SGA Fic - Home Safe
Oct. 11th, 2007 11:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
annundrielLast Sunday was kind of crappy for me, so I spent the afternoon writing what is basically hurt/comfort fic. Only the hurt is really only hinted at. Mostly I was interested in the comfort part. Many thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
trademybike for reading it over and telling me what sounded wonky and what didn't.
Home Safe
John enters his room moving slowly. Leaving the lights dim, he lowers himself gingerly to the edge of the bed and sits; his shoulders slump forward, hands dangling loosely between his knees in preparation to remove his boots. That is, as soon as he has the energy to do so. There’s not a part of John that isn’t sore, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Even his hair seems to ache. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe deep enough to relax.
Time loses meaning for awhile and he must have actually dozed off because the next thing he knows, Rodney is standing in the doorway, frowning disapproval written loud and clear across his face.
“Idiot,” he says, but his voice holds no venom. The door slides shut behind him as he crosses the room, detouring briefly to John’s desk to deposit the laptop he has tucked under one arm.
John opens his mouth to defend himself, but Rodney waves a finger at him. “Not one word,” he says and kneels in front of him.
John’s about to say, “Hey, Rodney, I appreciate the thought, but, uh, rain check?” as Rodney begins unlacing the boot on his right foot. But when Rodney looks up at him just as he’s gently sliding the shoe off, all John can see is the concern in his blue eyes, the line of worry written between his brows. There’s an underlying promise that John is never going offworld without him again. Rodney wants to do this for him, and John’s so very grateful for him. He needs this just as much.
He smiles softly down at Rodney, lifts a hand to cup his cheek. Rodney’s still staring up at him with those big, scared eyes, but after a moment something flickers on his face, like it’s all going to be okay, and he turns his head to press a brief, chapped-lipped kiss to the inside of John’s wrist before moving to unlace and remove his other boot.
When he’s finished, Rodney removes both of John’s socks, pausing a moment after each of them to run his hands up inside the cuffs of his BDUs to mid-calf and stroke back down to the tops of his feet. It’s not quite a massage, more of a caress really, and John finds himself relaxing just a little bit into Rodney’s capable hands.
Before John has enough time to appreciate the attention, however, Rodney’s hands retreat and he stands, only grimacing a little when his knees pop. “Come on,” he says, taking John’s hands and tugging him to his feet.
John tries to contain the groan that rises in his chest, but can’t quite hide it. Rodney, thankfully, doesn’t say a word. With the way he feels right now, John’s not sure he could take any of Rodney’s ranting about self-preservation and not watching where he’s going or his apparent inability not to flirt inappropriately with the natives. Instead, Rodney urges John’s stiff arms above his head, easing his dusty T-shirt up his torso and over his head, pulling it down his arms.
Once he’s free, Rodney steps back. “Wait here,” he says, gesturing with the hand still holding John’s shirt, and turns to enter the bathroom.
From his place by the bed, John can hear the shower start. While he waits, he unbuttons his pants, bending carefully to step out of them, leaving only his boxers. By the time he’s done, steam starts to creep into the room, Rodney appearing shortly after.
“Go shower. It will help you relax. Plus,” he frowns at John, tossing his shirt on the floor with his pants, “you look sort of terrible.”
“Gee, thanks Rodney,” he says, but his heart isn’t really in the sarcasm and the look he shoots Rodney is full of gratitude.
The shower is perfect, just the right temperature, and John hisses at the pressure and sighs in relief when some of his ache eases away like soap bubbles sliding down the drain.
He washes and rinses quickly, wanting to spend as little time upright as possible because he knows that particular state of being can’t last much longer. Stepping out of the shower, he grabs a towel and thinks the shower off. He dries himself as well as he can, rubbing the towel quickly through his hair, before wrapping it around his waist and re-entering the room.
Rodney’s picked up the clothes he’d helped remove, placed John’s boots neatly against the wall nearest the bed. He’s sitting at John’s desk, working at something on the laptop he’d brought with him, when John shuffles over to the bed and the pair of boxers and T-shirt Rodney has set out.
He’s just figuring out the front from the back of the shirt when suddenly Rodney’s hands are there, tugging the shirt from his grip. “Here,” he says. “Let me help.”
John surrenders to him, let’s Rodney move his arms where he wants them, only wincing slightly as the shirt goes over his head. He swears he feels Rodney ruffle his hair once as he helps glide the fabric down his neck and over his shoulders where Rodney’s hands pause for a moment, large and warm and steady, before smoothing down the fabric as his hands move to caress the skin of his arms.
He shudders at the soft touch and Rodney just smiles at him smugly, like he’s found another one of John’s secrets and it’s a truth that only he could discover. He leans forward and kisses John just once, sweet and deliberate, before pulling back and nudging him toward the bed. “Come on,” he says. “I’ll even tuck you in.”
Waiting while Rodney pulls the covers back, John says, “Does that include a bed time story?”
“It might,” Rodney says, lips quirking up at the corners. He moves to the desk and turns off his laptop as John carefully settles himself. Stripping quickly so only his boxers and a T-shirt remain, Rodney slides in next to him, maneuvering himself until he is curled up against John’s back.
John dims the lights into darkness with a thought as his hand finds Rodney’s and brings it to his chest, holds it there near his heart.
