Fic: SGA: Pilgrims' Hands Do Touch, M/S, FMAO
Title: Pilgrims' Hands Do Touch
Author: Beadattitude
Fandom/Pairing: Stargate:Atlantis, McKay/Sheppard
Rating: FMAO
Vetted/Beta Edit: TBA
Spoilers: none
Warnings: unbeta'ed
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, nor do I make money on their use. No copyright infringement intended. Additional thanks to Russell T. Davies, Bud Abbott and Lou Costello.
Author’s Notes: I posted a call for drabble prompts, and mecurtin was at the top of the list, requesting "John/Rodney, safe sex and hands. Sexy, sexy hands. Sneaky hands. Think-they-won't get-caught hands." I think I got it all, but the safety part is a bit implied.
This fic is based somewhat on experience. I was the lucky recipient of a similar handling during a Maundy Thursday feast, of all things. The young man who held my hand made no further moves, and I was certainly, at the time, too shy and inexperienced to have a clue what to do next. I think I was 14. The experience has certainly stuck with me. :D
The title is taken from Romeo and Juliet, Act I, Scene 5, which John very dimly remembers a line from. Several sweethearts, amireal, ladycat777 and sheafrotherdon have advised on the title. I listened very nicely then went out and did precisely what I wanted. ;D The full scene can be found here. There are endnotes at the bottom (after, read it after) explaining my choices a bit more clearly. I hope.
Teaser: John had to hand it to Rodney; despite a few flinches and wild-eyed looks, things went pretty much to the way things were Before. He’d expected some avoidance and extra-snippy remarks - especially since Rodney was so sure he was right, naturally - but on the whole, Rodney was handling their situation with remarkable grace.
John hated it.
He hated it so much that he wanted to do stupid, dangerous things to show Rodney that their being together was not a stupid, dangerous thing. He beat his head against walls a lot, trying to blot out various crazy ideas.
Turned out that once-repressed no-longer-secret crushes also made a guy irrationally romantic, too. Hell of a recoil.
Mannerly Devotion
Rodney had been overly quiet that day, which had him on John’s extra-alert radar in the first place and only put up a resigned, lackluster bit of protest when Teyla had described the community meal.
The dining area would be arranged in two concentric circles, representing the gate and the planet and the sun…all sorts of round important things. The inner ring of diners moved from small, two-person table to table between each course, getting to know new friends or enjoying the company of old. Normally the inner ring would be natives and the outer outworlders, but with just the four of them, they’d just mingle with the crowd.
“Small talk?” Rodney’d inquired wearily, his entire body pouting. They had walked a lot that day and Rodney had been working hard before they left Atlantis.
“It’ll be all right, McKay. Just ask them about themselves, nod and smile. Very little effort on your part.”
“I am deeply, deeply unsuited for this.”
“That is untrue, Rodney. When you wish you can be very charming,” Teyla said encouragingly, a hint of sultry approval in her voice.
Rodney perked up a little and John could just kiss Teyla. “Well, yes, I’m quite the catch. And I can converse on nearly any subject. Thank you, Teyla.”
Ronon loomed playfully over Rodney. “You smell good, too.” He added a leer to his loom and pushed into Rodney’s space, sniffing obviously.
“Okay, that’s just unsettling. And I don’t date mops.”
Ronon shook his dreads in Rodney’s face. “Not a mop, McKay.”
“No, no, very nice guard dog person, warrior thing.” He placed one hand on Ronon’s shoulder and shoved politely. “Quit harassing me or I’ll let Radek take you camping again.”
John ducked his head and smiled at his boots when Ronon’s answering smirk held the tiniest bit of worry in it. He really had to talk to Radek about exactly what happened on that camping trip. Ronon made himself busy elsewhere, arranging his knives in a more festive display for the party.
Luck landed John with Rodney at the end of the meal and so they were companions for the speeches and prayers that followed. There were lots of speeches and lots of prayers, it seemed, and in order that everyone remember this night was about cementing friendship, the chief asked everyone to join hands with their table partner.
John blinked a few times, but it was a pretty tame request. He exchanged a resigned, tight “what are you going to do?” smile with Rodney, reached out and clasped his hand, resting them on the small cushion between them below the edge of the table. He tried to turn his full attention back to the ceremony, but Rodney’s hand kept flexing in his. He loosened his grip.
A moment or two later, Rodney’s thumb brushed hesitantly over his and John was stunned to feel a jolt of desire, and wasn’t that coming from an unexpected quarter? Not that he ever saw it coming. He had been flirting massively for years with the guy, but he never figured Rodney’d notice. In fact, Rodney’s stunted recognition of social cues enabled John to keep his crush on him manageable. Now, it seemed, Rodney wasn’t that clueless after all.
Four breaths and a hell of a lot of internal debate later, John squeezed back gently, rubbing his thumb along the side of Rodney’s. John could hear Rodney’s sigh as he relaxed and resumed the gentle touch.
Relaxed? John didn’t remember handholding being this exciting in middle school. Actually, he couldn’t think of the last time he just held hands with a man outside of childhood. He liked it. Rodney’s hand was warm, dry and large in a way that was oddly comforting. He knew how capable Rodney’s hands were, and had watched him handle Ancient machinery a thousand times. The same gentle exploration was focused on John’s skin right now, John closed his eyes briefly to savor it.
Feeling a little lightheaded, John inhaled deeply, trying to get some oxygen to his brain. His exhale came out a slightly shaky. Rodney hooked his pinky comfortingly over John’s index finger and tucked his thumb under his cuff, sweeping over the tender skin of his wrist. It was really nice; if nice could describe the weird, warm ache he had in his chest.
John went for broke, twisted his palm and laced his fingers with Rodney’s, whose hand quickly turned to meet his. John’s heart tripped into a quick-march rhythm as he fought to keep his eyes and some of his focus on the proceedings. He caught up just as the elder speaking invited them to bow their heads in prayer.
He kept his eyes open, looking and listening to see if anything was amiss, any weirdness from the natives he hadn’t picked up before, but all he saw was patient and joyful devotion. Nice people. He very definitely did not think, even in the privacy of his own thoughts, anything like hoping the mission would go smoothly, but he smiled, allowing himself to hope they’d be good trading partners.
Ronon’s eyes met his from across the room and the warrior gave him his pleasant - if slightly enigmatic - and smiling nod. John squinted at him for clarification and Ronon looked at him dryly, made a show of closing his eyes and bowing his head. Well, he could have just said that in the first place, John scowled in his direction. Assured that all was well, he bent his head in a prayerful attitude.
Rodney drew his attention back to their handclasp, sliding his fingers up and down John’s, teasing and scratching the skin between his fingers before lacing their hands together again, palm to palm. John turned his head slightly, marveling at how good their hands and arms looked together.
Palm to palm, that was a line from something, John knew, but he couldn’t quite place it. Something poetic and classical. He frowned, trying to remember, and felt a small tug. He turned his head slightly, glancing up and over at Rodney, his chin still lowered to his chest. Rodney was in a similar position, his eyes questioning. He must have seen John’s frown.
John smiled, carding his fingers through Rodney’s and sliding their palms together a few times before reclaiming his hand. Rodney blinked and smiled, a small, sleepy-sexy half-lidded smile, barely hiding the happiness radiating off him. His eyes dropped to John’s mouth, and John had to wrench his gaze away and shut his eyes tight, trying to get his breathing under control.
He wanted to kiss Rodney so badly it hurt. He wanted to bring their hands together and kiss his fingers, the center of his palm, nip the big joint of his thumb and brush his lips across the soft inner skin of his wrist. The strength of it shook him. He closed his eyes tighter, wrestling to hold it at bay when all he wanted was to lean over their joined hands, turn Rodney’s face to his and kiss him slow enough to learn every dip of that fantastically crooked mouth.
Repressed secret crushes had a hell of a recoil, he thought.
Rodney made a soft sound and John realized he was pretty much strangling the man’s hand in his spectacularly derailed attempt to get himself together. He slipped his fingers free and massaged Rodney’s hand apologetically, focusing on his palm and the tightness around his thumb from too much typing and mousing. Rodney’s relaxed fingers curled over his hand and John glanced over and watched him sigh, his eyelashes fluttering. John’s breath caught in his throat. Rodney’s eyes flew open to meet John’s, face flushed and surprised. He looked really good. Forcing himself to look away again, he slid his palm across Rodney’s, neatly and easily sliding into place between his fingers. Rodney tightened his hand in a long, slow squeeze that was the clearest welcome John could imagine.
The ceremonial prayer and dinner ended with a joyous amen-sounding shout from the elders, who rose, gesturing all to stand. Rodney let him go and stood, leaving John to scramble a little unsteadily to his feet. They repeated the closing promises of friendship, said their goodbyes and didn’t look at one another until they were heading toward the puddlejumper.
“That went well. Nice dinner,” John remarked. “No monkey brains. No nasty surprises.”
“They are good people,” Teyla agreed. “Very honorable.”
“Good food, too.”
“Yes,” Rodney said airily. “Wouldn’t mind doing that again.”
John glanced over and caught his shy, loaded-question smile. “Me neither,” he replied, feeling ultra-cool and sneaky.
Ronon cuffed him on the back of the head. “It’s about time.”
“Ronon,” Teyla admonished him lightly. “Be more discreet.”
“In the middle of a field?”
“Nevertheless.”
“Uh, guys?” John said when he could find his voice.
“Teyla made sure you wound up at the table together.” Ronon confided.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rodney said stiffly. John wanted to kick Ronon.
“You were all…” Ronon laced his hands together, smiling. He bumped shoulders with Rodney, nearly knocking him over.
