Ch014 - Story 04 - That Thing
Title: That Thing
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: PG-13
Plot: "Yes, you were right about Chaya," he finally agreed rather reluctantly, "but that doesn't mean you'll be right about Helia as well."
Authors: ca_pierson, darsynia, perspi and villainny.
Artists: elli, clayeer, unamaga and refche.
That Thing
“You’re doing that thing again,” John said, falling into step next to Rodney. He felt exasperated beyond what he thought was possible. Rodney had that effect on him a lot, especially when he was being unreasonably stubborn, which seemed to be his default setting. It was maddening.
“What thing?”
John just looked at Rodney for a moment, trying to find the right words to explain. Then he sighed and just plunged ahead, “Chaya.”
Rodney stopped walking and finally looked at John instead of the data on his tablet. “What does she have to do with anything?” And even after all this time there was still that unmistakable hostility in Rodney’s voice.
“You were just as paranoid about Chaya as you are about Helia,” John answered immediately, pouncing on his chance to explain. It wasn’t John’s fault that he was charming and just because he liked a woman didn’t automatically make her an Ancient. Or a danger. That Rodney couldn’t see that hurt. Really hurt.
“Well, I was right, wasn’t I?” Rodney demanded in his usual arrogant fashion.
Not knowing how to answer that, John snapped his mouth shut without saying anything. Of course Rodney had a point. Chaya hadn't been entirely truthful with them. But Rodney extrapolated from that one thing that all the other beautiful women John was interested in lied to them, too. And that just wasn’t right. “Yes, you were right about Chaya,” he finally agreed rather reluctantly, “but that doesn’t mean you’ll be right about Helia as well.”
“I understand what you’re getting at,” Rodney said, “Kirk.” Then he started walking again, at a faster pace, forcing John to keep up with him. “However, I’m always right. There is something fishy about this one. And either you can’t see further than her huge breasts, or your brain just doesn’t work when someone is using their female wiles on you.”
“Fishy?” John asked incredulously. Fishy? Helia wasn’t fishy. She was breathtakingly beautiful, gracious and incredibly friendly. “She’s just nice, Rodney. You know, the opposite of you.” The moment he said it he wished he could take it back. Rodney’s expression shuttered, but the hurt was visible in his eyes. Great, John thought. He wanted for Rodney to back off, and he really didn’t want to put their friendship on the line for something this stupid. And Rodney’s wounded expression pained him. There was something else beneath the hurt, want, need, desperation. John wished he hadn’t seen it, but the flicker of emotions across Rodney’s face was too easy to read. Maybe Rodney didn’t actually dislike Helia, but felt threatened by how easy John had it with women? John sighed, trying to wrap his mind around the labyrinth that was Rodney’s social graces. He rubbed his face with his hands tiredly. Why did everything have to be so complicated sometimes? “Look, Rodney, I know you mean well, and I appreciate that you’re looking out for me. You know that if you like her too, I can back off. I really didn’t want to kill your chances with her. Honestly. Maybe you should tell her -”
“You’re such an idiot, Colonel,” Rodney interrupted him. “Just because you swoon every time you see an alien chick doesn’t mean the rest of us stop thinking with our brains, like you do.” With that he turned around and left John to stare after him.
“Well,” John muttered to himself, swallowing around the lump that had formed in his throat, “that went great.”
“Yup,” came a deep voice from behind him.
Crap, John thought as he winced. “Ronon,” he acknowledged out loud. “How are you doing?” The forced cheerfulness was hard to come by, but somehow John managed to sound like he didn’t want to run and hide.
“Better than you,” Ronon rumbled as he pushed off the wall he had been leaning against, hands still firmly in his pockets. He looked amused in a way John wasn’t sure he liked.
Then he remembered the hurt look in Rodney’s eyes and John sighed. “I bet,” he muttered in answer. Couldn’t get much worse than today, actually.
“Don’t think he likes Helia,” Ronon said, his voice light and his eyes twinkling.
Startled, John looked at Ronon and frowned. He wasn’t comfortable with anyone overhearing his conversation with Rodney, but they had been walking down a public corridor, and John guessed it could be worse. It could have been Woolsey. Shuddering at the very thought, John resigned himself to a rather uncomfortable chat with his teammate. Having had trouble understanding the way Rodney had reacted, he figured maybe it was good to at least have someone whom he considered family help to make sense of it. “Why is he acting like that, then?” he asked, his whole frustration with the situation audible in his voice.
