Rainy days, (John/Rodney, PG)
unbeta'ed and post-series
Some days when it's rainy and cold and he misses the halls of Atlantis and the way she'd turn up the heat for his morning shower, living on Earth seems like a punishment. The chill sets in his bones, makes his scars ache and the hand of Wraith on his chest prickle like there's still something hiding underneath his skin. So maybe he's a bit grumpy in those mornings, cutting his shower brief and taking his coffee with him in his travel-mug rather than say "Good morning". Hides in his office and hoards calculations like it'd save him from meetings and designs to approve, bites his tongue to not be pissy with his assistant because it's not Jonathon's fault that John has a bad day.
Lunch is a quick thing, he's in no mood to linger over food when nothing feels like it should have been, he misses the voices, the noise and his friends seated around him. So he makes his awful day short as possible and plans to go home and brood, but instead he finds himself taking a detour on the way home. Parking his car at an overlook of San Francisco Bay, the grey waves rolling in and the rain hanging in heavy sheets of grey coming closer to fall over the city as evening arrives. This water does nothing to diminish his longing for Atlantis, if he closes his eyes he can still see her gentling in the waves, a stopping point on her long trip to safety and her new home.
He hasn't been Earthbound for long, it's only 18 months ago and he wishes he could go back every day. But as he turns the car around to go home, his phone ringing with an angry noise of repetition, he remembers why he stayed.
He lets Rodney yell at him over the earpiece as he drives, it's so much later than he'd thought that the traffic's already let up. He'd forgotten time while looking at waves. Again. But the voice in his ear is what brings him home. Who makes Earth, their house in the suburbs, and working 9 to 5 a home.
John feels guilty for worrying him, again. It's something he can't seem to stop doing but the days are fewer in between when he feels like a big chunk of him is missing. A part that was the home he never knew he'd always wished for until he met her. Steps glowing in welcome and sounds whispering in his ears of "Welcome home". Rodney gets angry, tired and sad of competing with her and some days it feels that no matter what John says Rodney still won't believe that John's happy with his choice.
The little choice he had. Commandeered home, to Earth where eyes would be on them, where they would have to hide and John's life would have to be a big secret to keep again. Maybe he'd get a desk job in the mountain with the occasional walk through the gate if he'd chosen to stay with the military. The mountain and Stargate Command would never be what Atlantis had been for him, and it was not so easy but frighteningly right to show Rodney he meant his choice. To not hide but instead kiss Rodney when the gates closed behind them, let the security cameras roll and be sure to kill all possibilities of a return to service. That he wouldn't wake up one day and regret his honorable discharge.
It was easier to buy a house together, sleep in the same bed and wake up blearily together when the alarm went off. Easy to slouch on the back porch with beers in their hands and kiss lazily as the weekend spread out ahead of them.
To slam the door of his car and run in from the rain, to kiss the worried words out of Rodney's mouth and ignore the raindrops sliding down his face. To hide in his neck and hold him close and whisper home, I'm home, against his skin.
Some days when it's rainy and cold and he misses the halls of Atlantis and the way she'd turn up the heat for his morning shower, living on Earth seems like a punishment. The chill sets in his bones, makes his scars ache and the hand of Wraith on his chest prickle like there's still something hiding underneath his skin. So maybe he's a bit grumpy in those mornings, cutting his shower brief and taking his coffee with him in his travel-mug rather than say "Good morning". Hides in his office and hoards calculations like it'd save him from meetings and designs to approve, bites his tongue to not be pissy with his assistant because it's not Jonathon's fault that John has a bad day.
Lunch is a quick thing, he's in no mood to linger over food when nothing feels like it should have been, he misses the voices, the noise and his friends seated around him. So he makes his awful day short as possible and plans to go home and brood, but instead he finds himself taking a detour on the way home. Parking his car at an overlook of San Francisco Bay, the grey waves rolling in and the rain hanging in heavy sheets of grey coming closer to fall over the city as evening arrives. This water does nothing to diminish his longing for Atlantis, if he closes his eyes he can still see her gentling in the waves, a stopping point on her long trip to safety and her new home.
He hasn't been Earthbound for long, it's only 18 months ago and he wishes he could go back every day. But as he turns the car around to go home, his phone ringing with an angry noise of repetition, he remembers why he stayed.
He lets Rodney yell at him over the earpiece as he drives, it's so much later than he'd thought that the traffic's already let up. He'd forgotten time while looking at waves. Again. But the voice in his ear is what brings him home. Who makes Earth, their house in the suburbs, and working 9 to 5 a home.
John feels guilty for worrying him, again. It's something he can't seem to stop doing but the days are fewer in between when he feels like a big chunk of him is missing. A part that was the home he never knew he'd always wished for until he met her. Steps glowing in welcome and sounds whispering in his ears of "Welcome home". Rodney gets angry, tired and sad of competing with her and some days it feels that no matter what John says Rodney still won't believe that John's happy with his choice.
The little choice he had. Commandeered home, to Earth where eyes would be on them, where they would have to hide and John's life would have to be a big secret to keep again. Maybe he'd get a desk job in the mountain with the occasional walk through the gate if he'd chosen to stay with the military. The mountain and Stargate Command would never be what Atlantis had been for him, and it was not so easy but frighteningly right to show Rodney he meant his choice. To not hide but instead kiss Rodney when the gates closed behind them, let the security cameras roll and be sure to kill all possibilities of a return to service. That he wouldn't wake up one day and regret his honorable discharge.
It was easier to buy a house together, sleep in the same bed and wake up blearily together when the alarm went off. Easy to slouch on the back porch with beers in their hands and kiss lazily as the weekend spread out ahead of them.
To slam the door of his car and run in from the rain, to kiss the worried words out of Rodney's mouth and ignore the raindrops sliding down his face. To hide in his neck and hold him close and whisper home, I'm home, against his skin.