“It was all part of the ceremony.” Rodney sniffed.
Ronon bumped shoulders with John next.
“Cut it out, Ronon,” he said dangerously.
Ronon frowned and shrugged, “Happy for you.”
“You understand the situation with the Earth military, Ronon. I have explained it to you.” Teyla said coldly.
“Yeah, but - ”
John finally recovered his cool. “Look, Ronon, I don’t know what you saw, or what you thought you saw, but we need to keep this just between us, okay? We were just holding hands as part of a ceremony.”
“Sheppard, I wouldn’t…”
“Not on purpose, no. But people talk, and take things out of context, so if you wouldn’t mind… I hate to say it, but it’s not a good idea to even get in the habit of teasing people about, ” he swallowed hard, “same-sex relationships that include military personnel. Even off world. One tired slip and…”
“I get it,” Ronon said sullenly.
“Thank you.” John replied graciously. He risked a glance at Rodney - who looked sick and angry - before continuing. “We didn’t conduct ourselves very discreetly today and that’s my fault. And I’m sorry to ask you to cover for me.”
“Sheppard…” Ronon looked like John had kicked him. “I apologize. I was just…” he gestured between John and Rodney. “Glad.”
“Yeah, buddy. I know.” John, blushing, gave him a half smile and punched him in the shoulder. “You big dummy.”
Ronon raised his eyebrows.
“Yeah, that was probably pushing it,” John said hastily, flipping his hands up to a “we come in peace” gesture. Ronon snorted, clapped him hard on the shoulder and extended his hand to Rodney, who was hunched in on himself, looking miserable.
“My apologies, McKay.”
“Hmm.” Rodney said, shaking on it, looking anywhere but at Ronon, “Apology accepted.”
“We will see you at the ‘jumper,” Teyla said firmly and led Ronon off.
“Colonel,” Rodney began, face stricken.
“Rodney,” John replied softly, drawling his name out ridiculously. “Would you call me John already?”
Rodney’s eyes darted to his face and away, his chin tilted high. “Colonel, I apologize for my indiscretion. It was opportunistic and…”
“I seem to recall not pulling away, Rodney.” John snorted. “I seem to remember pretty much liking it.”
“Yes, well, the ceremony went on a long time, and…” He rambled unhappily, shoulders slumping.
The hair on the back of John’s neck went up and he could feel his face flush in anger. “You have got to be kidding me,” he said dangerously. “You think I was responding to you because I was bored?”
“Well, ah…”
John’s voice rose incredulously, “Did you not hear me agree that I’d like to continue? To 'do it again sometime?' Jesus, Rodney. Good to know what kind of guy you really think I am!”
“Well, excuse me if I thought you might have second thoughts after Ronon started shooting off his mouth. It certainly seemed like you were when you were saying you should have stopped the ‘indiscretion’- he made sarcastic finger quote marks - and it was all your fault.”
“It is my fault! We’re off world! I should have shut you down and paid more attention to my job.”
“And you wonder how I got the impression you were going ignore the whole thing!”
John got right up into Rodney’s personal space. “I should have shut you down,” he said with quiet intensity, “because what we were doing is dangerous for me to be doing at all, much less in public, on a strange planet with people we don’t know very well.”
Rodney rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, frustrated. “I know, Colonel. I, I wasn’t thinking clearly.” He waved his hand in a weary circle. “Like I said, opportunistic.”
“Could you please stop calling me that?”
“Colonel?”
“Yeah, that.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t.”
Disappointment, humiliation, and maybe the tiniest bit of shame nearly choked John. “Huh,” he said, forcing the words out past his grinding teeth. “Never figured you for a cock tease, McKay,” he spat nastily. He spun on his heel and stomped off to the puddlejumper.
“Hey!” McKay called after him. “That is hardly fair.”
John wheeled around, furious. “Fair? You wanna talk about fair with me? You started it and I outed myself to my team and not to mention a trading partner. You’re backing out and you’re not even giving me a say in this, when I pretty much made it clear, in public no less - and public was stupid, I’ll grant you that, - but yeah, there you were, holding my hand like you - and I’d like to, I’d like to, to - oh, hell.” He marched over to Rodney, grabbed him by the vest and dove in for a long, dirty kiss. When they had to come up for air, he shoved Rodney back with both hands, his breathing hard and ragged.
“I think that evens the score a little bit, dumbass.” He stormed off, walking straight into the jumper and starting the launch sequence without glancing to see if Rodney was following.
John smacked Ronon on the back of the head. He returned the gesture. John gave him a look that would peel paint. Teyla smacked Ronon and Rodney and John, announcing. “I have seen the three of you behave foolishly before, but I tell you, if you were my brothers you would be eating pilka root porridge with the other infants for at least a month.”
None of them wanted to contradict an angry Teyla, so the ride home was very, very quiet. They played happy family for Elizabeth during briefing, even Rodney, who was looking ill.
“Are you all right, Rodney?” Elizabeth asked.
“Hmmm?” he replied, distracted. “Uh, um, just a headache, that’s all. Long day. ”
“Let’s dismiss the meeting then. We’ve done enough here. I’ll see you and your reports tomorrow.”
Murmuring their thanks, they filed out. John and Rodney exchanged a glance at the transporter doors, John furious and Rodney contrite, hurt, stubborn and a little scared. John kind of hated that he could see all of that in Rodney’s face so he glared at him again as the doors opened. Rodney muttered something about forgetting something in his lab and scuttled off.
John was pissed off enough to throw all of his clothing on the floor, step on it with his dirty boots and leave it there, turning his nose up at years of conditioning, rules and preference. He stomped into the shower and tersely thought the water on. Picking up his soap, he brusquely lathered his hands, then blinked, finally looking at them.
He stared, absently noting a scar here or there or the remnant bulge of a broken bone and the blackened nail where Teyla bashed it with her sticks a couple of weeks ago. He thought of the soft, warm slide of Rodney’s skin, his surprising gentleness and how fucking beautiful they looked twined around each other. He beat his head against the hard porcelain-like wall a couple of times then leaned into its coolness, aching and angry. The soap slipped out of his lax hand. Thinking the water off, he walked straight into bed, wet, naked and miserable.
~~~
Lest Faith Turn
John had to hand it to Rodney; despite a few flinches and wild-eyed looks, things went pretty much to the way things were Before. He’d expected some avoidance and extra-snippy remarks - especially since Rodney was so sure he was right, naturally - but on the whole, Rodney was handling their situation with remarkable grace.
John hated it.
He hated it so much that he wanted to do stupid, dangerous things to show Rodney that their being together was not a stupid, dangerous thing. He beat his head against walls a lot, trying to blot out various crazy ideas.
Turned out that once-repressed no-longer-secret crushes also made a guy irrationally romantic, too. Hell of a recoil.
If Rodney wanted to make peace, he’d have to come to him. After all, he’d started this, if you didn’t count the years that they’d been flirting. Well, John had been flirting, at least part of the time and John pretty much had to stop explaining it to himself, because it made him want to punch walls. McKay started it the physical stuff. McKay had crossed the line, and if he wanted to fix things, well, he’d have to come and tell John he wanted to fix them. Because the last thing he was going to do was stick his neck out for Rodney McKay. (Except for the parts that were his actual job; off the clock, no way.)
It was bad enough that Rodney had snuck under his skin and into his brain and utterly spoiled him for anyone less brilliant or sweeter-tempered. It was bad enough that he had a thing for one of his male team members. It was almost unbearable that Rodney had made his move and John had matched it, trusting that Rodney wanted it just as much, and when he didn’t…losing something he never thought he’d have in the first place hurt a lot more than he ever expected.
The barest hint of a problem and Rodney scrapped the whole thing. Didn’t matter how John had nipped the problem in the bud; Rodney just turned tail and ran. It made him feel about an inch tall.
He very definitely did not think about that evening and the brightness of Rodney’s eyes or that wave of longing that nearly broke him apart. He also never thought about what Rodney’s kiss might have tasted like if he’d reached for him that moment when he’d wanted to, back at the table. Never.
~~~~~~
Then Move Not
Two weeks after the mission, John was spending some productive time glaring at his ceiling when Rodney bustled through the door, laptop and DVD box in hand.
“Rise and shine, Colonel, it’s Who watching time!”
John propped up on his elbows and stared at Rodney fussing around his room, obviously arranging things for a movie night. “What?”
Rodney waved a finger, “No, no. Who. Doctor Who. The new season,” he beamed at John, handing him the box before heading over to John’s food stash. “I’d been saving it for our next thank-god-we’re-alive celebration or something else special, but I thought it might be a good night to break it out. Ah. Here we go.” He stood over John, holding out a bag of popcorn and John’s largest bowl. “Make yourself useful.”
John blinked up at Rodney couple of times, waiting for his brain to catch up. “So,” he said slowly, “Why?”
”Who. Aren’t you listening?” his smile faltered a little.
John sat up, scrubbing both hands over his face to get rid of the feeling of being run over by a McKay. He looked up into Rodney’s hopeful, fearful face and decided that if this was the way Rodney wanted to edge toward an apology, he could play along. He traded the box for his bowl and popcorn and stumbled down the hall to the nearest common area and a microwave.
When he got back to his room, it smelled like butter. Rodney had John’s metal field cup resting on his hot plate. Using a sock as an oven mitt, Rodney picked up the cup and swirled it. “Perfect,” he smiled, snapping his fingers for the bowl. John handed it over and watched as he carefully distributed the butter, then scooped up a few cupfuls of popcorn to get the last little bit remaining in the bottom.
