SGA fic: The Silver Lining, John/Rodney, G
Title: The Silver Lining
Fandom/Pairing: SGA, John/Rodney
Rating: G
Word count: 1,086
Summary: John, Rodney, rainstorm, bickering, kissing. Something lighter for SGA_Smooch.
The Silver Lining
The sky was already dark with the rumor of rain when John set the Jumper down on in a forest clearing on MX5-293 and a little over a half hour later, the sky was darker still.
John and Rodney were standing watch near the jumper while Teyla asked the Onari of MX5-293, old trading partners of the Athosians, for permission to introduce the New Lanteans to the Council in the Onari capital. Teyla had taken Ronon with her since he’d accompanied her once before on a brief weekend visit and they left the two Earthers alone, waiting dutifully for the return of the intrepid aliens near the Jumper. It wasn’t exactly high action and adventure so far, but not every day in the Pegasus galaxy could be an outtake from Fast and Furious (John could only wish).
So while Rodney was chattering about Radek’s latest offense punishable by McKay (a force deemed equal to the law), disparaging Canada’s favorite sport and most thrilling export, John was smirking and egging him on with little quips, and that was when thunder cracked overhead. Rodney started, cursing in surprise and John peered up, whistling. The thunder was all the warning they got before rain started pouring in buckets. Rodney yelped, spine arched like an enraged wet cat, and John’s laughter at Rodney’s expense was drowned out by the downpour.
They dashed back the forty feet it took to get them back to the Jumper and crashed in through the open hatch, flipping rain everywhere. John leaned back against the wall beside the door and, blinking the water out of his eyes, saw Rodney, soaked to the bone, his hair spiked up in every direction, holding his body gingerly as though he could minimize contact with the sodden clothes plastered to his frame. John cracked up, his hoarse, booming laughter filling the back of the Jumper. “Are you allergic to water, too?”
Outside, the rain was coming down in sheets - smattering the forest and subduing its verdant hues with overcast.
“Oh, like you’re any drier!” Rodney retorted.
“I think I’m a little drier,” John protested. He made a face at the sound of Rodney’s snort. “I’m a little drier because I got here faster,” he pointed out.
“By what? Two seconds?” Rodney demanded.
“Maybe two seconds is all it takes.” John crossed his arms over his chest and pressed his lips into a thin line to refrain from smirking.
Rodney stared at John blankly for two whole seconds before he summoned one of the shrewdest, sneakiest looks John had ever seen on him. “And you’re completely convinced I’m wetter than you are?” he asked, raising his brows in innocent query.
John mimicked his look, raised eyebrows and wide hazel eyes, hair defying the plaster-down effect of the rain they’d run through. “I have longer legs,” he reasoned.
Rodney cocked his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “I don’t even believe that’s true. Your presumption of superior height is an unfounded assumption based on-on the illogical height of your hair or something.”
John laughed. “Rodney, we can always measure them when we get back. And then you’ll be forced to admit that I’m right.”
Rodney sniffed, crossing his arms over his sodden tac vest. “I think you just want my hands and a measuring tape in your general crotch region,” he said skeptically.
John’s mouth spread in a slow, goofy, languorous grin. “Nah, that couldn’t be it.”
“Oh, couldn’t it?” Rodney crooked his finger at him. “Come here for a moment, Colonel.”
John furrowed his brow and made himself at home against the wall. “I’m good where I am.” There had to be some kind of trick involved here. Because Rodney should be sputtering in indignation right about now, defending his height as perfectly normal and wholly respectable for a man of his size and build, needlessly citing figures about national height averages John knew Rodney knew off the top of his head, nevermind the fact that John was only an inch or two taller than him. Rodney should definitely be complaining about it. Instead he was just gesturing for John to approach him.
“What d’you want?” John asked, his tone as suspicious as he knew he should be.
Rodney raised his brows silently with a smile, beckoning him again. John hesitated, sucking on the inside of his lip, and the next time Rodney beckoned it was with more attitude.
John surrendered and sidled over. “What can’t you tell me from over-?” Rodney’s hand slid over the lapel of John’s jacket, tucking in against the nape of his neck, pulling him in and down. John leaned closer and they were lip to lip, soft, sweet pressure of McKay’s mouth on his.
Rodney opened and John leaned closer, tilting his head, opening up as well. Rodney’s lips were soft against John’s upper, then lower lip, tender and wet with clean rain. This, kissing like this - almost chaste, always got John wired up and got him shy at once, retreating because, to him, kissing felt a lot more intimate than just going to bed together. He’d palmed plenty of guys (and he’d slept with a few women, too). But few people had paid as much attention to John’s mouth as Rodney did.
It was kind of like that in a lot of ways. Rodney drew John out when John tried to withdraw.
And right then, the tip of his tongue flirted with John’s bottom lip like an entreaty and John thrilled - suddenly awkward and craving more contact. His hands came up, framing Rodney’s head, cocking his head and opening up like a question, asking Rodney to just do what he wanted. Or moreover what John wanted him to do.
Rodney did exactly that, moving into John’s space, bringing their bodies close, not touching. He carded a hand through John’s wet hair, tongue testing the corner of John’s lips. John came back, more forceful, licking Rodney, coaxing him in with a sound and Rodney took advantage, crowding John and finally fitting their bodies together as he kissed him, tongue to tongue.
One kiss and Rodney pulled back briefly, moving his mouth from John’s to John’s cheek, moving his hand from John’s shoulder to John’s hip. “Who’s wetter than whom now, Colonel?” he asked, the smug shape of his smile against John’s cheek.
John blinked the world into focus, suddenly realizing the game Rodney was playing (one he should’ve seen coming a mile away). He suppressed a grin. “I think we’re about even.”
