Fic: SGA: In Which Rodney Frets and John Is Stealthy, a gay marriage fic for No on Prop 8
tzzzz had a multi-fandom fund-raising drabble-a-thon yesterday to raise money for opposing California Proposition 8, which seeks to revoke same-sex couples' right to marry, which is all kinds of horrific.
tzzzz's personal fund-raising efforts are over, but hey, that doesn't stop anybody for continuing to write, post and support this effort. Go over to donate if you can. I can't, so I wrote this, but I missed the cut off. :(
It was inspired by scheherezad's comment where Lorne proposed to Radek in the lab and my imagining Rodney's reaction to that.
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The day ‘Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” was repealed, Rodney was a nervous wreck, vacillating between queasy nerves and righteous fury.
How dare John Sheppard not ask Rodney to marry him right away.
The things he’d put up with, the past three years. First and foremost, having to keep secret bagging the hottest man in two galaxies, though the things John did with his tongue went a long way in mitigating the sting of that, and, well, it was rather an open secret on Atlantis, but still. He’d kept his mouth shut for three years.
And then there was the snoring and the Johnny Cash poster staring down at him which was seriously unnerving and the way John kept absently straightening things up in Rodney’s quarters (where they spent a lot of their down time because of Rodney’s tub was awesome and Johnny Cash was no where in sight) and Rodney couldn’t find anything, because he really did have a system, it just looked like chaos.
Not to mention John’s habit of throwing himself into insane amounts of dangerous heroics, often with wounds that would fell an ox, throwing away Rodney’s toothbrush when it got “mangy” and that little smirk he got sometimes when Rodney was legitimately instructing his minions in the most effective tone for motivation.
Rodney was so wound up about it that he nearly blew John off when he called to say he wanted to show him something in a newly-cleared-for-exploring area of the city.
“Some of us do have work to do, you know. Some of us get real information and work in the transmission burst, just not mash notes from the Hair Club For Men.”
John snorted. “You’ve been saving that one up, haven’t you?”
“No,” his voice was sullen to even his own ears.
“Right. Meet me at the transporter in five minutes.”
“You wish!” Rodney squawked, but he only got dead air. He wanted to stand Sheppard up, but John knew him too well, dammit. Rodney was now a seething mass of ire and curiosity. (And maybe a teensy flicker of hope.)
Regardless, he was still pretty angry when he stomped down to meet John, who was leaning smirkily against the wall.
“Can we get on with this?” Rodney sniped.
“Sure thing,” John replied amiably.
“Still not going to tell me what it is?”
“Nope.”
“Any particular reason?”
John pressed the transporter button, and when they arrived, pulled on his earlobe, frowning. “Unspoiled reaction?” he finally said.
“Unspoiled? It’s not like this is the season finale of Doctor Who or something.”
John grimaced (they were both still irritated about the continued resurgence of the Daleks) and put his hand on the small of Rodney’s back to guide him down the hall. “Rodney,” he warned. “Just trust me, okay?” He turned a sweet, shy-arouond-the-edges smile on him, one Rodney was helpless to resist.
Rodney couldn’t breathe. “Okay.”
And that’s when things got weird. John steered him to another transporter, one that took them very near where he and Daniel Jackson had been kidnapped, another that landed them near Teyla’s gym and then another that put them, Rodney thought, several floors above their own quarters. He dug his heels in and refused to move. “This isn’t a new part of the city.”
“I know. It’s new-ish, though. I just. It’s just a little bit further, okay?” He looked so earnest and hopeful that Rodney was having a lot of trouble maintaining his irritation, fury, irritation…something.
But he had not lost his ability for withering scorn. “Fine.”
It was only a little bit further and when John waved his hand over the door crystals, Rodney’s jaw dropped. Blue. Endless blue of sea and sky and the twin moons of the planet looming delicately on the horizon. He could hardly pay attention to the obviously sumptuous quarters because just opposite the door was a balcony and on the balcony was a small table for two and on top of the table for two was a bowl of flowers, a bottle of wine, two glasses and a basket of goodies.
