Part 2 can be found here.
They found other things to do. Paperwork became a haven, because they could be in the same room, sit across from each other and carefully press their calves together, and finish off some annoying report or memo.
I really like the whole knees touching thing. A lot.
Rodney worked out some very specific climate controls for their quarters so he could lower the temperature by several degrees and they could comfortably curl around each other in their many layers and not sweat off several pounds each time.
John liked to kiss the back of his neck through his sweatshirt. Not a lot, but more often than not Rodney would receive a hug from behind and a wisp of heat just under his hairline.
Cuddling. In sweats. No seriously, this whole story was an excuse to get them to do that.
Actually John is a secret cuddler, he's got poor circulation and he likes to inflict his cold toes on other people.
Later this will involve Rodney getting sweet, sweet revenge by first cleaning John's feet thoroughly and then sucking on his toes until John can't see straight.
Possibly Rodney isn't very good at planning revenge.
They started watching movies and television together when holding hands over a chess board became too prosaic. Because Rodney had a finely honed sense of irony, he picked up Dark Angel from Cadman (at a hefty fee) and let John read the little synopsis, smiling when he shrugged and nodded.
Hey I figure if you're gonna steal, you might as well attribute.
"Sci-fi based on Earth. It'd be a change for me."
John took to laying his head in Rodney's lap. It was a bit disconcerting at first, but it seemed the safest option. Besides, Rodney sort of enjoyed it.
They marathoned the latter half of the first season the day after John came back from another off-world mission walking carefully, though that time it was nothing more than an interesting initiation involving standing and sitting in strange ways. John had spent a very long three hours doing deep knee bends.
"You're kidding me," John said at the end of the season two opener. "A genetically engineered virus that will kill him if they touch." John hit Rodney with a pillow. "You so knew that was coming."
He did, but Rodney has a totally well developed sense of irony. I mean, being him? You'd have to.
Rodney gently took the pillow and dropped it behind the couch so his dead skin cells could slowly decontaminate. Another lovely step that Carson had discovered, and it helped relieve the strain on the disinfectant soap.
"Maybe," Rodney hedged, "but we shouldn't let that stop us from enjoying the show."
"Does it last the whole season?" John asked, stopping the DVD and stretching, yawning hugely then wincing.
"Of course it does, but I always felt that stretched it a bit." Rodney closed the laptop and turned so that his back was braced against the arm of the couch. "I mean, holding on for that long?"
John shrugged. "Rogue and Gambit did it."
Come on, you were all thinking it.
Also, John has the entire x-men legends, x-men ultimates and that third really long ass x-me series on a couple of DVD-r's stashed away somewhere. Possibly he has them in hard copy in an temperature controlled storage locker. He says he's waiting for them to be worth selling, but we know better.
Also, the spaz on the other end of the phone line with me while I was writing this is an obsessive X-Men fan who just danced a little dance on the grave of Rogue and Gambit's relationship
Rodney's jaw dropped.
"You can't say things like that. It's not fair!"
Oh yes, did I forget that I find that terribly hot too?
John yawned again. "When I wake up I'm not going to be able to move." He winced, swinging off the couch. "Oh god, this is going to hurt."
Okay, I have this thing where we see our heroes get thrown and bashed about and are all bouncy and bright eyed the next day. This bothers me. These are nearly 40 year old men. They're gonna have sore muscles. And you know those nights where you can feel it? You've sat still for five minutes and moving just takes a little bit more effort and ow your muscles really sort of stretch in that bad way. That's how John feels.
And we're also back to me wanting someone to put liniment on John.
Before he could move, Rodney stepped off the couch and offered him a hand, but somewhere in there John had stiffened up past fine motor control and he staggered forward and into Rodney who managed to turn his head away just in time.
"Mm. Comfy," John said into his shoulder.
Rodney reached for his hood, pulling it tight. "No sleeping standing up. Tried that once; bad for the--everything."
"It's ok," John said, sliding his arms comfortably around Rodney's midsection. "I'm starting to really like things that are bad for me."
Ooooh. John. Your issues are showing.
This sentence right here could be a whole long essay on John Sheppard, but seeing as how I'm nearly 8000 words into this commentary of a 15,000 word story. I'll leave it for now.
Chest clenching tightly, Rodney hugged him back. "You really have to stop saying things like that, too."
And Rodney. Oh Rodney. He's really quite lonely and quite beside himself with the thought that he could, through carelessness and stupidity, kill John.
"You should go," John said quietly.
Rodney could feel it, the slightly higher heat near his hip, John hard and ready, right near him.
They want, pretty badly. I had this idea of them slipping up in the heat of cuddling (I spoke of this earlier) but seriously, how many times can I write John waking up in the infirmary.
No. Don't answer.
He couldn't pretend he wasn't in a similar state. "Yes. I should."
They let go, fingers leaving slowly. "See you tomorrow."
Tube socks. Rodney was starting to relate tube socks to sexy thoughts and he really didn't need that at the moment.