Fandom/Pairing: SGA, John/Rodney
Rating: G
Word count: 1,086
Summary: John, Rodney, rainstorm, bickering, kissing. Something lighter for SGA_Smooch.
The Silver Lining
The sky was already dark with the rumor of rain when John set the Jumper down on in a forest clearing on MX5-293 and a little over a half hour later, the sky was darker still.
John and Rodney were standing watch near the jumper while Teyla asked the Onari of MX5-293, old trading partners of the Athosians, for permission to introduce the New Lanteans to the Council in the Onari capital. Teyla had taken Ronon with her since he’d accompanied her once before on a brief weekend visit and they left the two Earthers alone, waiting dutifully for the return of the intrepid aliens near the Jumper. It wasn’t exactly high action and adventure so far, but not every day in the Pegasus galaxy could be an outtake from Fast and Furious (John could only wish).
So while Rodney was chattering about Radek’s latest offense punishable by McKay (a force deemed equal to the law), disparaging Canada’s favorite sport and most thrilling export, John was smirking and egging him on with little quips, and that was when thunder cracked overhead. Rodney started, cursing in surprise and John peered up, whistling. The thunder was all the warning they got before rain started pouring in buckets. Rodney yelped, spine arched like an enraged wet cat, and John’s laughter at Rodney’s expense was drowned out by the downpour.
They dashed back the forty feet it took to get them back to the Jumper and crashed in through the open hatch, flipping rain everywhere. John leaned back against the wall beside the door and, blinking the water out of his eyes, saw Rodney, soaked to the bone, his hair spiked up in every direction, holding his body gingerly as though he could minimize contact with the sodden clothes plastered to his frame. John cracked up, his hoarse, booming laughter filling the back of the Jumper. “Are you allergic to water, too?”
Outside, the rain was coming down in sheets - smattering the forest and subduing its verdant hues with overcast.
“Oh, like you’re any drier!” Rodney retorted.
“I think I’m a little drier,” John protested. He made a face at the sound of Rodney’s snort. “I’m a little drier because I got here faster,” he pointed out.
“By what? Two seconds?” Rodney demanded.
“Maybe two seconds is all it takes.” John crossed his arms over his chest and pressed his lips into a thin line to refrain from smirking.
Rodney stared at John blankly for two whole seconds before he summoned one of the shrewdest, sneakiest looks John had ever seen on him. “And you’re completely convinced I’m wetter than you are?” he asked, raising his brows in innocent query.
John mimicked his look, raised eyebrows and wide hazel eyes, hair defying the plaster-down effect of the rain they’d run through. “I have longer legs,” he reasoned.
Rodney cocked his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “I don’t even believe that’s true. Your presumption of superior height is an unfounded assumption based on-on the illogical height of your hair or something.”
John laughed. “Rodney, we can always measure them when we get back. And then you’ll be forced to admit that I’m right.”
Rodney sniffed, crossing his arms over his sodden tac vest. “I think you just want my hands and a measuring tape in your general crotch region,” he said skeptically.
John’s mouth spread in a slow, goofy, languorous grin. “Nah, that couldn’t be it.”
“Oh, couldn’t it?” Rodney crooked his finger at him. “Come here for a moment, Colonel.”
John furrowed his brow and made himself at home against the wall. “I’m good where I am.” There had to be some kind of trick involved here. Because Rodney should be sputtering in indignation right about now, defending his height as perfectly normal and wholly respectable for a man of his size and build, needlessly citing figures about national height averages John knew Rodney knew off the top of his head, nevermind the fact that John was only an inch or two taller than him. Rodney should definitely be complaining about it. Instead he was just gesturing for John to approach him.
“What d’you want?” John asked, his tone as suspicious as he knew he should be.
Rodney raised his brows silently with a smile, beckoning him again. John hesitated, sucking on the inside of his lip, and the next time Rodney beckoned it was with more attitude.
John surrendered and sidled over. “What can’t you tell me from over-?” Rodney’s hand slid over the lapel of John’s jacket, tucking in against the nape of his neck, pulling him in and down. John leaned closer and they were lip to lip, soft, sweet pressure of McKay’s mouth on his.
Rodney opened and John leaned closer, tilting his head, opening up as well. Rodney’s lips were soft against John’s upper, then lower lip, tender and wet with clean rain. This, kissing like this - almost chaste, always got John wired up and got him shy at once, retreating because, to him, kissing felt a lot more intimate than just going to bed together. He’d palmed plenty of guys (and he’d slept with a few women, too). But few people had paid as much attention to John’s mouth as Rodney did.
It was kind of like that in a lot of ways. Rodney drew John out when John tried to withdraw.
And right then, the tip of his tongue flirted with John’s bottom lip like an entreaty and John thrilled - suddenly awkward and craving more contact. His hands came up, framing Rodney’s head, cocking his head and opening up like a question, asking Rodney to just do what he wanted. Or moreover what John wanted him to do.
Rodney did exactly that, moving into John’s space, bringing their bodies close, not touching. He carded a hand through John’s wet hair, tongue testing the corner of John’s lips. John came back, more forceful, licking Rodney, coaxing him in with a sound and Rodney took advantage, crowding John and finally fitting their bodies together as he kissed him, tongue to tongue.
One kiss and Rodney pulled back briefly, moving his mouth from John’s to John’s cheek, moving his hand from John’s shoulder to John’s hip. “Who’s wetter than whom now, Colonel?” he asked, the smug shape of his smile against John’s cheek.
John blinked the world into focus, suddenly realizing the game Rodney was playing (one he should’ve seen coming a mile away). He suppressed a grin. “I think we’re about even.”