Migration Patterns by Zinnith (PG)
Title: Migration Patterns
Author: Zinnith
Rating: PG
Wordcount: ~1800
Disclaimer: 'verse is mine, boys aren't.
Summary: Rodney has had enough. Now all he has to do is make John see sense.
Notes: This is an Entangled Particles story. Thank you the_cephalopod for making sure this is both academically and anatomically correct!
Migration Patterns
Rodney McKay hadn't been so nervous since his first dissertation. No, scratch that. Back then, he had known that he was right and that any objections the thesis committee might make would be wrong, wrong, wrong in every conceivable way.
This time, he was fairly positive that he was right, the problem was making John understand it. Rodney sighed to himself; physics was easier than people in so many ways. Then again, some people, like a certain John Sheppard, were worth all the hassle of trying to navigate the stormy sea of interpersonal relationships.
For John, he was willing to do a lot: pick up his wet towels from the floor, leave the computer at mealtimes, risk skin cancer for a day at the beach, just to see John's eyes light up at the sight of the waves.
But there were also some things that Rodney felt had gone too far, the most important being their living arrangements. He fondly remembered the two weeks John had spent on his couch when he first came to Sacramento and how empty the apartment had seemed after John had found his own place. Even now, three years later, he still felt the same thing every time John left to spend a few days at his own tiny apartment. It didn't matter that John spent approximately 77.9 % of his free time at Rodney's (Rodney had calculated the numbers during a sleepless, John-less night), Rodney wanted him there the rest of the time as well.
The big problem wasn't having to keep double sets of toiletries, or having to keep track of migrating laundry. Rodney could even put up with John's small, stupid, uncomfortable bed once in a while. He knew what a fiercely independent person John was and was extremely aware of his need for his own space. What did worry him was the feeling that John was just preparing for a quick, clean break up. They both had their insecurities, Rodney knew that. One of John's issues was the lack of anything permanent in his life so far. Deep down, he didn't expect any permanency, almost to the point of being afraid of it. It was probably not even conscious, the way John always kept planning for the next bug-out; holding on to that little apartment of his like it was a palace, saving money he really would be better off spending.
No, John probably didn't realise what he was doing, but it was perfectly clear to Rodney and the very thought of John leaving stirred up a few of his own deep-rooted fears. If two nights apart from John left him feeling like he had a big hollow chasm inside, how would he feel if John got it into his head that he needed to leave for good? Like he had almost done once. Rodney remembered the two months before Gravitation had come out as the most miserable time of his life. He still woke up in a cold sweat some nights, only to spend hours lying sleepless pondering the what-ifs, until he had to wake John and search for the comfort of his naked skin.
A life without John just wasn't acceptable. It still didn't make what Rodney had in mind any easier. Every time he had suggested anything like this before, John had balked violently, like he thought Rodney would chain up him in the basement and never let him out again.
He unlocked the door and opened it slowly, feeling a little nauseous now. Low blood sugar, he told himself. Rodney McKay did not feel the need to throw up from nervousness at the thought of proposing cohabitation to his boyfriend.
John had to be home. His work boots stood tidily at their place in the hall and his tool-belt was hanging on its designated hook. There was also no sign of Newton, which meant that the fickle creature already had someone to scratch his ears and had no need to go greet the person who spent a fortune on cat food every year.
Rodney took a deep breath, steeling himself. ”Honey, I'm home!” he called out, satisfied to find that his voice didn't tremble like he'd thought it would.
“In here,” came John's voice from the living room. “I got attacked by a monster and it won't let me up.”
Rodney put his briefcase down on the floor, hung up his jacket and clenched his fist around the bunch of brightly coloured brochures he'd picked up on the way. All right, he was going to do this. He had made up his mind and there was no way around it.
John was sitting on the couch, feet on the table and Newton curled up on his lap. He was still in his work clothes, looking far hotter than any man had the right to be. As Rodney entered, he looked up a little sheepishly, pointing at a dog-eared notepad on the table.
“Hi. Your lecture notes. I'm sorry I didn't have time to bring them earlier, I was already late by the time you called. You're not still pissed, are you?”
The damn notepad had been the cause of a minor argument earlier in the day. Rodney had forgotten it at John's place a few days before and only realised it when he found himself in front of his Creative Writing class without his notes. There might have been a certain amount of panicking and yelling involved and, in hindsight, Rodney felt pretty bad about it.