There is a list titled: Thing Ami has Ruined for me Forever and so far it includes:
1. Cornbread (see "Promotion")
3. TUBE SOCKS
There ah… was a little more defiling the virtue of the beloved tube sock originally planned. There may have been begging and pleading and threats of a dire nature to drop it.
And yet, there were John's feet, cotton clad, mixed up with his own, and John's face pressed to his chest as they somehow sat comfortably entwined on the couch.
Because damn it, tube socks weren't sexy.
Imagine: John's feet. Clad in nice warm tube sock, mingling with another pair of feet. Wiggling gently.
Sorry Rodney, I beg to differ.
John's toes chose that moment to wiggle. They mocked him. They whispered "yes they are; tube socks are the bomb." Of course John's toes would use "the bomb." That was so them.
You don't want to know the mental image I have for this bit.
Rodney blinked. Oh God. Hallucinations fueled by sexual frustration. Not good.
He briefly entertained the idea of combining tube socks and condoms, but nixed it because he could just see John's face going red from laughter. Or possibly pale in anger.
Hrmmm… this would be Rodney having my thoughts just a little bit. Frankly I'd need them far more desperate to do to that tube sock what I had planned.
"You're hard," John's voice rumbled near his stomach.
"A little!" Rodney winced, the excuse sounding worse than the crime, but it was true, being in the same room as John would pretty much get his engine purring. Only nowadays he seemed to get all he needed out of a hug, or a quick press of fingers. It was strange.
By now they've spent a good portion of time wrapped around each other and John has memorized every bump and curve of Rodney as well as he can.
Also I love Rodney's defense here. It cracks me up.
John chuckled. "Just different, that's all. Also? I'm used to being taller, or broader, or something. Mostly." He made a pleased sound. "Except for that once, but she was flexible."
OMG SHE INFERRED HET! OH NOES!
Rodney suppressed a shudder. They'd managed to not talk about sex so directly until then. Rodney had also managed to forget that John was sort of new to all of it. Until something got said or done that reminded him and it was so fierce it felt like slamming into a wall.
Rodney's problem is that he finds the concept very, incredibly, scorchingly hot and it sneaks up on him at random intervals. There's a burn mark in science lab 3 because of it. If anyone asks, however, it was Zelenka's fault.
John shifted a little, curling tighter around him. "You okay?" His hand spread out on Rodney's stomach, just below his chest. "Your heart just went haywire."
"I bet you're bendy," Rodney blurted, and then blushed bright red. "Oh God. Just--sorry."
I love the word bendy. I also love the idea of something random and a little dirty just slipping out of Rodney's mouth. Just some opinion that he's sort of turned into a little fantasy.
There's that one with the trapeze and the tights but he's never, ever telling John about that one. Not because he's embarrassed but in case John decides he wants to try an actual trapeze.
"Define bendy." John had gone from pliable to unbending next to Rodney.
Rodney sighed. "It probably means what you think it means."
"Rodney, I don't know if I--"
"And that's perfectly fine. There are lots of ways to be bendy." He flushed again momentarily at the word.
"Maybe, we can be bendy together?" John asked, slowly relaxing again, eyes going half-lidded. "In ways that don't include things that remind me of that one woman in Vegas?"
And there they go, being all cute and using bad metaphors. I love it. I also like to give my characters full histories, or at least imply they have full histories. John's no virgin and he's pretty enough that he can attract a wide variety. Invariably everyone's got that 'Woah, when did I say it was okay to do that?' story.
"Okay, seriously? Stop saying things like that." Rodney frowned. Then frowned harder as John laughed against him. Now all he could think about was John on his knees with some hot blond lubing up a dildo. And three, two, one. Yes, thank you, subconscious; now the blonde was Sam Carter. He shuddered. Surprisingly, not in arousal.
Okay I admit it. I am twisted. But seriously, considering the way he talked about her and hallucinated her, if we're talking about sex at all, she's gotta show up at some point.
"Maybe one day," John whispered, reaching over to press play on the laptop to start another episode.
Rodney felt something warm and precious slide up his spine, and he ran a single finger down the outer shell of John's ear, feeling John make a small drowsy sound. Rodney closed his eyes and listened to him breathe.
They hit him in the face. Rodney watched in horror as John's head snapped back and then he slid to the ground.
See my transition? And by transition I mean two scenes that have nothing in common right down to their tone butted up against each other? That's sort of my metaphor for Atlantis.
"No speaking," Theilan said.
Rodney was going to write a memo. No one was ever allowed to visit Atlantis again. Unless they were originally from Earth. Or Teyla knew their mothers.
I think this is good procedure since they haven't really been so successful with the open armed approach. I may possibly revise this to include visiting of other planets without a full platoon waiting to come in if they don't check in on the hour every hour for the first 12. After that, make it once every 5 hours.
Some random thug dragged John out of the room, and the anger that washed over Rodney was blinding.
"Now." Theilan turned to him, robes swirling around him. "The access codes please?"
"Bite me." Rodney got slapped for that.
See? It just rolls off his tongue. Not my fault. Really. Someone else did this whole thing about Rodney and his character and how he's really gotten there, where he'll whine and complain but will totally tell the baddie to sit on it and rotate when he's pissed.
