14 Valentines 12: Natural as a Steampunk Train (John/Rodney, PG)
Title: Natural as a Steampunk Train
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1,100
Warnings: None that I'm aware of
Summary: "I love you," he said, baffled, only realising he'd done so when Rodney went completely still.
Notes: This was written as a Christmas present for smuffster to the prompt of John/Rodney, train. Thanks go to neevebrody for the beta (yet again ♥).
14 Valentines Essay: Day Twelve: Education, in which idyll writes this: When educational opportunities for women became equivalent to that of men, we gained options beyond traditional roles in society and beyond stereotypical jobs.
~~~
Natural as a Steampunk Train
It took a few weeks of cunning and maybe a bit of psychological warfare, but John eventually got McKay to watch Back to the Future III with him. The new shrink would have probably diagnosed slight masochistic tendencies on his part, but watching Rodney have a go at movies he deemed crap would never be anything but awesome. No matter his griping, Rodney would always end up sucked into the very plot he simultaneously tore to shreds. Like when they'd watched Event Horizon: he'd been willing the crew of the Lewis & Clark to survive even as he called them morons.
It was the curse of the genius. Everything was interesting in Rodney's world.
Back to the Future had the bonus of its science being so ridiculous that Rodney wouldn't even try to refute or, god help them, correct it, like he did with just about every other science fiction movie. Instead, he'd just pinch the bridge of his nose or massage his temple or - John's favourite reaction - start to laugh. By the time Doc Brown started detailing his plan to push the DeLorean to 88 mph with a steam locomotive, Rodney was shaking next to John, hand on his forehead and watching the screen through his fingers. Doc presented his special logs and Rodney groaned, the sound ending in a helpless snort. John turned toward him, fully intending to speculate loudly that maybe the special logs were naquadah-enhanced, and have Rodney either laugh for real or tell him in excruciating detail just where John could stuff his naquadah-enhanced logs… and then he stopped.
Rodney looked, for once, completely relaxed. His cheeks were flushed and the corner of his mouth tilted up into a reluctant grin, and his shoulders had lost their every-day tension in favour of a comfortable slouch. He looked… happy. Familiar. Like a guy John saw every day, someone he was so used to he only really noticed him - more than he noticed, say, his right elbow - when something went wrong. Someone vital.
Huh.
"I love you," he said, baffled, only realising he'd done so when Rodney went completely still.
Rodney's mouth opened, then closed again without a sound coming out. He turned toward John, stared and lifted his right hand, waving it between him and John with a few jerky movements before he let it plop back into his lap, blinking.
"You do?" The question was strangled, and John could only nod, his mouth dry because holy fuck, he did.
He was in love with Rodney McKay.
Holy shit.
Rodney's mouth started working again, like a fish gasping for water. His face flushed until it was beet red. He took a few shallow breaths, then he seemed to have found his voice again, even if it was still raspy.
"That's… I…" He gulped. "Me, too?"
"Okay," John croaked, and then they just sat there and stared at each other in stunned silence, and John half-wished for a wall clock to tick the seconds away. He felt awful: his palms were sweaty and his mouth was dry, his skin clammy and his heart pumping way too fast, and his cheeks felt as hot as his feet were cold. His lungs felt too small. His hair itched.
He squirmed.
Rodney's mouth twitched, one corner tilting up.
John let out an embarrassed cough that kind of maybe morphed into a laugh. Rodney's half-smirk turned into a full grin; and then suddenly they were giggling like two little boys who shared a secret. It felt like relief, pouring out his body's tension until the release made him giddy, light-headed.
He loved Rodney. Go figure.
And Rodney loved him back. For a second, John wondered why that didn't scare him, but looking at Rodney, bright-eyed and still sniggering, set him off again. Shoulders shaking with laughter, John reached out. The side of Rodney's neck was warm, the skin soft under John's fingers as he pulled Rodney in. Their noses bumped, and John snorted while Rodney shook his head and grabbed John's face with both hands to hold him still, kissing mirth from his lips to John's.