“Butter,” John remarked, impressed. Any minute now, he was going to be able to speak more than one word at a time. But things were starting to feel a little weird with Rodney being all nervous and vibrate-y and cheerful.
“Fixed Chef Charlie’s laptop for him. I am owed,” Rodney sampled the popcorn. “Excellent.” He turned back to John, offering the bowl. “Got anything to drink?”
John opened his mouth to rundown the beverage options, then closed his it and frowned, hands on his hips. Rodney drooped.
“Look,” he said quietly. “Upon some reflection, I realized that the other day I might have misread things.”
Taking a quick, deep breath, John gritted his teeth, squashed the impulse to roll his eyes, crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows inquiringly.
Rodney took in his bracing himself and blinked a few times. “That your, ah, discussion with Ronon was perhaps not a knee jerk homophobic response, and that you might have been covering for both of us, not just yourself.”
John forgot to scowl he was so surprised. “What?”
“You, ah, already used that one,” Rodney smiled hopefully. “What? Who? Popcorn?” He shook the bowl at him.
“I need beer,” John said seriously as he shook himself and stomped over to his fridge.
“Excellent,” he heard Rodney say behind him faintly.
“Ale or Lager?”
“Oh, mmm, ale?”
John kicked the door shut, opened the bottles and gestured Rodney to the couch. John noticed that Rodney was very careful not to slouch against him like he always did, but sat more like someone reclining on a bed of nails. He could feel him practically twanging like a guitar string, and it occurred to him that he hadn’t actually responded to Rodney’s near-apology.
“Both of us,” he said quietly, not looking at Rodney.
“Oh. Yes. Well. Good. Thank you?”
John handed him a beer, still unable to look over to see Rodney’s reaction.
Rodney cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said, almost whispering.
John nodded. “I am, too.”
Rodney stiffened, and John looked over at him, frowning. “What?”
“What, what?” Rodney bit back, his face flushed.
“You just got mad out of nowhere.”
“You know what? Watching DVD now and shutting up.”
“Okay,” John drawled, totally in the dark. “Fine.”
So they watched Doctor Who. John liked the cocky, big-eared doctor and Rose was all right despite the Tammy Faye Baker levels of eye makeup she wore. The Doctor was rude and pushy and brash and snarky and kind of a dork, then the hot tree-lady said something nice to him and he got this look on his face that reminded him really strongly of Rodney after they got him out of the drowned puddlejumper. Then he started noticing how very much Rose and the Doctor held hands along about the time they were about to get eaten by Victorian space-zombies.
Rodney had noticed it too, he was sure, with all that fidgeting around he was doing.
Stretching, John leaned back far enough for stealthy observation. Careful not to turn his head too far, he kept his face pointed at the screen while his eyes tracked to Rodney, who was eating popcorn in uncharacteristically small bites. He ate slowly, concentrating on the show, fingers poking a kernel at a time between his lips.
It made John’s mouth dry to watch. Of course, seeing Rodney’s tongue curl from behind his lips to catch each morsel was hot enough, but the light from the screen had him washed in warm colors, caught the fine, auburn hairs on his wrist and flickered briefly on his nails. Rodney’s tongue darted out to suck a bit of salty butter off his thumb and he hummed with pleasure. John’s breath caught in his chest. He looked up at the ceiling, licked his lips nervously and thought cold-showery thoughts. He wished he knew what was going on here.
Rodney bumped his shoulder and John dragged himself back to reality.
“Mmm?” he replied, figuring that it would cover anything he’d missed.
Rodney rolled his eyes. “You meditating or something?” He tipped his bowl of popcorn toward John, inviting him to take some.
John raised his eyebrows and took a handful. “Thanks.”
“Just trying to keep you awake.”
John snorted. Munching his popcorn, he forced his eyes to the screen. “This is good,” he ventured.
“Yeah, it’s not bad.” Rodney replied, squirming happily. He really needed to stop doing that. Abruptly, he plonked the bowl into John’s lap and shrugged out of his jacket. John caught a bit of his warm, spicy-clean Rodney smell and clenched his jaw tight. When Rodney dug his hand happily into the bowl on John’s lap, John froze.
Rodney snatched his hand back, mortified, and looked like he was about to flee.
John touched his wrist gently. “Rodney.”
“I can see,” he blurted, pulling away, “how a few weeks ago my actions could have been construed as teasing, but I assure you that’s not what I meant at all. Nor did I mean anything when I pretty much just shoved my hand in your crotch.”
“You didn’t mean anything,” John said flatly. Rodney peered at him, confused.
“I didn’t mean to encroach on your personal,” he gestured at John’s lap looking like he wished he could stop himself. “Person?”
John looked at him for a long time, thinking. Rodney turned away and took a long swig of his ale. “You know, I’m quite embarrassed enough, thank you, without you staring holes in my head.”
“I’m just,” John said slowly, “trying to figure out what the hell is going on.”
“We’re watching TV?”
“Yeah, TV about people who hold hands a lot.”
“I had no idea!” Rodney shrieked, backing up to the very end of the sofa.
“Easy, buddy,” John said softly, with a pang for Rodney’s discomfort, “I believe you.”
Rodney let out a gusty breath of relief. They looked at one another warily.
“Want to watch some more Who?”
“What?” Rodney said faintly, still curled in a scared little knot.
“No, Who.”
He got a blank stare for a long moment until Rodney’s brain clicked back into gear. “Ha. Ha.”
“Hey,” John said easily, “You started it.”
They both froze again, Rodney looking guilty. John, nearly growling, reached over and plucked the popcorn bowl out of Rodney’s hands. Moving closer, he sat right against Rodney, everything from shoulder to knees touching. He leaned forward, adjusted the laptop, rewound a couple of scenes and sat back, putting his feet on the table. He plucked Rodney’s remote out of his hand and pressed play. Looking directly at the screen, he rested his arm on his leg, palm open and loose. He waited.
“Colonel?”
John sighed and turning his palm down, scratched his knee. He leaned away from Rodney and stared at the screen blindly.
“John,” Rodney said, not asking a question.
“Yeah,” John replied hoarsely.
After a very long moment, Rodney’s warm hand slid over his and John turned his palm to meet him, spreading his fingers. He could feel Rodney uncoil and slide down beside him, sighing, against John’s side.
Warmth spread over John’s body in a long, smooth wave, just from those small points of contact.
“We are such idiots,” Rodney said ruefully.
John cleared his throat meaningfully.
“Oh, come on, you know I’m horrible with people. I just don’t get…”
“Rodney, just shut up and go with it. Watch TV. Also?” he winced, flexing his fingers. “Maybe not so tight.”
“Okay,” he agreed breathily, loosening his grip.
They leaned against each other for a good five minutes before John dared to move, sliding minutely closer. Rodney’s breath sped up and John slid his thumb over his encouragingly.
Rodney started to play with John’s hand like he had at the feast; sliding their palms together, then rolling his hand to caress John’s fingers with the back of his. He teased the soft, uncalloused skin between his fingers and rubbed his arm hair the wrong way, smoothing it back by scratching lightly down. John broke out in goosebumps and unconsciously made a happy sound in the back of his throat.
“Like that, do you?” Rodney murmured, sounding incredibly pleased.
Yeah, he liked it. John was slowly melting into Rodney’s side, lit up with pleasure. Reaching over, he turned Rodney’s face with his fingers. He smiled into Rodney’s flushed, happy look, then stared at his mouth long enough that Rodney shivered.
“Really?” Rodney whispered on tattered breath.
John leaned over as slowly as he possibly could, keeping his eyes on Rodney’s until he could reply, “Really,” millimeters away. He was close enough that Rodney’s lashes brushed his cheek as they found just the right angle of approach. John was unable to stop a heartfelt groan when Rodney inhaled sharply as their lips touched, shivering into the kiss. He made a pained, needy noise, his lips vibrating softly, sending a rush through John’s entire body, making him feel wild and lightheaded. It was all he could do not to drag Rodney to the floor.
But, not wanting to break the slow, easy pace (or spook Rodney) John held himself in check, keeping things light, flickering his tongue over Rodney’s lips and slipping inside his mouth for quick, sweet tastes. With his free hand he stroked the side of Rodney’s face and neck, drifted down to smooth his hand over his very nice chest and dragged his nails across a nipple.
Rodney moaned brokenly and clutched at John’s shoulder, urging him closer. There was not much John could do about that until he could move more freely. “Hey,” he whispered, pulling back slightly and peppering Rodney’s jaw with tiny, noiseless kisses. “Leggo my arm; it’s falling asleep.” He punctuated the request by grazing the corner of Rodney’s jaw with his teeth, followed up by a long, lush suck on his pulse point.
He tilted his head and gave a moaning sigh, causing John to grin against Rodney’s neck and do it again, careful not to mark him. “Harder,” Rodney begged, cupping the back of his head. John chuckled, low and dirty, curling into Rodney’s side and splaying a hand across his chest.
“Only where you and I can see it,” he promised.
“Mmnnnnn,” Rodney whined, squirming and John, laughing, licked and nibbled at his ear and jaw and throat until Rodney flailed around enough to turn, grab John’s shirt and haul it over his head, nearly removing John’s nose with it.
“Little warning?” John half-complained, rubbing it gingerly.
“You could have stopped trying to kiss me for the one second it took to get it off,” Rodney said defensively, standing up to shuck his own shirt off and toe out of his boots.
John looked at him from under his lashes. “Didn’t want to.”
