Dreamcatcher, PG.
Sequel to Courage.
WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON FOUR, EPISODE FOUR.
Dreamcatcher
Rodney is tired. Tired, exhausted, fatigued, worn out, haggard and completely done in. And he can’t find the damn pills, the ones that Keller had given him after he’d approached her, after he had his weirdest lucid dreaming experience ever, accompanied by Sheppard and his evil twin.
He’d gone up to Keller and babbled on about REM states and subconscious anxieties; she had simply smiled and handed over the sleeping pills without comment, and he could have kissed her, or not, because that would definitely be inappropriate and -
And now he can’t find them. The pills, the ones that will let him sleep without dreaming because despite how tired he is, despite how his vision keeps blurring and everything feels completely unreal and he just wants to collapse on his bed and never get up, right now dreaming again would be worse. Because Rodney knows how his subconscious works, and if he falls asleep now all he’s going to see is water and hungry whales and Sheppard’s cold smile (and Heightmeyer’s face, pale and still against her pillow). He can’t take that right now, simply can’t, and won’t, if only he could find those pills.
Rodney’s already swept everything that’s not breakable (everything but the laptops) off his desk onto the floor, and drops to his hands and knees to rifle through the detritus of papers and pens and - why does he have all this crap in his room, anyway?
It takes him a few seconds to realize that someone is knocking on his door, and then a few more seconds to realize that he should get up and answer it.
He hauls himself to his feet with a grunt, and staggers over to open the door, and - he blinks.
It’s Sheppard. Sheppard standing in his doorway with his hands clenched at his sides, looking odd and un-Sheppardlike, twitchy and tense and not slouching hardly at all.
They stare at each other for a moment, then Sheppard’s eyes dart away, towards the ground, and Rodney honestly can’t think of anything to do but step back and let him come in. Once the door closes John looks even worse, like he’s about to throw up all over Rodney’s floor and his clothes are wrinkled and his hair’s flat on one side and oh god -
“Did you have a nightmare? Is that why you’re here? Did another one follow us from that planet - I can’t believe you were stupid enough to touch another - ” Rodney says in a rush, terror racing through his veins.
John’s face scrunches up in confusion. “No! Rodney, no, it wasn’t - well, I had a dream, but not, you know, a creepy evil alien version of me dream,” he finishes uncomfortably, and seems very interested in the wall behind Rodney’s shoulder. Rodney has a sudden urge to reach out, to smooth John’s crumpled shirt and maybe lead him over to the bed, let him lie down and rest because Rodney understands about dreams (nightmares) and John looks nearly as exhausted as Rodney feels.
“Oh,” Rodney says instead. “I can’t find my pills.”
“Okay,” John says slowly. And then he takes a deep breath and there’s that nauseous look again, and this time Rodney can’t help it, this time he reaches out and takes John’s hand, bony fingers and hairy skin beneath his palm. It’s a strangely reassuring feeling, a little jolt of oh look, this is reality after all.
John goes still. At this point it occurs to Rodney that he’s standing in the middle of his quarters holding John’s hand, and maybe he shouldn’t - and maybe he shouldn’t be staring into John’s eyes like that either because that will definitely give John the wrong idea (the right idea) -
John takes another deep breath, his eyes huge with some emotion that Rodney can’t quite parse, and then John turns his hand, moves it so that it’s him holding Rodney’s hand now. Rodney’s mouth drops open, although he has no idea what he’s going to say, and John leans in and - and -
Oh. Kisses him. Just leans in and kisses him, carefully, tentatively, his mouth on Rodney’s and oh. So it was the right idea after all, and Rodney smiles against John’s mouth, twines their fingers together and yanks John closer, kissing him back until John sighs and lets himself lean, lets Rodney take their weight.
And Rodney wraps his other arm around John, keeping him close, keeping them together, and forgets all about the damn pills. He won’t have to worry about bad dreams tonight, not with John beside him.
WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON FOUR, EPISODE FOUR.
Dreamcatcher
Rodney is tired. Tired, exhausted, fatigued, worn out, haggard and completely done in. And he can’t find the damn pills, the ones that Keller had given him after he’d approached her, after he had his weirdest lucid dreaming experience ever, accompanied by Sheppard and his evil twin.
He’d gone up to Keller and babbled on about REM states and subconscious anxieties; she had simply smiled and handed over the sleeping pills without comment, and he could have kissed her, or not, because that would definitely be inappropriate and -
And now he can’t find them. The pills, the ones that will let him sleep without dreaming because despite how tired he is, despite how his vision keeps blurring and everything feels completely unreal and he just wants to collapse on his bed and never get up, right now dreaming again would be worse. Because Rodney knows how his subconscious works, and if he falls asleep now all he’s going to see is water and hungry whales and Sheppard’s cold smile (and Heightmeyer’s face, pale and still against her pillow). He can’t take that right now, simply can’t, and won’t, if only he could find those pills.
Rodney’s already swept everything that’s not breakable (everything but the laptops) off his desk onto the floor, and drops to his hands and knees to rifle through the detritus of papers and pens and - why does he have all this crap in his room, anyway?
It takes him a few seconds to realize that someone is knocking on his door, and then a few more seconds to realize that he should get up and answer it.
He hauls himself to his feet with a grunt, and staggers over to open the door, and - he blinks.
It’s Sheppard. Sheppard standing in his doorway with his hands clenched at his sides, looking odd and un-Sheppardlike, twitchy and tense and not slouching hardly at all.
They stare at each other for a moment, then Sheppard’s eyes dart away, towards the ground, and Rodney honestly can’t think of anything to do but step back and let him come in. Once the door closes John looks even worse, like he’s about to throw up all over Rodney’s floor and his clothes are wrinkled and his hair’s flat on one side and oh god -
“Did you have a nightmare? Is that why you’re here? Did another one follow us from that planet - I can’t believe you were stupid enough to touch another - ” Rodney says in a rush, terror racing through his veins.
John’s face scrunches up in confusion. “No! Rodney, no, it wasn’t - well, I had a dream, but not, you know, a creepy evil alien version of me dream,” he finishes uncomfortably, and seems very interested in the wall behind Rodney’s shoulder. Rodney has a sudden urge to reach out, to smooth John’s crumpled shirt and maybe lead him over to the bed, let him lie down and rest because Rodney understands about dreams (nightmares) and John looks nearly as exhausted as Rodney feels.
“Oh,” Rodney says instead. “I can’t find my pills.”
“Okay,” John says slowly. And then he takes a deep breath and there’s that nauseous look again, and this time Rodney can’t help it, this time he reaches out and takes John’s hand, bony fingers and hairy skin beneath his palm. It’s a strangely reassuring feeling, a little jolt of oh look, this is reality after all.
John goes still. At this point it occurs to Rodney that he’s standing in the middle of his quarters holding John’s hand, and maybe he shouldn’t - and maybe he shouldn’t be staring into John’s eyes like that either because that will definitely give John the wrong idea (the right idea) -
John takes another deep breath, his eyes huge with some emotion that Rodney can’t quite parse, and then John turns his hand, moves it so that it’s him holding Rodney’s hand now. Rodney’s mouth drops open, although he has no idea what he’s going to say, and John leans in and - and -
Oh. Kisses him. Just leans in and kisses him, carefully, tentatively, his mouth on Rodney’s and oh. So it was the right idea after all, and Rodney smiles against John’s mouth, twines their fingers together and yanks John closer, kissing him back until John sighs and lets himself lean, lets Rodney take their weight.
And Rodney wraps his other arm around John, keeping him close, keeping them together, and forgets all about the damn pills. He won’t have to worry about bad dreams tonight, not with John beside him.