John honestly didn't know why they hadn't done this before. He wasn't much for physical contact, but this, Rodney's hands cupping his cheeks, Rodney's thigh pressed against his, Rodney's whole body so close to his, this felt so good he had no idea how he'd ever done without it. Rodney's soft, firm lips on his own, Rodney's scent surrounding him, warmth, comfort, John's nosed mashed against Rodney's cheek. John stopped laughing, his hand slipping from the side of Rodney's neck to the dip of his spine, between his shoulder blades, pulling him in even as he himself scooted forward on the sofa, so that their thighs were pressed together and their chests were bumping. He breathed in deeply and brought his other hand up to sneak around Rodney's waist, finding beneath the fabric living skin and the slight flex of Rodney's muscles as he moved. Rodney made a soft humming noise that sounded like agreement, one of his hands moving from John's cheek to cradle the back of his head, fingers tangling in John's hair. The other drifted down to John's shoulder, where it rested big and warm and as familiar as Atlantis.
John could still feel him smile against his mouth.
They kissed for a long time, slow, unhurried, just making out while in the background, Mad Dog Tannen challenged "Clint Eastwood" to a duel and lost. Finally, just around the time the DeLorean got smashed by a diesel locomotive, Rodney pulled back, his hand still on John's shoulder as he licked his lips, a dreamy expression on his face. He looked… a little ridiculous, actually; his face flushed and his lips swollen, and his eyes a little hazy.
John had to kiss him again.
The credits were rolling when they stopped, Rodney pressing two fingers against John's lips as if he wanted to keep him away. John grinned, and licked them, and Rodney rolled his eyes.
"Making out during a movie, John? You're such a cliché." But he sounded breathless instead of peevish, so John let his grin widen and pressed a kiss against Rodney's now-wet fingers.
"You like it," he said, giving Rodney an exaggerated wink and a leer. Rodney burst out laughing, happy and carefree, and John just had to, had to, pull him back in. Rodney punched John's shoulder, John whacked him over the head, and then they were kissing. Again.
John had a sneaking suspicion they'd be doing that a lot from now on.
He could live with that, he decided graciously, and brushed his tongue across Rodney's lips. Rodney let him in.
*
ETA: chkc (formerly known as Anonymous Art!Zorro) has drawn the most adorable comic strip for this ♥
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1,100
Warnings: None that I'm aware of
Summary: "I love you," he said, baffled, only realising he'd done so when Rodney went completely still.
Notes: This was written as a Christmas present for smuffster to the prompt of John/Rodney, train. Thanks go to neevebrody for the beta (yet again ♥).
14 Valentines Essay: Day Twelve: Education, in which idyll writes this: When educational opportunities for women became equivalent to that of men, we gained options beyond traditional roles in society and beyond stereotypical jobs.
~~~
Natural as a Steampunk Train
It took a few weeks of cunning and maybe a bit of psychological warfare, but John eventually got McKay to watch Back to the Future III with him. The new shrink would have probably diagnosed slight masochistic tendencies on his part, but watching Rodney have a go at movies he deemed crap would never be anything but awesome. No matter his griping, Rodney would always end up sucked into the very plot he simultaneously tore to shreds. Like when they'd watched Event Horizon: he'd been willing the crew of the Lewis & Clark to survive even as he called them morons.
It was the curse of the genius. Everything was interesting in Rodney's world.
Back to the Future had the bonus of its science being so ridiculous that Rodney wouldn't even try to refute or, god help them, correct it, like he did with just about every other science fiction movie. Instead, he'd just pinch the bridge of his nose or massage his temple or - John's favourite reaction - start to laugh. By the time Doc Brown started detailing his plan to push the DeLorean to 88 mph with a steam locomotive, Rodney was shaking next to John, hand on his forehead and watching the screen through his fingers. Doc presented his special logs and Rodney groaned, the sound ending in a helpless snort. John turned toward him, fully intending to speculate loudly that maybe the special logs were naquadah-enhanced, and have Rodney either laugh for real or tell him in excruciating detail just where John could stuff his naquadah-enhanced logs… and then he stopped.
Rodney looked, for once, completely relaxed. His cheeks were flushed and the corner of his mouth tilted up into a reluctant grin, and his shoulders had lost their every-day tension in favour of a comfortable slouch. He looked… happy. Familiar. Like a guy John saw every day, someone he was so used to he only really noticed him - more than he noticed, say, his right elbow - when something went wrong. Someone vital.