The frown Ronon sent him would have made anyone who didn’t know him run away in fear. Then he smiled that little smile John felt was actually quite creepy. “He likes you,” was Ronon’s only answer to the whole dilemma.
Duh. Thanks for the insight, buddy, John thought, but kept that well under wraps. Instead, he sighed again. “We’re friends, of course he likes me.” It wasn’t that he thought Rodney didn’t like him, or that Rodney begrudged him dating Helia, he knew it wasn’t any of that. Yet, for the life of him, John could not figure out why Rodney acted like . . . yes, like an offended lover.
Ronon just looked at him and shook his head, “He’s right. You’re an idiot.”
Staring after Ronon with open mouthed shock, John couldn’t think of a single thing to say to that.
* * * * * * *
By the time he'd made it to lunchtime, it looked like the rest of John’s day was going to go about as well as the morning had. After he loaded up his tray with the sandwich he wanted, the salad Teyla wanted him to eat, and enough pudding cups to ensure that he’d have a chance at one even after Rodney’s inevitable pilfering, John strolled into the eating area to find Rodney and Ronon at one end of a table and Helia at the other. Rodney’s back was to him, but both Ronon and Helia had spotted John, so there was no chance of a hasty detour to the exit. Besides, the last time he’d tried to pull the ‘I would, buddy, but I have tons of paperwork-I was just gonna eat in my office’ line, Ronon had decided to come with him. Elizabeth and Lorne might have been pleased with John’s productivity that day, but there was no way he was going to go through that again.
John’s steps slowed as he neared the table, and after catching his eye, Ronon shook his head and turned his attention back to his food with a grin that made John feel strangely uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted to do was sit through another McKay tirade about trust and alien women, but, dammit, if he went to sit with Helia, he'd just be giving the other man ammunition.
The real problem was that his team had a mission the next day, an overnight one, and he knew what would happen if he chose the girl over his scientist. John really didn’t want to deal with a cranky Rodney for twenty-nine hours, even if the days on Ledyr were a little over half what they were used to on Lantea. The part of him that absolutely hated to be dictated to was hollering in his ear, though-and since when did Rodney have the power to influence John's decisions when he didn't even know John was standing behind him?
John had just decided to screw self-analysis and was contemplating faking a sneeze (or possibly a concerned look followed by a quick drop-off of his tray, a hand to his radio, and a jog toward the exit, but that had about as much likelihood of working as the sneeze and was a lot more potentially embarrassing) when Helia caught his eye by standing up and taking a long sip from her bottle of water. John tried not to notice the attractiveness of her pose until he saw that most of the men in the room weren’t bothering to hide their interest.
Most of the men, yes-but not Rodney, who was punctuating his current rant with jabs of his salad-laden fork toward Ronon, completely missing that Ronon's attention was directed elsewhere. John watched the back of Rodney's head moving as he simultaneously griped and looked down at his tray; somehow, just by the way Rodney's hand paused in midair and his head tilted sideways for a moment, John could tell that he was looking for something.
With a grin, John shifted his tray to one hand, snagged one of the pudding cups in the other, and started toward Rodney, offering a quick nod to Helia, who had started for the door. He spared a thought to wonder why she looked so unhappy, but John decided it was because they'd missed each other's eating times. He shot a look over his shoulder as he leaned over Rodney to dangle the pudding cup in front of the other man's face, but all he saw of Helia's retreating form was the flash of her bright hair as she turned a corner, moving out of sight.
"I mean, can you believe the incompetence of- Is that butterscotch?" Rodney said, switching gears mid-sentence. John pulled the cup just out of reach.
"Maybe," he said, sliding his tray across the table and dropping the pudding in front of Rodney's tray-and then jogging around the table and snatching it away again before Rodney could drop the fork he had in one hand and the roll he was holding in the other. "Are you going to suck it down and then spend the rest of my meal questioning my motives?"
"Of course not," Rodney protested, clearly not listening.
John elbowed Ronon, who shrugged. "Good enough for me," John said, sliding it over. "But if I hear anything about Helia during the rest of the meal-"
"Oh that is just pathetic," Rodney said, swallowing quickly and pointing his sticky spoon at John. "You're bribing me with pudding now?"