“Ohthankgod,” Rodney said in a rush.
John put his hand on Rodney’s back. “Buddy?”
Feeling a ridiculous rush of warmth at the only endearment John ever used, Rodney turned and blurted, “Marry me?”
John’s face went through about six different expressions - from happy surprise to confusion to outrage - and waved his arms at the apartment and the balcony beyond. “Hey!”
“Yes, yes, I get it, quarters for us, lovely. Well?”
“I was going to…arrgh. Thanks a lot!”
“I’m saving us both a lot of awkward fits and starts because let’s face it, you’re not the most adept at making your feelings known. Besides, I’ve been waiting all day!”
“Excuse me?” John had his hands on his hips, scowling. “You’ve been waiting? We’ve never even talked…”
But Rodney was on a roll, “But nooooo, you have to drag it out and make a big production out of it.”
“Well, yeah.” John said, ears turning bright red. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Geez, Rodney.”
“Oh. Oh. Um. Thanks?” Rodney replied in a very small voice.
“Okay. Trying this again,” John took his hands, pulling Rodney through the living room to the balcony, walking backwards and grinning. “What did you want me to do, tackle you in the gate room and propose right there?”
“No,” Rodney scoffed, but he knew his face was turning bright red.
John stopped walking and stared at him ”Rodney.”
“What? Lorne proposed to Radek in the lab!”
John stepped forward, framed Rodney’s face in his hands and kissed him softly. “Rodney.”
“I just. I didn’t expect, I mean, not that I expected…” he rolled his eyes at himself.
“Oh yes you did,” John grinned and stole another kiss. “And hey,” he added, gathering Rodney in his arms. “I can be romantic.”
“Well, it’s not like you’ve ever before.”
John sighed and dropped his head to Rodney’s shoulder before pulling away, taking Rodney by the hand and leading him out to the balcony. The view, Rodney was sure, was spectacular, but he couldn’t stop staring at John. This was really happening. He felt a little lightheaded.
He watched John open the bottle of wine, capable hands moving in elegant, unconscious competence. He imagined a gold band on John’s finger and a low, stunning thrill ran through him. Falling asleep with John, waking up with John. Rodney wondered if they could start that right now.
“I never thought I’d want to get married again,” John said quietly as he poured the wine. “I never thought I’d really want to date again. God, I was so bad at it. Bad with women. I mean I could, you know, but the relationship part…” he shuddered.
“Me, too,” Rodney said softly, almost holding his breath. John rarely talked about this. He’d explained his marriage and the end of it once and the thing with his dad and that was pretty much it.
John handed Rodney a glass with a small smile, took a healthy swig of his own wine and made a rueful, self-deprecating face before reaching out and tangling his fingers with Rodney’s.
“I didn’t know if the Uniform Code would ever change, so I figured that what we had, have, was all we were going to be able to have. And,” he raised his voice, drowning out the start of Rodney’s protests, “and what we have is awesome. But now it can be…more, if you want.”
Rodney cleared his throat. “Hence the,” he gestured with his wine glass to the balcony, the room, the flowers, “romance.”
“Yeah,” John replied shyly, obviously grateful that Rodney got it.
Rodney squeezed John’s hand, speechless.
“I want you to live with me, here, marry me. Will you?”
“I asked you first,” Rodney whispered.
John looked at him in a way that made Rodney’s hands start to shake. “Yeah, Rodney.”
“Okay then,” Rodney replied, feeling woozy and relieved and like fireworks might be going off somewhere in the vicinity. He put his wine glass down before he dropped it. John did the same and they stood there, giving each other goofy, nervous smiles and wiping their sweaty hands on their pants.
“Oh my god we’re so stupid,” Rodney muttered, reaching for John, who started laughing and kept laughing while Rodney was kissing him, even though Rodney told him to shut up, this was a serious engagement-type kiss.
Rodney bent John back over his arm and John wheezed and pounded on his shoulder, making noises like a convulsing donkey. Romantic. Ha. Rodney redoubled his efforts until John was gasping against his mouth for an entirely different reason.
