no way he could face Sheppard, John, ever again. Not after what had just happened, what he'd said and called Meredith. But he'd have to.
He'd have to, and that was in no way or shape fair. He'd given... He'd done this even though he hated it and didn't want to do it. He'd tried to stop John from doing it, and another of those gaseous belches of lube happened, and that was when Meredith realized that crying was a bigger option than he had thought it would be.
He hadn't wanted to do any of it, start to finish, fraud of a marriage to being under John like that, and he was going to have to keep on... doing things he didn't want to do. And he wasn't getting a damned thing out of it. Nothing. It was all for his father and his mother and his sister and nothing at all for him because he still wasn't getting to go to the university he wanted to go to, that he should have set off for over a year ago, and there was no end to it all in sight.
There was nothing. Nothing at all, and no reason to stay. He'd been stupid to agree to all of this. He should have never... just. Never have.
None of it. All.
His head was going to fall off, and if he rolled over, John knew that he would puke. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten so drunk. He was pretty sure it was the month that Chaya Sar had run off to fuck Lorne, the PI he'd had looking into the shady dealings she had with those Buddhist monks. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd actually been that drunk then, either.
No, this was amazingly, stunningly drunk, this was an anvil on his skull drunk, and he had no way to combat it, because he was afraid to move and see just where he was. He was pretty sure there was a bed involved, and that he was still dressed.
A draft wafted over his skin, and John revised that opinion.
Mostly dressed.
In John's opinion, mostly dressed was like mostly dead. It was all bad, and implied things that meant opening his eyes was distinctly necessary no matter how much it was going to hurt. Not opening his eyes was no longer an option, so he pried one lid open and promptly slammed it shut again, shuddering as nausea welled up in his throat.
Ugh.
Okay, he could be a man about it. He could open his eyes, and he could make himself sit up in bed and he could figure out why the hell he was only partially dressed and just where he was.
Pulling in one shallow, uneasy breath, John eased his eyes open slowly, dizzyingly. Okay. Comfortingly anonymous hotel room. That was good. Open fly. That was not good. Alone. That was good. Smelled like sex. Not good.
By the time he got his eyes open, puking had become something of a necessity. John stumbled up and looked around, finding the bathroom and hitting the toilet on his knees just in time.
Hell of a night. Hell of a night, and he'd clearly gotten laid in a cheap and skanky way, because he was still dressed and he smelled like sex afterwards, not to mention that his lay was long gone. That or he'd jerked off on himself, but John was pretty sure he hadn't.
With a moan, he laid his head on the toilet seat and prayed that he would either die or cool off enough that it would be bearable. Either one was good for him. He'd worry about everything else later.
It took him a while to get his head together, to let the cool of the toilet seat seep into his cheek. His whole body hurt, so he had to have been drinking straight up vodka or something for a whole twenty-four hours. There was no sane reason for him to do that, except for his father's usual machinat--
Oh.
Yeah.
McKay.
He'd started drinking when Ronon had brought him the envelope. Anonymous delivery, some kind of courier, and John wouldn't have known the difference if he'd answered the door instead of his friend. It wouldn't have changed anything. It certainly wouldn't change the contents -- pictures of McKay kissing some guy, blurry but still good enough to tell who he was. The later pictures were a little worse, all told, not so clear, but it was obvious enough what they were doing in them.
He figured they'd come from his father, trying to make him more miserable than he'd already been.
So he'd started to drink, and yeah, it'd been a hell of a bad idea, but drunk seemed to be the way to get through a wedding he didn't want to do in the first place. Which just left him to wonder where McKay was.
"M'Kay," John called, and just the sound of his own voice made his head throb, made him breathe a little more carefully. "Know you're here." Except he didn't, did he? After all, if McKay had shown up drunk, John probably would have left his ass flat as far as recovery went.
There was no answer, either, so he laid his head back down on the rim of the toilet again, closed his eyes. He'd definitely gotten laid. He stank of it, and he needed a shower, posthaste. As soon as he was sure he could get up standing and stay that way. Might take a while, he figured, and glanced down at himself.
He stopped fighting the urge to puke again.
It wasn't a lot of blood, he thought later, but even a little was too much, and Jesus. No wonder McKay -- Sheppard, whichever -- wasn't still in the room. God, how drunk had he been, anyway?
He didn't remember it. Didn't remember any of it, just that he had a messy dick in none of the fun ways, and no McKay-Sheppard there to tell him just what'd happened. He had to find him. He wouldn't have gone far, would he? Maybe for a coffee, or he'd gotten another hotel room. That's what John would have done, and it wasn't like the guy hadn't gotten around.
Okay, he'd obviously been unnecessarily forceful, and yeah, he didn't like the look of things, but he couldn't have gone far, right?
Right, John figured, and managed to strip down to skin and climb in the ridiculously small hotel shower.
McKay would be just down the hall. It wouldn't take long to find him at all.
