A Friend in Need

Title: A Friend in Need

Author: Mice

Category: Stargate: Atlantis, Grodin/Beckett

Warnings: slash, angst, first time

Spoilers: Poisoning the Well

Rating: NC17

Summary: Peter sees what Hoff has done to Carson Beckett.

Archive: If it's on your list, you can archive it. If it isn't and you'd like it, just let me know where you're putting it.

Feedback: Feed me, Seymour.

Website: Mice's Hole in the Wall https://www.squidge.org/mice

Mirror: http://mice.inkpress.org

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to many other people. But if they were mine, they'd be having very interesting adventures.

Author's Notes: Written for my most awesome beta, Pas, who has great lurve of Peter Grodin and wants to see more of him in the universe. Oh, and happy early birfday. Beta by Kaytee and Desala, who complained because the story was too short.

~~~~

He knew when he saw Beckett come back through the wormhole that something terrible had happened.

Carson's fear of traveling through the Gate was well known, and often joked about, but this had nothing to do with that. There was a look of devastation in his eyes and the slope of his shoulders that was far more than a slightly overwrought existential fear of dissolution.

Peter watched as the Major's team came up the stairs, and Dr. Weir hurried to meet them. "What happened?" she asked.

Carson wouldn't meet her eyes. "It was bad," Sheppard told her. McKay started waving his hands and going off about the genocidal stupidity of the Hoffans, and Peter saw Carson's eyes close, saw him shudder.

"Half a planet," Carson said softly. "The vaccine has a mortality rate of fifty percent."

Weir paled, then nodded. With a sigh, she gestured to the conference room. "Let's get this debriefing over with, then. I imagine you'll need to write up a full report when you're feeling a little more rested."

They walked through operations and into the conference room, and Peter watched Carson's slow pace and stiff back until the doors closed. He sighed and looked back down at his console. Chuck elbowed him. "Talk to him," he said. "It looks like the Doc is really gonna need a friend."

Peter looked over at the Canadian. "I suppose you're right."

Chuck shrugged. "Not doing either of you any good if you don't at least try."

Nodding, Peter filled in the log for the Gate activation. Chuck was right. He'd been watching for too long. If Carson ever needed anyone, now was the time.

***

It was late when Peter entered the infirmary. The night shift nurse didn't see him come in, but that was all right. He wasn't looking for her anyway. Carson hadn't been in his quarters, so it was likely he'd be found in his office.

The lights were on there, and Carson leaned on one elbow, staring at his computer screen. If anything, he looked even worse than he had when he'd come through the Gate that afternoon. Peter frowned to himself, worried. His talk with Dr. Weir after the debriefing had given him a sense of the scope of the Hoff disaster -- as many as four million people dead or dying.

No doubt Carson considered it his fault.

"Carson," he said softly.

Carson startled slightly, turning to see who had entered. "Oh, Peter. What can I do for you? Are you hurt?"

Peter shook his head. "No, but it looks like you could use a break." He gestured at the door. "I've got some tea, if you want some."

Carson sighed and looked back at his screen. "I've not been able to finish this report. It's... I just..."

He laid one hand on Carson's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Please," he said. "The report will still be there in the morning. You need some rest."

"She's dead." Carson's voice broke and he closed his eyes. Peter knew he was talking about the Hoffan scientist he'd been working with: Perna. He'd described her as brilliant and beautiful when he'd returned the first time to collect equipment and materials to advance the Hoffan project. Peter thought perhaps Carson fancied her, from the look on his face when he spoke of her.

"I'm sorry."

He rubbed Carson's shoulder as Carson sat silent for a long moment. Eventually he nodded. "Oh, aye. I could use some tea." He looked up at Peter. "Thank you. I couldn't bear to finish it now, but I felt guilty about not writing." He stood, moving as though he ached.

"I didn't like thinking of you alone, given how you must be feeling." He put an arm around Carson's shoulder. "The tea's at my place, unless you want to take it to the mess."

Carson shook his head. "No, your place is fine. I don't think I could face anyone else right now, to be honest."

Peter gave Carson a wry smile. "Just you, me, and the tea."

"I think that's about all I can deal with right now."