ETA: my Zorro of illustration has struck again with an adorable pic.
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tzzzz's personal fund-raising efforts are over, but hey, that doesn't stop anybody for continuing to write, post and support this effort. Go over to donate if you can. I can't, so I wrote this, but I missed the cut off. :(
It was inspired by scheherezad's comment where Lorne proposed to Radek in the lab and my imagining Rodney's reaction to that.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The day ‘Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” was repealed, Rodney was a nervous wreck, vacillating between queasy nerves and righteous fury.
How dare John Sheppard not ask Rodney to marry him right away.
The things he’d put up with, the past three years. First and foremost, having to keep secret bagging the hottest man in two galaxies, though the things John did with his tongue went a long way in mitigating the sting of that, and, well, it was rather an open secret on Atlantis, but still. He’d kept his mouth shut for three years.
And then there was the snoring and the Johnny Cash poster staring down at him which was seriously unnerving and the way John kept absently straightening things up in Rodney’s quarters (where they spent a lot of their down time because of Rodney’s tub was awesome and Johnny Cash was no where in sight) and Rodney couldn’t find anything, because he really did have a system, it just looked like chaos.
Not to mention John’s habit of throwing himself into insane amounts of dangerous heroics, often with wounds that would fell an ox, throwing away Rodney’s toothbrush when it got “mangy” and that little smirk he got sometimes when Rodney was legitimately instructing his minions in the most effective tone for motivation.
Rodney was so wound up about it that he nearly blew John off when he called to say he wanted to show him something in a newly-cleared-for-exploring area of the city.
“Some of us do have work to do, you know. Some of us get real information and work in the transmission burst, just not mash notes from the Hair Club For Men.”
John snorted. “You’ve been saving that one up, haven’t you?”
“No,” his voice was sullen to even his own ears.
“Right. Meet me at the transporter in five minutes.”
“You wish!” Rodney squawked, but he only got dead air. He wanted to stand Sheppard up, but John knew him too well, dammit. Rodney was now a seething mass of ire and curiosity. (And maybe a teensy flicker of hope.)
Regardless, he was still pretty angry when he stomped down to meet John, who was leaning smirkily against the wall.
“Can we get on with this?” Rodney sniped.
“Sure thing,” John replied amiably.
“Still not going to tell me what it is?”
“Nope.”
“Any particular reason?”
John pressed the transporter button, and when they arrived, pulled on his earlobe, frowning. “Unspoiled reaction?” he finally said.
“Unspoiled? It’s not like this is the season finale of Doctor Who or something.”
John grimaced (they were both still irritated about the continued resurgence of the Daleks) and put his hand on the small of Rodney’s back to guide him down the hall. “Rodney,” he warned. “Just trust me, okay?” He turned a sweet, shy-arouond-the-edges smile on him, one Rodney was helpless to resist.
Rodney couldn’t breathe. “Okay.”
And that’s when things got weird. John steered him to another transporter, one that took them very near where he and Daniel Jackson had been kidnapped, another that landed them near Teyla’s gym and then another that put them, Rodney thought, several floors above their own quarters. He dug his heels in and refused to move. “This isn’t a new part of the city.”
“I know. It’s new-ish, though. I just. It’s just a little bit further, okay?” He looked so earnest and hopeful that Rodney was having a lot of trouble maintaining his irritation, fury, irritation…something.
But he had not lost his ability for withering scorn. “Fine.”
It was only a little bit further and when John waved his hand over the door crystals, Rodney’s jaw dropped. Blue. Endless blue of sea and sky and the twin moons of the planet looming delicately on the horizon. He could hardly pay attention to the obviously sumptuous quarters because just opposite the door was a balcony and on the balcony was a small table for two and on top of the table for two was a bowl of flowers, a bottle of wine, two glasses and a basket of goodies.
“Ohthankgod,” Rodney said in a rush.
John put his hand on Rodney’s back. “Buddy?”