"You're the one who agreed," John said, raising an eyebrow.
"You know very well that I wasn't paying any attention!" Rodney dipped his spoon in the pudding again and then into his mouth, his tongue coming out to lick a glob that had stuck to the handle.
"Geez, McKay." John winced. "Manners like that, it's a wonder you get dates at all."
"Oh, please, like I need manners with you and Mr. Fingers-Are-Utensils-Too," Rodney replied, looking as if he were contemplating an attempt to lick the pudding cup clean.
"Women like it," Ronon grumbled and shoved at John with one shoulder. "Knowing you can use your tongue."
"That is not appropriate mealtime conversation!" John hissed, mock-scandalized, and Rodney snickered. "Let's talk about . . . " John tilted his head, "Krelnotk. I think the Maleeshans have a shot this year."
"Here we go," Rodney groaned under his breath just as Ronon said, "Their roon-ta-shao is too big, not agile enough."
* * * * * * *
The mission to Ledyr would have been smooth enough, if John hadn't been thinking about Rodney's actions in light of what Ronon had said. But he had, all through brushing his teeth and falling asleep on into waking up and showering and shaving and kitting out.
Of course Rodney liked him. He liked Rodney right back-invited him to do stuff, sometimes even didn't do anything but sit on the pier and drink. And talk. Rodney might have been one of the first people John talked to willingly. They liked each other's company; they were friends like House and Wilson, like Starsky and Hutch.
Then again, John never was one to see these things coming, and that thought had him stopping still in the middle of the hallway on the way to the armory.
"Huh," he muttered.
John managed to keep his cool when he met up with the team. He thought he was doing pretty well hiding his whole epiphany, trying to treat Rodney exactly the same as always, until after the first round of welcomes, Rodney leaned in and hissed, "What the hell is wrong with you? Get it together or I will borrow Ronon's gun and shoot you myself."
After that, John tried to be more like himself.
* * * * * * *
They set up their tents in a pleasant little meadow a half-klick south of the village, next to the shield array that Rodney'd spent the day trying to get operational. John got more and more unsettled as the light faded, until finally they'd bid Teyla and Ronon good night and there was nothing else to do but squeeze into the little tent and try not to do anything stupid.
John couldn't help it.
He had spent too much time around Rodney; he needed empirical evidence to support his conclusion. So, as soon as they'd gotten the bulkiest of the gear stowed, John leaned in and kissed him.
There was a moment or two where it was perfect.
Which was-just about the weirdest thing John had experienced lately. He’d thought he’d be testing a hypothesis, taking one for the team (which wasn’t a metaphor he was entirely comfortable with right now, actually), but somehow the brush of his lips against Rodney’s turned into something more. Rodney’s lips opened a little against his-surprise, indignation-and before John had even thought about it, he was letting his tongue run along Rodney’s lower lip, edge just the slightest bit inside his mouth. The soft noise Rodney made against his mouth had him pushing forward, raising his hand to cup-
Thin air, as Rodney shoved him away.
“What the hell?”
Rodney’s voice was an angry hiss, although the attempt at keeping quiet enough not to disturb their teammates was undermined by the fact that it was McKay. John’s voice, on the other hand, was a low drawl, just about loud enough to reach the other man.
“Rodney-“
“No,” Rodney cut him off, slicing his hand through the air in front of him. “No, you don’t get to talk. Your mouth is distracting.” His eyes widened, as if he’d just realized what he’d said, and a blush eased its slow way across his cheekbones. John felt something inside him unclench a little; he’d thought he’d messed up when Rodney had pushed him away, and his stomach had tied itself into uncomfortable knots, but the blush . . . it looked like things might be salvageable, after all.
“Either you’re playing some sort of cruel practical joke"-Rodney’s voice was icy, but there was an edge of uncertainty to it-“or you’ve somehow ingested something that leads you to believe that I have long blonde hair and . . . “ he made a telling gesture, hands curving in front of his tac vest. “I think we can all agree-once we’re clear headed again, and don’t think I won’t be laughing at you all through the come down and inevitable alien-roofie-hangover-that that’s a frankly terrifying image, so I’d suggest you take your sleeping bag and find somewhere isolated to get some rest. I’d head away from the village, if I were you, and considering you managed to mistake me for some kind of Ancient sexpot, it might be wise to avoid any wildlife you might run-“
Rodney fell abruptly silent as John curled fingers around his wrist, and John’s mouth tilted up at one corner as he felt Rodney’s pulse-already faster than usual-speed up.
