John stopped at the door to Rodney's quarters, smiling in an idiotic, and goofy way. Checking to make sure the hall was empty, he walked in.
It was still early enough and therefore Rodney was still sleeping soundly, only a tuft of brown, thinning hair peeking out of the covers.
John's insides turned warm at the sight. But he caught himself before becoming too distracted. He was a man on a mission here. He went to shower, the water running cool and smooth off his body, cleansing the sweat and grime he had endured during his daily jog away from his body. He toweled dry quickly and snuck into the bed naked.
It wasn't the most comfortable of positions to be in considering the bed was barely big enough for Rodney, and with all the space John himself was taking up, it was a wonder he didn't fall in a spectacular mess of limbs and bones. However, it was better than being alone in a comfortable bed.
Pulling the covers down to Rodney's shoulders, he wound one arm around his waist and buried his face in the back of Rodney's neck. He closed his eyes, and inhaled the scent of his lover. Even after all this time, John often found himself pleasantly surprised at his lover's warmth. Every time he got out of his cold showers and into bed with Rodney, the other man would warm him up faster than being in the sheets or Atlantis herself could.
It was a while before the sun blazed in through the window and marginally brightened up the room, yet the routine was so familiar to John by now that he knew he only had a few minutes left before Rodney woke up.
He turned over onto his back lest one whole lot of a genius scientist bumped harshly into him. (The first time that had happened, Rodney didn't so much as bump into him as climb on top of him and almost suffocate him to death.) They however were still touching because, hello, small beds and all.
After the turning over, Rodney would close his mouth, since he had a habit of sleeping with his lips parted slightly, and hands would rub at his eyes. Right on cue, Rodney smacked his lips shut, a tongue darting out and running over them, and then came the big hand rubbing at his face.
John turned over back onto his side, putting both hands under his cheek, and grinned. "Good morning," he started, as he always did, and Rodney blearily looked at him.
"Morning. God, how can you be so chipper in the morning? We haven't even had our coffee yet."
John shrugged, but Rodney just shook his head at him, getting up to to go to the bathroom.
Someday, maybe, John would tell him that if he went to bed at a reasonable hour, he'd be able to wake up with John. But, for now, John was content to have it remain his little secret.
He heard the flush of the toilet, and the water running, then Rodney came out, looking a bit more wakeful than before, but a scowl was still gracing his beautiful face.
Once Rodney had settled back in again, John touched his cheek softly with the tips of his fingers. They stared at each other, lost somewhere in each others' gazes. Then their faces came closer gradually and they kissed, slowly and sweetly. First, it was just pressure against lips, then they opened their mouths together, and wrestled languidly with their tongues.
Then John would whisper, "Love you, love you so damn much," and Rodney would seize his face, and they'd be trying to claw at each other to be closer, though they were, but it would never be enough.
And Rodney knew what to expect then as well as John did - low touches in the morning light, and John calling Rodney 'babe,' which never failed to steal his breath away because he hadn't ever had that and God, it was such a laborious thing to even breath.
And Rodney returned every one of John's whispered endearments against his cheek, neck, and all over his body with one of his own.
He knew he complained about John waking up before him every day, but he never meant any of them because damn, did this man ever make him happy.