”No! God, no; I'm so sorry about that, I totally overreacted. I had most of it in my head anyway, I didn't really need the notes.” There was relief on John's face and Rodney swallowed. This was it. ”I was just thinking. Um. These kinds of situations could be avoided, you know. If we...”
”Rodney,” John interrupted, the relief immediately replaced by weary annoyance.
”I'm not suggesting you move in!” Rodney hurried to say, before John got the chance to protest again. “And before you say anything, I'm not suggesting I move in with you either, you live in a glorified broom closet. I've just been thinking... well, maybe we could move in, um, together? Somewhere else?”
”Somewhere else?” John echoed warily. ”Rodney, you love this place.”
”No! Well, maybe a little.” Rodney had to admit it, he was pretty fond of his apartment. It was light and spacious and it was close to all his favourite restaurants. ”I love you more though. And this only ever feels like home when you're here, so the way I figure it, home is more about you than about the apartment, and I'd like to have that. With you. So I... uh, I checked up a couple of realtors and got some brochures...”
He put the crumpled leaflets down on the table. John eyed them as if they were going to bite him. ”I can't afford a house, Rodney,” he said quietly, defensively.
A year earlier, Rodney would have answered, 'Don't worry, I can'. Now, however, he knew better. John's need for economic independence was almost as great as his need for his own space. “I know,” he said. ”I'm not saying we need to go ahead and do it right now, and I'm sure we could work something out if we, that is, if you want to... Listen, I know this is big for you, and believe me,” Rodney paused to chuckle, “it's big for me to. It's not like there's been anyone I've wanted to do this with before. But I do now. I really, really do. So, could you just think about it, please?”
John was silent for a long time, pointedly not looking at the brochures on the table. His fingers were buried in Newton's fur as if drawing resolve from the cat.
”All right,” he said finally. ”I'll think about it.”
”You will?” Rodney's knees suddenly got very weak and he had to hold on to the back of the couch. Low blood sugar. He really needed to get something to eat soon. ”That's, that's great! I was thinking, something with a single story so there won't be any bothersome stairs, and there needs to be a study so I can work in peace, and a guest room for when Jeannie and Caleb comes to visit and...”
”Rodney!” John was looking a little terrified at the thought of all this. ”I said I'd think about it.”
”Right.” Rodney forced himself to shut up before he managed to completely scare John away from the idea. ”Sorry, I got a little ahead of myself. So, do you think we could eat now, because I'm about two seconds from passing out here.”
The change of subject made John visibly relax and he dumped a protesting Newton off his lap and got to his feet. ”Yeah, we can't have that,” he smirked. ”You might stand up and fall over.”
”I thought we decided not to talk about that ever again.”
”You decided, McKay. I decided to use it every time I feel the need to mock your manly hunger.”
Dinner made the nausea and the light-headedness go away. (Strictly speaking, it had went away before dinner, but Rodney put that down to some kind of freakish blood sugar reaction.) John loaded the dishwasher while Rodney paid close attention to the curve of his back and ass every time he leaned over. Neither of them mentioned the brochures on the sofa table.
John took the first shower while Rodney tried to get some writing done. He did his very best not to let his characters flounce around in domestic bliss - this was supposed to be a tragedy - but images of large kitchens for lazy Sunday breakfasts and gardens for barbecue parties kept entering his mind. Finally he gave up and shut off the computer to take his own turn in the shower.
When he got out of the bathroom, John was sitting on the couch with Newton again, dressed in T-shirt and boxers, his hair still damp and mussed in the most endearing way. He didn't turn as Rodney entered the living room, seemingly deeply engrossed in something.
”How do you feel about dogs, Newt?” John mumbled as he slowly scratched Newton's belly. ”That looks like a nice garden, doesn't it?” Then came the sound of glossy pages turning.
Rodney couldn't keep the smile off his face and the last shred of nervousness seeped out of his body, leaving him relaxed and content and so stupidly in love that he must've lost several IQ points. He crept up behind John and pressed a kiss against the top of his head, breathing in the clean smell of freshly showered boyfriend. Then he peered over John's shoulder at the pictures of houses he was studying.
”See anything you like?” he asked.
John turned and grinned, looking straight into Rodney's eyes. ”Yep, I do.”
