mcsmoochlet: A Bedtime Story
A Bedtime Story
word count: 970
John rubbed a towel over head in a haphazard attempt to dry his hair as he limped out of his bathroom. Not that he cared if his hair stayed wet. The hot shower had helped his back, but his knee was still aching and he was ready to collapse into bed, to simply sleep and forget about his very long, very trying day.
Bed. Soft, comfy bed, right there, waiting for him.
Except Rodney was sitting on it. Hunched over, actually, and plucking ineffectively at his boot laces. Which meant that John couldn't go to sleep, not just yet.
"Hi, Rodney." John pulled the towel off his head. "You're finally finished?"
Rodney jerked his head up and blinked at John as if surprised to see him. "Yes. I think."
John sniffed. "Smell's gone," he confirmed.
"Please." Rodney rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Ancient ventilation systems. They suck."
"When they should have been blowing."
"Oh, ha ha. Very funny," Rodney said with a disgusted look.
"It is funny," John insisted, wondering how to explain to Rodney that he just wasn't in the mood, not tonight, dear, he had a backache. And a knee ache. And an everything else ache.
"Do you know how many complaints I had?" Rodney asked. "Like maybe I hadn't noticed the stench myself and needed it pointed out to me. Over and over. All day long, nothing but bitching and complaining while I was pulling apart panels and squeezing under consoles."
John nodded and sat heavily on his couch, letting the towel fall into his lap. He was wearing only his boxers, and while the room was a little chilly--windows left open, for obvious reasons---his clothes were across the room and the distance seemed insurmountable.
"How did the training go?" Rodney asked.
"Fine," John said defensively, all too aware of Rodney's scrutiny. "It was fine. Just fine."
Rodney cocked his head to one side.
"What? I'm just a little tired, that's all."
"Uh huh. You're tired."
"Yes, Rodney, I am. They're kind of young," John explained. "And they run fast. I mean, they're good, it's a good bunch, smart and well-trained and excited to be here, but--" John shrugged, then winced at the sharp pain in his left shoulder.
"Ah. They kicked your ass, didn't they?"
"No." John scowled. "We just had a good workout on the mainland, that's all."
"Of course."
Smartass. John want to thwap Rodney's head but that would have involved getting up so he settled for scowling harder. "So, all in all, how many hours did it take for you to fix that intake system, Dr. Brilliant? Twelve? Thirteen?"
Rodney's chin rose. "A few."
"A few?" Rodney had stumbled out of his bed at 4 am, muttering and cursing. John had only snickered a little. Okay, maybe a lot.
"Yes, a few hours."
"You just finished, didn't you?"
Rodney crossed his arms over his chest and glared.
John made a show of checking his watch. Only he wasn't wearing one, which spoiled the effect entirely. "So, I'd say more like twenty," he said, guessing at the time.
Rodney's expression darkened. "I'll have you know it's a very complicated system."
"Ah," John said. "It kicked your ass, didn't it?"
"Fine." Rodney rose to his feet. "Now that we've caught up with each other's oh-so-fabulous day, I'm going to go and get some sleep."
All at once John didn't want him to go. He stood, knees creaking ominously. "Rodney, hold on a second." He caught Rodney's arm as Rodney turned toward the door. "This is stupid."
Rodney deflated, shoulders slumping. "I know. It's just--just--"
"What?" John asked gently.
"They were out of pudding cups." Rodney turned to John, eyes wide and sad. "The mess. There's no more pudding cups. They're all gone."
John wasn't sure how this rated as a tragedy compared to the ventilation fiasco, but he nodded sympathetically. "I'm sorry, buddy."
"You wouldn't have any hanging around, would you?"
John shook his head.
Rodney heaved a sigh. "I just want some pudding. That's not too much to ask for, considering everything I do around here." He frowned, touching his finger to well-defined bruise on John's shoulder. "Oh. You did have a rough day, didn't you?"
"Nah. It wasn't so bad." John leaned into Rodney's touch. " You know, same old. Running around for hours in the cold rain.."
Rodney swayed forward and pressed his lips to the bruised skin, his big warm hand coming to rest on John's waist.
"Getting ambushed by Ronon and O'Hara," John continued, pulling Rodney closer. "She's apparently some kind of martial arts expert, did you know that?"
Rodney nodded, his lips still on John's skin.
"Well, I didn't."
Rodney made a sympathetic noise and nuzzled into John's neck, whiskery cheeks and soft lips. He was warm and big and surprisingly soothing. John palmed the back of Rodney's neck and Rodney relaxed, body growing heavy. "You falling asleep?"
Rodney mumbled against John's neck.
"Want to do this in bed? Or are you still hell-bent for pudding?"
"Hmmm." Rodney raised his head, bleary-eyed. His hand slid down John's back, underneath the waistband of his boxers and came to rest on John's ass. "Better than pudding," he announced.
"Gosh, I'm flattered," John said.
Rodney nodded, then kissed John, a little sloppy but a whole lot sincere. And okay, maybe it was a big compliment because Rodney really liked pudding and even though John was tired, sleeping alone kind of sucked and he did get his ass kicked that day and he certainly deserved a big Rodney-sized bedwarmer. So John dragged Rodney over, stripped his clothes off until he was naked and snuggly and grinning, then pulled him down onto the bed, kissing him all the way.
Warm and content, John fell asleep between one kiss and the next.