I? Just think it's pretty. *handwave* Yeah, all of that stuff too. But. Pretty.
"You do not need to speak to give me the codes." Theilan produced a long blade. It looked dirty.
Why was it always knives? Rodney was seriously starting to get a complex.
"Think about it for a little longer," Theilan allowed and then nodded to another large, nameless and very ugly thug.
Rodney was dragged out, too. He found himself thrown into a room and he landed on something firm but with give. He rolled off abruptly when he recognized the harsh exhalation of breath. "Did I touch you?" Rodney demanded.
John struggled to sit up, obviously only just regaining consciousness. "I dunno. I guess we'll find out soon enough."
"Not joking." John took a few deep breaths. "I feel fine. What'd he want?"
"What do you think he wanted?" Rodney pushed himself to the other side of the small room. "Access codes, only he has a funny way of saying please."
"How long do we have?" John shifted around, rolling his neck. "Man, you wouldn't think a skinny bastard like that would pack such a wallop."
"I don't know." Rodney banged his head against the wall. "I'm supposed to sit here and contemplate life without a tongue."
"What?" John's voice was sharp and angry, and when Rodney opened his eyes he could see the tense line of fury in his back. "Well then. I was going to be nice when I escaped. Now? Not so much."
Aaw John. This, FYI, is when he decided to pull the trigger if it ever came down to a choice.
"What? Going to spit in their celebratory cups of tea?" Rodney asked.
"Piss," John muttered, head leaning back, throat swallowing harshly. "In their cornflakes." He took a deep breath.
Rodney watched him, eyes narrowing. "I did touch you, didn't I?" There was a catch in his voice, he could feel it starting somewhere in his stomach That was it; John was going to die and Rodney would have killed him and it would be like every single nightmare he'd had since--
Wait a minute. That's right, the first nightmare he'd had after Carson had dumped all of those meds on him, he'd stashed some in his pockets and kept them there. He'd felt stupid that it hadn't occurred to him before then.
He got onto his knees and scrounged around, letting out a relieved gasp when his fingers closed over the spare blister packs wrapped in a latex glove in his pocket. God bless arrogant terrorists.
"What?" John asked, seeing him move around. "And I'm fine."
"You will be," Rodney said, carefully dumping the contents of the glove on the ground.
John smiled, a big soft smile that reached his eyes. "Thanks, Rodney, but I have my own in my right boot." He nodded to the ones on the floor. "You put those away. Also? I'm fine."
I like to think of John as a little more prepared than we sometimes see him. I mean he's really gotten into the worst case scenario too, you think he'd plan a little for it also.
And? I just think he's adorable right here.
"Boot?" Rodney asked faintly, before picking up the meds with the tips of the inside of the glove and carefully sliding them back in. "Since when?"
"You really need to ask?"
They sat in silence for a little while.
"You'll tell them whatever they want to know, Rodney," John said eventually. "No arguments."
"With you or with them?" Rodney snapped.
"Rodney," John said carefully, voice low and desperate. "You will tell them what they want and you will not come back here missing body parts."
Because John would never be able to live with himself. No seriously, he'd be a changed man.
Rodney swallowed. "You think they'd do it?"
"Who knows?" John said, dropping his head and running a hand through his hair. "And I don't want to find out." He looked up again, eyes cold and hard. "There are a lot of things I don't want to find out." He breathed deeply, eyes closing and then opening, this time with a softer gaze; his lips twitched slightly, forming a half smile. "And a lot of things I do."
John doesn't want to know what he'd do, he's actively frightened of it and that scares him more. Rodney has dug deep and stuck and he doesn’t quite know what to make of it.
"Me too," Rodney said fervently.
John nodded. "Good thing we're clear then. So, did you see where they took Elizabeth and the others?"
"I saw some more guards nearby, maybe they're in the other rooms?" Rodney guessed.
Rodney got dragged out again a little while later, and the last thing he saw of John was a wink and nod before the door closed between them.
He did as he was told, mostly. Recently he and Radek had spent a few sleepless nights rewriting the security codes. Now everyone had two passkeys: the real one and the one that was off by a single character. That one hid and disguised information, letting the user think they were doing all sorts of dangerous things like locking people out, but in reality it was just accepting the commands and passing back the correct messages. Of course, the memo about it was still being written, as they had only really put the finishing touches on it recently.
This is not a new concept. I had a 'coercion' code for my parent's first alarm which was basically the usually process, just one digit off. This makes sense to me that they would use this sort of tactic. I mean, *how* many times do people try to get codes out of them?
To quote another series: "Dawn's in trouble, it must be Tuesday."
Theilan dragged him away as soon as he'd hit the enter key and Rodney sat meekly off to the side and waited. As soon as the lights went out, he ducked under the table he'd scouted out, curled up tightly and waited. The shooting sort of echoed off the walls and Rodney pushed himself even further under the table.
Between the laptop monitors and the strange strobe affect of three energy weapons firing simultaneously, Rodney could just make out the action. John came in shooting, followed by Lorne and Ronon. The three thugs were easy, but surprisingly no one aimed for Theilan himself, though Ronon did knock his weapon out of his hands.