- fin -
Author: Zinnith
Rating: PG
Wordcount: ~1800
Disclaimer: 'verse is mine, boys aren't.
Summary: Rodney has had enough. Now all he has to do is make John see sense.
Notes: This is an Entangled Particles story. Thank you the_cephalopod for making sure this is both academically and anatomically correct!
Migration Patterns
Rodney McKay hadn't been so nervous since his first dissertation. No, scratch that. Back then, he had known that he was right and that any objections the thesis committee might make would be wrong, wrong, wrong in every conceivable way.
This time, he was fairly positive that he was right, the problem was making John understand it. Rodney sighed to himself; physics was easier than people in so many ways. Then again, some people, like a certain John Sheppard, were worth all the hassle of trying to navigate the stormy sea of interpersonal relationships.
For John, he was willing to do a lot: pick up his wet towels from the floor, leave the computer at mealtimes, risk skin cancer for a day at the beach, just to see John's eyes light up at the sight of the waves.
But there were also some things that Rodney felt had gone too far, the most important being their living arrangements. He fondly remembered the two weeks John had spent on his couch when he first came to Sacramento and how empty the apartment had seemed after John had found his own place. Even now, three years later, he still felt the same thing every time John left to spend a few days at his own tiny apartment. It didn't matter that John spent approximately 77.9 % of his free time at Rodney's (Rodney had calculated the numbers during a sleepless, John-less night), Rodney wanted him there the rest of the time as well.
The big problem wasn't having to keep double sets of toiletries, or having to keep track of migrating laundry. Rodney could even put up with John's small, stupid, uncomfortable bed once in a while. He knew what a fiercely independent person John was and was extremely aware of his need for his own space. What did worry him was the feeling that John was just preparing for a quick, clean break up. They both had their insecurities, Rodney knew that. One of John's issues was the lack of anything permanent in his life so far. Deep down, he didn't expect any permanency, almost to the point of being afraid of it. It was probably not even conscious, the way John always kept planning for the next bug-out; holding on to that little apartment of his like it was a palace, saving money he really would be better off spending.
No, John probably didn't realise what he was doing, but it was perfectly clear to Rodney and the very thought of John leaving stirred up a few of his own deep-rooted fears. If two nights apart from John left him feeling like he had a big hollow chasm inside, how would he feel if John got it into his head that he needed to leave for good? Like he had almost done once. Rodney remembered the two months before Gravitation had come out as the most miserable time of his life. He still woke up in a cold sweat some nights, only to spend hours lying sleepless pondering the what-ifs, until he had to wake John and search for the comfort of his naked skin.
A life without John just wasn't acceptable. It still didn't make what Rodney had in mind any easier. Every time he had suggested anything like this before, John had balked violently, like he thought Rodney would chain up him in the basement and never let him out again.
He unlocked the door and opened it slowly, feeling a little nauseous now. Low blood sugar, he told himself. Rodney McKay did not feel the need to throw up from nervousness at the thought of proposing cohabitation to his boyfriend.
John had to be home. His work boots stood tidily at their place in the hall and his tool-belt was hanging on its designated hook. There was also no sign of Newton, which meant that the fickle creature already had someone to scratch his ears and had no need to go greet the person who spent a fortune on cat food every year.
Rodney took a deep breath, steeling himself. ”Honey, I'm home!” he called out, satisfied to find that his voice didn't tremble like he'd thought it would.
“In here,” came John's voice from the living room. “I got attacked by a monster and it won't let me up.”
Rodney put his briefcase down on the floor, hung up his jacket and clenched his fist around the bunch of brightly coloured brochures he'd picked up on the way. All right, he was going to do this. He had made up his mind and there was no way around it.
John was sitting on the couch, feet on the table and Newton curled up on his lap. He was still in his work clothes, looking far hotter than any man had the right to be. As Rodney entered, he looked up a little sheepishly, pointing at a dog-eared notepad on the table.
“Hi. Your lecture notes. I'm sorry I didn't have time to bring them earlier, I was already late by the time you called. You're not still pissed, are you?”
The damn notepad had been the cause of a minor argument earlier in the day. Rodney had forgotten it at John's place a few days before and only realised it when he found himself in front of his Creative Writing class without his notes. There might have been a certain amount of panicking and yelling involved and, in hindsight, Rodney felt pretty bad about it.
