Do Fish Sleep?
Cate wanted snuggling. ...And this came out instead. I got nothin'. Except sincere apologies. *ducks*
~*~
The door whooshed open, letting in too much light and Rodney, stumbling a little; the door closed behind him and John squinched his eyes shut again, trying not to let himself wake up too much.
"Do fish sleep?"
John lifted his head blearily. "...Wha?"
Rodney slumped heavily down onto the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped, and John tipped over, ending up with his face mashed into Rodney's thigh. Rodney's thigh smelled like vodka, and John sleepily cursed Radek Zelenka and all his weasley, alcoholic ancestors to the depths of hell.
"I can't remember. I mean. I think they do, but I can't remember and I want to know."
John pushed himself away and rolled over, burrowing into the covers. "Shut up. It's three a.m. and you're drunk."
Silence, then a sigh. "True." Rodney sounded dreamy.
John started to slip back into sleep, but Rodney moved again, standing (the mattress rebounded) and John surfaced enough to be aware that Rodney was shuffling loudly around the room, stripping clumsily, kicking boots off, washing his face, brushing his teeth, shuffling back toward the bed. Then Rodney shuffled and grunted his way under the covers, making the whole bed shake (again) and draped himself heavily over John from behind. His breath smelled like toothpaste and vodka, ruffling John's hair, whiffling over his cheek. John turned his head down into the covers, away from Rodney's breath, but wriggled back slightly. Rodney was warm, and John sighed into the mattress and started the slow slide into dreams again.
"John." Rodney's fingers tightened briefly on his stomach, underneath John's lax hand.
"Mm."
"Seriously. Do fish sleep?"
"Rodney." John considered grabbing Rodney's pinky finger and bending it backwards until it snapped. But he was too sleepy; he just slapped Rodney's hand weakly.
"I just really want to know."
John opened his eyes to the darkness and forced his words to be perfectly clear. "I. Will. Kill. You." He closed his eyes. "Ask a biologist tomorrow."
"Mkay."
John was almost asleep when Rodney started snoring.
~*~
The door whooshed open, letting in too much light and Rodney, stumbling a little; the door closed behind him and John squinched his eyes shut again, trying not to let himself wake up too much.
"Do fish sleep?"
John lifted his head blearily. "...Wha?"
Rodney slumped heavily down onto the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped, and John tipped over, ending up with his face mashed into Rodney's thigh. Rodney's thigh smelled like vodka, and John sleepily cursed Radek Zelenka and all his weasley, alcoholic ancestors to the depths of hell.
"I can't remember. I mean. I think they do, but I can't remember and I want to know."
John pushed himself away and rolled over, burrowing into the covers. "Shut up. It's three a.m. and you're drunk."
Silence, then a sigh. "True." Rodney sounded dreamy.
John started to slip back into sleep, but Rodney moved again, standing (the mattress rebounded) and John surfaced enough to be aware that Rodney was shuffling loudly around the room, stripping clumsily, kicking boots off, washing his face, brushing his teeth, shuffling back toward the bed. Then Rodney shuffled and grunted his way under the covers, making the whole bed shake (again) and draped himself heavily over John from behind. His breath smelled like toothpaste and vodka, ruffling John's hair, whiffling over his cheek. John turned his head down into the covers, away from Rodney's breath, but wriggled back slightly. Rodney was warm, and John sighed into the mattress and started the slow slide into dreams again.
"John." Rodney's fingers tightened briefly on his stomach, underneath John's lax hand.
"Mm."
"Seriously. Do fish sleep?"
"Rodney." John considered grabbing Rodney's pinky finger and bending it backwards until it snapped. But he was too sleepy; he just slapped Rodney's hand weakly.
"I just really want to know."
John opened his eyes to the darkness and forced his words to be perfectly clear. "I. Will. Kill. You." He closed his eyes. "Ask a biologist tomorrow."
"Mkay."
John was almost asleep when Rodney started snoring.