"How did you--" That was as far as Theilan got; he was interrupted by John's fist to his nose, which was followed up by a knee to the stomach. Theilan went down gasping.
I planned that from early on. I wanted John to physically man handle the guy back. One, because *dreamy sigh* it's pretty and two because he's really pissed.
Ronon came up next to John and nodded his head in approval.
Lorne stepped up and shot him anyway, the electric blue of the energy weapon glowing brightly.
"Rodney?" John called. "Can you get the lights back on and get me readings on where the rest of his guys are?"
Rodney crawled out and got to the nearest computer.
John, Ronon and Lorne all sat down heavily. "Also? Care to explain what the hell?"
Rodney finished his sequence and hit enter, making a gratified sound when the lights went up. "New thing Radek and I were trying; we programmed the doors to unlock and the lights to go out with the right--or rather, wrong--command code."
The exact how it all worked got rewritten three times. My beta was at the top of a hit list for a while.
"Oh, cool," John said. "We should talk about that later. Maybe improve on it."
And possibly later, when they can touch, have hot sweaty sex on some nearby horizontal surface because John likes it when Rodney can do strategy and outwit the badguys.
"Sure." Rodney nodded. "For now? There's about twenty other guys out there who might need taking care of."
"I've got a squad of Marines already going through the hallways. They should be back on radio by now," John said, reaching for one of the earpieces in the pile their captors had made. He threw one to Ronon and one to Lorne. "Stay on channel twelve for now." He turned to Rodney. "Get on those sensors and start sorting out personnel. I'll send some more people up here soon."
Rodney picked up his own radio and got down to work. It was a long hour, finding and marking each individual life sign.
"Colonel Sheppard," Rodney called, "I'm pretty sure that's the last one." By then he had a full team in the control room and they all nodded in agreement.
"That's good, Rodney," John said in his ear.
Rodney frowned. John sounded out of breath but Rodney had been monitoring and John hadn't had to give chase or been chased in nearly twenty minutes--oh. Oh God. "Colonel!"
It has been one shitty day for Rodney
"Yeah, Rodney?" Low and gravelly.
"Take those pills and get to the infirmary now!" God it had been an hour. An hour.
"What?" John sounded slurred.
"You must have touched me somehow."
"I did not." John argued. "I did not touch you."
And he really wishes he had. No seriously, this is the first time Rodney's been in danger since the night of a thousand snuggles and the snuggle of a thousand nights has started. John wanted something before he went off and did his job, but he didn't get anything. Which is why he's so sure he didn't touch Rodney.
"The console I was working on?" Rodney pressed; he knew that wheezing. "Please tell me you're going to the infirmary."
"I'm going, I'm going. And no I didn't touch that either."
John is thinking he never thought he'd marry a nag. And then he's thinking, 'good god, married'. Followed closely by, 'the nagging is kind of endearing'. Soon to be followed up with 'dear god, I need therapy. Or to get laid.'
Rodney shoved his laptop at the next person over. Radek, right. "I'm going down there, don't break anything."
"Don't go too far; I might need you to remind me how to breathe!" Radek called after him. "Do I inhale or exhale first?"
I love them. I love their whole relationship. It's so… wonderfully full of affection. You know, the kind of affection the road runner had for the coyote.
Seriously, there's real affection and respect there. Their banter reminds me of the stuff I participated in during my run as a tech major.
"What did you touch?" Rodney asked as soon as he was in the same room as John.
"Why, Rodney, I'll be fine. Your concern is touching," John said dryly.
"List everything. Now." He sat down on a nearby chair.
John rolled his eyes. "The floor, the wall, my boots, my shirt, probably my pants--"
John can't help it, he really can't.
"Seriously, Rodney, nothing." He paused, eyebrow raising. "The guard maybe?"
"Maybe," Rodney grunted. "Go on."
"His gun. His arm. The wall in the transporter." John's eyes narrowed. "Theilan."
Rodney shook his head. "I didn't do a whole lot of touching of his nose and his stomach."
"That would have been odd, yes."
And yet, so unexpected in the gateverse. Now I want a planet where nose touching is a sign of respect.
*bright eyes* No really, when I was younger, those 'nose bop' was totally in. So John and Rodney and co have to run around poking noses and making cute little 'bopping' noises and Rodney will break out the disinfectant gel and think he's caught the Plague the first time he so much as coughs.
John will laugh really, really hard when Rodney's not looking and wear his dorky sympathetic face when he is. Because that's what you do when you marry a nag. Later, he will bop Rodney's nose during sex and Rodney will never forgive him.
"Now what consoles did you touch?"
John shrugged. "None." He frowned, the wheezing coming back suddenly.
"Polyphasic?" Rodney asked frantically. What the hell could John have touched that would give him that large a dose? He thought back to their time in the control room. John finished kneeing Theilan in the stomach. Sat down. Asked some questions and then snagged a radio before heading out. Snagged a radio.
Snagged Rodney's radio.