”No! God, no; I'm so sorry about that, I totally overreacted. I had most of it in my head anyway, I didn't really need the notes.” There was relief on John's face and Rodney swallowed. This was it. ”I was just thinking. Um. These kinds of situations could be avoided, you know. If we...”
”Rodney,” John interrupted, the relief immediately replaced by weary annoyance.
”I'm not suggesting you move in!” Rodney hurried to say, before John got the chance to protest again. “And before you say anything, I'm not suggesting I move in with you either, you live in a glorified broom closet. I've just been thinking... well, maybe we could move in, um, together? Somewhere else?”
”Somewhere else?” John echoed warily. ”Rodney, you love this place.”
”No! Well, maybe a little.” Rodney had to admit it, he was pretty fond of his apartment. It was light and spacious and it was close to all his favourite restaurants. ”I love you more though. And this only ever feels like home when you're here, so the way I figure it, home is more about you than about the apartment, and I'd like to have that. With you. So I... uh, I checked up a couple of realtors and got some brochures...”
He put the crumpled leaflets down on the table. John eyed them as if they were going to bite him. ”I can't afford a house, Rodney,” he said quietly, defensively.
A year earlier, Rodney would have answered, 'Don't worry, I can'. Now, however, he knew better. John's need for economic independence was almost as great as his need for his own space. “I know,” he said. ”I'm not saying we need to go ahead and do it right now, and I'm sure we could work something out if we, that is, if you want to... Listen, I know this is big for you, and believe me,” Rodney paused to chuckle, “it's big for me to. It's not like there's been anyone I've wanted to do this with before. But I do now. I really, really do. So, could you just think about it, please?”
John was silent for a long time, pointedly not looking at the brochures on the table. His fingers were buried in Newton's fur as if drawing resolve from the cat.
”All right,” he said finally. ”I'll think about it.”
”You will?” Rodney's knees suddenly got very weak and he had to hold on to the back of the couch. Low blood sugar. He really needed to get something to eat soon. ”That's, that's great! I was thinking, something with a single story so there won't be any bothersome stairs, and there needs to be a study so I can work in peace, and a guest room for when Jeannie and Caleb comes to visit and...”
”Rodney!” John was looking a little terrified at the thought of all this. ”I said I'd think about it.”
”Right.” Rodney forced himself to shut up before he managed to completely scare John away from the idea. ”Sorry, I got a little ahead of myself. So, do you think we could eat now, because I'm about two seconds from passing out here.”
The change of subject made John visibly relax and he dumped a protesting Newton off his lap and got to his feet. ”Yeah, we can't have that,” he smirked. ”You might stand up and fall over.”
”I thought we decided not to talk about that ever again.”
”You decided, McKay. I decided to use it every time I feel the need to mock your manly hunger.”
Dinner made the nausea and the light-headedness go away. (Strictly speaking, it had went away before dinner, but Rodney put that down to some kind of freakish blood sugar reaction.) John loaded the dishwasher while Rodney paid close attention to the curve of his back and ass every time he leaned over. Neither of them mentioned the brochures on the sofa table.
John took the first shower while Rodney tried to get some writing done. He did his very best not to let his characters flounce around in domestic bliss - this was supposed to be a tragedy - but images of large kitchens for lazy Sunday breakfasts and gardens for barbecue parties kept entering his mind. Finally he gave up and shut off the computer to take his own turn in the shower.
When he got out of the bathroom, John was sitting on the couch with Newton again, dressed in T-shirt and boxers, his hair still damp and mussed in the most endearing way. He didn't turn as Rodney entered the living room, seemingly deeply engrossed in something.
”How do you feel about dogs, Newt?” John mumbled as he slowly scratched Newton's belly. ”That looks like a nice garden, doesn't it?” Then came the sound of glossy pages turning.
Rodney couldn't keep the smile off his face and the last shred of nervousness seeped out of his body, leaving him relaxed and content and so stupidly in love that he must've lost several IQ points. He crept up behind John and pressed a kiss against the top of his head, breathing in the clean smell of freshly showered boyfriend. Then he peered over John's shoulder at the pictures of houses he was studying.
”See anything you like?” he asked.
John turned and grinned, looking straight into Rodney's eyes. ”Yep, I do.”
- fin -