Fic! Anatomy of a Kiss, SGA. John/Rodney.
Little something I started over the winter break, hated, ignored, then yesterday opened it back up and tweaked. Hopefully, this came out better than I was thinking it would three weeks ago. >.<
Title: Anatomy of a Kiss
Pairing: John/Rodney
Words: 1002
Rating: PG-ish
Disclaimer: *snort* Like I own anything from this show? Um. no. I don't.
Summary: If there was ever a time to do something stupid, the night before they departed was the night to do it. Or so John thought.
Notes: set at some indeterminate point between John sitting in the chair in Rising and Weir leading them all through the stargate. Unbeta'd. First iece of fic I've written in what feels like months. Let the comments fly, should you care to.
It starts with a glance, a slow slide of topaz eyes across the bar to meet slate blue ones while an index finger makes a trek around the rim of a glass of single malt on the rocks.
There’s no smile, just a nod of acknowledgment. And blue eyes turn away after a quick quirk of lips that still isn’t quite a smile.
***
John slides off his stool and drags the glass to the edge of the bar before picking it up and downing the remainder of the amber liquid inside. A hissed breath, then he sets the glass back down, sliding it back toward the bartender before he turns toward the room. The bar’s filling up with its regular Friday night patrons; John’s not surprised to see a few of the SGC marines pulling together some tables in the far corner. He offers them a casual wave and declines their invitation to join them. He searches the growing crowd and spies the body that belongs to those bright blue eyes slowly making its way toward the door.
He hasn’t done anything like this since he enlisted, but it’s more than likely his last night on the planet, and that guy has managed to worm his way underneath John’s skin. If there was ever a time to do something stupid and exhilarating, it’s now. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, taking the first step toward something he’s forgotten he even wanted.
***
It’s cooler than John thought it would be for a midsummer night in Colorado. He breathes in the crisp air and lets it out with a sigh. Dr. Rodney McKay is leaning against the wall, watching him.
“Major,” he says, the arrogance that had dug its way under John’s skin giving the rank an edge that John thinks could be dismissive.
“McKay.” John tucks his hands into his pockets and makes his way to where McKay’s standing. The light from the neon signs in the windows doesn’t quite reach this far, and McKay’s picked a spot just out of the arc of the streetlight. “Little dark here, don’t you think?”
“Consider it deference to your position, Major. Can’t have the golden boy with the magic touch outed on the eve of our departure, now can we.”
For some reason that sends a shiver of irritation up John’s spine. “Are you always this prickly?”
“Ah, yes. Actually. For the most part,” McKay replies with a tilt of his chin.
For the briefest moment, the arrogance slips, and John spies a glint of vulnerability in McKay’s eyes. “Well, stop it.” John approaches him slowly, watching the mask fall further off McKay’s face. “I’m glad you picked the shadows, McKay.”
There’s a frown, another head tilt, and McKay’s voice, “Why?”
John chuckles and cocks an eyebrow.
“Well. You don’t actually know this but I am the-”
“Smartest man in two galaxies. I’ve been working in your lab for the last few weeks, McKay. I think I picked up on that.” He leans against the wall, the rough surface of the bricks biting into his shoulder. “And still, I’m out here.”
“With me.”
“With you.” John smiles. “Know why?”
“It can’t be because of my stunning interpersonal skills. Even I know those are nonexistent.” McKay says, frowning in thought.
“Nope,” John says and leans forward.
***
It’s the heat of breath on skin chilled by the night air. It’s the shiver of anticipation when lips part and eyes close. It’s the drag of chapped lips against day old stubble when two mouths slide together.
It’s a moan of pleasure when two mouths open on each other, and tongues slide together. It’s a smack of moisture as positions change, and dominance is established and exchanged.
***
Sometime in the kiss, John’s hands slid out of his pockets. He’s got one arm around Rodney’s waist. His other hand has a grip on Rodney’s jaw, holding him captive, John’s thumb pulling on his chin, forcing that tight mouth open wider. Rodney has risen up onto his toes, pushed into John’s body, and - finally, after roaming all over John’s sides, back and ass - has his hands fisted in John’s shirt, threatening to pull it loose from its tuck into John’s waistband.
John pulls back, eyes open and runs his thumb over Rodney’s lips, smiling at the slick sticky feel of them.
Rodney’s eyes open slowly. John watches him blink himself out a daze. “Well,” he breathes out, loosening his fingers from John’s shirt, and settling his hands on John’s hips. “I certainly didn’t see that coming.”
John gives a wry twist of his mouth at that. He can’t count the number of times he’s had the same thought. But tonight wasn’t one of them. He’d seen this coming from the moment that orange fleece had entered his field of vision; from the second he’d heard, “Major, think about where we are in the solar system.”
He leans in and gives Rodney another quick kiss before pulling away from him. He tucks his hands back into his pockets and shrugs as he looks over his shoulder at the parking lot. He doesn’t wince when Rodney’s hands fall away from his hips.
The air is even cooler now.
John swallows and turns back to Rodney.
The silence stretches for a beat, then two, then it’s unbearable, and John’s skin is getting too tight. He’s about to crack, about to say something, when McKay breaks the tension for him.
“So.”
A half smile lifts the corner of John’s mouth. He sniffs. “Yeah.”
***
It ends with distance. Awkward glances and shuffling footsteps on gravel. Remnants of the kiss on the edges of his lips, the fading taste of the illicit, the wondrous, the impossible.
Cold metal against his palm as he shuts the door, and the pinpricks of red tail lights as the car drives away.