“Not drugged,” John said slowly. “Not joking, either.”
“Oh, so you’ve suddenly decided that your bizarre taste now runs to hair-impaired astrophysicists instead of the quite sickeningly stunning ten-thousand-year-old women you’ve gone for in the past.” Rodney’s voice was scathing, but it hitched a little as John started to sweep his thumb across the inside of his wrist. John’s smile grew a little wider.
“Maybe I just figure that you come firmly under the heading of ‘bizarre,'” he said, and cut off Rodney’s sputtering by leaning forward and brushing his lips against the stubble at the corner of Rodney’s mouth. It was weird, sure, but when Rodney turned his head into the contact, John’s dick let him know that it was definitely the good kind of weird.
Rodney pushed him away again. More reluctantly, this time.
“Don’t think you can get around me by just-”
As John leaned closer, an inch away from Rodney’s lips, Rodney’s voice cut off with an audible gulp.
“Maybe I just like you.”
“Maybe?”
The hope in Rodney’s voice came through despite his efforts at a snide tone, and John closed the distance between them and grinned against his mouth.
* * * * * * *
“You’re doing that thing again.”
John looked up at Ronon, followed his gaze to where Rodney was sitting, faintly pink and apparently unable to keep his mouth from curling upward.
“McKay,” he drawled, leaning back on his elbows and arching his back a little, just to see the way the color deepened on Rodney’s cheeks, “you know your smile makes people nervous.”
“Only the idiots who work for me,” Rodney snapped back, but it was undermined by the smile that wouldn’t stay off his face.
“Well,” John said, “apparently I’m not an idiot.” He raised an eyebrow in Ronon’s direction, and Rodney watched, bemused, as Ronon choked on his Athosian tea.
Click on thumb
Authors:
Artists:
R1: elli
R2: clayeer
R3: unamaga
R4: refche
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: PG-13
Plot: "Yes, you were right about Chaya," he finally agreed rather reluctantly, "but that doesn't mean you'll be right about Helia as well."
Authors: ca_pierson, darsynia, perspi and villainny.
Artists: elli, clayeer, unamaga and refche.
That Thing
“You’re doing that thing again,” John said, falling into step next to Rodney. He felt exasperated beyond what he thought was possible. Rodney had that effect on him a lot, especially when he was being unreasonably stubborn, which seemed to be his default setting. It was maddening.
“What thing?”
John just looked at Rodney for a moment, trying to find the right words to explain. Then he sighed and just plunged ahead, “Chaya.”
Rodney stopped walking and finally looked at John instead of the data on his tablet. “What does she have to do with anything?” And even after all this time there was still that unmistakable hostility in Rodney’s voice.
“You were just as paranoid about Chaya as you are about Helia,” John answered immediately, pouncing on his chance to explain. It wasn’t John’s fault that he was charming and just because he liked a woman didn’t automatically make her an Ancient. Or a danger. That Rodney couldn’t see that hurt. Really hurt.
“Well, I was right, wasn’t I?” Rodney demanded in his usual arrogant fashion.
Not knowing how to answer that, John snapped his mouth shut without saying anything. Of course Rodney had a point. Chaya hadn't been entirely truthful with them. But Rodney extrapolated from that one thing that all the other beautiful women John was interested in lied to them, too. And that just wasn’t right. “Yes, you were right about Chaya,” he finally agreed rather reluctantly, “but that doesn’t mean you’ll be right about Helia as well.”
“I understand what you’re getting at,” Rodney said, “Kirk.” Then he started walking again, at a faster pace, forcing John to keep up with him. “However, I’m always right. There is something fishy about this one. And either you can’t see further than her huge breasts, or your brain just doesn’t work when someone is using their female wiles on you.”