"Take out his earpiece!"
When I thought of this there was a lot of bopping and bouncing. I really liked this idea and it was so easy to do and I really needed this careless moment for Rodney. Or rather, I wanted this scary moment of not knowing if they'd get through this because there's just too much shit to avoid.
Also I seriously considered not curing Rodney.
A nurse with the good sense to realize that maybe Carson shouldn't touch it either, gloved or not, quickly removed it.
"Rodney, go sit down before you fall," Carson said to him. "He'll be fine now; you figured it out. He had a prolonged exposure--nearly an hour I'd say--and look at how long it took for anything to happen at all."
Rodney clenched his jaw and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I've got work to do."
"Sit down," Carson told him while adding something to John's IV. "You've had a long day."
Rodney couldn't. He couldn't just sit. So he left.
Walking away. *sigh* And not because I love his ass. It was a recurring motif really, mostly me really loving the whole lonely aspect. He just can't watch, or sit and be helpless. He's good at it. He can do it. But he doesn't like it. And it's far worse when he is the cause of his own helplessness. I just wanted a series of scenes where Rodney has to walk away, it's just this great imagine of loneliness.
Two weeks later, after Rodney's morning unhappy time where he had to stumble to the infirmary before coffee, Carson snapped off a glove, took Rodney's hand and shook it firmly.
Rodney wrenched it away and considered hiding it under his shirt. "Are you insane?"
"Congratulations, Rodney, you're no longer toxic." Carson smiled. "Well, you're back to pre-Wraith-manipulated levels."
I like slightly teasing (and not in a fluffy way) Carson. We saw that a bit in the first couple of episodes before they went down, dingy, thorn laden path of The Mama's Boy for a little while.
My theory is that he was hitting the stims too and they sort of made him a little wacky.
"What?" Rodney blinked several times. "Wait, what?"
"I'll be expecting the remaining supply of pills and gloves back tomorrow." Carson patted him on the shoulder. "Maybe you should take the day? Celebrate?" He waggled his eyebrows.
They're friends. No really. I like that they're friends.
Personal theory: Carson is probably the person Rodney identifies with the most in the sense of 'prodigy' or 'child prodigy' considering the number of degrees he'd have to have in order to do his job, coupled with his actual age and how far he's gotten in said career. Also some of the vague allusions they've made to his abilities re: genetics. I think they get each other on non professional levels and they sort of cling to that. I want pre-series Rodney and Carson friendship fic.
Rodney recoiled in horror. "Oh my God. Never do that."
We may have noticed I have thing with the eyebrows. I really don't know why. Maybe there was a traumatic childhood incident I'm repressing.
Carson's face loomed as he leaned in to whisper, "Don't forget to use condoms."
Like a good friend, Carson has watched Rodney be miserable and felt really bad about it.
He won't tell this to Rodney, but he's pulled a couple of all nighters when instead he could have gone to bed because he genuinely wanted to help his friend.
John knows though and while he still can't look Carson in the face, or talk about it out loud to anyone other than Rodney, he made sure Cadman got her schedule changes the next time she put in for them.
Rodney was about to consider actual physical force when he remembered, and how could forget he didn't know, touching. There could be real, honest-to-God touching.
"Ah lad, that's actually a good look on you." Carson nodded approvingly.
"What?" Rodney asked, peeling off his own gloves with relish, staring at the twin lines of hairlessness on his wrists from all the taping.
Daaaw. Rodney. *pinches cheeks* Seriously, he's thinking about John and touching and it's not a lecherous or lascivious smile that comes to him. But a soft smile and dopey eyes because he's genuinely happy.
Crap, his reputation was ruined.
The urge to just walk into John's office, lock the door and stick his tongue down John's throat held a certain appeal. The down side included the fact that the possibility of not being able to stop until neither of them could walk without traction, rest, and maybe some crutches was fairly high, and that Rodney had actually sort of, maybe thought about it a little bit. God, he was such a girl.
I hear I nearly killed someone with this line. Choking on a lozenge or something. *proud*.
So instead he walked in easily, hands stuck in his pockets and stayed way the hell on the other side of the room.
"What's up?" John asked, pressing angrily at his space bar.
Rodney stared at his fingers: strong, calloused. Nice looking mostly. He blinked, realizing he'd lost time. "Oh. I visited Carson."
He's having this moment, where he suddenly realizes that his fantasies, his wants, can be real and it's a little overwhelming. Plus a lot of his new body language has sort of taken over. I imagine he'll be doing the hands in pocket thing for weeks.
John nodded and made an 'and, this is new because?' gesture.
Rodney retrieved his hands from his pockets and waved them around. "I'm supposed to return all the supplies tomorrow."
John stared. "Excuse me, what?"
"No more. Done. Finito. I am no longer toxic."
Because they all love Rodney. Atlantis is one big, dysfunctional family. Everyone's foibles (by this time) are long running jokes. I like the idea that the same joke is hinted at by two separate people. This happens in small communities. The hive mind starts to take over and suddenly you're all telepathic.
Rodney dropped his hands. "Oh shut up."