The cloak of loneliness settling around his shoulders again.
He shivers. The air is biting.
End
Title: Anatomy of a Kiss
Pairing: John/Rodney
Words: 1002
Rating: PG-ish
Disclaimer: *snort* Like I own anything from this show? Um. no. I don't.
Summary: If there was ever a time to do something stupid, the night before they departed was the night to do it. Or so John thought.
Notes: set at some indeterminate point between John sitting in the chair in Rising and Weir leading them all through the stargate. Unbeta'd. First iece of fic I've written in what feels like months. Let the comments fly, should you care to.
It starts with a glance, a slow slide of topaz eyes across the bar to meet slate blue ones while an index finger makes a trek around the rim of a glass of single malt on the rocks.
There’s no smile, just a nod of acknowledgment. And blue eyes turn away after a quick quirk of lips that still isn’t quite a smile.
***
John slides off his stool and drags the glass to the edge of the bar before picking it up and downing the remainder of the amber liquid inside. A hissed breath, then he sets the glass back down, sliding it back toward the bartender before he turns toward the room. The bar’s filling up with its regular Friday night patrons; John’s not surprised to see a few of the SGC marines pulling together some tables in the far corner. He offers them a casual wave and declines their invitation to join them. He searches the growing crowd and spies the body that belongs to those bright blue eyes slowly making its way toward the door.
He hasn’t done anything like this since he enlisted, but it’s more than likely his last night on the planet, and that guy has managed to worm his way underneath John’s skin. If there was ever a time to do something stupid and exhilarating, it’s now. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, taking the first step toward something he’s forgotten he even wanted.
***
It’s cooler than John thought it would be for a midsummer night in Colorado. He breathes in the crisp air and lets it out with a sigh. Dr. Rodney McKay is leaning against the wall, watching him.
“Major,” he says, the arrogance that had dug its way under John’s skin giving the rank an edge that John thinks could be dismissive.
“McKay.” John tucks his hands into his pockets and makes his way to where McKay’s standing. The light from the neon signs in the windows doesn’t quite reach this far, and McKay’s picked a spot just out of the arc of the streetlight. “Little dark here, don’t you think?”
“Consider it deference to your position, Major. Can’t have the golden boy with the magic touch outed on the eve of our departure, now can we.”
For some reason that sends a shiver of irritation up John’s spine. “Are you always this prickly?”
“Ah, yes. Actually. For the most part,” McKay replies with a tilt of his chin.
For the briefest moment, the arrogance slips, and John spies a glint of vulnerability in McKay’s eyes. “Well, stop it.” John approaches him slowly, watching the mask fall further off McKay’s face. “I’m glad you picked the shadows, McKay.”
There’s a frown, another head tilt, and McKay’s voice, “Why?”
John chuckles and cocks an eyebrow.
“Well. You don’t actually know this but I am the-”
“Smartest man in two galaxies. I’ve been working in your lab for the last few weeks, McKay. I think I picked up on that.” He leans against the wall, the rough surface of the bricks biting into his shoulder. “And still, I’m out here.”
“With me.”
“With you.” John smiles. “Know why?”
“It can’t be because of my stunning interpersonal skills. Even I know those are nonexistent.” McKay says, frowning in thought.
“Nope,” John says and leans forward.
***
It’s the heat of breath on skin chilled by the night air. It’s the shiver of anticipation when lips part and eyes close. It’s the drag of chapped lips against day old stubble when two mouths slide together.
It’s a moan of pleasure when two mouths open on each other, and tongues slide together. It’s a smack of moisture as positions change, and dominance is established and exchanged.
***
Sometime in the kiss, John’s hands slid out of his pockets. He’s got one arm around Rodney’s waist. His other hand has a grip on Rodney’s jaw, holding him captive, John’s thumb pulling on his chin, forcing that tight mouth open wider. Rodney has risen up onto his toes, pushed into John’s body, and - finally, after roaming all over John’s sides, back and ass - has his hands fisted in John’s shirt, threatening to pull it loose from its tuck into John’s waistband.
John pulls back, eyes open and runs his thumb over Rodney’s lips, smiling at the slick sticky feel of them.
Rodney’s eyes open slowly. John watches him blink himself out a daze. “Well,” he breathes out, loosening his fingers from John’s shirt, and settling his hands on John’s hips. “I certainly didn’t see that coming.”
John gives a wry twist of his mouth at that. He can’t count the number of times he’s had the same thought. But tonight wasn’t one of them. He’d seen this coming from the moment that orange fleece had entered his field of vision; from the second he’d heard, “Major, think about where we are in the solar system.”
He leans in and gives Rodney another quick kiss before pulling away from him. He tucks his hands back into his pockets and shrugs as he looks over his shoulder at the parking lot. He doesn’t wince when Rodney’s hands fall away from his hips.
The air is even cooler now.
John swallows and turns back to Rodney.
The silence stretches for a beat, then two, then it’s unbearable, and John’s skin is getting too tight. He’s about to crack, about to say something, when McKay breaks the tension for him.
“So.”
A half smile lifts the corner of John’s mouth. He sniffs. “Yeah.”
***
It ends with distance. Awkward glances and shuffling footsteps on gravel. Remnants of the kiss on the edges of his lips, the fading taste of the illicit, the wondrous, the impossible.
Cold metal against his palm as he shuts the door, and the pinpricks of red tail lights as the car drives away.
The cloak of loneliness settling around his shoulders again.
He shivers. The air is biting.
End