Quiet
Quiet, by flyakate
They’re sitting on John’s bed, in John’s room, watching a stupid sci-fi movie that Rodney can’t even remember the name of--The Squid that Swallowed Vancouver, or Why are There Zombies in My Coffee Shop?--because they’ve stopped arguing about whether the special effects are bad in that cheesy but redeemable Doctor Who way or just plain bad; and throwing popcorn at the screen when the blond love interest gazes dreamily at the unlikely hero (Rodney) or when that same unlikely hero poses overly dramatically (John).
They’ve saved the world, again, and wow, how ironic is it that they always watch these overdone, badly plotted movies about triumphing when everything has gone to shit right after missions covered in mud, sweat and blood.
But everyone came back, Ronon and Teyla are off in their rooms whole and probably sleeping, and Rodney’s head is just tilted enough into a lean that it fits exactly in the curve of John’s shoulder, ear full of his quiet breathing.
“Who’s that,” John murmurs, and Rodney can tell by the slow drawl of words that rumble a little against him that John has also stopped really watching the movie, no surprise with acting this bad and the science, don’t even get Rodney started.
“S gonna save the world, I dunno,” Rodney says, barely awake enough to slide some snark into his words. John makes a noise like a chuckle and tilts down to press a kiss absently to the side of Rodney’s face, just next to his ear.
The simplicity of it almost makes Rodney stop breathing, how one press of lips to skin holds a world of words, from these are the lips that kissed the breath out of you when we tumbled into the shower, bruised but alive, and even before coffee, I want you, just you and this is the touch that had you hard and aching in my bed last night, sated and sleepy this morning to here, now, comfort and yes, mine, God. A wordless reminder of John, of them, full of affection and amusement so Rodney sits there, on John’s bed, in John’s room, and listens to the steady sound of John’s heart, John’s breathing, alive, safe, having saved the world. Again.
They’re sitting on John’s bed, in John’s room, watching a stupid sci-fi movie that Rodney can’t even remember the name of--The Squid that Swallowed Vancouver, or Why are There Zombies in My Coffee Shop?--because they’ve stopped arguing about whether the special effects are bad in that cheesy but redeemable Doctor Who way or just plain bad; and throwing popcorn at the screen when the blond love interest gazes dreamily at the unlikely hero (Rodney) or when that same unlikely hero poses overly dramatically (John).
They’ve saved the world, again, and wow, how ironic is it that they always watch these overdone, badly plotted movies about triumphing when everything has gone to shit right after missions covered in mud, sweat and blood.
But everyone came back, Ronon and Teyla are off in their rooms whole and probably sleeping, and Rodney’s head is just tilted enough into a lean that it fits exactly in the curve of John’s shoulder, ear full of his quiet breathing.
“Who’s that,” John murmurs, and Rodney can tell by the slow drawl of words that rumble a little against him that John has also stopped really watching the movie, no surprise with acting this bad and the science, don’t even get Rodney started.
“S gonna save the world, I dunno,” Rodney says, barely awake enough to slide some snark into his words. John makes a noise like a chuckle and tilts down to press a kiss absently to the side of Rodney’s face, just next to his ear.
The simplicity of it almost makes Rodney stop breathing, how one press of lips to skin holds a world of words, from these are the lips that kissed the breath out of you when we tumbled into the shower, bruised but alive, and even before coffee, I want you, just you and this is the touch that had you hard and aching in my bed last night, sated and sleepy this morning to here, now, comfort and yes, mine, God. A wordless reminder of John, of them, full of affection and amusement so Rodney sits there, on John’s bed, in John’s room, and listens to the steady sound of John’s heart, John’s breathing, alive, safe, having saved the world. Again.