Come to Your Senses ~ SGA (McShep)
Title: Come to Your Senses
Author: icantfollow
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: mild for Runner
Genre: Established relationship
Summary: John thinks of all the ways he likes to experience Rodney.
i. Sight
He's not visually impressive, really. Just a big Canadian nerd, if John's going to be perfectly honest. There's strength there, but not muscles. Charm, but not beauty.
Still, John loves to look at him.
It's the eyes, first of all. Rodney has great eyes. Not to mention his ass - his ass is fantastic - but it's all of Rodney's flaws, not his appearance, that make him so wonderful to look at.
The oh-so-sad pout when he's being ignored is one of John's favorites, because Rodney is normally not afraid of making himself noticed. John laughs at the fire in his eyes when he's tearing apart someone else's scientific theory because Rodney's ego is enormous and often needs to be battled. Some of the best times, though, are when Rodney forgets himself over some piece of Ancient tech, and there's this incredible boyishness about him that John feels compelled to share.
It's the way his face heats up in the middle of an argument, but there's a smile at the corner of his lips so John knows he's not really mad, or the way his hands shake while holding a firearm. That adorable way he flails when confronted with citrus. His sarcastic reaction to the word 'Impossible'. John's heart beats just a little faster when he sees the warning signs of a McKay Meltdown. So much to see - some of it's just hidden beneath the surface.
John can't help staring, smiling. And sometimes, if Rodney's feeling observant, he'll snap and ask why.
I can't help it, says John, watching Rodney wrinkle his nose, you're just so darn cute.
ii. Smell
For as long as John can remember, prior to coming to Atlantis, the smell of cinnamon has been his comfort smell. The one scent in the world that tells John Sheppard everything will be okay.
Cinnamon, to John, is sticky buns on Christmas morning, the one day of the year that his father was always there. It didn't matter if there was war, or training, or planes to be flown. Somehow, and John still doesn't know how, his dad was always there on Christmas morning filling the house with the smell of cinnamon.
Rodney does not smell like cinnamon. Rodney smells like vacation, like SPF100 and cocoa butter. Rodney smells like science, and Canada, and arrogance, and whatever's the opposite of lemons
Mostly, he just has that indefinable Rodney smell, a mixture of ego and Atlantis, and there are times - usually when he's in some life or death situation - that John wishes he could bottle it up and carry it with him because, now, that's the smell that tells John Sheppard everything will be all right.
It's not the same as having Rodney by his side, of course, but sometimes, when John catches himself sniffing his pillow, just hoping for a whiff, he thinks it would be enough.
iii. Taste
One kiss from Rodney, and John feels like he can climb the walls.
Or, at least, that's how he'd like to rationalize it to Elizabeth - kissing Rodney equals increased strength and agility - but somehow he doesn't think she'll go for it.
Still, Rodney tastes like caffeine and energy bars, and sends an electric charge through John that lasts for hours. There's a tiny fraction of Rodney that tastes like insecurity and fear of failure, and John enjoys drawing it out.
Also, after one particularly spectacular near-death episode, John is tempted to tell Rodney he tastes like freedom - but fortunately he realizes he's drunk, and passes out instead.
iv. Touch
It's so easy, so gentle. There's no effort involved, John never has to force himself to touch Rodney. There's no stiffness, no recoiling, no awkward attempts to get away.
John often feels like other people are trying to control him when they touch him, as if trying to stake a claim on his body. Rodney never makes a move, he always waits for John to claim him. He's impulsive, and strange, and genius, and John just can't help himself. There's something of a very awkward puppy in Rodney, for all his protesting that he prefers cats.
And really, John thinks, it's easy because they hardly knew each other when Rodney let John push him over a balcony and shoot him in the leg.
That's trust.
v. Sound
Rodney makes all manner of interesting noises when pushed, provoked, prodded, or poked. He's a very noisy man. John thinks that noise is just his way of making sure people notice him and his genius, and doesn't blame him for it. No one notices intelligence if it doesn't make itself heard.
Rodney slurps at dinner, and snores in bed. He mutters and rants and raves over his seemingly senseless equations. He hums if he's happy, and sings Oh, Canada when he's drunk even though he doesn't know the words.
He's even loud when he's not talking because usually he's brimming over with impatience and that screams to the room as loudly as if he uses his voice. Sometimes, in staff meetings, John thinks he'll go deaf - even when Rodney isn't there.
The best sound from Rodney, though, is absolutely no sound at all because only John is capable of provoking this response. It's precious all the more because it's so rare.
Sometimes it takes a word, or a kiss, and sometimes it only takes a look. A look that promises if Rodney will behave himself now, he can make all the noise he likes later.
