It was their first opportunity to touch each other since John had pushed Rodney over the railing to test the personal shield. Even once it came off they hadn’t been able to find time to be alone until well after Rodney had recovered from his, uh, not-fainting spell. They’d tried to kiss in celebration of the successful gene therapy after the device had been activated, but their attempts at anything less chaste than a peck had been thwarted. The moment he had a chance, John shoved Rodney against a wall and kissed him like he’d never been kissed before.
“Um,” Rodney said when he’d recovered. “Please don’t take this as a complaint, but that was… slightly unexpected.”
“Do you have any idea how frustrating it was, not being able to touch you?” John replied.
Rodney smirked. “I might have a vague idea; you could always illustrate your point, if you’d like.”
John practically dragged him home at a run.
Later, lying in the dark quiet of John’s living quarters covered in a thin sheen of sweat and more relaxed than he’d been since, oh, about the time he’d figured out the personal shielding device wasn’t even susceptible to himself, Rodney reached over and punched John in the arm.
“Ow,” John said, more out of indignant surprise than actual pain. “What was that for?”
“You weren’t worried that I might starve to death?” Rodney pouted slightly; it wasn’t terribly flattering.
“Are you kidding me?” John laughed, shaking the bed slightly. “The way you eat, I figured you had a hollow leg or something to live off of for a while. Besides, I knew sooner or later you’d figure out a way to save yourself, uh, from… yourself.”
Rodney seemed to accept this answer, and rolled onto his side, knowing instinctively that John would curl up behind him to leech his warmth. It was strange how quickly they’d become accustomed to each other, how strong the bond had become. How fast they’d ended up in each other’s beds. The strangest thing of all, really, was how strange it wasn’t. “If I didn’t eat as much as I do, I doubt I could fuel my metabolism sufficiently to put off the heat you seem to like so much,” he said, reaching down to lace his fingers through those of the hand John rested casually on his hip. “No one likes a frigid bed partner.”
John made a non-committal grunt and buried his nose in the hollow between Rodney’s shoulder blades. “I’m sure you’d find another way to keep me warm,” he said, snaking his free arm under the pillow. “Weir had you totally pegged,” he teased. “She knew your yellow streak would be the key to getting that thing off of you.”
“I do not have a yellow streak,” Rodney insisted, scowling and letting go John’s hand to slap his thigh in retribution. “I have a strong instinct for self-preservation. Which is why I wanted to ask you a favor.”
“A favor?” John repeated, propping himself up. “Of the gratification variety, or…?”
“I want to learn how to take care of myself out there, John. Any… any dumbass can fire a gun, but I thought maybe you could teach me how to do it well. And maybe… how to fly a puddle jumper? Just a couple of lessons, you know. I don’t think I’ll ever be as good as you, but—“
“I’m sorry,” John interrupted, placing a kiss on Rodney’s shoulder. “Could you repeat that part for me? Because I thought – and you’re gonna think this is really wacky, totally off-the-wall – I thought I just heard you admit that I’m better than you at something.”
“I wouldn’t get used to it,” Rodney retorted. “Although I still can’t figure out that thing you do with your tongue.”
“All in good time, Padawan,” John smiled. “Though I can’t say I’m surprised that you had such bad luck with Dr. Samantha Carter if you haven’t learned how to utilize that technique.”
“I don’t hear you complaining,” Rodney said smugly, despite the jab.
“Well, yeah, but then again, I’m a lot easier to please than a woman. Especially a woman who has a kid with another woman…?”
With an irritated sigh, Rodney reached back and slapped John’s bare thigh again. “This is the part where you shut up and go to sleep,” he reminded him. “I’ve got maybe fifteen, thirty seconds tops before I lose complete interest in this conversation and become unconscious for an extended period of time.”
“Mmm,” John agreed. “Tomorrow we’ll find an abandoned part of the city and I’ll set up some targets for practice. Wouldn’t do for the self-proclaimed smartest man in at least two galaxies to be unable to defend himself properly.”
“And… time,” Rodney said, with a sense of finality. “’Night.”
“Yeah,” John replied. “’Night.”
~*~
“You’re thinking about it too much,” John told an irritated Rodney, who had failed to hit twelve out of fifteen targets. “In the field, you’re gonna have to be at least a better shot than a Storm Trooper. Just relax. Loosen up.”
“Loosen up?” Rodney stared at John, aghast. “That’s hardly a realistic situation. Exactly how often do you think I’m going to be relaxed, running backwards toward the ‘gate, firing on a pissed off, hungry Wraith? They don’t even have the courtesy to stand still, unlike these targets, and I really don’t think—“
“You have to practice until it’s second nature,” John explained calmly, eyes twinkling with humor at Rodney’s frustration. “Then you won’t have to think about it, out there trying to save your tail.”
Rodney considered this and sighed. “Okay. Set them up again, and we’ll give this a second shot. No pun intended, of course."
"Of course." John jogged down the alley, righting the three targets Rodney had managed to hit. “Let me try something,” he said when he returned, moving to stand behind Rodney. He put his arms around him, helping him to aim. “Let’s try for the one furthest to the left.”
“Our left or their left?” Rodney frowned. “I fail to see how having you pressed up against me is going to help my aim.”
“Soup doesn't have a left. Just trust me,” John replied, lining up the shot. “And remember, just squeeze the trigger lightly. You can do this.”
“Okay,” Rodney said doubtfully. He squeezed the trigger, and the empty soup can clattered to the ground. “I did it!” he exclaimed, surprised. “But I think Ford and Teyla are going to be a little confused if I have you lining up my shots on missions. Especially Teyla, because, well, the way she looks at you, and I’m not sure the Athosians really understand the concept of homosexual relationships.”
John snorted, backing away and crossing his arms. “Just try it again, and line it up like I did.”
Rodney followed John’s directions, and fired three shots in rapid succession, taking out three cans in a row. John blinked in disbelief, clearly impressed. “That wasn’t so difficult,” Rodney sniffed haughtily.
“What – how did you do that?” John asked, incredulous. “Are you hustling me?”
“There would have to be money involved for that,” Rodney pointed out. “I don’t know, it just occurred to me that, rather like pool, it’s about angles. Although it’s a little easier, since you only have to line up one shot, rather than several. Once I realized it’s math… it just came naturally.”
“I don’t believe you,” John laughed, shaking his head. “You are such a dork. Let’s go home.”
Rodney opened his mouth to say ‘your place or mine,’ but stopped short. “What about the rest of the targets?”
“What about them?” John shrugged. “I can barely keep my hands off you right now, and if we don’t go home ASAP, I’m going to debauch you right here, right now.”
“Oh.” Rodney blinked and allowed himself to be led out of the alley. “I suppose it’s probably fortunate, then, that I didn’t ask you to teach me how to fire an automatic. I’d hate to see what effect that might have on you.