Huh.
"I love you," he said, baffled, only realising he'd done so when Rodney went completely still.
Rodney's mouth opened, then closed again without a sound coming out. He turned toward John, stared and lifted his right hand, waving it between him and John with a few jerky movements before he let it plop back into his lap, blinking.
"You do?" The question was strangled, and John could only nod, his mouth dry because holy fuck, he did.
He was in love with Rodney McKay.
Holy shit.
Rodney's mouth started working again, like a fish gasping for water. His face flushed until it was beet red. He took a few shallow breaths, then he seemed to have found his voice again, even if it was still raspy.
"That's… I…" He gulped. "Me, too?"
"Okay," John croaked, and then they just sat there and stared at each other in stunned silence, and John half-wished for a wall clock to tick the seconds away. He felt awful: his palms were sweaty and his mouth was dry, his skin clammy and his heart pumping way too fast, and his cheeks felt as hot as his feet were cold. His lungs felt too small. His hair itched.
He squirmed.
Rodney's mouth twitched, one corner tilting up.
John let out an embarrassed cough that kind of maybe morphed into a laugh. Rodney's half-smirk turned into a full grin; and then suddenly they were giggling like two little boys who shared a secret. It felt like relief, pouring out his body's tension until the release made him giddy, light-headed.
He loved Rodney. Go figure.
And Rodney loved him back. For a second, John wondered why that didn't scare him, but looking at Rodney, bright-eyed and still sniggering, set him off again. Shoulders shaking with laughter, John reached out. The side of Rodney's neck was warm, the skin soft under John's fingers as he pulled Rodney in. Their noses bumped, and John snorted while Rodney shook his head and grabbed John's face with both hands to hold him still, kissing mirth from his lips to John's.
John honestly didn't know why they hadn't done this before. He wasn't much for physical contact, but this, Rodney's hands cupping his cheeks, Rodney's thigh pressed against his, Rodney's whole body so close to his, this felt so good he had no idea how he'd ever done without it. Rodney's soft, firm lips on his own, Rodney's scent surrounding him, warmth, comfort, John's nosed mashed against Rodney's cheek. John stopped laughing, his hand slipping from the side of Rodney's neck to the dip of his spine, between his shoulder blades, pulling him in even as he himself scooted forward on the sofa, so that their thighs were pressed together and their chests were bumping. He breathed in deeply and brought his other hand up to sneak around Rodney's waist, finding beneath the fabric living skin and the slight flex of Rodney's muscles as he moved. Rodney made a soft humming noise that sounded like agreement, one of his hands moving from John's cheek to cradle the back of his head, fingers tangling in John's hair. The other drifted down to John's shoulder, where it rested big and warm and as familiar as Atlantis.
John could still feel him smile against his mouth.
They kissed for a long time, slow, unhurried, just making out while in the background, Mad Dog Tannen challenged "Clint Eastwood" to a duel and lost. Finally, just around the time the DeLorean got smashed by a diesel locomotive, Rodney pulled back, his hand still on John's shoulder as he licked his lips, a dreamy expression on his face. He looked… a little ridiculous, actually; his face flushed and his lips swollen, and his eyes a little hazy.
John had to kiss him again.
The credits were rolling when they stopped, Rodney pressing two fingers against John's lips as if he wanted to keep him away. John grinned, and licked them, and Rodney rolled his eyes.
"Making out during a movie, John? You're such a cliché." But he sounded breathless instead of peevish, so John let his grin widen and pressed a kiss against Rodney's now-wet fingers.
"You like it," he said, giving Rodney an exaggerated wink and a leer. Rodney burst out laughing, happy and carefree, and John just had to, had to, pull him back in. Rodney punched John's shoulder, John whacked him over the head, and then they were kissing. Again.
John had a sneaking suspicion they'd be doing that a lot from now on.
He could live with that, he decided graciously, and brushed his tongue across Rodney's lips. Rodney let him in.
*
ETA: chkc (formerly known as Anonymous Art!Zorro) has drawn the most adorable comic strip for this ♥