“Fishy?” John asked incredulously. Fishy? Helia wasn’t fishy. She was breathtakingly beautiful, gracious and incredibly friendly. “She’s just nice, Rodney. You know, the opposite of you.” The moment he said it he wished he could take it back. Rodney’s expression shuttered, but the hurt was visible in his eyes. Great, John thought. He wanted for Rodney to back off, and he really didn’t want to put their friendship on the line for something this stupid. And Rodney’s wounded expression pained him. There was something else beneath the hurt, want, need, desperation. John wished he hadn’t seen it, but the flicker of emotions across Rodney’s face was too easy to read. Maybe Rodney didn’t actually dislike Helia, but felt threatened by how easy John had it with women? John sighed, trying to wrap his mind around the labyrinth that was Rodney’s social graces. He rubbed his face with his hands tiredly. Why did everything have to be so complicated sometimes? “Look, Rodney, I know you mean well, and I appreciate that you’re looking out for me. You know that if you like her too, I can back off. I really didn’t want to kill your chances with her. Honestly. Maybe you should tell her -”
“You’re such an idiot, Colonel,” Rodney interrupted him. “Just because you swoon every time you see an alien chick doesn’t mean the rest of us stop thinking with our brains, like you do.” With that he turned around and left John to stare after him.
“Well,” John muttered to himself, swallowing around the lump that had formed in his throat, “that went great.”
“Yup,” came a deep voice from behind him.
Crap, John thought as he winced. “Ronon,” he acknowledged out loud. “How are you doing?” The forced cheerfulness was hard to come by, but somehow John managed to sound like he didn’t want to run and hide.
“Better than you,” Ronon rumbled as he pushed off the wall he had been leaning against, hands still firmly in his pockets. He looked amused in a way John wasn’t sure he liked.
Then he remembered the hurt look in Rodney’s eyes and John sighed. “I bet,” he muttered in answer. Couldn’t get much worse than today, actually.
“Don’t think he likes Helia,” Ronon said, his voice light and his eyes twinkling.
Startled, John looked at Ronon and frowned. He wasn’t comfortable with anyone overhearing his conversation with Rodney, but they had been walking down a public corridor, and John guessed it could be worse. It could have been Woolsey. Shuddering at the very thought, John resigned himself to a rather uncomfortable chat with his teammate. Having had trouble understanding the way Rodney had reacted, he figured maybe it was good to at least have someone whom he considered family help to make sense of it. “Why is he acting like that, then?” he asked, his whole frustration with the situation audible in his voice.
The frown Ronon sent him would have made anyone who didn’t know him run away in fear. Then he smiled that little smile John felt was actually quite creepy. “He likes you,” was Ronon’s only answer to the whole dilemma.
Duh. Thanks for the insight, buddy, John thought, but kept that well under wraps. Instead, he sighed again. “We’re friends, of course he likes me.” It wasn’t that he thought Rodney didn’t like him, or that Rodney begrudged him dating Helia, he knew it wasn’t any of that. Yet, for the life of him, John could not figure out why Rodney acted like . . . yes, like an offended lover.
Ronon just looked at him and shook his head, “He’s right. You’re an idiot.”
Staring after Ronon with open mouthed shock, John couldn’t think of a single thing to say to that.
* * * * * * *
By the time he'd made it to lunchtime, it looked like the rest of John’s day was going to go about as well as the morning had. After he loaded up his tray with the sandwich he wanted, the salad Teyla wanted him to eat, and enough pudding cups to ensure that he’d have a chance at one even after Rodney’s inevitable pilfering, John strolled into the eating area to find Rodney and Ronon at one end of a table and Helia at the other. Rodney’s back was to him, but both Ronon and Helia had spotted John, so there was no chance of a hasty detour to the exit. Besides, the last time he’d tried to pull the ‘I would, buddy, but I have tons of paperwork-I was just gonna eat in my office’ line, Ronon had decided to come with him. Elizabeth and Lorne might have been pleased with John’s productivity that day, but there was no way he was going to go through that again.
John’s steps slowed as he neared the table, and after catching his eye, Ronon shook his head and turned his attention back to his food with a grin that made John feel strangely uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted to do was sit through another McKay tirade about trust and alien women, but, dammit, if he went to sit with Helia, he'd just be giving the other man ammunition.
The real problem was that his team had a mission the next day, an overnight one, and he knew what would happen if he chose the girl over his scientist. John really didn’t want to deal with a cranky Rodney for twenty-nine hours, even if the days on Ledyr were a little over half what they were used to on Lantea. The part of him that absolutely hated to be dictated to was hollering in his ear, though-and since when did Rodney have the power to influence John's decisions when he didn't even know John was standing behind him?