"So...." John started, then averted his eyes and blushed. "Tonight?"
Blushed. He blushed. Rodney stuffed his hands back in his pockets so he could avoid doing something stupid right there. "Would it be really bad if we both took the day off tomorrow?"
Rodney wants to pack a cooler, roll it up to the bed, grab a couple of packs of cleaning wipes and some tissues and park in a bed for about a week. Since he knows he can't swing a week, he'll take a day.
John made a thinking sound before shrugging. "I ah...I can't seem to care all that much. That's probably bad, right?"
Oh John. He's in love. He's pretty sure he knows it too. He's also a little freaked out by the impulses he's having.
"Maybe." Rodney shrugged too. He didn't care either, at the moment. "But I think one day might be okay?"
"Maybe not a whole day," John murmured, eyes glazing a little. "Maybe."
He's hedging his bets. It's so that if he starts to get the feeling that they're being too suspicious, one of them can go to work for a few hours.
Also John's worried he might need to cut their tryst short at some point so he can go back to his place and curl up a in a little ball and breathe.
"Okay I'm leaving now because...um...you know. Eight o'clock, my place?" Rodney was already leaving.
"Be there with bells."
"Forget bells, bring food," Rodney said and then darted out.
A little birdy in my ear has told me that this line should be canon. Somehow, JF and his I'm a Little Tea Pot school of acting (I kid! I don't blame him at all!) could really pull it off. I see a dorktastic little jump and heel click following it. *dreamy sigh*
"Okay, I'd like to file a complaint," Rodney said into his radio, surveying the darkness around him.
Monty Python. I don't know what it is, but I really like putting their words into Rodney's mouth. Maybe it's because their punchlines are that out of left field that not even Rodney McKay can predict them and therefore truly delights in their entertainment.
Also he once watched Meaning of Life and burst something at the Corporate Pirates scene.
"No seriously, Rodney," John's voice said into his ear, "how does one get stuck in a storage closet?" There was a small string of tension curling up under his usual good humor.
Ah the metaphor. Rodney is trying really hard not think about it. Also? John is kind of pissed. He loves his city, but he's seriously thinking about a temporary separation.
"Shut up. It's dark in here and the dimensions have got to be smaller than a port-a-potty."
"Radek is working as fast as he can," John said.
"Meanwhile, I've been stuck here for at least four hours. What the hell took so long? I mean I would have thought you--" Rodney stopped himself. Yes, John's voice hadn't appeared over the comms until after their date was supposed to have begun, but maybe he hadn't shown and that's why it had taken so long.
Rodney shouldn't be left alone with his own brain sometimes. He's worried, has been worrying, that John when he and John can finally touch John will suddenly find it all a little too real and freak out completely.
Hell I'd probably be thinking this too.
"It has not been four hours," John said dryly. "And I was busy dealing with the sudden rolling blackouts all over the city. Radek spent a half hour getting the radios back on."
John, bless him, knows exactly what Rodney's thinking. As usual.
Rodney knew that. He knew that because he'd spent long minutes calling for help. It still felt good to hear. He covered his eyes with his hand. He really needed to get a grip.
"Where are you?" Rodney asked, breathing; if he breathed he knew he had oxygen.
"Outside the door, leaning against the wall to the left because Radek is busy disassembling the one to the right."
Rodney reached out and placed his palm firmly against the wall, weeks of feeling through layers and stretching to feel muffled sensation had him convinced the wall was slightly warmer in that spot. "So I was thinking I should see if I can bribe the new Doctor Who from someone." He shuffled until he was sitting, propped against the wall, hand still pressed firmly against it, forehead resting gently.
I. Love. This. Image. Just two of them separate by a wall, pressing up against the same place. John all nonchalant on the floor, legs out and crossed casually at the ankle, back firmly against the wall, head tilted back, talking to the ceiling. Hand oh so carefully pressed flat against the wall next to him.
Rodney on the other side, on the floor, temple pressed against the wall, hand flat where John's heart would be. Yearning.
Damnit yes, I said yearning. Because *hand flails* come on.
Anyway, yes, I love this image.
"Yeah, I've heard good things," John said. "You know if this takes long enough we can always get the Daedalus to beam you out of there."
"They're not due for three days!" Rodney squawked, but smiled into the wall anyway.
"Well it's not a perfect solution...."
I revel in writing them dialogue post man!sex whose tenor doesn't change in the slightest. Yes they may be desperately in love and even more desperate to touch but in my experience this does not make two previous sarcastic, dorky, teasing people into big old marshmallows.
They got him out and, staring at his watch, Rodney knew it hadn't taken too long, despite it having felt like forever with nothing but a wall and John's smooth voice wrapping around him, talking the whole time.
John's eyebrows did a little dance. "The...thing still a go?"
I just totally see him using words like 'thing' and 'stuff' and 'coco channel' Okay that last one fits, I'm sure of it. Either way, he's got a level of dorkitude that I can totally jive with.
Rodney flushed and swallowed. "Yeah, I need time to shower; that thing was hot. Also food, ah sustenance is important."
