Rodney likes to touch. John's noticed this, because immediately after his keyboard and coffee mug, John is Rodney's favourite thing to touch. Not that he realises it, and certainly not that John minds, but it’s a fact nonetheless.

Rodney has always found it strange that some things can taste the way other things smell. That having been said, however, he’s not at all surprised that 0530 on Thursday mornings in Atlantis taste like John smells at 1300 Sunday afternoon.

John thinks that if Rodney were an animal, he would be a lioness, but he doesn’t tell Rodney this. He thinks maybe the scientist would take it the wrong way. The logic behind this reasoning is as follows: Lionesses are prideful. Resourceful. They are essential to the continued survival of the collective. They’re a lot stronger than they appear. And if John is honest with himself, which he always tries to be, they’re beautiful. Rodney as a lioness. Yeah. It makes sense to John.

It is Rodney’s firm belief that if John were a colour, he would be annoying. He’d be the red sauce stain on a white shirt, the blueberry smears on a child’s face, the chocolate icing on fingertips. He’d be the greenyellowpurple of the first tart mouthful of grapefruit. Or so Rodney assumes. Not that he’d know, being allergic and all.

Watching Rodney sleep in the Jumper on the way home, John wonders what Rodney was like as a child. He thinks he would have been a curious child, sweet and probably even polite. He thinks Rodney would have been strawberry-blonde and smelling like freshly mown grass and sunshine. He thinks maybe Rodney saw the beauty in broken things that other people miss.

Rodney wonders if John knows just how close to the truth he is. It wasn’t until he hit college early – perhaps too early – that he’d developed an attitude. By the same token, from the little things John has said here and there, he’d put money on the fact that John had been the same way until he joined the Air Force; that he started speaking in that slow, lazy drawl to piss off his father, and the ‘I really, truly don’t care’ way of being to piss off his superiors.

John just assumes that Rodney would have had a lot of friends when he was younger. He’s noticed that Rodney seems to be the kind of person that others gravitate towards. He kind of gets the impression that while he may have been quite popular, he never had that one special friend to bring home and sleep over. He wonders what else he and Rodney have in common.

Rodney is well aware of all the things he and John don’t say. He also knows all the reasons they don’t have to say them. Their easy silence says enough.

Okay, wow. I know it's been a while since I posted last, but I've been travelling up Queensland's east coast with some mates of mine, camping and fishing and whatnot. It's been an absolute blast, though I swear we've been cursed with the rain, which just followed us everywhere. *groans* But, we caught some fish, ate some fish, fished some more, the boys drank, we swam on the reef, spear fished, went pigging, and generally enjoyed the hell out of ourselves. And I took a whole hell of a lot of photos, because I love my camera liek woah. It's a uniform black Canon EOS 400D SLR, and I just adore the little thing. Anyway, as soon as I figure out how to make the photos show up, I'll post some, and an itinerary. The least incriminating ones, at any rate.


Anyway, my deviance aside (though it won't stay there for long), I wrote while I was away. Which isn't all that odd, because as bizarre (and time consuming) as it is, I generally write all my fic, poems, letters etc. By hand before I post. I'm an old-fashioned gal like that. However, I shall nobly refrain from subjecting you all to my horrid, wicked handwriting, and write electronically. Apparently, it's the new 'thing'.



5 Things Rodney Doesn't Know

1) John is in love with Rodney. Head over heels, tease him to get his attention, spends all his free time with, Love. Complete with capital L and italics. Rodney, however, does not have a clue. He knows John likes him (although even with his blazing self confidence he does sometimes wonder why), and he accepts the casual touches, the affectionate teasing and the constant invasion of his personal space. But he doesn't notice that John only does it with him.

2) Rodney doesn't know whether or not John actually styles his hair, or if it's merely an abberation of nature - and more importantly, gravity. (He also doesn't know why, if John does style it like that, he would want to.)

3) The first and second times it happens, Rodney chalks it up to mispronunciation. The third and subsequent times he tries to correct all the Athosian girls from calling him Roodnah. He doesn't know that 'roodnah' is Athosian for 'pretty'.

4) Rodney is blissfully unaware of Kavanaugh's unhealthy obsession with him, not only as a man of science.

5) It will always be a mystery to him why, one Tuesday afternoon, he pushes John gently into a Jumper, out of the sight of the other scientists in the Jumper Bay, and kisses him softly.

Maybe one day soon, he'll find out why John kissed him back.



And because the boys drank a lot (and I am not even kidding - it was liver-sclerosing just watching them)...


Landmarked Progression

The first time you held hands you were both walking to the Infirmary, soul-weary and broken. Well, you were limping, and his left arm was hanging inches lower than it should have been. Three weeks you'd both been gone, though it felt like a lifetime longer.

You walked by his side in silence and his hand brushed yours. Your arm froze, and so did his. A moment later, his little finger was wrapped around yours. You felt your resolve begin to weaken, and you squeezed his finger back.


