Title: Situational Awareness
Fandom: Flight of the Phoenix
Rating: Adult
Words: ~700
Characters: Rodney/John
Summary: Rodney hasn't seen him like this before.
Disclaimer: Nobody here is mine. Dammit.
Content Notes: None.
Author's Note: For
kink_bingo, "exposure/striptease" square. Pre-movie, follows the same canon as my AU
Intercession. Thanks to
tsuki_no_bara for pom-pom shaking :D
Rodney isn't sure why, but his first instinct is to apologize and back out of the trailer. The whole crew lives practically in each other's pockets, and under the circumstances one tends to cultivate a certain willful blindness, a way of not-noticing that gives everyone an illusion of privacy when the reality is pretty damned rare. That and Davis -- John, Rodney corrects himself -- has a habit of wearing layer upon layer of shirts when he's not on-shift, even when it's a clear 120 degrees in the shade, so finding him like this is a bit of a shock.
Of course once you've had a man's dick in your mouth, it seems somewhat silly to balk at the sight of him stripped to the waist.
John has his back to the door, and the polite thing for Rodney to do would be to make a quiet noise and announce his presence, but he doesn't. John hums under his breath, a fragment of a song Rodney thinks he heard Sammi playing earlier on his battered CD player, and rummages in the box of oddments Kelly keeps on her desk.
Rodney watches him.
The top of John's coveralls is unbuttoned and peeled down to either side, sleeves swinging loose like an extra set of legs. It's easy sometimes to forget just how large he is, how broad an expanse of back is hidden by his clothes and his tendency to slouch. They've been fooling around for a couple of weeks but it's mostly been... hurried, hands and mouths and over quickly before they're noticed. John has a small mole just behind his right shoulder, midway between the line of his spine and the edge of his shoulder blade; Rodney doesn't think he's ever seen it before.
Rodney decides he's had his fill of spying- or rather, that he would really like for John to turn around. "John."
John starts and the buttons he was sorting tumble out of his hand, falling down to the desktop and some skittering off onto the floor. "Shit! Oh... Jesus, Rodney, warn a guy."
"Sorry." Rodney is unrepentant, and when John reaches for the edge of his coveralls Rodney is there in a step, hand closing around John's forearm. "Don't do that."
But-" John darts a glance at the door, and his cheeks flush.
"Just a few minutes." Rodney isn't keen to have them walked in on, either. They all spend so much time pretending not to see that the freedom to look is an unexpected pleasure, and he feels... greedy. He wants this all to himself.
John lets out a breath, and nods. He still looks nervous, whether at the thought of being interrupted or the feel of being exposed like this, Rodney isn't certain. His skin is warm under Rodney's palms as he frames John's waist between them, flesh quivering slightly as if John is ticklish there, but he doesn't move away.
"What were you looking for?" Rodney asks him.
"I lost a button."
"You can sew?" Rodney slides a hand up John's abdomen to the middle of his chest. His skin is taut and smooth, faintly golden and nearly hairless.
John's voice catches on his answer. "I can fake it."
Rodney knows how strong John is, he's seen it in his work. Felt it, the few times they've been alone together. This is different. He moves his hand until he feels John's heart thump under his palm.
"Rodney."
Rodney leans in, and drops a dry kiss into the hollow above John's clavicle.
"Rodney."
He doesn't have a chance to answer, John's hands are cupping his face and John's mouth is on Rodney's before he can draw breath. The kiss is as messy and frantic, as pressed-for-time as every other encounter and Rodney understands why that is, but still.
They pull away from each other like a timer has gone off, some internal clock warning they've been in here too long, that someone is bound to come looking.
Rodney wonders if it would be so bad to be found. If it meant they could take their time for once, meant that he could see all of John... too risky, but that doesn't stop Rodney wanting.
He lets his hands drop, and John pulls his coveralls up and shrugs into the sleeves. "Uhm." John's voice trails off, unsure.
"Later," Rodney promises him, and John smiles.