Rodney’s blush went halfway down his chest, which John thought was a very good look. He leaned back on the sofa, spreading his arms across the back, sprawling comfortably, legs stretched out and hips tilted up, easing some of the pressure on his cock. He smiled up at Rodney lazily.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Rodney said cryptically, leaning down and grabbing Sheppard by his belt-buckle, fingers dipping under the waistband and brushing across John’s erection. It surprised John just enough that his hips arched involuntarily into the touch. He made a completely embarrassing noise, which he hoped Rodney hadn’t noticed. Given his proximity it was pretty unlikely.
Smirking, Rodney tugged meaningfully on his pants, encouraging him to stand. John got his balance and stood up, letting Rodney reel him into his arms. He adjusted comfortably into the hug, savoring the feel of Rodney’s skin and how good he smelled. Nuzzling under his jaw, he inhaled deeply and sighed. Rodney held on tighter and made a pleased noise, shifting his weight slightly, which lined everything up perfectly.
“Oh, god.” John groaned, his knees feeling wobbly. Suddenly, things felt a little desperate again, with Rodney’s face in his neck, breathing his name in a broken, shaken voice.
“Easy,” John whispered, cupping the back of his head. “Easy, now.”
Rodney wasn’t ready to be easy, and very shortly, John found himself scrambling to keep up as Rodney kissed and bit and licked every reachable inch of skin, one arm like iron at the small of John’s back and his free hand fisted in his hair. John’s knees did finally buckle, but Rodney had him easily, which made John moan long and loud as he clutched at Rodney’s shoulders.
“Bed?” Rodney’s voice was rough but oddly shy. John laughed shakily, utterly charmed.
“Ya think?” He dove in and nipped at his favorite spot on Rodney’s neck, then soothed it with his tongue.
“Oh, god, John,” Rodney remarked breathlessly, clutching at John’s hips and grinding against him.
It was John’s turn to go breathless. Rodney felt so good, smooth, warm skin under his hands, heat and hardness against his thigh a promise of many fantastic things to come. John braced himself and pushed Rodney back, toward the bed, careful they didn’t go too fast and just crash. If he hurt Rodney’s back at this point and they had to stop, John was pretty sure he’d lose his mind.
John couldn’t stop kissing Rodney to look for the button on his pants, so he just searched for it by feel. When he pressed a hand against his cloth-covered cock, Rodney broke his lips away with a curse and pressed his face into John’s neck.
“Hang on, hang on, hang on,” he babbled desperately.
John jerked away slightly. “You want to stop?” He held himself very still.
Rodney pulled back and cradled John’s face in his big hands. “No, well, yeah, I don’t want to stop too soon, but that bit of paranoia, uh, cooled things down a bit.”
John grimaced, but didn’t apologize.
Circling his hand in an all-encompassing gesture, Rodney said a little desperately, “You planning on letting that go any time soon?”
Batting Rodney’s hands away and putting a hand in the middle of his chest, John shoved and Rodney fell very nicely on his bed, unable to decide whether he should glare or grin, but his eyes were very dark and the blush was creeping down his chest again.
“Gonna lose the pants?” John said casually, thumbing his top button open, then stopping, hands on hips, raising his eyebrows at McKay.
Rodney’s eyes were trained just below John’s belly button. “Hmm?”
John ran his finger up Rodney’s arch and he yelped, glaring, and jerking his foot back.
“Gonna lose the pants, Rodney?” John scratched his belly just to see where Rodney’s eyes would go. Yup. Right back to staring. He slid a hand under his waistband to adjust himself and watched Rodney’s eyes widen.
“Rodney?”
“Oh, you first or…” Rodney sat up, his eyebrows raised and his hand out, offering to help.
“I -“ John felt kind of shy about it now that he’d figured out what he wanted to do first. “We can do whatever - whatever you want, after - but, just trust me, okay? Lose the pants.”
Rodney blinked twice, rolled off the bed, dropped his pants very quickly, and was back on the bed, propped up on his elbows and smiling. John had skinned out of his own pants and boxers and grinned back, admiring the sight.
He ran his hands up Rodney’s legs, nudging them a little further apart. Rodney shivered and John darted a glance up at him. He was staring at John with the most incredible hunger.
“You look so good,” John breathed.
“So do you,” Rodney replied, his voice husky.
John kneeled on the bed and shifted forward a bit, far enough that he could press his face into the crease between Rodney’s hip and leg and breathe deeply. Rodney gasped sharply and jerked beneath him, causing his cock to brush against John’s cheek. He smiled to himself and nuzzled into Rodney’s skin, letting his face rub lightly against it.
Rodney whined high in his throat and grabbed the blanket with both hands. John lay across Rodney’s legs, got one hand on Rodney’s hip and pressed down, firmly. The other, he cupped under his balls and tugged them down gently. He licked a stripe from the root to the tip, giving the head a soft-mouthed kiss.
“Killing. Me.” Rodney panted, moving restlessly beneath him.
John chuckled, nosing his way into the crease of Rodney’s leg again, and a little higher to his hip bone, giving it an experimental lick. Rodney made a questioning noise, but John ignored it and set about creating a serious hickey.
Rodney groaned and squirmed as much as he could, but John took his time, even biting a bit when Rodney tried to get his feet underneath him and shift John somewhere else. Eventually, he relented, took a moment to admire his handiwork and then, in effect, released Rodney back into the wild.
“Happy? Flag all planted? Or would you like to engrave me?” Rodney snarled, sitting up enough to grab John and haul him up his body.
“Maybe a tastefu-“ John was cut off as his mouth was captured and he was suddenly and pretty competently manhandled onto his back. He wrestled back hard enough for Rodney to grind him hard into the mattress and groaned happily, giving back as good as he got.
“I want to, I need…” Rodney gasped, pulling back and peering into John’s face.
John wrapped his legs around him and arched, “Next time. Too close?” he replied through gritted teeth, “Please, Rodney.”
“What? Oh, Jesus. Stop. Stop stop.”
John tried, he really did, he did slow down as much as he could, but Rodney growled.
“Trying something here,” he panted, pressing down with his hips and holding. He was really strong and John whined and writhed and generally begged Rodney to get on the same page and then Rodney grabbed his arms and shoved them over his head and said, “John. Stop.” in this quietly thundering, must-be-obeyed voice. John went limp, completely surprised.
“Rodney?” Even he could hear how wrecked he sounded.
“Easy,” Rodney echoed back to him, kissing his lips gently. “I just wanted…” he threaded one hand between John’s fingers and started to rock against him, slow and steady with the promise of more just around the corner.
“Rodney,” John begged between kisses, squeezing his hand.
“Stay with me,” Rodney whispered, which made John start to shake all over.
Rodney stared down at him, shining, and John could see just about everything he’d ever wished for in his face, and it was so much and it had been there for fucking ever and he hadn’t known, he hadn’t known. Rodney watched him see it and he smiled - so deep - and kissed John like it was never going to end, then twisted his hips a little and John came and came and came, hanging on for dear life.
Breaking the kiss, Rodney gasped, tucked their cheeks together and followed over the edge, hoarsely sobbing out John’s name. Shaking through the aftershocks, he buried his head in John’s neck.
John threaded his free hand through the soft hair at Rodney’s nape, turned his head and kissed the small smile lines at the corner of his eyes.
“Mmph?” Rodney said, his voice muffled by the pillow and John’s shoulder. John kept kissing reachable skin; eyebrow, eyelid, edge of cheekbone, temple, figuring either he’d turn his head for more, or jerk it away if it was annoying. Rodney flapped a hand bonelessly against John’s shoulder and his legs twitched like he was trying to figure out how to move again. He moaned, sounding very Frankenstein’s monster, causing John to snicker.
“Not funny,” Rodney’s voice was clearly peeved, even pillow-muffled.
John helpfully rolled them to the side and extended his kisses to Rodney’s throat, licking a bit of sweat here and there helpfully along the way. Rodney made a half-questioning, half-contented noise and wrapped himself around John, tilting his head back for more. John obligingly nibbled on his adam’s apple.
“Falling asleep now,” Rodney announced, sounding drugged, rubbing his foot along John’s calf.
“Probably should clean up,” John conjectured, licking the hollow of this throat.
“Mmmph.” Rodney’s sigh was a hilarious, contented, high-pitched squeaking thing and John looked up, eyebrows raised.
“What?” Rodney said defensively.
John smothered a chuckle. “Nothing." He shifted onto his side and admired his handiwork. Rodney was a wonderful mess with a huge tooth-laced hickey on his hip. He traced it with his fingers.
“Caveman, ” Rodney said in a pro-forma complaint. John pressed the mark and Rodney hissed, his eyes darkening. He slid a hand around the back of John’s neck and looked very smoldery and encouraging.
“Are you too lazy to come all of three inches over here and kiss me?”
One corner of Rodney's mouth quirked up. “We’ve known each other how long?”
John conceded the point and kissed him, long and slow and sweet.
“I should probably go,” Rodney said with resignation.
“No,” John said, before he could think about it, “don’t.”
Rodney pulled back and frowned at him.
“Just not right now, okay?” John nuzzled his nose in Rodney’s cheek.
“Okay,” Rodney’s hand was gentle on the back of John’s head. “Okay.”
(Excerpt of Act 1;Scene 5 used as section heads)
Romeo:
If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this,--
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
Juliet.
Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.
Romeo.
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
Juliet.
Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
Romeo.
O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
Juliet.
Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.
Romeo.
Then move not while my prayer's effect I take.
I'm not sure I'm entirely sold on this, but I liked chopping up the text like John and Rodney chop up their communication. They both think they're being perfectly clear, when often half the line is hidden in what they didn't say. I hope that makes as much sense to y'all as it did to me. Oh, and the last, unsaid thing? Is what the lovely ladycat777 recommended as the title. I tend to think of it as the "happily ever after."
Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg'd.
Author: Beadattitude
Fandom/Pairing: Stargate:Atlantis, McKay/Sheppard
Rating: FMAO
Vetted/Beta Edit: TBA
Spoilers: none
Warnings: unbeta'ed
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, nor do I make money on their use. No copyright infringement intended. Additional thanks to Russell T. Davies, Bud Abbott and Lou Costello.
Author’s Notes: I posted a call for drabble prompts, and mecurtin was at the top of the list, requesting "John/Rodney, safe sex and hands. Sexy, sexy hands. Sneaky hands. Think-they-won't get-caught hands." I think I got it all, but the safety part is a bit implied.
This fic is based somewhat on experience. I was the lucky recipient of a similar handling during a Maundy Thursday feast, of all things. The young man who held my hand made no further moves, and I was certainly, at the time, too shy and inexperienced to have a clue what to do next. I think I was 14. The experience has certainly stuck with me. :D
The title is taken from Romeo and Juliet, Act I, Scene 5, which John very dimly remembers a line from. Several sweethearts, amireal, ladycat777 and sheafrotherdon have advised on the title. I listened very nicely then went out and did precisely what I wanted. ;D The full scene can be found here. There are endnotes at the bottom (after, read it after) explaining my choices a bit more clearly. I hope.
Teaser: John had to hand it to Rodney; despite a few flinches and wild-eyed looks, things went pretty much to the way things were Before. He’d expected some avoidance and extra-snippy remarks - especially since Rodney was so sure he was right, naturally - but on the whole, Rodney was handling their situation with remarkable grace.
John hated it.
He hated it so much that he wanted to do stupid, dangerous things to show Rodney that their being together was not a stupid, dangerous thing. He beat his head against walls a lot, trying to blot out various crazy ideas.
Turned out that once-repressed no-longer-secret crushes also made a guy irrationally romantic, too. Hell of a recoil.
Mannerly Devotion
Rodney had been overly quiet that day, which had him on John’s extra-alert radar in the first place and only put up a resigned, lackluster bit of protest when Teyla had described the community meal.
The dining area would be arranged in two concentric circles, representing the gate and the planet and the sun…all sorts of round important things. The inner ring of diners moved from small, two-person table to table between each course, getting to know new friends or enjoying the company of old. Normally the inner ring would be natives and the outer outworlders, but with just the four of them, they’d just mingle with the crowd.
“Small talk?” Rodney’d inquired wearily, his entire body pouting. They had walked a lot that day and Rodney had been working hard before they left Atlantis.
“It’ll be all right, McKay. Just ask them about themselves, nod and smile. Very little effort on your part.”
“I am deeply, deeply unsuited for this.”
“That is untrue, Rodney. When you wish you can be very charming,” Teyla said encouragingly, a hint of sultry approval in her voice.
Rodney perked up a little and John could just kiss Teyla. “Well, yes, I’m quite the catch. And I can converse on nearly any subject. Thank you, Teyla.”
Ronon loomed playfully over Rodney. “You smell good, too.” He added a leer to his loom and pushed into Rodney’s space, sniffing obviously.
“Okay, that’s just unsettling. And I don’t date mops.”
Ronon shook his dreads in Rodney’s face. “Not a mop, McKay.”
“No, no, very nice guard dog person, warrior thing.” He placed one hand on Ronon’s shoulder and shoved politely. “Quit harassing me or I’ll let Radek take you camping again.”
John ducked his head and smiled at his boots when Ronon’s answering smirk held the tiniest bit of worry in it. He really had to talk to Radek about exactly what happened on that camping trip. Ronon made himself busy elsewhere, arranging his knives in a more festive display for the party.
Luck landed John with Rodney at the end of the meal and so they were companions for the speeches and prayers that followed. There were lots of speeches and lots of prayers, it seemed, and in order that everyone remember this night was about cementing friendship, the chief asked everyone to join hands with their table partner.
John blinked a few times, but it was a pretty tame request. He exchanged a resigned, tight “what are you going to do?” smile with Rodney, reached out and clasped his hand, resting them on the small cushion between them below the edge of the table. He tried to turn his full attention back to the ceremony, but Rodney’s hand kept flexing in his. He loosened his grip.
A moment or two later, Rodney’s thumb brushed hesitantly over his and John was stunned to feel a jolt of desire, and wasn’t that coming from an unexpected quarter? Not that he ever saw it coming. He had been flirting massively for years with the guy, but he never figured Rodney’d notice. In fact, Rodney’s stunted recognition of social cues enabled John to keep his crush on him manageable. Now, it seemed, Rodney wasn’t that clueless after all.
Four breaths and a hell of a lot of internal debate later, John squeezed back gently, rubbing his thumb along the side of Rodney’s. John could hear Rodney’s sigh as he relaxed and resumed the gentle touch.
Relaxed? John didn’t remember handholding being this exciting in middle school. Actually, he couldn’t think of the last time he just held hands with a man outside of childhood. He liked it. Rodney’s hand was warm, dry and large in a way that was oddly comforting. He knew how capable Rodney’s hands were, and had watched him handle Ancient machinery a thousand times. The same gentle exploration was focused on John’s skin right now, John closed his eyes briefly to savor it.
Feeling a little lightheaded, John inhaled deeply, trying to get some oxygen to his brain. His exhale came out a slightly shaky. Rodney hooked his pinky comfortingly over John’s index finger and tucked his thumb under his cuff, sweeping over the tender skin of his wrist. It was really nice; if nice could describe the weird, warm ache he had in his chest.
John went for broke, twisted his palm and laced his fingers with Rodney’s, whose hand quickly turned to meet his. John’s heart tripped into a quick-march rhythm as he fought to keep his eyes and some of his focus on the proceedings. He caught up just as the elder speaking invited them to bow their heads in prayer.
He kept his eyes open, looking and listening to see if anything was amiss, any weirdness from the natives he hadn’t picked up before, but all he saw was patient and joyful devotion. Nice people. He very definitely did not think, even in the privacy of his own thoughts, anything like hoping the mission would go smoothly, but he smiled, allowing himself to hope they’d be good trading partners.
Ronon’s eyes met his from across the room and the warrior gave him his pleasant - if slightly enigmatic - and smiling nod. John squinted at him for clarification and Ronon looked at him dryly, made a show of closing his eyes and bowing his head. Well, he could have just said that in the first place, John scowled in his direction. Assured that all was well, he bent his head in a prayerful attitude.
Rodney drew his attention back to their handclasp, sliding his fingers up and down John’s, teasing and scratching the skin between his fingers before lacing their hands together again, palm to palm. John turned his head slightly, marveling at how good their hands and arms looked together.
Palm to palm, that was a line from something, John knew, but he couldn’t quite place it. Something poetic and classical. He frowned, trying to remember, and felt a small tug. He turned his head slightly, glancing up and over at Rodney, his chin still lowered to his chest. Rodney was in a similar position, his eyes questioning. He must have seen John’s frown.
John smiled, carding his fingers through Rodney’s and sliding their palms together a few times before reclaiming his hand. Rodney blinked and smiled, a small, sleepy-sexy half-lidded smile, barely hiding the happiness radiating off him. His eyes dropped to John’s mouth, and John had to wrench his gaze away and shut his eyes tight, trying to get his breathing under control.
He wanted to kiss Rodney so badly it hurt. He wanted to bring their hands together and kiss his fingers, the center of his palm, nip the big joint of his thumb and brush his lips across the soft inner skin of his wrist. The strength of it shook him. He closed his eyes tighter, wrestling to hold it at bay when all he wanted was to lean over their joined hands, turn Rodney’s face to his and kiss him slow enough to learn every dip of that fantastically crooked mouth.
Repressed secret crushes had a hell of a recoil, he thought.
Rodney made a soft sound and John realized he was pretty much strangling the man’s hand in his spectacularly derailed attempt to get himself together. He slipped his fingers free and massaged Rodney’s hand apologetically, focusing on his palm and the tightness around his thumb from too much typing and mousing. Rodney’s relaxed fingers curled over his hand and John glanced over and watched him sigh, his eyelashes fluttering. John’s breath caught in his throat. Rodney’s eyes flew open to meet John’s, face flushed and surprised. He looked really good. Forcing himself to look away again, he slid his palm across Rodney’s, neatly and easily sliding into place between his fingers. Rodney tightened his hand in a long, slow squeeze that was the clearest welcome John could imagine.
The ceremonial prayer and dinner ended with a joyous amen-sounding shout from the elders, who rose, gesturing all to stand. Rodney let him go and stood, leaving John to scramble a little unsteadily to his feet. They repeated the closing promises of friendship, said their goodbyes and didn’t look at one another until they were heading toward the puddlejumper.
“That went well. Nice dinner,” John remarked. “No monkey brains. No nasty surprises.”
“They are good people,” Teyla agreed. “Very honorable.”
“Good food, too.”
“Yes,” Rodney said airily. “Wouldn’t mind doing that again.”
John glanced over and caught his shy, loaded-question smile. “Me neither,” he replied, feeling ultra-cool and sneaky.
Ronon cuffed him on the back of the head. “It’s about time.”
“Ronon,” Teyla admonished him lightly. “Be more discreet.”
“In the middle of a field?”
“Nevertheless.”
“Uh, guys?” John said when he could find his voice.
“Teyla made sure you wound up at the table together.” Ronon confided.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rodney said stiffly. John wanted to kick Ronon.
“You were all…” Ronon laced his hands together, smiling. He bumped shoulders with Rodney, nearly knocking him over.
“It was all part of the ceremony.” Rodney sniffed.