There's nothing John likes better than experiencing Rodney.
Author: icantfollow
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: mild for Runner
Genre: Established relationship
Summary: John thinks of all the ways he likes to experience Rodney.
i. Sight
He's not visually impressive, really. Just a big Canadian nerd, if John's going to be perfectly honest. There's strength there, but not muscles. Charm, but not beauty.
Still, John loves to look at him.
It's the eyes, first of all. Rodney has great eyes. Not to mention his ass - his ass is fantastic - but it's all of Rodney's flaws, not his appearance, that make him so wonderful to look at.
The oh-so-sad pout when he's being ignored is one of John's favorites, because Rodney is normally not afraid of making himself noticed. John laughs at the fire in his eyes when he's tearing apart someone else's scientific theory because Rodney's ego is enormous and often needs to be battled. Some of the best times, though, are when Rodney forgets himself over some piece of Ancient tech, and there's this incredible boyishness about him that John feels compelled to share.
It's the way his face heats up in the middle of an argument, but there's a smile at the corner of his lips so John knows he's not really mad, or the way his hands shake while holding a firearm. That adorable way he flails when confronted with citrus. His sarcastic reaction to the word 'Impossible'. John's heart beats just a little faster when he sees the warning signs of a McKay Meltdown. So much to see - some of it's just hidden beneath the surface.
John can't help staring, smiling. And sometimes, if Rodney's feeling observant, he'll snap and ask why.
I can't help it, says John, watching Rodney wrinkle his nose, you're just so darn cute.
ii. Smell
For as long as John can remember, prior to coming to Atlantis, the smell of cinnamon has been his comfort smell. The one scent in the world that tells John Sheppard everything will be okay.
Cinnamon, to John, is sticky buns on Christmas morning, the one day of the year that his father was always there. It didn't matter if there was war, or training, or planes to be flown. Somehow, and John still doesn't know how, his dad was always there on Christmas morning filling the house with the smell of cinnamon.
Rodney does not smell like cinnamon. Rodney smells like vacation, like SPF100 and cocoa butter. Rodney smells like science, and Canada, and arrogance, and whatever's the opposite of lemons
Mostly, he just has that indefinable Rodney smell, a mixture of ego and Atlantis, and there are times - usually when he's in some life or death situation - that John wishes he could bottle it up and carry it with him because, now, that's the smell that tells John Sheppard everything will be all right.
It's not the same as having Rodney by his side, of course, but sometimes, when John catches himself sniffing his pillow, just hoping for a whiff, he thinks it would be enough.
iii. Taste
One kiss from Rodney, and John feels like he can climb the walls.
Or, at least, that's how he'd like to rationalize it to Elizabeth - kissing Rodney equals increased strength and agility - but somehow he doesn't think she'll go for it.
Still, Rodney tastes like caffeine and energy bars, and sends an electric charge through John that lasts for hours. There's a tiny fraction of Rodney that tastes like insecurity and fear of failure, and John enjoys drawing it out.
Also, after one particularly spectacular near-death episode, John is tempted to tell Rodney he tastes like freedom - but fortunately he realizes he's drunk, and passes out instead.
iv. Touch
It's so easy, so gentle. There's no effort involved, John never has to force himself to touch Rodney. There's no stiffness, no recoiling, no awkward attempts to get away.
John often feels like other people are trying to control him when they touch him, as if trying to stake a claim on his body. Rodney never makes a move, he always waits for John to claim him. He's impulsive, and strange, and genius, and John just can't help himself. There's something of a very awkward puppy in Rodney, for all his protesting that he prefers cats.
And really, John thinks, it's easy because they hardly knew each other when Rodney let John push him over a balcony and shoot him in the leg.
That's trust.
v. Sound
Rodney makes all manner of interesting noises when pushed, provoked, prodded, or poked. He's a very noisy man. John thinks that noise is just his way of making sure people notice him and his genius, and doesn't blame him for it. No one notices intelligence if it doesn't make itself heard.
Rodney slurps at dinner, and snores in bed. He mutters and rants and raves over his seemingly senseless equations. He hums if he's happy, and sings Oh, Canada when he's drunk even though he doesn't know the words.
He's even loud when he's not talking because usually he's brimming over with impatience and that screams to the room as loudly as if he uses his voice. Sometimes, in staff meetings, John thinks he'll go deaf - even when Rodney isn't there.
The best sound from Rodney, though, is absolutely no sound at all because only John is capable of provoking this response. It's precious all the more because it's so rare.
Sometimes it takes a word, or a kiss, and sometimes it only takes a look. A look that promises if Rodney will behave himself now, he can make all the noise he likes later.
There's nothing John likes better than experiencing Rodney.