***
[Note: all references to pudding are strictly the fault of sheafrotherdon.]
word count: 970
John rubbed a towel over head in a haphazard attempt to dry his hair as he limped out of his bathroom. Not that he cared if his hair stayed wet. The hot shower had helped his back, but his knee was still aching and he was ready to collapse into bed, to simply sleep and forget about his very long, very trying day.
Bed. Soft, comfy bed, right there, waiting for him.
Except Rodney was sitting on it. Hunched over, actually, and plucking ineffectively at his boot laces. Which meant that John couldn't go to sleep, not just yet.
"Hi, Rodney." John pulled the towel off his head. "You're finally finished?"
Rodney jerked his head up and blinked at John as if surprised to see him. "Yes. I think."
John sniffed. "Smell's gone," he confirmed.
"Please." Rodney rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Ancient ventilation systems. They suck."
"When they should have been blowing."
"Oh, ha ha. Very funny," Rodney said with a disgusted look.
"It is funny," John insisted, wondering how to explain to Rodney that he just wasn't in the mood, not tonight, dear, he had a backache. And a knee ache. And an everything else ache.
"Do you know how many complaints I had?" Rodney asked. "Like maybe I hadn't noticed the stench myself and needed it pointed out to me. Over and over. All day long, nothing but bitching and complaining while I was pulling apart panels and squeezing under consoles."
John nodded and sat heavily on his couch, letting the towel fall into his lap. He was wearing only his boxers, and while the room was a little chilly--windows left open, for obvious reasons---his clothes were across the room and the distance seemed insurmountable.
"How did the training go?" Rodney asked.
"Fine," John said defensively, all too aware of Rodney's scrutiny. "It was fine. Just fine."
Rodney cocked his head to one side.
"What? I'm just a little tired, that's all."
"Uh huh. You're tired."
"Yes, Rodney, I am. They're kind of young," John explained. "And they run fast. I mean, they're good, it's a good bunch, smart and well-trained and excited to be here, but--" John shrugged, then winced at the sharp pain in his left shoulder.
"Ah. They kicked your ass, didn't they?"
"No." John scowled. "We just had a good workout on the mainland, that's all."
"Of course."
Smartass. John want to thwap Rodney's head but that would have involved getting up so he settled for scowling harder. "So, all in all, how many hours did it take for you to fix that intake system, Dr. Brilliant? Twelve? Thirteen?"
Rodney's chin rose. "A few."
"A few?" Rodney had stumbled out of his bed at 4 am, muttering and cursing. John had only snickered a little. Okay, maybe a lot.
"Yes, a few hours."
"You just finished, didn't you?"
Rodney crossed his arms over his chest and glared.
John made a show of checking his watch. Only he wasn't wearing one, which spoiled the effect entirely. "So, I'd say more like twenty," he said, guessing at the time.
Rodney's expression darkened. "I'll have you know it's a very complicated system."
"Ah," John said. "It kicked your ass, didn't it?"
"Fine." Rodney rose to his feet. "Now that we've caught up with each other's oh-so-fabulous day, I'm going to go and get some sleep."
All at once John didn't want him to go. He stood, knees creaking ominously. "Rodney, hold on a second." He caught Rodney's arm as Rodney turned toward the door. "This is stupid."
Rodney deflated, shoulders slumping. "I know. It's just--just--"
"What?" John asked gently.
"They were out of pudding cups." Rodney turned to John, eyes wide and sad. "The mess. There's no more pudding cups. They're all gone."
John wasn't sure how this rated as a tragedy compared to the ventilation fiasco, but he nodded sympathetically. "I'm sorry, buddy."
"You wouldn't have any hanging around, would you?"
John shook his head.
Rodney heaved a sigh. "I just want some pudding. That's not too much to ask for, considering everything I do around here." He frowned, touching his finger to well-defined bruise on John's shoulder. "Oh. You did have a rough day, didn't you?"
"Nah. It wasn't so bad." John leaned into Rodney's touch. " You know, same old. Running around for hours in the cold rain.."
Rodney swayed forward and pressed his lips to the bruised skin, his big warm hand coming to rest on John's waist.
"Getting ambushed by Ronon and O'Hara," John continued, pulling Rodney closer. "She's apparently some kind of martial arts expert, did you know that?"
Rodney nodded, his lips still on John's skin.
"Well, I didn't."
Rodney made a sympathetic noise and nuzzled into John's neck, whiskery cheeks and soft lips. He was warm and big and surprisingly soothing. John palmed the back of Rodney's neck and Rodney relaxed, body growing heavy. "You falling asleep?"
Rodney mumbled against John's neck.
"Want to do this in bed? Or are you still hell-bent for pudding?"
"Hmmm." Rodney raised his head, bleary-eyed. His hand slid down John's back, underneath the waistband of his boxers and came to rest on John's ass. "Better than pudding," he announced.
"Gosh, I'm flattered," John said.
Rodney nodded, then kissed John, a little sloppy but a whole lot sincere. And okay, maybe it was a big compliment because Rodney really liked pudding and even though John was tired, sleeping alone kind of sucked and he did get his ass kicked that day and he certainly deserved a big Rodney-sized bedwarmer. So John dragged Rodney over, stripped his clothes off until he was naked and snuggly and grinning, then pulled him down onto the bed, kissing him all the way.
Warm and content, John fell asleep between one kiss and the next.
***
[Note: all references to pudding are strictly the fault of sheafrotherdon.]