Rodney begins to whisper against his neck, “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…”
Smiling into his pillow, John squeezes Rodney’s hand in his and drifts to sleep.
trademybike for reading it over and telling me what sounded wonky and what didn't.Home Safe
John enters his room moving slowly. Leaving the lights dim, he lowers himself gingerly to the edge of the bed and sits; his shoulders slump forward, hands dangling loosely between his knees in preparation to remove his boots. That is, as soon as he has the energy to do so. There’s not a part of John that isn’t sore, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Even his hair seems to ache. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe deep enough to relax.
Time loses meaning for awhile and he must have actually dozed off because the next thing he knows, Rodney is standing in the doorway, frowning disapproval written loud and clear across his face.
“Idiot,” he says, but his voice holds no venom. The door slides shut behind him as he crosses the room, detouring briefly to John’s desk to deposit the laptop he has tucked under one arm.
John opens his mouth to defend himself, but Rodney waves a finger at him. “Not one word,” he says and kneels in front of him.
John’s about to say, “Hey, Rodney, I appreciate the thought, but, uh, rain check?” as Rodney begins unlacing the boot on his right foot. But when Rodney looks up at him just as he’s gently sliding the shoe off, all John can see is the concern in his blue eyes, the line of worry written between his brows. There’s an underlying promise that John is never going offworld without him again. Rodney wants to do this for him, and John’s so very grateful for him. He needs this just as much.
He smiles softly down at Rodney, lifts a hand to cup his cheek. Rodney’s still staring up at him with those big, scared eyes, but after a moment something flickers on his face, like it’s all going to be okay, and he turns his head to press a brief, chapped-lipped kiss to the inside of John’s wrist before moving to unlace and remove his other boot.
When he’s finished, Rodney removes both of John’s socks, pausing a moment after each of them to run his hands up inside the cuffs of his BDUs to mid-calf and stroke back down to the tops of his feet. It’s not quite a massage, more of a caress really, and John finds himself relaxing just a little bit into Rodney’s capable hands.
Before John has enough time to appreciate the attention, however, Rodney’s hands retreat and he stands, only grimacing a little when his knees pop. “Come on,” he says, taking John’s hands and tugging him to his feet.
John tries to contain the groan that rises in his chest, but can’t quite hide it. Rodney, thankfully, doesn’t say a word. With the way he feels right now, John’s not sure he could take any of Rodney’s ranting about self-preservation and not watching where he’s going or his apparent inability not to flirt inappropriately with the natives. Instead, Rodney urges John’s stiff arms above his head, easing his dusty T-shirt up his torso and over his head, pulling it down his arms.
Once he’s free, Rodney steps back. “Wait here,” he says, gesturing with the hand still holding John’s shirt, and turns to enter the bathroom.
From his place by the bed, John can hear the shower start. While he waits, he unbuttons his pants, bending carefully to step out of them, leaving only his boxers. By the time he’s done, steam starts to creep into the room, Rodney appearing shortly after.
“Go shower. It will help you relax. Plus,” he frowns at John, tossing his shirt on the floor with his pants, “you look sort of terrible.”
“Gee, thanks Rodney,” he says, but his heart isn’t really in the sarcasm and the look he shoots Rodney is full of gratitude.
The shower is perfect, just the right temperature, and John hisses at the pressure and sighs in relief when some of his ache eases away like soap bubbles sliding down the drain.
He washes and rinses quickly, wanting to spend as little time upright as possible because he knows that particular state of being can’t last much longer. Stepping out of the shower, he grabs a towel and thinks the shower off. He dries himself as well as he can, rubbing the towel quickly through his hair, before wrapping it around his waist and re-entering the room.
Rodney’s picked up the clothes he’d helped remove, placed John’s boots neatly against the wall nearest the bed. He’s sitting at John’s desk, working at something on the laptop he’d brought with him, when John shuffles over to the bed and the pair of boxers and T-shirt Rodney has set out.
He’s just figuring out the front from the back of the shirt when suddenly Rodney’s hands are there, tugging the shirt from his grip. “Here,” he says. “Let me help.”
John surrenders to him, let’s Rodney move his arms where he wants them, only wincing slightly as the shirt goes over his head. He swears he feels Rodney ruffle his hair once as he helps glide the fabric down his neck and over his shoulders where Rodney’s hands pause for a moment, large and warm and steady, before smoothing down the fabric as his hands move to caress the skin of his arms.
He shudders at the soft touch and Rodney just smiles at him smugly, like he’s found another one of John’s secrets and it’s a truth that only he could discover. He leans forward and kisses John just once, sweet and deliberate, before pulling back and nudging him toward the bed. “Come on,” he says. “I’ll even tuck you in.”
Waiting while Rodney pulls the covers back, John says, “Does that include a bed time story?”
“It might,” Rodney says, lips quirking up at the corners. He moves to the desk and turns off his laptop as John carefully settles himself. Stripping quickly so only his boxers and a T-shirt remain, Rodney slides in next to him, maneuvering himself until he is curled up against John’s back.
John dims the lights into darkness with a thought as his hand finds Rodney’s and brings it to his chest, holds it there near his heart.
Rodney begins to whisper against his neck, “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…”
Smiling into his pillow, John squeezes Rodney’s hand in his and drifts to sleep.
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Date: 2007-10-12 02:52 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-14 10:14 pm (UTC)