Episode tag for "Quarantined" under here. Rated *gasp!* PG-13, at best.
~*~
Not on the Market
Rodney answered the door to his quarters faster than John had thought he would. "Oh, ah, hi," he said.
John shifted from foot to foot. "Hey." He looked over Rodney's shoulder.
Rodney got the idea, and stepped back. "Come in, I guess, although I'm really very busy." John stepped past him, turning as the door shut, listening as Rodney went on: "I was just looking over the data from the lockdown, obviously some changes need to be made to ensure that radio and computer networks are independent of the city's systems if something like this ever happens again, so..." Rodney didn't sound quite as perky as usual, though. Even his gestures were a little lackluster.
"Yeah," John said. "Good idea." He looked at Rodney's feet, then up at his chest. He forced himself to look at Rodney's face, with an effort; he looked tired. John asked his question anyway. "How'd it go with Katie?"
"What? When? Oh," Rodney's voice cracked, and a hand looped in the air, still without its usual verve, "the thing, with, in the botany labs, yes." He seemed to stall out about then, and John felt a traitorous spark of hope ignite in his stomach.
"Did you go through with it?" John asked.
Rodney's eyes flicked to his, then away. "Yes! Well, um. Sort of. Well, we were in there for a long time, and she - yes, I asked, or, um, I told her I was going to ask." His cheeks were going pink. "But, ah, it didn't - I think maybe I was just - moving too fast." He looked straight at John, finally, and John's stomach turned over, flipped a little at the sight: Rodney's earnest face could do that, if a guy didn't watch out, just turn him upside down. Rodney was still talking, though: "So I came back and talked to her later and - I took it back. I told her that - that I was rushing. Because. She's really very nice, you know, and I'm - she deserves someone a lot better than, than me."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," John said, stepping forward. "Better than you?" He tilted his head. "That doesn't sound like the McKay I know."
Rodney looked at him sharply. "Very classy, Colonel. I just screwed up probably my best shot at a white picket fence and you mock me."
"Hey," John said, holding his hands up. "That's not what I meant. I just meant -" He sucked at this kind of thing, and since when had Rodney even wanted a white picket fence? John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I just meant, maybe she should be with someone nicer than you," he stopped Rodney's nascent protest with a sharp look all his own, "but there's nothing wrong with you, okay? There's - you shouldn't say there's someone out there who's better than you, is all." Shit, saying too much, "Except me, of course." John smirked uncomfortably at Rodney.
"That's - huh." Rodney was eyeing at him again, puzzled and weary and wry. "That's a nice thing to say. I mean, backhanded and semi-offensive, but - nice."
They stared at each other for a minute, until Rodney broke the silence, clearing his throat. "Well, anyway, I really was looking at the data, because the last thing I need is to sit here thinking about my once-again-nonexistent love life, so - what did you need?"
"Um." John shifted again. There was Rodney, slumping in front of him, looking tired and sort of depressed, rumpled and expectant and single and wow. "I just. Wanted to check on you."
Rodney held his hands out to the sides, let them drop. "Here I am. Mission accomplished." He waited a beat, then rolled his eyes. "So, if that was all," he said.
"Actually," John said. He took a step forward, and it was no scarier than climbing out over Atlantis's endless drop had been, no scarier than balancing on a ledge. "I just." Another step, and Rodney looked confused, and a little nervous, and one more step would carry John far beyond any kind of acceptable personal space limit, really. "Um." Also, when had his interior narrator started sounding like Rodney?
"Are you okay?" Rodney asked. John could smell him - he smelled like soap and aftershave, maybe, with maybe a little sweat just under it. He smelled just like he had earlier, when they'd been playing video golf, before John had realized that Rodney meant to marry Katie. That was only a few hours ago, John thought.
"Yeah," John said. He felt a little breathless.
Rodney hadn't asked Katie to marry him. Or - he'd taken it back.
John stepped forward, just a little. Just enough to cross that line. "I don't want to marry you," he said.
Rodney's eyes widened. "I - um. Okay?" He was blinking a lot, quickly, and John was distracted by his eyelashes, and the way his mouth was open, just a little, tilted down at one side. His hands were still, though, unnaturally so, down by his sides. "I don't want to - to get married, and you're, um. You don't want to, either, so. That's good, right? It's, ah."
John ducked his head, just a little. He could feel the heat coming off Rodney, and Rodney's lashes trembled, barely, but he didn't move back, didn't move away. "I'm kind of freaking myself out, here," John heard himself say, low and raspy, and he tipped his head down just a little more, and pressed a kiss to the corner of Rodney's mouth. He sort of... left himself there.
"Oh," Rodney said softly. "Well, me, too, if it makes you feel any better." He turned his head slightly, and now his mouth was about a millimeter from John's chin. John felt him breathe in, then out. "Um. ...John?"
"Yeah," John said. He moved the last fraction, kissed Rodney for real, tipped over the precipice and leaned into him, gently at first, then harder. Rodney's mouth was warm, lips dry. John brought his hands up and cupped Rodney's head; Rodney's lips parted and oh god, it was so soft - the kiss was so soft, Rodney's lips moving slow and curious and so warm against his.