"Come on, then." Peter tilted his head toward the door and Carson nodded.

"Just let me shut this down and we'll go." Peter waited while Carson bent to his task.

***

He watched as Carson stared into his tea. Peter had finished his own half an hour ago, but Carson just stared. He hadn't stopped talking since they'd got to Peter's flat. The story was appalling, and Peter wasn't surprised that Carson was so miserable.

"They took a bloody vote on it," Carson said, anguish in his voice. "Ninety six percent of them. I can't believe they'd do that!" He looked up at Peter, looking about ready to cry. "Half the bloody planet, Peter! Half of them will die from it!"

"This isn't--"

"It is! I was insane to go there and help them with the project."

"Elizabeth said you'd urged caution at every turn." Peter knew it would never be enough for Carson's conscience, but it was enough for him. Carson had *tried* to stop them before it had become genocidal stupidity.

"It wasn't enough." Carson's disgust rolled off him in waves.

"Carson," Peter said gently, "they have to take at least some of the blame for this. When you found out what it did, you told them to stop. They chose not to. I don't see how any of that is your fault."

"Perna's dead because of me," he said, looking away. "Half a planet is dead because of me."

Peter sighed and reached out to Carson, taking his hand. "I'm obviously not going to be able to convince you otherwise, but I want you to know that I don't blame you for what happened. You're my friend, and I want to help if I can."

Carson's hand tightened, strong and warm in his. When Carson looked up again, silent tears were falling. "I was meant to help people, Peter. All my life, that's all I've ever wanted. I... I wanted to find cures for things. Instead, here I am and I've committed genocide. If it weren't for me--"

"They'd have found a way to do it to themselves -- five years from now or fifty, but they'd have done it, right enough." Peter looked into Carson's eyes. "You tried to stop them."

Carson just sighed and shook his head. He shifted on the edge of the bed where they were sitting, uncomfortable. Peter couldn't stand it anymore. "You look like you could use a rub for your shoulders," he said.

Carson nodded. "Aye. They're all stiff now."

"Here then, turn a bit. Let me get at them."

Carson did, his shoulders slumping. "I don't know what to do anymore."

"Just let me take care of you a bit. Try to relax a little." Peter released Carson's hand and rested his on Carson's shoulders, trying to get a sense of the tension in him. His muscles were balled up, tight as steel springs under his shirt. "Breathe, Carson. Holding your breath like that won't help at all."

He pressed his fingers into Carson's shoulders, working slowly and steadily. Neither spoke, but gradually the knots in Carson's muscles began to give. Every so often, he'd hiss slightly when Peter pushed hard with a thumb, but each time it was like hitting a release, and Carson's frame would sag a little more, until he was leaning back against Peter's chest, head resting on his shoulder. Peter wasn't entirely sure what to do with his hands at that point, so he just let them slow to a gentle caress of Carson's collarbones and his upper arms.

It was odd, really. This was what Peter had wanted, but now he felt vaguely like he was taking advantage of Carson's distress to get close to him. He sighed.

"It's all right," Carson murmured. He reached up and took Peter's wrist, pulling his arm down until Peter was holding him. "I... I need this."

Peter let himself pull Carson tight to his body for a moment. "Carson, I just--"

Carson's head tilted until his face was nestled against Peter's neck. "Do you think I never saw you watching?"

Peter's heart sped and his breath caught. "Carson?"

He sat and turned a bit until he could see Peter, keeping Peter's arm about him with one hand on his wrist. "You're not taking advantage of me, if that's what you're worrying over." His face bore the drying tracks of tears and Peter couldn't resist any longer. He leaned in and kissed Carson gently, his lips moving over Carson's still damp cheek.

Carson kissed him back, his lips soft and warm. His arms were strong around Peter's body and Peter sighed, letting the kiss deepen. Carson tasted of need and despair, and Peter wanted to burn it from his body somehow, hoping that the intensity of their kiss might purify him. Carson gasped and the kiss became desperate. They clung to each other, hands fisting in fabric. Peter moaned, quiet, one hand tracing the line of Carson's spine.

