Reward (750 words, S5 spoilers)
Yay, mcsmooch is open again!
This kiss contains spoilers for S5 x 14, "Prodigal." You've been warned. :-)
Reward
It was one hell of a day; they deserve some R&R.
John tries to sneak a beer to Ronon in the infirmary, but Jennifer's already given him the good painkillers. Teyla joins them for a little while, but she doesn't drink much now that she's nursing, and once Torren gets fussy she excuses herself to walk the halls again. So it's just the two of them now in John's quarters.
"Did your mom really let you cry yourself to sleep?"
They've had a few beers by the time the question comes out of John's mouth. He isn't drunk, just a little bit fuzzy around the edges, which is how he justifies to himself the fact that he just asked that question out loud.
"I think so. That's what she always said, anyway."
Okay, John is definitely drunker than he realized, because his heart is clenching as if this were the saddest thing he'd ever heard.
"That...sucks," John offers.
Rodney shrugs. "Doesn't seem to have done any damage."
"Yeah, but that's--" John doesn't have the words to explain. "Wrong." What's wrong is his mental image of the McKay household, apparently; he'd always assumed Rodney's parents were bossy but involved. Not neglectful.
"It probably explains a lot about me," Rodney says ruefully. "Standard fear of commitment combined with sheer and utter inability to deal with abandonment."
Rodney's crooked smile is mesmerizing, and John doesn't realize he's staring until Rodney flushes.
"What?" Rodney asks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Is something--"
"Sorry, I got distracted," John says, and stands up fast to go rummage in his mini-fridge for another pair of beers. He needs some distance, because suddenly all John can think about is how desperately he wants to kiss him.
How much John wanted to do it this afternoon, too, saying what might have been their last goodbye. That handshake, unhappiness written across Rodney's face like a newspaper headline. It's not what he wants to be remembering right now. Turning away and getting them drinks should give him enough time to pull himself together.
But Rodney stands up too, and when John turns around with a cold beer gripped between the first and second fingers of each hand Rodney's right there, looking concerned.
"John?" Rodney's voice is quiet, and John can't stop looking at his mouth.
Rodney's eyes widen slightly and he licks his lips, quickly, and John thinks I'm fucked; he figured me out. He has a split second to watch determination wash across Rodney's face before he moves in and presses his mouth to John's.
John gasps, startled even though he actually did see it coming just now, and Rodney takes advantage of that to lick into his mouth. And damn it, John has glass beer bottles dangling from his fingers, he can't reach for Rodney, but he kisses him back with all the yes he can muster.
John can feel him grinning. "Oh," Rodney says when they break the kiss to breathe. He's still standing right there, close enough to touch.
"Yeah," John admits, because there's really no point in hiding it anymore.
"If this is what my mother's tragic neglect gets me, I should have mentioned it sooner."
"Hm," John says, reaching over to the desk to set down the beers and then turning back to Rodney, who's all but bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"I might have to send her a thank-you," Rodney says, as though to himself.
"Rodney?"
"Hm?"
"Shut up," John says. He can feel the dorky grin plastered across his face. And he doesn't remotely care.
"You gonna make me?"
"I can't believe you said that," John groans, but he pushes right into Rodney's space. This time he threads his hands into Rodney's soft hair, and Rodney's arms go around him as though he'd granted permission to touch. Rodney's body is solid against his and when John's thigh brushes against where he's already hard, Rodney whimpers into John's mouth.
They fall onto John's bed in a heap, John on top, and their slow exploratory kisses make John feel far drunker than the beer. Rodney's cold hand sliding beneath his shirt makes him gasp.
"We saved the city," John murmurs into Rodney's neck, and bites gently at the edge of his jaw.
"Mmm, yes," Rodney sighs, and it's not clear whether he's agreeing with John or trying to encourage him to do more of that. "And now we get a reward."
This kiss contains spoilers for S5 x 14, "Prodigal." You've been warned. :-)
Reward
It was one hell of a day; they deserve some R&R.
John tries to sneak a beer to Ronon in the infirmary, but Jennifer's already given him the good painkillers. Teyla joins them for a little while, but she doesn't drink much now that she's nursing, and once Torren gets fussy she excuses herself to walk the halls again. So it's just the two of them now in John's quarters.
"Did your mom really let you cry yourself to sleep?"
They've had a few beers by the time the question comes out of John's mouth. He isn't drunk, just a little bit fuzzy around the edges, which is how he justifies to himself the fact that he just asked that question out loud.
"I think so. That's what she always said, anyway."
Okay, John is definitely drunker than he realized, because his heart is clenching as if this were the saddest thing he'd ever heard.
"That...sucks," John offers.
Rodney shrugs. "Doesn't seem to have done any damage."
"Yeah, but that's--" John doesn't have the words to explain. "Wrong." What's wrong is his mental image of the McKay household, apparently; he'd always assumed Rodney's parents were bossy but involved. Not neglectful.
"It probably explains a lot about me," Rodney says ruefully. "Standard fear of commitment combined with sheer and utter inability to deal with abandonment."
Rodney's crooked smile is mesmerizing, and John doesn't realize he's staring until Rodney flushes.
"What?" Rodney asks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Is something--"
"Sorry, I got distracted," John says, and stands up fast to go rummage in his mini-fridge for another pair of beers. He needs some distance, because suddenly all John can think about is how desperately he wants to kiss him.
How much John wanted to do it this afternoon, too, saying what might have been their last goodbye. That handshake, unhappiness written across Rodney's face like a newspaper headline. It's not what he wants to be remembering right now. Turning away and getting them drinks should give him enough time to pull himself together.
But Rodney stands up too, and when John turns around with a cold beer gripped between the first and second fingers of each hand Rodney's right there, looking concerned.
"John?" Rodney's voice is quiet, and John can't stop looking at his mouth.
Rodney's eyes widen slightly and he licks his lips, quickly, and John thinks I'm fucked; he figured me out. He has a split second to watch determination wash across Rodney's face before he moves in and presses his mouth to John's.
John gasps, startled even though he actually did see it coming just now, and Rodney takes advantage of that to lick into his mouth. And damn it, John has glass beer bottles dangling from his fingers, he can't reach for Rodney, but he kisses him back with all the yes he can muster.
John can feel him grinning. "Oh," Rodney says when they break the kiss to breathe. He's still standing right there, close enough to touch.
"Yeah," John admits, because there's really no point in hiding it anymore.
"If this is what my mother's tragic neglect gets me, I should have mentioned it sooner."
"Hm," John says, reaching over to the desk to set down the beers and then turning back to Rodney, who's all but bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"I might have to send her a thank-you," Rodney says, as though to himself.
"Rodney?"
"Hm?"
"Shut up," John says. He can feel the dorky grin plastered across his face. And he doesn't remotely care.
"You gonna make me?"
"I can't believe you said that," John groans, but he pushes right into Rodney's space. This time he threads his hands into Rodney's soft hair, and Rodney's arms go around him as though he'd granted permission to touch. Rodney's body is solid against his and when John's thigh brushes against where he's already hard, Rodney whimpers into John's mouth.
They fall onto John's bed in a heap, John on top, and their slow exploratory kisses make John feel far drunker than the beer. Rodney's cold hand sliding beneath his shirt makes him gasp.
"We saved the city," John murmurs into Rodney's neck, and bites gently at the edge of his jaw.
"Mmm, yes," Rodney sighs, and it's not clear whether he's agreeing with John or trying to encourage him to do more of that. "And now we get a reward."