The first time you kissed was three months later, and nothing further had happened. It was a trading mission, one of an unremarkable thousand, and one of the accompanying marines was overheard by the Porraleis making a gay joke. They immediately refused to trade with such a narrow-minded people. You looked at him, he looked right back at you and gave a little shrug and his trademark crooked smile, uncharacteristically quiet.

You spoke to the leader and explained that, as a whole, the Lanteans were an open-minded people. As expected, they demanded proof. He moved directly to your side and unhesitatingly tilted his face to yours. You kissed him gently, thoroughly, and wondered vaguely just how much resolve you actually had left.

The trade was successful, and nothing more was said.


The following weeks were blissfully uneventful, and oddly charged. In public, you were the same as always, but there was a weight behind every interaction. He started doubting he was strong enough, and you became resigned to the inevitable.

One night, you were woken by your door sliding open, and you knew even in the dark that it was him. Neither of you said a word as he crossed the room and slid into the space you made for him in your bed. As his arms slid around you, you caught a glimpse of wide, frightened eyes, and you held him close as he murmured something about nightmares and you weren't there. You promised him you would be, over and over until you both fell asleep.

It never occurred to you to wonder why you were so upset to wake up alone.


The careful balance the two of you shared shifted once more, not that anyone could tell. You eventually came to the realisation that you were in Atlantis, and everything was different now.

He was walking past the gym when you stepped out, and both of you were startled. He smiled at you as you grabbed his hand and pulled him into the gym, and when he kissed you back it was readily, as though he'd been waiting for this to happen. And perhaps he had.

The kiss was full, hot and left you both speechless and staring at each other, your hands on his face and your taste in his mouth. He grinned and kissed you again, and you realised you'd found home in Atlantis.


The next night you arrived at his door, freshly showered and shaved and surprisingly calm. He smiled when you handed him the movie, and grinned hugely when he glanced into the bag and saw lube.

Five minutes into the movie he was kissing you, slow and gentle. You kissed him back the same way, simply because you could.

Half an hour later, the movie was completely forgotten as you made love together for the first time.


It's been a year since that night, a passage in time marked by the introduction of some new faces, and the loss of some old. Battles fought, some won and some lost. And yet some things are exactly the same.

He still pisses you off on a regular basis. You still frighten him by taking what he calls 'unnecessary, heart-stopping, stupid-inducing risks, dammit!'. You argue about everything, surprise and confuse each other, and run rings around everyone else.

You still feel your heart speed up when you see him unexpectedly. He still holds your hand when you're alone together. You still wake up wrapped around each other, the same way you did the first 'morning after'. You still kiss each other like teenagers and make love for eternity.

It's enough, and it's so much more.



What is it with my utter inability to write anything other than schmoopy love stuff? I blame it on the fire, and the moon rising over the ocean. Curses! *shakes fist at ... mood setting scenery*. And, as per usual, it's unbeta'ed, because of no girlfriends who camp out, and (possibly) this conversation:

me (casually): oh hey, can you just check this and make sure there's no spelling mistakes or anything?
n (who is such a guy): what is it?
me (with shifty eyes): oh, just a thing, about stuff.
n (knowingly): you're up to something.
me (leering): oh i wish. *shakes paper* now do it.
n: *reads a little then looks at me, aghast* I AM NOT GOING TO EDIT YOUR WRITTEN GAY PORN!!!1!!!!11!! (with the 1s, and everything)
  ...cue dead silence, even the absence of crickets chirping...
me: well, you could have just said no.
n: *leaves to go drink heavily and shoot things to reassert masculinity*

sigh.

So, incidentally, I'm looking for a beta for something else I've written while I was away. I've got work straight up for the next week or so, so not much time to type it out yet, but soon. And the keyword for this soon-to-be fic? Dinosaurs. Heh. Yep. Any suckers takers?

Also - a big apology to everyone whose comments I've only just answered. It may take a while for me to reply, but ! appreciate them all, and I will eventually. I swear!

McShep
G
Unbetaed
The things John likes about Rodney can sometimes surprise even him.






 Sometimes, John is tempted to put his hand over Rodney’s mouth, just to see if he would actually stop speaking, which he thinks probably wouldn’t happen. He really likes it when Rodney’s not talking, not just because he’s not talking, but also because sometimes, when he’s silent, Rodney’s face relaxes, his concerned frown disappears and he blinks like he’s sleepy. He looks young at these times, and not as though the whole weight of Atlantis rests on his shoulders, which sometimes it does.

 John likes it when Rodney yells at people for a number of reasons. It means that he’s not yelling at John, which is a Very Good Thing. It also means that John can watch Rodney without Rodney demanding to know why. Mostly, though, it’s because Rodney gets so worked up that his cheeks flush, his eyes flash and his hands describe actions in the air that would make him maybe a Level 2 in hand-to-hand, if only he’d practice.

 It makes John smile when he realises Rodney is capable of being obnoxious through the way he writes, all BLOCK LETTERS and sharp angles. He’s the only person John knows who can convey irritation onto paper merely by signing his name. John knows this because most of that irritation is directed to John in the letters, instructions and post-its he leaves in John’s room, pack, computer – everywhere, really.