Rodney made some small sound - a little "huh" or "ha" - and his hands moved, finally. They landed on John's arms. John let his eyes slide shut, waited, still kissing Rodney almost chastely, although John couldn't remember ever, ever being this turned on, everything tight and tense with need, want, terror, elation. They kissed gently, with parted lips and damp warm breaths, until Rodney's tongue slid delicately, inquisitively, along John's lower lip.
"Jesus," John hitched, and suddenly he was clutching Rodney, kissing him hard, opening his mouth to Rodney's, swaying against him so they both gasped at the same time. Rodney's hands tightened on his biceps, he could feel Rodney's fingers flexing even as the kiss turned wet and slick and desperate. Rodney was making sounds, little groans into his mouth, kissing him and kissing him.
They stopped when neither of them could breathe anymore; John had one hand still on Rodney's nape, the other on his shoulder - god, it felt so good. John wondered why he hadn't done this before, why he'd pretended to himself that he would never do this. Rodney leaned into him, and he was shaking. John was shaking, too, he realized.
"So, uh," John managed. He turned his head, hiding his face - his smile - against Rodney's soft hair, the curve of one ear.
Rodney squeezed his arms; slid one hand up and touched his throat with his fingertips, although he didn't move otherwise - he kept his face right where it was, pressed to John's neck, hidden. "Yes, well," he said. He sounded wrecked, and John closed his eyes, still smiling. Rodney cleared his throat. "I'm - not on the market for marriage," Rodney said.
"Yeah," John said. "I got that."
"Also not very - nice," Rodney said.
John pulled back. Rodney was looking at him seriously. His mouth was damp and red, and John noticed that his skin looked pink all around it: stubble-burn. Ha.
"I'm - I have no idea what I'm doing, here," Rodney said. "Colonel? John?"
"I'm still freaking out," John replied. "And, uh. Not good at talking about. Stuff." He leaned in; Rodney dodged his mouth, but didn't pull back.
Instead, he nosed at John's neck, then up to his jaw, and plastered himself against John's body again. "Yes, I'm shocked," he said, and he sounded more like himself. John felt a stirring of happiness and redoubled lust at that. "So. Is this - are we...?"
"Yeah," John said into Rodney's hair. He turned his head a little and said it right into his ear. "Yeah, Rodney. If that's okay."
"It's good," Rodney breathed, and then they stopped talking about it, because neither of them was very good at that, truth be told.
Not on the Market
Rodney answered the door to his quarters faster than John had thought he would. "Oh, ah, hi," he said.
John shifted from foot to foot. "Hey." He looked over Rodney's shoulder.
Rodney got the idea, and stepped back. "Come in, I guess, although I'm really very busy." John stepped past him, turning as the door shut, listening as Rodney went on: "I was just looking over the data from the lockdown, obviously some changes need to be made to ensure that radio and computer networks are independent of the city's systems if something like this ever happens again, so..." Rodney didn't sound quite as perky as usual, though. Even his gestures were a little lackluster.
"Yeah," John said. "Good idea." He looked at Rodney's feet, then up at his chest. He forced himself to look at Rodney's face, with an effort; he looked tired. John asked his question anyway. "How'd it go with Katie?"
"What? When? Oh," Rodney's voice cracked, and a hand looped in the air, still without its usual verve, "the thing, with, in the botany labs, yes." He seemed to stall out about then, and John felt a traitorous spark of hope ignite in his stomach.
"Did you go through with it?" John asked.
Rodney's eyes flicked to his, then away. "Yes! Well, um. Sort of. Well, we were in there for a long time, and she - yes, I asked, or, um, I told her I was going to ask." His cheeks were going pink. "But, ah, it didn't - I think maybe I was just - moving too fast." He looked straight at John, finally, and John's stomach turned over, flipped a little at the sight: Rodney's earnest face could do that, if a guy didn't watch out, just turn him upside down. Rodney was still talking, though: "So I came back and talked to her later and - I took it back. I told her that - that I was rushing. Because. She's really very nice, you know, and I'm - she deserves someone a lot better than, than me."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," John said, stepping forward. "Better than you?" He tilted his head. "That doesn't sound like the McKay I know."
Rodney looked at him sharply. "Very classy, Colonel. I just screwed up probably my best shot at a white picket fence and you mock me."
"Hey," John said, holding his hands up. "That's not what I meant. I just meant -" He sucked at this kind of thing, and since when had Rodney even wanted a white picket fence? John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I just meant, maybe she should be with someone nicer than you," he stopped Rodney's nascent protest with a sharp look all his own, "but there's nothing wrong with you, okay? There's - you shouldn't say there's someone out there who's better than you, is all." Shit, saying too much, "Except me, of course." John smirked uncomfortably at Rodney.
"That's - huh." Rodney was eyeing at him again, puzzled and weary and wry. "That's a nice thing to say. I mean, backhanded and semi-offensive, but - nice."