John had just decided to screw self-analysis and was contemplating faking a sneeze (or possibly a concerned look followed by a quick drop-off of his tray, a hand to his radio, and a jog toward the exit, but that had about as much likelihood of working as the sneeze and was a lot more potentially embarrassing) when Helia caught his eye by standing up and taking a long sip from her bottle of water. John tried not to notice the attractiveness of her pose until he saw that most of the men in the room weren’t bothering to hide their interest.
Most of the men, yes-but not Rodney, who was punctuating his current rant with jabs of his salad-laden fork toward Ronon, completely missing that Ronon's attention was directed elsewhere. John watched the back of Rodney's head moving as he simultaneously griped and looked down at his tray; somehow, just by the way Rodney's hand paused in midair and his head tilted sideways for a moment, John could tell that he was looking for something.
With a grin, John shifted his tray to one hand, snagged one of the pudding cups in the other, and started toward Rodney, offering a quick nod to Helia, who had started for the door. He spared a thought to wonder why she looked so unhappy, but John decided it was because they'd missed each other's eating times. He shot a look over his shoulder as he leaned over Rodney to dangle the pudding cup in front of the other man's face, but all he saw of Helia's retreating form was the flash of her bright hair as she turned a corner, moving out of sight.
"I mean, can you believe the incompetence of- Is that butterscotch?" Rodney said, switching gears mid-sentence. John pulled the cup just out of reach.
"Maybe," he said, sliding his tray across the table and dropping the pudding in front of Rodney's tray-and then jogging around the table and snatching it away again before Rodney could drop the fork he had in one hand and the roll he was holding in the other. "Are you going to suck it down and then spend the rest of my meal questioning my motives?"
"Of course not," Rodney protested, clearly not listening.
John elbowed Ronon, who shrugged. "Good enough for me," John said, sliding it over. "But if I hear anything about Helia during the rest of the meal-"
"Oh that is just pathetic," Rodney said, swallowing quickly and pointing his sticky spoon at John. "You're bribing me with pudding now?"
"You're the one who agreed," John said, raising an eyebrow.
"You know very well that I wasn't paying any attention!" Rodney dipped his spoon in the pudding again and then into his mouth, his tongue coming out to lick a glob that had stuck to the handle.
"Geez, McKay." John winced. "Manners like that, it's a wonder you get dates at all."
"Oh, please, like I need manners with you and Mr. Fingers-Are-Utensils-Too," Rodney replied, looking as if he were contemplating an attempt to lick the pudding cup clean.
"Women like it," Ronon grumbled and shoved at John with one shoulder. "Knowing you can use your tongue."
"That is not appropriate mealtime conversation!" John hissed, mock-scandalized, and Rodney snickered. "Let's talk about . . . " John tilted his head, "Krelnotk. I think the Maleeshans have a shot this year."
"Here we go," Rodney groaned under his breath just as Ronon said, "Their roon-ta-shao is too big, not agile enough."
* * * * * * *
The mission to Ledyr would have been smooth enough, if John hadn't been thinking about Rodney's actions in light of what Ronon had said. But he had, all through brushing his teeth and falling asleep on into waking up and showering and shaving and kitting out.
Of course Rodney liked him. He liked Rodney right back-invited him to do stuff, sometimes even didn't do anything but sit on the pier and drink. And talk. Rodney might have been one of the first people John talked to willingly. They liked each other's company; they were friends like House and Wilson, like Starsky and Hutch.
Then again, John never was one to see these things coming, and that thought had him stopping still in the middle of the hallway on the way to the armory.
"Huh," he muttered.
John managed to keep his cool when he met up with the team. He thought he was doing pretty well hiding his whole epiphany, trying to treat Rodney exactly the same as always, until after the first round of welcomes, Rodney leaned in and hissed, "What the hell is wrong with you? Get it together or I will borrow Ronon's gun and shoot you myself."
After that, John tried to be more like himself.
* * * * * * *
They set up their tents in a pleasant little meadow a half-klick south of the village, next to the shield array that Rodney'd spent the day trying to get operational. John got more and more unsettled as the light faded, until finally they'd bid Teyla and Ronon good night and there was nothing else to do but squeeze into the little tent and try not to do anything stupid.
John couldn't help it.
He had spent too much time around Rodney; he needed empirical evidence to support his conclusion. So, as soon as they'd gotten the bulkiest of the gear stowed, John leaned in and kissed him.