Their breathing was rapid and heavy, and Peter felt desire stirring in him. Carson was solid in his arms, his own hands starting to move slowly over Peter's body. He bit back another quiet cry, slipping his tongue into Carson's mouth. This time, it was Carson who groaned.

Carson pulled back from the kiss, whispering, "Peter," against his lips then trailing kisses along his jaw and down his throat. Peter whimpered when Carson nipped at his collarbone. He hadn't imagined this when he'd invited Carson in for tea.

Peter's fingers traced their way up Carson's back, tangling in his short hair. Carson nuzzled at his neck and Peter was shocked when he felt the wetness there. "Carson?" He slipped his hand to Carson's jaw and raised his face. Carson was crying again. "Carson, you've been through a terrible ordeal this week. We don't have to do this now."

Carson shook his head. "No, no." He sniffled. "It's all right, I just..." He swallowed, blinking tears from his eyes.

"It's not all right," Peter told him. "You're absolutely miserable. That's not what I wanted this to be like if we ever got to it."

"I'm sorry." One hand tightened on Peter's arm.

"Look," Peter said, "why don't you stay here for the night. I really don't think you should be alone right now." Carson nodded slowly. "Perhaps you'd feel a bit better if you had a shower." He wiped tears from Carson's face with his thumb. "I'm sure you've not slept much this week, and no doubt you're aching."

"Aye, I am, at that." His voice was subdued.

Peter gave him a gentle smile. "It's all right." He hugged Carson again. "I could wash your back, then, if you like."

Carson tilted his head, exhaustion on his face. "You know, that sounds lovely."

"Let me help you." Peter tugged gently at Carson's shirt, pulling it from his trousers. Carson leaned against him, resting his forehead on Peter's shoulder. Peter could feel the exhaustion vibrating in him. "When was the last time you got any sleep?"

Carson shrugged. "Two, three days ago maybe." He helped Peter pull the shirt over his head. "Every time I close my eyes--"

Peter kissed him again, lips soft against Carson's. He could only imagine what it must be like. "You're home now. You need to find a way to let go of it."

"Peter, I don't know if I can." The pain in his words was almost overwhelming.

His hands moved on Carson's now bare skin, fingers tracing reverent paths along the warmth of his sides. "I wish I could take it all away." Peter knew he'd never be able to do that, but it didn't diminish the desire to help.

"I know," Carson whispered. "No one can."

"Come on." Peter slipped a finger through one of Carson's belt loops and tugged. "Your shower awaits."

One corner of Carson's mouth twitched up. He followed Peter into the bath. Peter started the shower and they both tugged their clothes off. He tried not to stare when Carson stood, nude, before him.

"It's all right to look," Carson told him, so Peter did. Carson's arms were muscular, and he'd always known the man was strong. His broad chest was relatively smooth, and though he was a bit stocky, Carson was a handsome man. He smiled as Peter looked at him, vaguely amused through the exhaustion he carried like a weight on his shoulders.

"Thank you."

One eyebrow rose. "I should be thanking you," Carson replied.

Peter took his hand and drew him into the shower. Carson closed his eyes as the water fell on him, tilting his head back so it fell on his face and ran down his chest, and he sighed heavily. Silently, Peter stepped close behind him and put his arms around Carson, holding him to his body. Carson made a quiet, miserable sound and Peter tightened his arms. One of Carson's hands closed around Peter's wrist, his thumb making slow circles there.

Steam rose around them, and Peter could feel Carson's muscles starting to loosen in the heat. "That's better," he murmured into Carson's ear. "Just relax. Let me take care of you."

"I'm supposed to--"

Peter shook his head. "You need someone to look after you, Carson. I know the hours you work; I know the kind of man you are. Hoff is just one more thing for you to beat yourself with. I can't let you do that anymore." His heart was pounding. Being so blunt about it was a risk, but everything he said was true. Carson was far better at caring for others than for himself.

"Perhaps..." Carson hesitated. "Perhaps you're right," he whispered. He turned to face Peter and took him in his arms. "Mum always said I pushed myself too hard, but there wasna' any other way."

"You've got a choice now." Peter kissed him. "Please. Let me be here for you." Carson looked at him, his eyes clear and blue, and Peter could see him struggle with it. His normally spiky hair was slicked down in the falling water, and Peter couldn't help but smile to see him like that. He reached up and brushed it away from Carson's face. "Now let me wash your back."

