John
Rodney was way more normal than I thought he'd be about all of this. The whole awkward love-fest, the movie, the chocolate, the intimacy of the morning after -- not that it was technically a morning after, since we didn't even kiss or anything -- all of that should have shook him up more than it seemed to. I wasn't sure how to take that. Either we were on the same wavelength already and he was cool with it, or he was steadily burrowing his way into denial at a rate that was, to be perfectly honest, scary. Even for him.
Oh, jeez. If I broke him, Jeannie was gonna kill me.
It wasn't until I had to let Lt. Sewall take control of the jumper so I could rescue Rodney's remaining hair from the clutches of a very pissed-off Laura Cadman that I was sure he was gonna be okay; he had a healthy hank of her hair in each of his fists, and I almost felt bad for breaking it up, 'cause he was really holding his own. If he'd been closing in on himself like I worried he might, he would have let her beat the shit out of him.
I sent them to the back, where Ronon and Teyla were already chilling with Lorne and the rest of his team, but not before chewing Cadman a new one for getting Rodney riled up about his damn best friend's funeral service, like the poor guy had any control over who 'got' to help carry Beckett's personal effects back to his folks. I got that she was hurt, and she'd had a thing for Carson, but it wasn't as though any of us were on the top of our game that week. If she'd spoken up then instead of getting all sore about it later, I bet Zelenka would've stepped up and offered her his spot. He was just cool like that.
After showering up and debriefing, we more or less all hit the mess like a swarm of locusts, and stayed there for a few hours winding down. When it started to get late, I got up, caught Rodney's eye, and let Ronon and Teyla know I was hitting the hay. I think I probably knew he was gonna follow me before he knew he was gonna, but he started making his excuses to the others before I was even out of earshot.
Rodney
His door opened before I got a chance to knock -- although I never really knock on Sheppard's door, come to think of it, just kind of let myself in and assume that if he's doing something he doesn't want me or anyone else to see, he'll have the sense to lock it or suffer the consequential embarrassment -- and instead of his usual smirk, he was wearing this Cheshire cat smile. Or maybe it was a Mona Lisa smile; I always get those two confused. "Long time no see."
I shrugged. "I can go, if you'd rather."
"Nah. Come on in." He stepped aside and I walked past him, dithering for a minute about whether to sit on the bed or not. "Bed's made fresh, if you wanna put your boots up."
I grinned and sat down. "So last night... the chocolate wasn't drugged?"
John stared at me for a minute before snorting. "Nope. Sorry, McKay, you fell asleep all on your own. Which, I'd like to point out, is what normal people do every night. Not that I'd insult you by calling you normal or anything."
"Okay." I hadn't really suspected him of drugging me, but it was an icebreaker. It just felt weird that there was ice to break now when there never had been before. "So if the sleeping was organic, in and of itself, then I assume the spooning was, as well."
He shrugged, looking... sheepish? "I'm a snuggler. Couldn't see the sense in waking you up to kick you outta bed, just 'cause I get a little touchy-feely. You looked like you could use the sleep."
I wondered then if he remembered waking up and rolling over, or if I was the only one who'd been obsessing about that all day. "Yeah. No, uh, that makes sense. So then, um, this morning..."
"We all need a little physical comfort sometimes, Rodney, and if you can't get it from your friends, who can you? You've been through the wringer lately. Don't think I haven't noticed." Of course he noticed. That's what he did; he noticed things, noticed how I was feeling or coping or not and made me work it out, one way or another. Did anyone do that for him? Ronon? Teyla? Would he let me?
I meant to thank him, for everything he does for me without me asking, but all that came out was, "What, do you want a medal or something?"
To my relief, he looked amused, stretching out on the bed in a sprawl that should have sent me flying, but instead just sort of integrated me into him. It was foreign and familiar at the same time. "Same old Rodney."
Same old us. But not.
Ronon
I think me and Teyla were the only ones who noticed McKay following Sheppard to bed. Teyla got this really pleased look on her face, and she touched my arm in that way she has that says everything she needs to but can't or won't. I just shook my head. About damn time.
John
He spent the night again. We didn't plan it this time either. There's just something about Rodney when he's sleeping; maybe it's because I knew he wasn't getting half as much sleep as he should, or maybe it's because I really liked waking up next to him, but once he was out I just didn't have the heart to wake him up and tell him to get out. Even if he does totally hog the bed. I remember making a mental note to ask Elizabeth if I could upgrade to a room with a bigger bed as soon as I figured out a way to ask that didn't make me sound like a huge player.
Jeannie's most recent email had been more encouragement than any kind of real advice; I think she was as surprised as I was that things went as well as they did on the first time out, because we both know Rodney and he can be pretty damned thick-headed when he wants to be. Not only that, but I really, honestly thought the gay thing would throw him for a major loop. Anyway, it was for the best, really, because I was way too tired to try to make a move on McKay. I'd spent half the last night listening to him breathe -- like I thought he was going to stop or something -- and our lazy morning sleeping in had been cut short by Lorne's team and their distress call. I try not to be spiteful toward my own men, but I really hoped the next time it was my ass in a sling, I interrupted one of his conquests. See how he liked it.
Not that Rodney was a conquest. He was pretty much the farthest thing possible from a conquest, except that I totally did want to sleep with him. I just, you know, wanted everything else, too, which was scary. I've been married before, and I was bad at it. Really bad, and I guess maybe it was nobody's fault except maybe mine a little, because I hadn't wanted everything with her, and I hadn't realized it wouldn't work if I didn't.
It scared the hell out of me when I realized I wanted to wake up when I was seventy and still see Rodney hogging my bed. Well, it would be our bed, by that point, I think. I hope. I mean, what, like he's gonna keep a separate room and just crash with me every night? Jesus, if we haven't had sex by the time I'm seventy, I think I might have to have Ronon off me. A mercy killing. I'm not in any kind of hurry, 'cause until Jeannie emailed me the other day I pretty much thought the whole concept of me and Rodney was a pipe dream, but thirty years is a long time to be in a relationship without getting to the fun stuff.
Still, laying there, watching his chest rise and fall under my hand and realizing that I was in this for the long haul, felt good.
"John," Rodney said, grabbing my hand as he rolled onto his side. "Quit thinking so loud and go to sleep."