Ronon bumped shoulders with John next.
“Cut it out, Ronon,” he said dangerously.
Ronon frowned and shrugged, “Happy for you.”
“You understand the situation with the Earth military, Ronon. I have explained it to you.” Teyla said coldly.
“Yeah, but - ”
John finally recovered his cool. “Look, Ronon, I don’t know what you saw, or what you thought you saw, but we need to keep this just between us, okay? We were just holding hands as part of a ceremony.”
“Sheppard, I wouldn’t…”
“Not on purpose, no. But people talk, and take things out of context, so if you wouldn’t mind… I hate to say it, but it’s not a good idea to even get in the habit of teasing people about, ” he swallowed hard, “same-sex relationships that include military personnel. Even off world. One tired slip and…”
“I get it,” Ronon said sullenly.
“Thank you.” John replied graciously. He risked a glance at Rodney - who looked sick and angry - before continuing. “We didn’t conduct ourselves very discreetly today and that’s my fault. And I’m sorry to ask you to cover for me.”
“Sheppard…” Ronon looked like John had kicked him. “I apologize. I was just…” he gestured between John and Rodney. “Glad.”
“Yeah, buddy. I know.” John, blushing, gave him a half smile and punched him in the shoulder. “You big dummy.”
Ronon raised his eyebrows.
“Yeah, that was probably pushing it,” John said hastily, flipping his hands up to a “we come in peace” gesture. Ronon snorted, clapped him hard on the shoulder and extended his hand to Rodney, who was hunched in on himself, looking miserable.
“My apologies, McKay.”
“Hmm.” Rodney said, shaking on it, looking anywhere but at Ronon, “Apology accepted.”
“We will see you at the ‘jumper,” Teyla said firmly and led Ronon off.
“Colonel,” Rodney began, face stricken.
“Rodney,” John replied softly, drawling his name out ridiculously. “Would you call me John already?”
Rodney’s eyes darted to his face and away, his chin tilted high. “Colonel, I apologize for my indiscretion. It was opportunistic and…”
“I seem to recall not pulling away, Rodney.” John snorted. “I seem to remember pretty much liking it.”
“Yes, well, the ceremony went on a long time, and…” He rambled unhappily, shoulders slumping.
The hair on the back of John’s neck went up and he could feel his face flush in anger. “You have got to be kidding me,” he said dangerously. “You think I was responding to you because I was bored?”
“Well, ah…”
John’s voice rose incredulously, “Did you not hear me agree that I’d like to continue? To 'do it again sometime?' Jesus, Rodney. Good to know what kind of guy you really think I am!”
“Well, excuse me if I thought you might have second thoughts after Ronon started shooting off his mouth. It certainly seemed like you were when you were saying you should have stopped the ‘indiscretion’- he made sarcastic finger quote marks - and it was all your fault.”
“It is my fault! We’re off world! I should have shut you down and paid more attention to my job.”
“And you wonder how I got the impression you were going ignore the whole thing!”
John got right up into Rodney’s personal space. “I should have shut you down,” he said with quiet intensity, “because what we were doing is dangerous for me to be doing at all, much less in public, on a strange planet with people we don’t know very well.”
Rodney rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, frustrated. “I know, Colonel. I, I wasn’t thinking clearly.” He waved his hand in a weary circle. “Like I said, opportunistic.”
“Could you please stop calling me that?”
“Colonel?”
“Yeah, that.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t.”
Disappointment, humiliation, and maybe the tiniest bit of shame nearly choked John. “Huh,” he said, forcing the words out past his grinding teeth. “Never figured you for a cock tease, McKay,” he spat nastily. He spun on his heel and stomped off to the puddlejumper.
“Hey!” McKay called after him. “That is hardly fair.”
John wheeled around, furious. “Fair? You wanna talk about fair with me? You started it and I outed myself to my team and not to mention a trading partner. You’re backing out and you’re not even giving me a say in this, when I pretty much made it clear, in public no less - and public was stupid, I’ll grant you that, - but yeah, there you were, holding my hand like you - and I’d like to, I’d like to, to - oh, hell.” He marched over to Rodney, grabbed him by the vest and dove in for a long, dirty kiss. When they had to come up for air, he shoved Rodney back with both hands, his breathing hard and ragged.
“I think that evens the score a little bit, dumbass.” He stormed off, walking straight into the jumper and starting the launch sequence without glancing to see if Rodney was following.
John smacked Ronon on the back of the head. He returned the gesture. John gave him a look that would peel paint. Teyla smacked Ronon and Rodney and John, announcing. “I have seen the three of you behave foolishly before, but I tell you, if you were my brothers you would be eating pilka root porridge with the other infants for at least a month.”
None of them wanted to contradict an angry Teyla, so the ride home was very, very quiet. They played happy family for Elizabeth during briefing, even Rodney, who was looking ill.
“Are you all right, Rodney?” Elizabeth asked.
“Hmmm?” he replied, distracted. “Uh, um, just a headache, that’s all. Long day. ”
“Let’s dismiss the meeting then. We’ve done enough here. I’ll see you and your reports tomorrow.”
Murmuring their thanks, they filed out. John and Rodney exchanged a glance at the transporter doors, John furious and Rodney contrite, hurt, stubborn and a little scared. John kind of hated that he could see all of that in Rodney’s face so he glared at him again as the doors opened. Rodney muttered something about forgetting something in his lab and scuttled off.
John was pissed off enough to throw all of his clothing on the floor, step on it with his dirty boots and leave it there, turning his nose up at years of conditioning, rules and preference. He stomped into the shower and tersely thought the water on. Picking up his soap, he brusquely lathered his hands, then blinked, finally looking at them.
He stared, absently noting a scar here or there or the remnant bulge of a broken bone and the blackened nail where Teyla bashed it with her sticks a couple of weeks ago. He thought of the soft, warm slide of Rodney’s skin, his surprising gentleness and how fucking beautiful they looked twined around each other. He beat his head against the hard porcelain-like wall a couple of times then leaned into its coolness, aching and angry. The soap slipped out of his lax hand. Thinking the water off, he walked straight into bed, wet, naked and miserable.
~~~
Lest Faith Turn
John had to hand it to Rodney; despite a few flinches and wild-eyed looks, things went pretty much to the way things were Before. He’d expected some avoidance and extra-snippy remarks - especially since Rodney was so sure he was right, naturally - but on the whole, Rodney was handling their situation with remarkable grace.
John hated it.
He hated it so much that he wanted to do stupid, dangerous things to show Rodney that their being together was not a stupid, dangerous thing. He beat his head against walls a lot, trying to blot out various crazy ideas.
Turned out that once-repressed no-longer-secret crushes also made a guy irrationally romantic, too. Hell of a recoil.
If Rodney wanted to make peace, he’d have to come to him. After all, he’d started this, if you didn’t count the years that they’d been flirting. Well, John had been flirting, at least part of the time and John pretty much had to stop explaining it to himself, because it made him want to punch walls. McKay started it the physical stuff. McKay had crossed the line, and if he wanted to fix things, well, he’d have to come and tell John he wanted to fix them. Because the last thing he was going to do was stick his neck out for Rodney McKay. (Except for the parts that were his actual job; off the clock, no way.)
It was bad enough that Rodney had snuck under his skin and into his brain and utterly spoiled him for anyone less brilliant or sweeter-tempered. It was bad enough that he had a thing for one of his male team members. It was almost unbearable that Rodney had made his move and John had matched it, trusting that Rodney wanted it just as much, and when he didn’t…losing something he never thought he’d have in the first place hurt a lot more than he ever expected.
The barest hint of a problem and Rodney scrapped the whole thing. Didn’t matter how John had nipped the problem in the bud; Rodney just turned tail and ran. It made him feel about an inch tall.
He very definitely did not think about that evening and the brightness of Rodney’s eyes or that wave of longing that nearly broke him apart. He also never thought about what Rodney’s kiss might have tasted like if he’d reached for him that moment when he’d wanted to, back at the table. Never.
~~~~~~
Then Move Not
Two weeks after the mission, John was spending some productive time glaring at his ceiling when Rodney bustled through the door, laptop and DVD box in hand.
“Rise and shine, Colonel, it’s Who watching time!”
John propped up on his elbows and stared at Rodney fussing around his room, obviously arranging things for a movie night. “What?”
Rodney waved a finger, “No, no. Who. Doctor Who. The new season,” he beamed at John, handing him the box before heading over to John’s food stash. “I’d been saving it for our next thank-god-we’re-alive celebration or something else special, but I thought it might be a good night to break it out. Ah. Here we go.” He stood over John, holding out a bag of popcorn and John’s largest bowl. “Make yourself useful.”
John blinked up at Rodney couple of times, waiting for his brain to catch up. “So,” he said slowly, “Why?”
”Who. Aren’t you listening?” his smile faltered a little.
John sat up, scrubbing both hands over his face to get rid of the feeling of being run over by a McKay. He looked up into Rodney’s hopeful, fearful face and decided that if this was the way Rodney wanted to edge toward an apology, he could play along. He traded the box for his bowl and popcorn and stumbled down the hall to the nearest common area and a microwave.
When he got back to his room, it smelled like butter. Rodney had John’s metal field cup resting on his hot plate. Using a sock as an oven mitt, Rodney picked up the cup and swirled it. “Perfect,” he smiled, snapping his fingers for the bowl. John handed it over and watched as he carefully distributed the butter, then scooped up a few cupfuls of popcorn to get the last little bit remaining in the bottom.
“Butter,” John remarked, impressed. Any minute now, he was going to be able to speak more than one word at a time. But things were starting to feel a little weird with Rodney being all nervous and vibrate-y and cheerful.