Carson nodded and turned, resting his palms against the wall. Peter took a cloth and soaped it then set to massaging Carson's back and shoulders with it. The heat and the water and the trails of soapsuds were almost intoxicating as he ran his hands over Carson's body. It was impossible for him not to get hard, doing this with the man he'd wanted for months. He could hear Carson's relieved sigh as Peter worked at the sore spots on his back. Eventually, Carson let his forehead rest against the wall as well, sagging as the exhaustion caught up with him.

"I'm so tired," Carson said softly. Peter almost didn't hear him through the falling water.

"It's all right," Peter said. "We're almost done. Turn around, then." Carson pushed himself away from the wall with visible effort and Peter washed his arms and his chest and his belly. Carson's eyes were closed the entire time. Kneeling, Peter attended to Carson's legs and feet, laying a soft kiss on his half-hard cock before washing that, too.

Carson let his fingers comb through Peter's hair. Peter closed his eyes, his own hands still moving on Carson's body. "Peter." There was a gentle pressure tugging him toward Carson's groin. He opened his eyes and looked up. "Please?" The look on Carson's face was a combination of exhaustion and desire, and Peter couldn't resist. He leaned in, kissing Carson's cock again, then taking him in, sucking gently. Carson moaned and leaned back against the wall, his hands holding Peter's head close.

He tasted like running water and the last trace of soap at first, but the scent of his arousal grew as Peter sucked and licked. Peter held Carson's hips with his hands, caressing the soft, wet skin. The quiet sounds Carson made shot through Peter's body, accompanied by the hiss of falling water. It ran, hot and sensuous, down his back. Carson's cock hardened as Peter sucked, and a few moments later, he tasted the first hint of salty pre-come. Carson's fingers tightened in his hair, and suddenly he was coming in Peter's mouth, gasping, his hips jerking under Peter's hands. Peter let it run from his mouth, washed away by the rivulets he knelt in.

Peter was fully hard now himself, but he doubted Carson was in any condition to help with that. When he looked up, Carson's eyes were closed and he was panting harshly. Peter stood, holding Carson gently. "Just rest here. I'll have a quick wash up, then we can get some sleep."

"You're not--"

"It's all right."

Carson looked him in the eye and shook his head. "Actually, if you're interested, I'd really like to have you in me."

Peter's heart gave a jolt. "Are you sure?" Carson nodded. "I just-- I don't have any condoms, Carson."

Carson shrugged. "I'm clean, and I know you are, and it's not like we've got to worry about me getting pregnant." He gave Peter a wry grin, chuckling.

Peter blinked. He'd never actually had that sort of sex without one in his life. "If you're sure."

"Please." The need in his eyes was unmistakable, and Peter was willing to break his usual rule, knowing Carson as he did.

"All right," Peter said. He kissed Carson softly then gave himself a quick, cursory scrub. Carson watched his hands moving over his body, eyes dark. Turning the water off, he pulled a towel from the rack and started drying Carson. Carson took another and returned the favor, his hands moving, slow and sensual on Peter's body. Sighing, Peter leaned into him, wanting Carson more than he ever had.

A moment later, he was escorting Carson to his bed, a small bottle of hair conditioner in hand because he had no lube. Carson's hair was still damp, beads of water on his back glistening under the dim moonlight in Peter's room. He was, really, quite breathtaking. Peter could hardly believe it was happening and it was just a bit hard to breathe, thinking of what they were about to do.

Carson sat and held out a hand to Peter. Peter smiled, taking it and sitting next to him. Carson's arm slipped around his waist and Peter looked into his eyes. There was still an overwhelming sense of sadness in them, but there was desire there as well. He leaned in and kissed Carson's neck, nuzzling at his ear. "Mmm," Carson murmured. "That's lovely."

"You're sure you're up for this?" Peter helped Carson ease down onto his back, nibbling at his ear as he did so.

"I need this," Carson insisted softly. "I've done such a terrible thing, I need to remind myself that my life's not all like that." He stroked Peter's face with one hand and Peter leaned into it, burying his cheek in Carson's palm. Turning his face, he kissed Carson's palm.

