not quite what i'd planned for the evening
title: when i see you, i see me
author: acidquill
disclaimer: don’t own em
fandom: SGA
rating: teen
characters/pairings: Rodney/John, mentions of het
word count: 630
notes: WTH Rahd-nee. so apparently I write McShep now, who knew? title snagged from The Magic Numbers. & hey, this one even has a footnote, lol.
He isn’t the sort of man who loves easily. Been there, done that, well before he ever dreamed of things like stargates and death by space vampires. But he pulled at the scars sometimes - always unintentionally, he never wants to be reminded of his failures - when he gets too close. When he forgets, just for a moment how difficult he can be and why, while he’s tried to be different, it doesn’t work.
Katie.
Jennifer.
Sometimes it seems Einstein wasn’t entirely misguided after all.* Rodney’s willing to concede insanity might be too harsh a label, but he is old enough, smart enough, to know better. He’s a scientist for God’s sake. His life functions on hypotheses, experiments, simulations. And no matter what permutations he can put an equation through, basic math remains the same.
It doesn’t matter probability dictates that somewhere out there is a woman who can live with him and every one of his idiosyncrasies. Rodney’s always thought that particular branch of mathematics was too close to voodoo. And he’s long-grown tired of waiting.
Sheppard - John - makes it too easy. The two of them have been tangled up for years, in each other’s space so much that it gets hard to tell who goes where.
The first time they kiss, they’re slumped together in the back of the a jumper while Rodney runs diagnostics on one of the drivepods. All he remembers later is the feeling of his fingers curled in the hair at Sheppard’s nape, the shape of John’s mouth against his. That wonderful mouth capable of stretching out his name like taffy, so sweet and entrapping all at once.
The second, Rodney leans across the desk in his office and crushes their mouths together without thinking. John ends up with coffee in his hair and neither one of them mentions anything about stopping. They spend the night making out lazily on his bed until John slips his hand down Rodney’s pants.
Rodney stops counting after that; he just marvels that he’s allowed to do this. Have this. When so many times before he’s had to let go.
It isn’t perfect, but that’s something they’ve never been. They still piss each other off, bicker like children over inane, trivial, little things for the fun of it. John bullies him into playing that video game from the Daedalus’ latest drop. Hangs around the lab and plays lightswitch with as much patience as he usually scrapes up for the job. When they fall asleep in the same bed, Rodney steals all the blankets, just the way he gets most of the tent offworld. But he picks up an extra helping of jello in the mess because he knows Sheppard secretly likes the stuff, but will be too much of a gentleman to take the last bowl.
The two of them together are nearly identical to the two of them before.
John’s already seen him at his worst; Doranda is a guilt that can never be absolved. And he’s seen Sheppard kill over sixty men without blinking. Was there when John didn’t even know himself, caught up in the nightmare of shedding blue skin and the pain in having his DNA realigned. There’s not a whole lot either of them can do capable of topping what’s already been thrown at them.
If Rodney was a romantic, he’s sure he could use that for enough cliches on the power of love to fill a book. Luckily, he’s about as romantic as John. They don’t need grand declarations of love; they just need each other.
But at night, when he presses John into the mattress, Rodney can’t help but say ‘thank you’ in a thousand silent ways. Every kiss, every touch is one more than he ever expected to have.
- end
* "Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."
author: acidquill
disclaimer: don’t own em
fandom: SGA
rating: teen
characters/pairings: Rodney/John, mentions of het
word count: 630
notes: WTH Rahd-nee. so apparently I write McShep now, who knew? title snagged from The Magic Numbers. & hey, this one even has a footnote, lol.
He isn’t the sort of man who loves easily. Been there, done that, well before he ever dreamed of things like stargates and death by space vampires. But he pulled at the scars sometimes - always unintentionally, he never wants to be reminded of his failures - when he gets too close. When he forgets, just for a moment how difficult he can be and why, while he’s tried to be different, it doesn’t work.
Katie.
Jennifer.
Sometimes it seems Einstein wasn’t entirely misguided after all.* Rodney’s willing to concede insanity might be too harsh a label, but he is old enough, smart enough, to know better. He’s a scientist for God’s sake. His life functions on hypotheses, experiments, simulations. And no matter what permutations he can put an equation through, basic math remains the same.
It doesn’t matter probability dictates that somewhere out there is a woman who can live with him and every one of his idiosyncrasies. Rodney’s always thought that particular branch of mathematics was too close to voodoo. And he’s long-grown tired of waiting.
Sheppard - John - makes it too easy. The two of them have been tangled up for years, in each other’s space so much that it gets hard to tell who goes where.
The first time they kiss, they’re slumped together in the back of the a jumper while Rodney runs diagnostics on one of the drivepods. All he remembers later is the feeling of his fingers curled in the hair at Sheppard’s nape, the shape of John’s mouth against his. That wonderful mouth capable of stretching out his name like taffy, so sweet and entrapping all at once.
The second, Rodney leans across the desk in his office and crushes their mouths together without thinking. John ends up with coffee in his hair and neither one of them mentions anything about stopping. They spend the night making out lazily on his bed until John slips his hand down Rodney’s pants.
Rodney stops counting after that; he just marvels that he’s allowed to do this. Have this. When so many times before he’s had to let go.
It isn’t perfect, but that’s something they’ve never been. They still piss each other off, bicker like children over inane, trivial, little things for the fun of it. John bullies him into playing that video game from the Daedalus’ latest drop. Hangs around the lab and plays lightswitch with as much patience as he usually scrapes up for the job. When they fall asleep in the same bed, Rodney steals all the blankets, just the way he gets most of the tent offworld. But he picks up an extra helping of jello in the mess because he knows Sheppard secretly likes the stuff, but will be too much of a gentleman to take the last bowl.
The two of them together are nearly identical to the two of them before.
John’s already seen him at his worst; Doranda is a guilt that can never be absolved. And he’s seen Sheppard kill over sixty men without blinking. Was there when John didn’t even know himself, caught up in the nightmare of shedding blue skin and the pain in having his DNA realigned. There’s not a whole lot either of them can do capable of topping what’s already been thrown at them.
If Rodney was a romantic, he’s sure he could use that for enough cliches on the power of love to fill a book. Luckily, he’s about as romantic as John. They don’t need grand declarations of love; they just need each other.
But at night, when he presses John into the mattress, Rodney can’t help but say ‘thank you’ in a thousand silent ways. Every kiss, every touch is one more than he ever expected to have.
- end
* "Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."