 Dinner on Tuesday night makes John wonder why he finds Rodney's habit of speaking with his mouth full endearing. He shouldn’t, because it really is a disgusting habit, but maybe it’s because he understands that Rodney’s head is just too full for him to waste precious talking time by chewing and swallowing, as common decency would have him do. He also wonders why he pushes his own jell-o towards him, saying nothing but staring at Rodney’s incredible ability to talk, chew and be comprehensible all at the same time.

 John is constantly surprised to find Rodney swimming by the South-Eastern pier at five in the evening, even though he shouldn’t be, seeing as how he’s found him here every day for the past three weeks. He likes how toned Rodney’s chest and arms are becoming. It makes him feel as though Rodney may be capable of looking after himself when John can’t be there to do it.

 It makes John’s feet prickle uncomfortably every time Rodney sticks his hand into a tangle of wires in some device or another, but he always returned the cocky, reassuring smile that gets sent his way, the one that says ‘trust me’, and ‘I know what I’m doing’. He likes that Rodney is so confident, because it comes from the absolute knowledge that he actually will be fine.

 One of John’s favourite pastimes is joining Rodney as he lectures, berates and generally harasses any given group of people. He enjoys this because Rodney often makes jokes at the expense of the assembled company – which they don’t get – and then glances at John, knowing he understands. The amused look Rodney can’t quite hide makes it worth having to actually listen to the lecture.

 The time John enjoys most with Rodney is the evenings they spend sitting together on various balconies, sipping Athosian wine. They talk softly as they watch the sun set over the water. At these times, Rodney is very introspective and subdued, and something about the way he looks at John makes him glad he ignored the coin-toss and came to Atlantis anyway.

 John enjoys waking Rodney up. He likes the way that the blue eyes just kind of watch him for a moment, and then he begins to smile. Of course, before he can actually smile, his brain kicks in and he immediately suspects the worst. But that brief moment makes John forget that there could be horrible things to come in the day ahead.

*

 On the night of the celebration of their third year in Atlantis, John realises that he likes Rodney when he’s tipsy. He likes the way he sings bawdy songs with Zelenka, and how he dances with the young Athosian girls who all adore him. He likes how easy Rodney makes it look to be happy, but more than that, he likes how easily Rodney actually is happy.

 John looks forward to stick-fighting with Rodney in the afternoons. He is always distracted by the intense concentration in Rodney’s eyes when he watches John to try and anticipate his next move, and the single-minded focus he applies to trying to best John. John especially likes it when Rodney pins him to the mat.

 The way Rodney has learned to get along with the soldiers makes John laugh. Rodney is still arrogant and stubborn, but being friends with John has taught him that there can be more to people in the military that meets the eyes. He’s even gotten quite close with Major Spence, but John’s not yet sure how he feels about that.

 John loves irritating Rodney with stupid questions, such as “Why are quasars far out?” and “Why is the sky blue?” and his favourite, “How did you get so smart?” accompanied by a puzzled look and occasionally a head scratch for emphasis. He loves the way Rodney will roll his eyes and call John a moron with the affectionate familiarity of a friend who has done the same thing a thousand times before. When John asks “Why are you friends with me?” Rodney’s replies vary from “Because you’re the smartest idiot I know,” (which John likes), “Because everyone is friends with you,” (Which John hates), and “Because I’m Rodney,” (which John doesn’t really get, but thinks is more to do with Rodney being weird than him).

 John loves when rain slides down the windows and the shadows fall across Rodney’s arms. It makes something tease at the back of his mind, something he’s sure is related to his childhood, but the second he tries to remember it, the feeling disappears. So he watches the way Rodney’s skin seems to cry, and he casually laces his hands behind his head to keep from reaching over and touching.

 The fact that Atlantis lets Rodney play with it is a great source of pride for John. Rodney once said to him in a rare moment of self-doubt that Samantha Carter could have done just as well, if not better than him had she been the one to come to Atlantis. And even though Carter is admittedly brilliant, John doubts Atlantis would have liked her as much as it does Rodney. Much like John himself, actually.

John likes the fact that he’s become better friends with Rodney in three years than he ever was with his favourite cousin, who he practically grew up with. He loves the fact that it’s been three years and Rodney’s still here. He hasn’t gone away, which is a little odd, because with John, no one’s really stayed before.

John really likes it when Rodney hugs him. When John arrives back in Atlantis with Markham and Stackhouse after their latest unplanned encounter with the Wraith, he wonders if Rodney’s been listening to their panicked transmissions as they ran for the ‘Gate with twenty-odd villagers. As soon as everyone has cleared the event horizon, he has his answer. Rodney slams into his side and his arms wrap tightly around John. No one looks twice as John hugs him back and buries his face in Rodney’s neck.

When John is woken up in the middle of the night, he likes that it’s not to some emergency sounding in his ear. He loves the fact that it’s to Rodney climbing into bed beside him. His clothes are cold against John’s bare chest, but as he snuggles in against him, they soon warm up. They sleep, and in the morning John always wakes up alone.

John likes a lot of things about Rodney, but the thing he likes best is that Rodney likes him back.