He loved Carson's hands. Strong and competent, they were one of the things that Peter found most attractive about him. He'd had fantasies about those hands on him, touching him, giving him pleasure. With a quiet sound, he licked a trail up Carson's palm and sucked one finger into his mouth. Carson gasped, his eyes rolling back and finally closing. Peter licked and teased, mouthing one finger after the other. The quiet sounds of Carson's pleasure encouraged him, and he let his hands drift over Carson's body, exploring reverently.

Peter let go of Carson's fingers and his mouth followed the motion of his hands, leaving damp kisses across Carson's chest. He smiled when Carson arched under him as he sucked at one nipple, sliding an arm under him and holding him tight. He nibbled his way down Carson's belly, rolling them both onto their sides. Carson wrapped one leg around his chest, moaning quietly.

Hard and aching, Peter pulled himself up Carson's body, completely absorbed in pleasing the man. He was panting a bit as he nipped and sucked at Carson's skin, finally taking Carson's mouth again in a deep, slow kiss.

His eyes closed as his tongue curled with Carson's. He tasted sweet and sad, and Peter pressed hard against his body, rocking into his hips. Carson groaned into his mouth, one hand kneading Peter's arse, the other tangled in his hair.

The pleasure was intense, and Carson's body was hot and solid against him. The head of his cock was slick as he rocked against Carson and he wanted more.

With a gasp, Carson broke the kiss. "Please," he begged. Reaching down, he wrapped his hand around Peter's shaft, stroking hard. Peter groaned and bucked into it, unable to fight the need to thrust.

"Yes," he gasped. "Just... lube." He groped for the bottle of conditioner. Carson found it and squeezed some into Peter's hand.

"Here," he said, breathless. "Just slick yourself and slide into me."

"You don't--"

"It's all right." Carson shifted and rolled onto his belly, tucking Peter's pillow under his hips. "Like this." Peter groaned and closed his eyes as he slicked himself, not wanting to lose it at the sight. Carson was beautiful -- round, firm buttocks and the curve of his back, the way he had one shoulder braced on the bed. It was too much to bear.

Opening his eyes again, Peter knelt behind Carson and pulled his cheeks apart, exposing his opening. Shaking a little, he pressed the head of his cock there, then pushed. With a loud groan, Carson opened to him and Peter sank into his body, dizzy with the tight heat. Without the latex, it was more intense than he'd ever experienced before. He felt... more. More heat, more intensity, more... everything.

"Oh, god," Peter groaned. He rested his hands beside Carson's shoulders, shuddering and trying not to come.

Carson moaned again and whimpered, "Yes. Oh, god, Peter, that's brilliant."

His arms shaking, Peter couldn't hold himself up any more, so he sank onto Carson's back, thrusting slow and deep. Both of them were panting now, sweat starting to slick their bodies. Peter thrust and Carson moved under him, meeting each roll of his hips with a grunt, his fingers knotting in the bedcover. "Oh, harder," Carson begged.

Peter had wanted it to last, but that wasn't going to happen. He shifted his weight and pounded into Carson's body over and over, shaking the bed with the force of it. He wrapped his arms about Carson, holding on for dear life as he fucked him.

Carson cried out under him. Peter didn't think Carson would come again, but his cries were pleasure, not pain, and Peter shuddered with the force of his orgasm, gasping and breathless.

"Oh, oh," Carson gasped, clutching at Peter's hip with hard fingers. "Oh, god, that was good."

Peter held on for a little longer, still shivering as he came down from it. "Carson," he whispered. He kissed Carson's temple and nibbled at his ear.

A few minutes later, he felt Carson go limp beneath him. It took him a moment to get enough control of his own body to actually let go, slipping gently out of Carson and sliding down next to him on the bed. Carson turned to him, wrapping him in his arms.

"Thank you," Carson whispered. He kissed Peter softly. "I can't tell you how much I needed that."

Peter lifted one trembling hand and caressed Carson's face. "Anything you need, Carson."

The sorrow hadn't gone from Carson's eyes, but the lines of stress around them had faded. "Just this," he said, tugging the covers up over them. He buried his face in Peter's shoulder. "Just this."

Peter sighed as he held Carson in his arms. He hoped Carson would finally sleep. Lying there in the dark, he watched as Carson closed his eyes.

~~pau~~