Clear Heads
It's just Rodney's luck that when they get to M58-P32, a planet known throughout the galaxy for its enormous, clear lakes and pristine sandy beaches, they arrive on a gray, brittle day where autumn's just turning things over to winter. When he'd packed swim trunks (he wasn't necessarily planning on actually wearing them, but it's good to be prepared) and sunscreen in his bag, he'd done so with visions of warm weather and bathing beauties and maybe a vendor selling something fried and greasy and delicious. He'd possibly imagined a pleasant nap in the shade while John and Teyla and Ronon amused themselves with extreme volleyball or extreme frisbee or extreme lake surfing.
He had not imagined a restorative ritual where he'd have to sit in a steam hut and sweat until he felt like he might pass out, then voluntarily plunge himself into icy lake water-and yet, here he is, blinking through the billowing steam, dripping onto a hard wooden bench.
Ronon and Teyla head outside first (Teyla announces that she's feeling well cleansed and is eager to be invigorated; Ronon says he's hot and bored), and there's a brief blast of frigid air before the door to the hut swings shut again. Rodney hears whoops and splashes, and he can't help shivering where he sits.
John's been mostly quiet up until now, but now he asks, "Feeling cleansed yet, buddy?" His cheeks are pink, and Rodney watches him push his damp, wilted hair back from his face.
"I don't think the human body was designed to endure extremes like this," Rodney answers, but John's standing up, so Rodney does too. He feels a little lightheaded, and he's definitely dehydrated, and he's never been very good at running on sand, and the water is going to be just unbearable.
"Just for the record, this is so, so stupid," Rodney says, and that's when John leans in and kisses him, lush and open. Rodney flushes with new heat and kisses him back, groaning, grabbing at John, his fingers slipping on warm, slick skin. Rodney hadn't imagined this at all, and now he wonders what John's been thinking about this whole time, what inhibitions or reservations have been seeping out of John's pores and vaporizing into the steamy air. Rodney kisses him and kisses him and holds on because he still kind of feels like he might fall over, and he mentally rescinds every bad thought he ever had about rituals and saunas and planets that don't live up to his expectations.
John pulls back and squeezes his shoulder, the pressure of each fingertip a promise, and Rodney takes a deep breath, and together they race out into the cold.