Happy birthday!
Happy birthday sgamadison! Tiny little EP-ficlet for you ♥
There weren’t even any sheets on the bed and John had no idea where they had ended up. Probably stuffed in a box somewhere. Yesterday evening - more like yesterday night actually - he and Rodney had both been too tired to go hunt for bedlinen.
John blinked slowly against the morning sun streaming in through the bedroom window (their bedroom window now) and smiled into the bare mattress, remembering how Rodney had stood in the middle of the chaos of the (their) living room, holding an old blanket he’d used to wrap a computer tower in for the transport. He’d looked from the blanket, to the random furniture and the multitude of boxes, and then shrugged and padded into the bedroom, the blanket trailing on the floor behind him. John had been more than happy to join him.
Judging by the sunlight, that had been around four hours ago. John raised his head, looked at all the still-packed boxes in the room, and carefully closed his eyes to lay down again, fully prepared to pretend that they did not exist.
Beside him, Rodney grunted and turned over, one arm finding its place around John’s waist. “I’m never moving again in my life,” Rodney murmured into his shoulder. His voice was raspy with sleep. John shifted to get a little closer, not ready to get up quite yet.
“Me either,” he said. He’d spent most of his life moving around. This seemed like the perfect place to stop.
Rodney yawned and seemed to drop back into sleep. John drifted for a while, warm and comfortable. He thought about the roof and how it needed to be repaired ASAP, about the too-long grass in the backyard, the ripped wallpaper in the living room. They’d known going in that the house was a fixer-upper, and John looked forward to it. Just not yet. For now, he just wanted to sleep a little longer and then get up and have coffee. Provided they could find the coffee maker.
An indefinite amount of time later, John heard an unmistakable yowl from the other side of the door.
“Rodney, the cat’s hungry,” he muttered, poking Rodney in the side.
“Mff,” Rodney said and turned over, burying his face in the mattress.
It didn’t seem like he had any plans of getting up. John rolled over on his back and blinked at the ceiling a couple of times before Newton’s insistent meowing finally prompted him out of bed.
The cat wasn’t happy to have been ignored and John didn’t have anything to appease him with other than the dry food he managed to scare up from the box that had been labeled Cat stuff in Laura’s neat hand.
Thankfully, the hunt for the coffee maker didn’t take too long. John walked around the house while he waited for the coffee to brew, dragged his fingers along the walls, tried to get used to the idea that all this was his. It was less intimidating than he’d imagined. Yeah, he was probably going to be in debt for the rest of his natural life, but it was worth it.
That said, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to returning the keys to his old apartment yet.
When the coffee was done, John went and cracked the bedroom door open and then hunted down a couple of mugs. He’d barely had time to pour himself a mug and sit down before a yawning Rodney staggered into the kitchen, drawn by the promise of caffeine.
“Morning,” John said and held out the second mug.
Rodney grabbed it, inhaled it, and immediately went to get a refill. By the time he’d cleaned a heap of books and journals off the nearest available chair and sat down, he looked a little more awake, though pretty much completely overwhelmed as he looked around the kitchen. There were plenty of boxes in here too, all taped shut and carefully labelled with black marker.
“Where do we start?” he wondered out loud. Then his eyes narrowed. “And how did the office stuff end up in here?”
John stared at the boxes marked Desk, Journals and I don’t want to know. “I have no idea,” he said. They’d been so tired toward the end that they had just resorted to putting stuff down wherever there was an empty space.
“Huh.” Rodney drank some more coffee while he glared at the offending boxes. “So,” he said after a few moments. “If I’m not moving again, and you’re not moving again, that pretty much means we’re stuck with each other, doesn’t it?”
John thought about it for a while and felt a heavy warm lump of rightness settle in his belly. “Yeah”, he said, unable to keep the undoubtedly very dopey smile off his face. “I guess it does.”
There weren’t even any sheets on the bed and John had no idea where they had ended up. Probably stuffed in a box somewhere. Yesterday evening - more like yesterday night actually - he and Rodney had both been too tired to go hunt for bedlinen.
John blinked slowly against the morning sun streaming in through the bedroom window (their bedroom window now) and smiled into the bare mattress, remembering how Rodney had stood in the middle of the chaos of the (their) living room, holding an old blanket he’d used to wrap a computer tower in for the transport. He’d looked from the blanket, to the random furniture and the multitude of boxes, and then shrugged and padded into the bedroom, the blanket trailing on the floor behind him. John had been more than happy to join him.
Judging by the sunlight, that had been around four hours ago. John raised his head, looked at all the still-packed boxes in the room, and carefully closed his eyes to lay down again, fully prepared to pretend that they did not exist.
Beside him, Rodney grunted and turned over, one arm finding its place around John’s waist. “I’m never moving again in my life,” Rodney murmured into his shoulder. His voice was raspy with sleep. John shifted to get a little closer, not ready to get up quite yet.
“Me either,” he said. He’d spent most of his life moving around. This seemed like the perfect place to stop.
Rodney yawned and seemed to drop back into sleep. John drifted for a while, warm and comfortable. He thought about the roof and how it needed to be repaired ASAP, about the too-long grass in the backyard, the ripped wallpaper in the living room. They’d known going in that the house was a fixer-upper, and John looked forward to it. Just not yet. For now, he just wanted to sleep a little longer and then get up and have coffee. Provided they could find the coffee maker.
An indefinite amount of time later, John heard an unmistakable yowl from the other side of the door.
“Rodney, the cat’s hungry,” he muttered, poking Rodney in the side.
“Mff,” Rodney said and turned over, burying his face in the mattress.
It didn’t seem like he had any plans of getting up. John rolled over on his back and blinked at the ceiling a couple of times before Newton’s insistent meowing finally prompted him out of bed.
The cat wasn’t happy to have been ignored and John didn’t have anything to appease him with other than the dry food he managed to scare up from the box that had been labeled Cat stuff in Laura’s neat hand.
Thankfully, the hunt for the coffee maker didn’t take too long. John walked around the house while he waited for the coffee to brew, dragged his fingers along the walls, tried to get used to the idea that all this was his. It was less intimidating than he’d imagined. Yeah, he was probably going to be in debt for the rest of his natural life, but it was worth it.
That said, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to returning the keys to his old apartment yet.
When the coffee was done, John went and cracked the bedroom door open and then hunted down a couple of mugs. He’d barely had time to pour himself a mug and sit down before a yawning Rodney staggered into the kitchen, drawn by the promise of caffeine.
“Morning,” John said and held out the second mug.
Rodney grabbed it, inhaled it, and immediately went to get a refill. By the time he’d cleaned a heap of books and journals off the nearest available chair and sat down, he looked a little more awake, though pretty much completely overwhelmed as he looked around the kitchen. There were plenty of boxes in here too, all taped shut and carefully labelled with black marker.
“Where do we start?” he wondered out loud. Then his eyes narrowed. “And how did the office stuff end up in here?”
John stared at the boxes marked Desk, Journals and I don’t want to know. “I have no idea,” he said. They’d been so tired toward the end that they had just resorted to putting stuff down wherever there was an empty space.
“Huh.” Rodney drank some more coffee while he glared at the offending boxes. “So,” he said after a few moments. “If I’m not moving again, and you’re not moving again, that pretty much means we’re stuck with each other, doesn’t it?”
John thought about it for a while and felt a heavy warm lump of rightness settle in his belly. “Yeah”, he said, unable to keep the undoubtedly very dopey smile off his face. “I guess it does.”