Years Since by Nny
~ 300 words
"'Years since' is an unacceptable measurement of time by practically any standards!"
John swishes the dregs of beer in his can meditatively, staring down into it like it holds the secrets of the Universe. It doesn't; a little more attention to his plight, Rodney thinks, would be appreciated.
"Practically?"
Rodney sketches out hypotheticals in the air with his hands, John giving him the sort of sidelong smile that keeps him talking, reassured.
"Well anaphylaxis, obviously. Intellectual humiliation. Deliberate injury by genocidal maniacs."
"Kidnapping," John adds helpfully, but Rodney snorts.
"That depends entirely on the kidnapper and the amount of leather."
John blinks and slants him another sidelong glance, more considering this time. Rodney ignores the warm pink sort of feeling that is creeping along his cheekbones and reaches across John to grab another beer.
“That’s not the point, anyway. The point is that age is the only thing that ought to be measured in years, not - not years since I’ve - “
He waves his hands illustratively again.
“Had a hamburger,” John says, nodding thoughtfully, and that - that just wasn’t what he was miming at all. Rodney deflates.
“Something like that, yes.”
The night is warm with the onset of summer; John’s fingers are beautifully cool against the skin of his cheek. His lips, too, cooled by the metal of the can but warming against Rodney’s mouth, the slight parting between them warm and inviting and -
“What?” Rodney says stupidly, when John pulls away.
“Couldn’t help with the hamburger,” he says, and grins ridiculous and wide. “You’ll let me know when it’s unacceptable again, right?”
“It was unacceptable long before years since,” Rodney babbles helplessly, fingers moving to his lips involuntarily. The way John’s eyes follow the movement keeps him talking, reassured. “Before months, even.”
“Weeks?”
“Minutes, possibly,” Rodney manages.
He can feel John’s smile against his mouth.
"'Years since' is an unacceptable measurement of time by practically any standards!"
John swishes the dregs of beer in his can meditatively, staring down into it like it holds the secrets of the Universe. It doesn't; a little more attention to his plight, Rodney thinks, would be appreciated.
"Practically?"
Rodney sketches out hypotheticals in the air with his hands, John giving him the sort of sidelong smile that keeps him talking, reassured.
"Well anaphylaxis, obviously. Intellectual humiliation. Deliberate injury by genocidal maniacs."
"Kidnapping," John adds helpfully, but Rodney snorts.
"That depends entirely on the kidnapper and the amount of leather."
John blinks and slants him another sidelong glance, more considering this time. Rodney ignores the warm pink sort of feeling that is creeping along his cheekbones and reaches across John to grab another beer.
“That’s not the point, anyway. The point is that age is the only thing that ought to be measured in years, not - not years since I’ve - “
He waves his hands illustratively again.
“Had a hamburger,” John says, nodding thoughtfully, and that - that just wasn’t what he was miming at all. Rodney deflates.
“Something like that, yes.”
The night is warm with the onset of summer; John’s fingers are beautifully cool against the skin of his cheek. His lips, too, cooled by the metal of the can but warming against Rodney’s mouth, the slight parting between them warm and inviting and -
“What?” Rodney says stupidly, when John pulls away.
“Couldn’t help with the hamburger,” he says, and grins ridiculous and wide. “You’ll let me know when it’s unacceptable again, right?”
“It was unacceptable long before years since,” Rodney babbles helplessly, fingers moving to his lips involuntarily. The way John’s eyes follow the movement keeps him talking, reassured. “Before months, even.”
“Weeks?”
“Minutes, possibly,” Rodney manages.
He can feel John’s smile against his mouth.