They stared at each other for a minute, until Rodney broke the silence, clearing his throat. "Well, anyway, I really was looking at the data, because the last thing I need is to sit here thinking about my once-again-nonexistent love life, so - what did you need?"
"Um." John shifted again. There was Rodney, slumping in front of him, looking tired and sort of depressed, rumpled and expectant and single and wow. "I just. Wanted to check on you."
Rodney held his hands out to the sides, let them drop. "Here I am. Mission accomplished." He waited a beat, then rolled his eyes. "So, if that was all," he said.
"Actually," John said. He took a step forward, and it was no scarier than climbing out over Atlantis's endless drop had been, no scarier than balancing on a ledge. "I just." Another step, and Rodney looked confused, and a little nervous, and one more step would carry John far beyond any kind of acceptable personal space limit, really. "Um." Also, when had his interior narrator started sounding like Rodney?
"Are you okay?" Rodney asked. John could smell him - he smelled like soap and aftershave, maybe, with maybe a little sweat just under it. He smelled just like he had earlier, when they'd been playing video golf, before John had realized that Rodney meant to marry Katie. That was only a few hours ago, John thought.
"Yeah," John said. He felt a little breathless.
Rodney hadn't asked Katie to marry him. Or - he'd taken it back.
John stepped forward, just a little. Just enough to cross that line. "I don't want to marry you," he said.
Rodney's eyes widened. "I - um. Okay?" He was blinking a lot, quickly, and John was distracted by his eyelashes, and the way his mouth was open, just a little, tilted down at one side. His hands were still, though, unnaturally so, down by his sides. "I don't want to - to get married, and you're, um. You don't want to, either, so. That's good, right? It's, ah."
John ducked his head, just a little. He could feel the heat coming off Rodney, and Rodney's lashes trembled, barely, but he didn't move back, didn't move away. "I'm kind of freaking myself out, here," John heard himself say, low and raspy, and he tipped his head down just a little more, and pressed a kiss to the corner of Rodney's mouth. He sort of... left himself there.
"Oh," Rodney said softly. "Well, me, too, if it makes you feel any better." He turned his head slightly, and now his mouth was about a millimeter from John's chin. John felt him breathe in, then out. "Um. ...John?"
"Yeah," John said. He moved the last fraction, kissed Rodney for real, tipped over the precipice and leaned into him, gently at first, then harder. Rodney's mouth was warm, lips dry. John brought his hands up and cupped Rodney's head; Rodney's lips parted and oh god, it was so soft - the kiss was so soft, Rodney's lips moving slow and curious and so warm against his.
Rodney made some small sound - a little "huh" or "ha" - and his hands moved, finally. They landed on John's arms. John let his eyes slide shut, waited, still kissing Rodney almost chastely, although John couldn't remember ever, ever being this turned on, everything tight and tense with need, want, terror, elation. They kissed gently, with parted lips and damp warm breaths, until Rodney's tongue slid delicately, inquisitively, along John's lower lip.
"Jesus," John hitched, and suddenly he was clutching Rodney, kissing him hard, opening his mouth to Rodney's, swaying against him so they both gasped at the same time. Rodney's hands tightened on his biceps, he could feel Rodney's fingers flexing even as the kiss turned wet and slick and desperate. Rodney was making sounds, little groans into his mouth, kissing him and kissing him.
They stopped when neither of them could breathe anymore; John had one hand still on Rodney's nape, the other on his shoulder - god, it felt so good. John wondered why he hadn't done this before, why he'd pretended to himself that he would never do this. Rodney leaned into him, and he was shaking. John was shaking, too, he realized.
"So, uh," John managed. He turned his head, hiding his face - his smile - against Rodney's soft hair, the curve of one ear.
Rodney squeezed his arms; slid one hand up and touched his throat with his fingertips, although he didn't move otherwise - he kept his face right where it was, pressed to John's neck, hidden. "Yes, well," he said. He sounded wrecked, and John closed his eyes, still smiling. Rodney cleared his throat. "I'm - not on the market for marriage," Rodney said.
"Yeah," John said. "I got that."
"Also not very - nice," Rodney said.
John pulled back. Rodney was looking at him seriously. His mouth was damp and red, and John noticed that his skin looked pink all around it: stubble-burn. Ha.
"I'm - I have no idea what I'm doing, here," Rodney said. "Colonel? John?"
"I'm still freaking out," John replied. "And, uh. Not good at talking about. Stuff." He leaned in; Rodney dodged his mouth, but didn't pull back.
Instead, he nosed at John's neck, then up to his jaw, and plastered himself against John's body again. "Yes, I'm shocked," he said, and he sounded more like himself. John felt a stirring of happiness and redoubled lust at that. "So. Is this - are we...?"
"Yeah," John said into Rodney's hair. He turned his head a little and said it right into his ear. "Yeah, Rodney. If that's okay."
"It's good," Rodney breathed, and then they stopped talking about it, because neither of them was very good at that, truth be told.