jumpuphigh: sitting on the pier after a rough mission
"How do you drink this pisswater?"
"I like it," John protests, and Rodney rolls his eyes. He knows John doesn't drink for the same reasons he does, not at all. Rodney only drinks when things are impossible, when there's nothing to lose. His definition of impossible has changed slightly since coming to the Atlantis.
"Hey John," Rodney says, leaning in, running a thumb over the bruise on John's cheek.
"What?" John asks, turning his head just enough. Rodney kisses him, promising himself to teach John the way of good beer so he doesn't have to kiss the taste of pisswater.
jumpuphigh: kissing that turns into biting of the neck and shoulders
"Fuck," John says, low and throaty, and Rodney pauses from where he's currently kissing his way along John's jaw to stare at the way John's got his head tipped back and his mouth open, making his throat look extremely long and extremely edible. Rodney licks his way down the tendon on the side of John's neck and bites John's collarbone.
John shifts at Rodney's first bite, his head tilting away from Rodney enough to make the tendon stand out. Rodney bites it too, little nibbles that make John whimper and turn his head further to the side.
"Fuck," John says.
jumpuphigh: early morning sleepy kissing
John throws the covers off in sleep; he's done it every night Rodney stays. No matter how cold it is (and he thinks cold cold cold at the room until there're icicles on his underwear), it's always hot under the covers. It's like Rodney's body runs as hot at night as his mind runs during the day.
When he wakes up, he's always curled around Rodney, the front of him sweating and the back freezing, no middle ground, not that there ever is with Rodney.
He dozes, half awake and half not, and presses a sleepy kiss to Rodney's shoulder.
gblvr: get the wrong idea when the other is talking to Evan, relieved!kiss
Rodney comes to an abrupt stop when he hears Lorne's voice. "Are you –"
"Shh," John says, quietly, tenderly, and shit, Rodney knows that tone of voice. He goes from utterly heartbroken to so pissed off he can hardly breathe in the space of two breaths and stomps into the room, catching Lorne and John with their heads together.
John whirls and holds out a cupcake, covered in buttercream and m&ms, a bag in Lorne's hands.
"Happy birthday," John says, grinning.
Lorne grabs the cupcake out of Sheppard's hand just before Rodney crushes him with a thank-you kiss.
soleta: polky dots
"It is a childhood disease," Teyla explains to Carson, gently holding both of Rodney's hands in hers because it won't stop itching.
Rodney moans in misery. "Pegasus galaxy chicken pox, are you kidding me?"
"Seems so," Carson says, grinning at Rodney's unhappiness, the bastard. John is grinning too, mostly at the way Teyla is wrapping Rodney's hands in gauze so he can't scratch. John's covered in purple polka dots too, but he isn't scratching at all, not even a little bit.
"Why don't I kiss it better?" John asks, leaning over and planting a kiss on a patch of uninfected skin.
"Hurry up," Rodney squeaks, leading them around the corner as fast as his legs can carry him. He's gotten a whiff of pastries, and he knows the way to the kitchen.
Rodney glances back, freezing when he doesn't see John. He waits impatiently for two humans to lumber by and backtracks along the wall. "John?"
"Rodney, go," John says from where he's glued to a sticky trap. "Get out of here."
"Not a chance," Rodney says, stepping onto the sticky goo, close enough that he's nose to nose with John. "You'll need me to get out of those labs again."
"Rodney want a cracker?"
Rodney rolled his eyes. It was more impressive as a parrot, enough to make Sheppard snort-laugh. He had the worst urge to smooth his feathers. He resisted the urge by biting Sheppard's finger.
"Serves you right for turning me into a parrot," Rodney said, giving in and smoothing down the ruffled feathers on his left wing. When he turned back, he could see Sheppard's finger bleeding.
"I didn't bite you that hard," Rodney said, nudging his head under Sheppard's hand, getting him to lift it to eye-height for inspection.
"Here, let me kiss it better."
Rodney hates water. He wasn't fond of it before, when rain was the only way he ever got wet unwillingly. Now it's rain and melting glaciers and broken desalination mechanisms and all of the million other things Pegasus throws at him.
One of those things was John Sheppard, and mostly, Rodney thanks his lucky stars. But John likes oceans and pools and showers (not bathtubs, no, of course not) and John swims with his sunglasses on and Rodney is helpless to do anything but dive in and swim after the idiot whose kiss and run is really kiss and swim.
psyche29: in the pouring rain
"I've already done this once today, Major, I'm not interested in an encore." Rodney crosses his arms and fights off a shiver as Sheppard steps out into the pouring rain.
"I love rain," Sheppard says.
"I've recently decided to hate it with extreme prejudice," Rodney says, shaking his head at Sheppard's outstretched hand.
"C'mon, Rodney," Sheppard says, low and inviting. "I'll make it worth your while."
Rodney stares for just a second, and steps through the curtain of raindrops into a kiss, wet and slick and somehow a continuation of the rain itself.
Maybe rain isn't so bad after all.
queenbarwench: strawberries and champagne
Trust Rodney never to skimp, John thinks, popping the cork on the Dom Perignon. He pours a glass and gets comfortable, a platter of strawberries on his lap. He watches Rodney's speech intently, eventually rewinding to hear his name, a half second blurb - nearly unintelligible if John hadn't been looking for Rodney's secret message in the way Rodney half-coughed his name into the back of his hand.
John finishes the champagne and dumps the strawberry tops into the garbage, kissing his fingers and pressing them to the paused image of Rodney with his Nobel, John's name on his lips.
iadorespike: John touches something he shouldn't. Rodney kisses it better.
"John," Rodney yells, before John can do something stupid, "put that down!"
Rodney's shout startles him and he drops the knife, catching his onesie on the way down. The tip pokes his chubby belly and John's eyes go round, tears welling up as Rodney runs into the kitchen.
"Oh, John," he says, whisking him up into his arms. "You can't play with knives! Not until we make you big again."
He settles John on the counter, blowing a raspberry on the red puncture mark. John's raucous giggles tell him he's made things all better, at least for a little while.