“Fixed Chef Charlie’s laptop for him. I am owed,” Rodney sampled the popcorn. “Excellent.” He turned back to John, offering the bowl. “Got anything to drink?”
John opened his mouth to rundown the beverage options, then closed his it and frowned, hands on his hips. Rodney drooped.
“Look,” he said quietly. “Upon some reflection, I realized that the other day I might have misread things.”
Taking a quick, deep breath, John gritted his teeth, squashed the impulse to roll his eyes, crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows inquiringly.
Rodney took in his bracing himself and blinked a few times. “That your, ah, discussion with Ronon was perhaps not a knee jerk homophobic response, and that you might have been covering for both of us, not just yourself.”
John forgot to scowl he was so surprised. “What?”
“You, ah, already used that one,” Rodney smiled hopefully. “What? Who? Popcorn?” He shook the bowl at him.
“I need beer,” John said seriously as he shook himself and stomped over to his fridge.
“Excellent,” he heard Rodney say behind him faintly.
“Ale or Lager?”
“Oh, mmm, ale?”
John kicked the door shut, opened the bottles and gestured Rodney to the couch. John noticed that Rodney was very careful not to slouch against him like he always did, but sat more like someone reclining on a bed of nails. He could feel him practically twanging like a guitar string, and it occurred to him that he hadn’t actually responded to Rodney’s near-apology.
“Both of us,” he said quietly, not looking at Rodney.
“Oh. Yes. Well. Good. Thank you?”
John handed him a beer, still unable to look over to see Rodney’s reaction.
Rodney cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said, almost whispering.
John nodded. “I am, too.”
Rodney stiffened, and John looked over at him, frowning. “What?”
“What, what?” Rodney bit back, his face flushed.
“You just got mad out of nowhere.”
“You know what? Watching DVD now and shutting up.”
“Okay,” John drawled, totally in the dark. “Fine.”
So they watched Doctor Who. John liked the cocky, big-eared doctor and Rose was all right despite the Tammy Faye Baker levels of eye makeup she wore. The Doctor was rude and pushy and brash and snarky and kind of a dork, then the hot tree-lady said something nice to him and he got this look on his face that reminded him really strongly of Rodney after they got him out of the drowned puddlejumper. Then he started noticing how very much Rose and the Doctor held hands along about the time they were about to get eaten by Victorian space-zombies.
Rodney had noticed it too, he was sure, with all that fidgeting around he was doing.
Stretching, John leaned back far enough for stealthy observation. Careful not to turn his head too far, he kept his face pointed at the screen while his eyes tracked to Rodney, who was eating popcorn in uncharacteristically small bites. He ate slowly, concentrating on the show, fingers poking a kernel at a time between his lips.
It made John’s mouth dry to watch. Of course, seeing Rodney’s tongue curl from behind his lips to catch each morsel was hot enough, but the light from the screen had him washed in warm colors, caught the fine, auburn hairs on his wrist and flickered briefly on his nails. Rodney’s tongue darted out to suck a bit of salty butter off his thumb and he hummed with pleasure. John’s breath caught in his chest. He looked up at the ceiling, licked his lips nervously and thought cold-showery thoughts. He wished he knew what was going on here.
Rodney bumped his shoulder and John dragged himself back to reality.
“Mmm?” he replied, figuring that it would cover anything he’d missed.
Rodney rolled his eyes. “You meditating or something?” He tipped his bowl of popcorn toward John, inviting him to take some.
John raised his eyebrows and took a handful. “Thanks.”
“Just trying to keep you awake.”
John snorted. Munching his popcorn, he forced his eyes to the screen. “This is good,” he ventured.
“Yeah, it’s not bad.” Rodney replied, squirming happily. He really needed to stop doing that. Abruptly, he plonked the bowl into John’s lap and shrugged out of his jacket. John caught a bit of his warm, spicy-clean Rodney smell and clenched his jaw tight. When Rodney dug his hand happily into the bowl on John’s lap, John froze.
Rodney snatched his hand back, mortified, and looked like he was about to flee.
John touched his wrist gently. “Rodney.”
“I can see,” he blurted, pulling away, “how a few weeks ago my actions could have been construed as teasing, but I assure you that’s not what I meant at all. Nor did I mean anything when I pretty much just shoved my hand in your crotch.”
“You didn’t mean anything,” John said flatly. Rodney peered at him, confused.
“I didn’t mean to encroach on your personal,” he gestured at John’s lap looking like he wished he could stop himself. “Person?”
John looked at him for a long time, thinking. Rodney turned away and took a long swig of his ale. “You know, I’m quite embarrassed enough, thank you, without you staring holes in my head.”
“I’m just,” John said slowly, “trying to figure out what the hell is going on.”
“We’re watching TV?”
“Yeah, TV about people who hold hands a lot.”
“I had no idea!” Rodney shrieked, backing up to the very end of the sofa.
“Easy, buddy,” John said softly, with a pang for Rodney’s discomfort, “I believe you.”
Rodney let out a gusty breath of relief. They looked at one another warily.
“Want to watch some more Who?”
“What?” Rodney said faintly, still curled in a scared little knot.
“No, Who.”
He got a blank stare for a long moment until Rodney’s brain clicked back into gear. “Ha. Ha.”
“Hey,” John said easily, “You started it.”
They both froze again, Rodney looking guilty. John, nearly growling, reached over and plucked the popcorn bowl out of Rodney’s hands. Moving closer, he sat right against Rodney, everything from shoulder to knees touching. He leaned forward, adjusted the laptop, rewound a couple of scenes and sat back, putting his feet on the table. He plucked Rodney’s remote out of his hand and pressed play. Looking directly at the screen, he rested his arm on his leg, palm open and loose. He waited.
“Colonel?”
John sighed and turning his palm down, scratched his knee. He leaned away from Rodney and stared at the screen blindly.
“John,” Rodney said, not asking a question.
“Yeah,” John replied hoarsely.
After a very long moment, Rodney’s warm hand slid over his and John turned his palm to meet him, spreading his fingers. He could feel Rodney uncoil and slide down beside him, sighing, against John’s side.
Warmth spread over John’s body in a long, smooth wave, just from those small points of contact.
“We are such idiots,” Rodney said ruefully.
John cleared his throat meaningfully.
“Oh, come on, you know I’m horrible with people. I just don’t get…”
“Rodney, just shut up and go with it. Watch TV. Also?” he winced, flexing his fingers. “Maybe not so tight.”
“Okay,” he agreed breathily, loosening his grip.
They leaned against each other for a good five minutes before John dared to move, sliding minutely closer. Rodney’s breath sped up and John slid his thumb over his encouragingly.
Rodney started to play with John’s hand like he had at the feast; sliding their palms together, then rolling his hand to caress John’s fingers with the back of his. He teased the soft, uncalloused skin between his fingers and rubbed his arm hair the wrong way, smoothing it back by scratching lightly down. John broke out in goosebumps and unconsciously made a happy sound in the back of his throat.
“Like that, do you?” Rodney murmured, sounding incredibly pleased.
Yeah, he liked it. John was slowly melting into Rodney’s side, lit up with pleasure. Reaching over, he turned Rodney’s face with his fingers. He smiled into Rodney’s flushed, happy look, then stared at his mouth long enough that Rodney shivered.
“Really?” Rodney whispered on tattered breath.
John leaned over as slowly as he possibly could, keeping his eyes on Rodney’s until he could reply, “Really,” millimeters away. He was close enough that Rodney’s lashes brushed his cheek as they found just the right angle of approach. John was unable to stop a heartfelt groan when Rodney inhaled sharply as their lips touched, shivering into the kiss. He made a pained, needy noise, his lips vibrating softly, sending a rush through John’s entire body, making him feel wild and lightheaded. It was all he could do not to drag Rodney to the floor.
But, not wanting to break the slow, easy pace (or spook Rodney) John held himself in check, keeping things light, flickering his tongue over Rodney’s lips and slipping inside his mouth for quick, sweet tastes. With his free hand he stroked the side of Rodney’s face and neck, drifted down to smooth his hand over his very nice chest and dragged his nails across a nipple.
Rodney moaned brokenly and clutched at John’s shoulder, urging him closer. There was not much John could do about that until he could move more freely. “Hey,” he whispered, pulling back slightly and peppering Rodney’s jaw with tiny, noiseless kisses. “Leggo my arm; it’s falling asleep.” He punctuated the request by grazing the corner of Rodney’s jaw with his teeth, followed up by a long, lush suck on his pulse point.
He tilted his head and gave a moaning sigh, causing John to grin against Rodney’s neck and do it again, careful not to mark him. “Harder,” Rodney begged, cupping the back of his head. John chuckled, low and dirty, curling into Rodney’s side and splaying a hand across his chest.
“Only where you and I can see it,” he promised.
“Mmnnnnn,” Rodney whined, squirming and John, laughing, licked and nibbled at his ear and jaw and throat until Rodney flailed around enough to turn, grab John’s shirt and haul it over his head, nearly removing John’s nose with it.
“Little warning?” John half-complained, rubbing it gingerly.
“You could have stopped trying to kiss me for the one second it took to get it off,” Rodney said defensively, standing up to shuck his own shirt off and toe out of his boots.
John looked at him from under his lashes. “Didn’t want to.”