Feeling a ridiculous rush of warmth at the only endearment John ever used, Rodney turned and blurted, “Marry me?”
John’s face went through about six different expressions - from happy surprise to confusion to outrage - and waved his arms at the apartment and the balcony beyond. “Hey!”
“Yes, yes, I get it, quarters for us, lovely. Well?”
“I was going to…arrgh. Thanks a lot!”
“I’m saving us both a lot of awkward fits and starts because let’s face it, you’re not the most adept at making your feelings known. Besides, I’ve been waiting all day!”
“Excuse me?” John had his hands on his hips, scowling. “You’ve been waiting? We’ve never even talked…”
But Rodney was on a roll, “But nooooo, you have to drag it out and make a big production out of it.”
“Well, yeah.” John said, ears turning bright red. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Geez, Rodney.”
“Oh. Oh. Um. Thanks?” Rodney replied in a very small voice.
“Okay. Trying this again,” John took his hands, pulling Rodney through the living room to the balcony, walking backwards and grinning. “What did you want me to do, tackle you in the gate room and propose right there?”
“No,” Rodney scoffed, but he knew his face was turning bright red.
John stopped walking and stared at him ”Rodney.”
“What? Lorne proposed to Radek in the lab!”
John stepped forward, framed Rodney’s face in his hands and kissed him softly. “Rodney.”
“I just. I didn’t expect, I mean, not that I expected…” he rolled his eyes at himself.
“Oh yes you did,” John grinned and stole another kiss. “And hey,” he added, gathering Rodney in his arms. “I can be romantic.”
“Well, it’s not like you’ve ever before.”
John sighed and dropped his head to Rodney’s shoulder before pulling away, taking Rodney by the hand and leading him out to the balcony. The view, Rodney was sure, was spectacular, but he couldn’t stop staring at John. This was really happening. He felt a little lightheaded.
He watched John open the bottle of wine, capable hands moving in elegant, unconscious competence. He imagined a gold band on John’s finger and a low, stunning thrill ran through him. Falling asleep with John, waking up with John. Rodney wondered if they could start that right now.
“I never thought I’d want to get married again,” John said quietly as he poured the wine. “I never thought I’d really want to date again. God, I was so bad at it. Bad with women. I mean I could, you know, but the relationship part…” he shuddered.
“Me, too,” Rodney said softly, almost holding his breath. John rarely talked about this. He’d explained his marriage and the end of it once and the thing with his dad and that was pretty much it.
John handed Rodney a glass with a small smile, took a healthy swig of his own wine and made a rueful, self-deprecating face before reaching out and tangling his fingers with Rodney’s.
“I didn’t know if the Uniform Code would ever change, so I figured that what we had, have, was all we were going to be able to have. And,” he raised his voice, drowning out the start of Rodney’s protests, “and what we have is awesome. But now it can be…more, if you want.”
Rodney cleared his throat. “Hence the,” he gestured with his wine glass to the balcony, the room, the flowers, “romance.”
“Yeah,” John replied shyly, obviously grateful that Rodney got it.
Rodney squeezed John’s hand, speechless.
“I want you to live with me, here, marry me. Will you?”
“I asked you first,” Rodney whispered.
John looked at him in a way that made Rodney’s hands start to shake. “Yeah, Rodney.”
“Okay then,” Rodney replied, feeling woozy and relieved and like fireworks might be going off somewhere in the vicinity. He put his wine glass down before he dropped it. John did the same and they stood there, giving each other goofy, nervous smiles and wiping their sweaty hands on their pants.
“Oh my god we’re so stupid,” Rodney muttered, reaching for John, who started laughing and kept laughing while Rodney was kissing him, even though Rodney told him to shut up, this was a serious engagement-type kiss.
Rodney bent John back over his arm and John wheezed and pounded on his shoulder, making noises like a convulsing donkey. Romantic. Ha. Rodney redoubled his efforts until John was gasping against his mouth for an entirely different reason.
ETA: my Zorro of illustration has struck again with an adorable pic.
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