"I'll bring something." John smiled and ambled off.
Rodney glared at Radek on his way past, just on principle, and headed straight for his room.
He showered and shaved and maybe used a tiny splash of the good aftershave. The lotiony kind that felt really good going on.
He has two aftershaves. And they are labeled.
2. The sex.
Without thinking, he slipped into his sweats and was halfway into the hooded shirt when he stopped and smiled nervously, then slipped into one of his more usual t-shirts.
He stared at the tube socks lying innocently in his drawer.
Barefoot it was.
I uh… possibly also have a thing about this. It started with Alan Rickman and has blossomed into a strange, strange fetish where I like men fully dressed but in bare feet. Sue me.
John arrived just as Rodney was about to go insane and maybe make his bed or something. He entered smoothly, tossing two MREs on the table, and marched right up to Rodney, taking his hand threading their fingers together tightly.
Rodney had just enough time to register 'hot' and 'smooth' and 'skin' before John leaned in and pressed a quick kiss against Rodney's lips. It was closed-mouthed and chaste and it still sent a pleasant shock down Rodney's nerves.
"Just thought I'd get that out of the way," John said sheepishly. "You know, break the ice."
Actually John thought if they didn't do that right away they'd end up in a strange staring contest and never make it that far.
Rodney made a noise, possibly a grunt or strangled sound of frustration and then tugged John close and slid a hand up his chest and to the back of his neck, feeling every single hair as it passed his fingers. He pressed in for a kiss, tilting his head and starting with lips parted so he could suck on John's bottom lip, taste him just a little.
John, after an initial bout of apparent surprise, melted against him, his lips parting enough for it to be a real kiss. Soft, sweet kisses, one falling into another, were more than Rodney had actually allowed himself to think about, and John so tentative and shy it was amazing.
Nnnn. I just-- *flail* John tentative and nervous. Yes, you will find this a lot in my stuff in general. But specifically, he's got a lot to be nervous about. It's a lot of pressure to build this all up and worry that it'll fail at it's first real try.
"Okay," John said when they finally parted for longer than a fraction of a second, "this might really work." He rested their foreheads together.
"You doubted?" Rodney shifted so that he was nuzzling John's temple, breathing in as much as he could. "Did you forget about the smoking hot sex against the wall?"
Pfft. Doesn't count. *koff*
Against him, John shuddered. "No, Rodney, I didn't. Doesn't mean I didn't worry."
"You make the oddest things really hot," he kissed the side of John's neck. "Please stop that."
"I want to touch you," John whispered, thumb stroking down Rodney's neck. "I want to feel you, your skin, every patch of it; I've imagined it all, from your chest, to your stomach, to your arms and legs. Even your--" He paused, taking a deep breath. "Dick. Even your dick."
I'm with Rodney, John swallowing and getting up the courage to say that? Hot. And also brain meltingly sweet.
"Nnn," Rodney said, licking his way into John's mouth. He felt John's hands scramble and then settle for a moment on his shoulders before moving up his neck and face, taking hold, and then John was licking and kissing him back.
They parted, panting.
"Shirt," Rodney said, already pulling at its hem.
"You too." John nodded, voice breathless and lips already swollen.
Rodney slipped off his Neil Bohr did it with Energy tee-shirt and looked up to see John peeling out of his own. He reached out, carefully skimming over the nicely defined muscles that had been revealed, taking in John's startled gasp with a small smile.
Ah, the t-shirt slogan. I am such a nerd. No really. I am. Why? Because I made that up. But you know Rodney would have it and have put it on without even realizing it. Later John will pick it up off the floor, raise and eyebrow and make plans to humiliate Rodney with a vintage back to the future t-shirt. Possibly by wearing it the next time they have sex.
John did the same, reaching out, slowly tracing nonsense patterns on Rodney's chest before taking one step and sweeping him into a tight hug.
Miles of hot, firm skin surrounded Rodney, scorching where it had only warmed before. They shifted, skin rubbing gently against skin and Rodney arched into it, feeling so good.
More kisses, long wet kisses, with hands roaming carefully and John's shaking fingers feeling around tentatively.
"Bed," Rodney eventually said, hoarsely. "Before I fall down." He led the way, but stopped just shy of climbing in to turn and undo John's belt and pants and letting them fall to the floor. "Don't forget your shoes."
With and odd sort of grace, John managed to toe off his shoes without tripping or falling at all. Rodney, when not staring at the definite bump in the middle of John's briefs, was slowly lowering his own pants and scooting back into the bed.
When John climbed in after him, they found themselves lying on their sides facing each other. "So, at the risk of sounding like a fifteen-year-old, you can say stop whenever you want," Rodney offered.
"Cool," John said and smiled, reaching out with his left hand, running it down Rodney's right arm. He did it again, starting at the curve of Rodney's shoulder and ending at the tips of his fingers, leaving behind a lush trail of warmth.
Rodney cupped John's elbow, feeling the length of John's forearm press against his as he leaned in for another kiss. "Let me touch you," Rodney whispered against his lips.
