Linger by Zinnith
For winter_elf with thanks for the delicious Joe!pictures. PG, 381 words, warning for schmoop and comma abuse.
Rodney's not a big fan of mornings. He prefers late nights; when everyone else have gone to bed, when he city is still and quiet. That's when his brain works at top capacity, when he gets his best work done. John is the complete opposite. He's up with the sun every day, gets directly out of bed and into his running shoes at the first sound of the alarm clock.
It presents certain difficulties to have an illicit affair (you can't really call it a relationship, not when you can't tell anyone about it, or display any kind of affection in public) with a person who gets up at the same time you go to bed.
That's why Rodney finds the rare mornings they do spend together so much more rewarding. The times when they manage to get a day off together, the times Rodney manages to convince John to skip his morning run and stay in bed. When the sheets are warm and creased and messy around them and the sun and the sound of the ocean are distant things outside the blinds. When Rodney had John all to himself, long and lean and drowsy, still pliant with sleep. When they get to just turn over, crawl closer, doze for a little longer. When Rodney can press up against John's back, sling an arm around his waist and slip a hand under his t-shirt to rest against his skin, lean a cheek against his shoulder and nuzzle his scratchy, stubbly neck.
It never lasts very long. John gets to restless to lounge around in bed all day, Rodney gets a faint niggling headache that signals the need for caffeine, one of them needs the bathroom desperately enough that they have to disentangle themselves from limbs and sheets, something happens in the lab that requires Rodney's presence even though he's off, Ronon pounds on the door and calls John a lazy ass. Morning turns into day and the moment passes.
But in the middle of it, when it's just the two of them and nothing else exists, when Rodney presses kisses against John's neck, his jaw, his cheek, his mouth, his smile; that's when everything is perfect. That's where he likes to linger for as long as he can.
Rodney's not a big fan of mornings. He prefers late nights; when everyone else have gone to bed, when he city is still and quiet. That's when his brain works at top capacity, when he gets his best work done. John is the complete opposite. He's up with the sun every day, gets directly out of bed and into his running shoes at the first sound of the alarm clock.
It presents certain difficulties to have an illicit affair (you can't really call it a relationship, not when you can't tell anyone about it, or display any kind of affection in public) with a person who gets up at the same time you go to bed.
That's why Rodney finds the rare mornings they do spend together so much more rewarding. The times when they manage to get a day off together, the times Rodney manages to convince John to skip his morning run and stay in bed. When the sheets are warm and creased and messy around them and the sun and the sound of the ocean are distant things outside the blinds. When Rodney had John all to himself, long and lean and drowsy, still pliant with sleep. When they get to just turn over, crawl closer, doze for a little longer. When Rodney can press up against John's back, sling an arm around his waist and slip a hand under his t-shirt to rest against his skin, lean a cheek against his shoulder and nuzzle his scratchy, stubbly neck.
It never lasts very long. John gets to restless to lounge around in bed all day, Rodney gets a faint niggling headache that signals the need for caffeine, one of them needs the bathroom desperately enough that they have to disentangle themselves from limbs and sheets, something happens in the lab that requires Rodney's presence even though he's off, Ronon pounds on the door and calls John a lazy ass. Morning turns into day and the moment passes.
But in the middle of it, when it's just the two of them and nothing else exists, when Rodney presses kisses against John's neck, his jaw, his cheek, his mouth, his smile; that's when everything is perfect. That's where he likes to linger for as long as he can.