A little kissing to brighten your day!
Nan has declared it KISSING day, and I whipped up this little schmooplet in about 10 minutes. YAY MCSHEP! I'd appreciate any thoughts on it, cause it's rare I produce anything I like at all :D
McShep, PG, ~300 words? ish?
Another mission, another bunch of people trying to kill them, another escape that so easily could have been the other thing - and Rodney thought that you could get used to anything, but apparently your body doesn't stop flooding your body with adrenaline even if you've experienced near-death dozens of times before. He supposes he's grateful for the illogic of biology, because he probably wouldn't have aimed straight and shot the guy who was aiming for Sheppard if he wasn't hopped up on natural drugs. Definitely grateful. But now he's completely wired, practically vibrating out of his skin, and he needs something, some kind of release, and it seems that yelling himself hoarse at his hapless team of idiots isn't doing the job. So he storms out of the lab, leaving an exasperated Zelenka and very probably a few girls crying in his wake, and doesn't pay attention to where his feet take him. But he finds himself in front of a door, a door that could be just any door to any quarters, his own perhaps, but he knows it's not. He presses the Atlantean equivalent of a doorbell and hears the mellow tones sound inside. After a few moments, the door swishes open.
Sheppard's face is flushed with sleep, cheek creased where the pillow was pressed into it, and his hair... well, his hair looks the same as ever. Suddenly Rodney's body stills, the tension flooding out of him in a rush that leaves him lightheaded.
"Hey," Sheppard offers blearily, mouth quirking up at the corner. "What's up?"
Rodney doesn't bother to answer, because in this he doesn't really have the words. He steps inside, the door whooshing shut behind him immediately (Atlantis always knows what John wants, and John must know what Rodney wants, because he's intelligent like that, and that's why Rodney wants in the first place) and simply presses his lips to John's, hands coming up to cradle the back of John's head, the nape of his neck, with a gentleness he usually reserves for mysterious Ancient devices. He digs his fingers into the inky thatch of hair, tongue pressing in to meet John's with certainty and need. John seems to be fully awake already, and his arms circle Rodney's torso, hands pressing their print into Rodney's back through his regulation blue shirt, inhaling Rodney with his hands, lips, tongue, entire body. They press closer and closer together, trying to climb inside each other's skin, and Rodney feels like the eye of a storm, perfectly still but aware of a chaos swirling about them. They made it out of this one, John's here, with him, alive, and that's all that matters. The here and now. He pours all of his gratitude and relief into the kiss, thank you for not dying and if you do that again I'll kill you and it's all the language they need.
Orgo test in two hours OMG. *flap flap*
McShep, PG, ~300 words? ish?
Another mission, another bunch of people trying to kill them, another escape that so easily could have been the other thing - and Rodney thought that you could get used to anything, but apparently your body doesn't stop flooding your body with adrenaline even if you've experienced near-death dozens of times before. He supposes he's grateful for the illogic of biology, because he probably wouldn't have aimed straight and shot the guy who was aiming for Sheppard if he wasn't hopped up on natural drugs. Definitely grateful. But now he's completely wired, practically vibrating out of his skin, and he needs something, some kind of release, and it seems that yelling himself hoarse at his hapless team of idiots isn't doing the job. So he storms out of the lab, leaving an exasperated Zelenka and very probably a few girls crying in his wake, and doesn't pay attention to where his feet take him. But he finds himself in front of a door, a door that could be just any door to any quarters, his own perhaps, but he knows it's not. He presses the Atlantean equivalent of a doorbell and hears the mellow tones sound inside. After a few moments, the door swishes open.
Sheppard's face is flushed with sleep, cheek creased where the pillow was pressed into it, and his hair... well, his hair looks the same as ever. Suddenly Rodney's body stills, the tension flooding out of him in a rush that leaves him lightheaded.
"Hey," Sheppard offers blearily, mouth quirking up at the corner. "What's up?"
Rodney doesn't bother to answer, because in this he doesn't really have the words. He steps inside, the door whooshing shut behind him immediately (Atlantis always knows what John wants, and John must know what Rodney wants, because he's intelligent like that, and that's why Rodney wants in the first place) and simply presses his lips to John's, hands coming up to cradle the back of John's head, the nape of his neck, with a gentleness he usually reserves for mysterious Ancient devices. He digs his fingers into the inky thatch of hair, tongue pressing in to meet John's with certainty and need. John seems to be fully awake already, and his arms circle Rodney's torso, hands pressing their print into Rodney's back through his regulation blue shirt, inhaling Rodney with his hands, lips, tongue, entire body. They press closer and closer together, trying to climb inside each other's skin, and Rodney feels like the eye of a storm, perfectly still but aware of a chaos swirling about them. They made it out of this one, John's here, with him, alive, and that's all that matters. The here and now. He pours all of his gratitude and relief into the kiss, thank you for not dying and if you do that again I'll kill you and it's all the language they need.
Orgo test in two hours OMG. *flap flap*