John nodded frantically, relaxing back against the bed and Rodney followed him, leaning over him carefully and planting careful kisses down his neck and chest, licking the hollow between the muscles, nuzzling the occasional spot. Feeling John's minute tremors with each of his actions spurred him on. There was temptation to explore every inch, to learn it all, but John was making little noises and his hips were shifting cautiously, looking for some relief in the air above him.
Slowly, Rodney slid John's underwear off to reveal his dick, red and achy looking, fully erect and waiting. "Got any preferences?" Rodney asked.
John's eyes were wide, pupils blown and beginning to glaze over. He shook his head.
There was a really wrong Holy Grail moment before Rodney grasped it, but John's heartfelt gasp pretty much erased all that. It felt warm and heavy in his hand and he gave an experimental pull.
"Oh yeah," John murmured.
Rodney kissed the crease between thigh and hip and continued his slow careful pump, twisting slightly at the end.
"Nhh." John's hips shifted, pushing into his grip. "N-not long."
As much as I would have liked to have had a protracted, incredibly long, sex scene. I just couldn't see it happening here. Too much foreplay, too much tension, too much waiting. That doesn't mean it can't be brain killingly spectacular.
His own hips rubbing restlessly against the sheets, Rodney gave another few pulls and then let go.
John made a small whining sound that made Rodney's balls tingle.
"Touching," Rodney whispered, "trust me, touching." He crawled back up and then tugged John over until he was arranged on top of him. "Now, just move your leg like--yeah--that's--oh."
John had shifted so that their legs meshed together, dicks lining up gently. "Touching," John sighed, moving his hips experimentally.
They're going to have to watch themselves because they're going to spend an entire day getting used to reaching out and touching and stroking and petting and then have to go back to reality where they don't do that and it has been so long that they don't remember what was actually normal.
"God, yes." Rodney nodded, pulling him down for a kiss that curled his toes.
It was one long, lush kiss after another, even as their bodies moved in tight little thrusts and Rodney's leg shifted to wrap around John's, twining them tightly, using his calf as leverage. Sweat-slicked friction was white hot and sizzling and John kept pushing and finding the perfect angle and then he'd move an arm or a leg and it'd be even better and Rodney was slowly losing his mind, drowning in pleasure-soaked kisses and the hot slick-slide of skin.
Suddenly, John arched, wrenching his mouth away, hand clenching at Rodney's ass, pulling him in tightly. He buried his face in Rodney's neck and thrust down hard and fast until he came to a shuddering halt, wetness spreading between them.
Rodney's dick ached between them, feeling the slickness, jumping a little as John's stomach brushed against it. The hand on his ass kneaded slightly, thumb drawing lazy circles "Come on Rodney," John whispered hotly in his ear.
That was it, because if 'John' and 'hand' and 'his ass' wasn't enough, that pleasure-soaked voice rumbling in his ear would have done it.
Rodney came with a gasp, hips moving instinctively, dragging his dick through the satiny mess on their stomachs until he was wrung out and limp.
John eventually flopped over to the side with a muttered, "Jesus."
Hands out buckets and mops to everyone.
"Be right back," Rodney mumbled, stumbling, jelly-legged, to the bathroom and returning with a wet cloth. He cleaned John off and found John's hand taking the cloth gently from him and returning the favor.
John touching his dick for the first time was enough to get a small stirring of interest, but he needed at least forty-five minutes--and maybe a nap--before it was something more than a vague, passing interest.
"Can I?" John asked, still gently cleaning him off.
I thought it was important that John want to do this. To touch all the parts of Rodney to make sure he doesn't fool himself into forgetting about these parts.
Rodney nodded and watched as John carefully grasped and petted and felt.
"Mm. Nice." Rodney sighed.
John leaned in and gave the head a quick kiss and came up looking so utterly proud of himself that Rodney had to kiss him or risk returning the smile with equal fervor.
Things John Sheppard is proud of:
1. That time he made it from New York to Florida in 20 Hours.
2. His first set of wings.
3. That little pathetic plastic trophy thing he won at that surfing competition in Maui.
4. That Lieutenant he sucker punched that once.
5. Kissing Rodney's dick and liking it.
"Food or nap?" John asked when they parted. He settled down into the bed, drowsiness already apparent in his eyes, but it was nice that he asked anyway.
"Nap," Rodney said. They'd need their energy for the day he had planned anyway.
They wiggled and settled and finally ended up slightly spooned, Rodney's back pressed against John's front. It was easy to do this part, they'd been doing this part forever. John's arm snaked around, hauling Rodney close and just as Rodney felt his eyes sink shut, heat and warmth and moisture brushed against the back of his neck. Rodney nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized he knew that feeling--the ghost of warmth--only this time, he could feel John's smile pressed against his skin as he drifted off into sleep.
I ended it on that image because it was a perfect illustration of their touching and how its changed. Rodney doesn't have to sit absolutely still and take in every little detail in order to feel it. No, John is touching him, kissing him and he's utterly, horribly, eternally grateful for it.
That's all she wrote folks. I hope you had fun and that I made sense through at least half of this. Feel free to throw me any questions in the comments.