There was a moment or two where it was perfect.
Which was-just about the weirdest thing John had experienced lately. He’d thought he’d be testing a hypothesis, taking one for the team (which wasn’t a metaphor he was entirely comfortable with right now, actually), but somehow the brush of his lips against Rodney’s turned into something more. Rodney’s lips opened a little against his-surprise, indignation-and before John had even thought about it, he was letting his tongue run along Rodney’s lower lip, edge just the slightest bit inside his mouth. The soft noise Rodney made against his mouth had him pushing forward, raising his hand to cup-
Thin air, as Rodney shoved him away.
“What the hell?”
Rodney’s voice was an angry hiss, although the attempt at keeping quiet enough not to disturb their teammates was undermined by the fact that it was McKay. John’s voice, on the other hand, was a low drawl, just about loud enough to reach the other man.
“Rodney-“
“No,” Rodney cut him off, slicing his hand through the air in front of him. “No, you don’t get to talk. Your mouth is distracting.” His eyes widened, as if he’d just realized what he’d said, and a blush eased its slow way across his cheekbones. John felt something inside him unclench a little; he’d thought he’d messed up when Rodney had pushed him away, and his stomach had tied itself into uncomfortable knots, but the blush . . . it looked like things might be salvageable, after all.
“Either you’re playing some sort of cruel practical joke"-Rodney’s voice was icy, but there was an edge of uncertainty to it-“or you’ve somehow ingested something that leads you to believe that I have long blonde hair and . . . “ he made a telling gesture, hands curving in front of his tac vest. “I think we can all agree-once we’re clear headed again, and don’t think I won’t be laughing at you all through the come down and inevitable alien-roofie-hangover-that that’s a frankly terrifying image, so I’d suggest you take your sleeping bag and find somewhere isolated to get some rest. I’d head away from the village, if I were you, and considering you managed to mistake me for some kind of Ancient sexpot, it might be wise to avoid any wildlife you might run-“
Rodney fell abruptly silent as John curled fingers around his wrist, and John’s mouth tilted up at one corner as he felt Rodney’s pulse-already faster than usual-speed up.
“Not drugged,” John said slowly. “Not joking, either.”
“Oh, so you’ve suddenly decided that your bizarre taste now runs to hair-impaired astrophysicists instead of the quite sickeningly stunning ten-thousand-year-old women you’ve gone for in the past.” Rodney’s voice was scathing, but it hitched a little as John started to sweep his thumb across the inside of his wrist. John’s smile grew a little wider.
“Maybe I just figure that you come firmly under the heading of ‘bizarre,'” he said, and cut off Rodney’s sputtering by leaning forward and brushing his lips against the stubble at the corner of Rodney’s mouth. It was weird, sure, but when Rodney turned his head into the contact, John’s dick let him know that it was definitely the good kind of weird.
Rodney pushed him away again. More reluctantly, this time.
“Don’t think you can get around me by just-”
As John leaned closer, an inch away from Rodney’s lips, Rodney’s voice cut off with an audible gulp.
“Maybe I just like you.”
“Maybe?”
The hope in Rodney’s voice came through despite his efforts at a snide tone, and John closed the distance between them and grinned against his mouth.
* * * * * * *
“You’re doing that thing again.”
John looked up at Ronon, followed his gaze to where Rodney was sitting, faintly pink and apparently unable to keep his mouth from curling upward.
“McKay,” he drawled, leaning back on his elbows and arching his back a little, just to see the way the color deepened on Rodney’s cheeks, “you know your smile makes people nervous.”
“Only the idiots who work for me,” Rodney snapped back, but it was undermined by the smile that wouldn’t stay off his face.
“Well,” John said, “apparently I’m not an idiot.” He raised an eyebrow in Ronon’s direction, and Rodney watched, bemused, as Ronon choked on his Athosian tea.
Click on thumb
Authors:
- Round 1 - ca_pierson : "'You’re doing that thing again [...] single thing to say to that."
- Round 2 - darsynia : "By the time he'd made it to lunchtime [...] had stuck to the handle."
- Round 3 - perspi : "'Geez, McKay.' John winced [...] John leaned in and kissed him."
- Round 4 - villainny : "There was a moment or two [...] choked on his Athosian tea."
Artists:
R1: elli
R2: clayeer
R3: unamaga
R4: refche