Rodney’s blush went halfway down his chest, which John thought was a very good look. He leaned back on the sofa, spreading his arms across the back, sprawling comfortably, legs stretched out and hips tilted up, easing some of the pressure on his cock. He smiled up at Rodney lazily.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Rodney said cryptically, leaning down and grabbing Sheppard by his belt-buckle, fingers dipping under the waistband and brushing across John’s erection. It surprised John just enough that his hips arched involuntarily into the touch. He made a completely embarrassing noise, which he hoped Rodney hadn’t noticed. Given his proximity it was pretty unlikely.
Smirking, Rodney tugged meaningfully on his pants, encouraging him to stand. John got his balance and stood up, letting Rodney reel him into his arms. He adjusted comfortably into the hug, savoring the feel of Rodney’s skin and how good he smelled. Nuzzling under his jaw, he inhaled deeply and sighed. Rodney held on tighter and made a pleased noise, shifting his weight slightly, which lined everything up perfectly.
“Oh, god.” John groaned, his knees feeling wobbly. Suddenly, things felt a little desperate again, with Rodney’s face in his neck, breathing his name in a broken, shaken voice.
“Easy,” John whispered, cupping the back of his head. “Easy, now.”
Rodney wasn’t ready to be easy, and very shortly, John found himself scrambling to keep up as Rodney kissed and bit and licked every reachable inch of skin, one arm like iron at the small of John’s back and his free hand fisted in his hair. John’s knees did finally buckle, but Rodney had him easily, which made John moan long and loud as he clutched at Rodney’s shoulders.
“Bed?” Rodney’s voice was rough but oddly shy. John laughed shakily, utterly charmed.
“Ya think?” He dove in and nipped at his favorite spot on Rodney’s neck, then soothed it with his tongue.
“Oh, god, John,” Rodney remarked breathlessly, clutching at John’s hips and grinding against him.
It was John’s turn to go breathless. Rodney felt so good, smooth, warm skin under his hands, heat and hardness against his thigh a promise of many fantastic things to come. John braced himself and pushed Rodney back, toward the bed, careful they didn’t go too fast and just crash. If he hurt Rodney’s back at this point and they had to stop, John was pretty sure he’d lose his mind.
John couldn’t stop kissing Rodney to look for the button on his pants, so he just searched for it by feel. When he pressed a hand against his cloth-covered cock, Rodney broke his lips away with a curse and pressed his face into John’s neck.
“Hang on, hang on, hang on,” he babbled desperately.
John jerked away slightly. “You want to stop?” He held himself very still.
Rodney pulled back and cradled John’s face in his big hands. “No, well, yeah, I don’t want to stop too soon, but that bit of paranoia, uh, cooled things down a bit.”
John grimaced, but didn’t apologize.
Circling his hand in an all-encompassing gesture, Rodney said a little desperately, “You planning on letting that go any time soon?”
Batting Rodney’s hands away and putting a hand in the middle of his chest, John shoved and Rodney fell very nicely on his bed, unable to decide whether he should glare or grin, but his eyes were very dark and the blush was creeping down his chest again.
“Gonna lose the pants?” John said casually, thumbing his top button open, then stopping, hands on hips, raising his eyebrows at McKay.
Rodney’s eyes were trained just below John’s belly button. “Hmm?”
John ran his finger up Rodney’s arch and he yelped, glaring, and jerking his foot back.
“Gonna lose the pants, Rodney?” John scratched his belly just to see where Rodney’s eyes would go. Yup. Right back to staring. He slid a hand under his waistband to adjust himself and watched Rodney’s eyes widen.
“Rodney?”
“Oh, you first or…” Rodney sat up, his eyebrows raised and his hand out, offering to help.
“I -“ John felt kind of shy about it now that he’d figured out what he wanted to do first. “We can do whatever - whatever you want, after - but, just trust me, okay? Lose the pants.”
Rodney blinked twice, rolled off the bed, dropped his pants very quickly, and was back on the bed, propped up on his elbows and smiling. John had skinned out of his own pants and boxers and grinned back, admiring the sight.
He ran his hands up Rodney’s legs, nudging them a little further apart. Rodney shivered and John darted a glance up at him. He was staring at John with the most incredible hunger.
“You look so good,” John breathed.
“So do you,” Rodney replied, his voice husky.
John kneeled on the bed and shifted forward a bit, far enough that he could press his face into the crease between Rodney’s hip and leg and breathe deeply. Rodney gasped sharply and jerked beneath him, causing his cock to brush against John’s cheek. He smiled to himself and nuzzled into Rodney’s skin, letting his face rub lightly against it.
Rodney whined high in his throat and grabbed the blanket with both hands. John lay across Rodney’s legs, got one hand on Rodney’s hip and pressed down, firmly. The other, he cupped under his balls and tugged them down gently. He licked a stripe from the root to the tip, giving the head a soft-mouthed kiss.
“Killing. Me.” Rodney panted, moving restlessly beneath him.
John chuckled, nosing his way into the crease of Rodney’s leg again, and a little higher to his hip bone, giving it an experimental lick. Rodney made a questioning noise, but John ignored it and set about creating a serious hickey.
Rodney groaned and squirmed as much as he could, but John took his time, even biting a bit when Rodney tried to get his feet underneath him and shift John somewhere else. Eventually, he relented, took a moment to admire his handiwork and then, in effect, released Rodney back into the wild.
“Happy? Flag all planted? Or would you like to engrave me?” Rodney snarled, sitting up enough to grab John and haul him up his body.
“Maybe a tastefu-“ John was cut off as his mouth was captured and he was suddenly and pretty competently manhandled onto his back. He wrestled back hard enough for Rodney to grind him hard into the mattress and groaned happily, giving back as good as he got.
“I want to, I need…” Rodney gasped, pulling back and peering into John’s face.
John wrapped his legs around him and arched, “Next time. Too close?” he replied through gritted teeth, “Please, Rodney.”
“What? Oh, Jesus. Stop. Stop stop.”
John tried, he really did, he did slow down as much as he could, but Rodney growled.
“Trying something here,” he panted, pressing down with his hips and holding. He was really strong and John whined and writhed and generally begged Rodney to get on the same page and then Rodney grabbed his arms and shoved them over his head and said, “John. Stop.” in this quietly thundering, must-be-obeyed voice. John went limp, completely surprised.
“Rodney?” Even he could hear how wrecked he sounded.
“Easy,” Rodney echoed back to him, kissing his lips gently. “I just wanted…” he threaded one hand between John’s fingers and started to rock against him, slow and steady with the promise of more just around the corner.
“Rodney,” John begged between kisses, squeezing his hand.
“Stay with me,” Rodney whispered, which made John start to shake all over.
Rodney stared down at him, shining, and John could see just about everything he’d ever wished for in his face, and it was so much and it had been there for fucking ever and he hadn’t known, he hadn’t known. Rodney watched him see it and he smiled - so deep - and kissed John like it was never going to end, then twisted his hips a little and John came and came and came, hanging on for dear life.
Breaking the kiss, Rodney gasped, tucked their cheeks together and followed over the edge, hoarsely sobbing out John’s name. Shaking through the aftershocks, he buried his head in John’s neck.
John threaded his free hand through the soft hair at Rodney’s nape, turned his head and kissed the small smile lines at the corner of his eyes.
“Mmph?” Rodney said, his voice muffled by the pillow and John’s shoulder. John kept kissing reachable skin; eyebrow, eyelid, edge of cheekbone, temple, figuring either he’d turn his head for more, or jerk it away if it was annoying. Rodney flapped a hand bonelessly against John’s shoulder and his legs twitched like he was trying to figure out how to move again. He moaned, sounding very Frankenstein’s monster, causing John to snicker.
“Not funny,” Rodney’s voice was clearly peeved, even pillow-muffled.
John helpfully rolled them to the side and extended his kisses to Rodney’s throat, licking a bit of sweat here and there helpfully along the way. Rodney made a half-questioning, half-contented noise and wrapped himself around John, tilting his head back for more. John obligingly nibbled on his adam’s apple.
“Falling asleep now,” Rodney announced, sounding drugged, rubbing his foot along John’s calf.
“Probably should clean up,” John conjectured, licking the hollow of this throat.
“Mmmph.” Rodney’s sigh was a hilarious, contented, high-pitched squeaking thing and John looked up, eyebrows raised.
“What?” Rodney said defensively.
John smothered a chuckle. “Nothing." He shifted onto his side and admired his handiwork. Rodney was a wonderful mess with a huge tooth-laced hickey on his hip. He traced it with his fingers.
“Caveman, ” Rodney said in a pro-forma complaint. John pressed the mark and Rodney hissed, his eyes darkening. He slid a hand around the back of John’s neck and looked very smoldery and encouraging.
“Are you too lazy to come all of three inches over here and kiss me?”
One corner of Rodney's mouth quirked up. “We’ve known each other how long?”
John conceded the point and kissed him, long and slow and sweet.
“I should probably go,” Rodney said with resignation.
“No,” John said, before he could think about it, “don’t.”
Rodney pulled back and frowned at him.
“Just not right now, okay?” John nuzzled his nose in Rodney’s cheek.
“Okay,” Rodney’s hand was gentle on the back of John’s head. “Okay.”
(Excerpt of Act 1;Scene 5 used as section heads)
Romeo:
If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this,--
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
Juliet.
Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.
Romeo.
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
Juliet.
Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
Romeo.
O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
Juliet.
Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.
Romeo.
Then move not while my prayer's effect I take.
I'm not sure I'm entirely sold on this, but I liked chopping up the text like John and Rodney chop up their communication. They both think they're being perfectly clear, when often half the line is hidden in what they didn't say. I hope that makes as much sense to y'all as it did to me. Oh, and the last, unsaid thing? Is what the lovely ladycat777 recommended as the title. I tend to think of it as the "happily ever after."
Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg'd.