by darsynia

Notes: Comment fic for unamaga. Written 4/29/08.

Rodney wakes when the mattress shifts from John's weight beside him. He'd pull the pillow over his head to hint at how his day went, but his arms are sore and with his luck he'd have trouble breathing once it was there.

"I know this thing we have here is new, but you do know this isn't your room,
right?" John says, light and teasing, his right hand reaching over to rest on Rodney's exposed arm. Even still, Rodney's heart jumps a little, and not with happiness. They'd never shared a bed without thoroughly mussing it up first, but he'd lost one of his best scientists today, and Rodney never has nightmares in John's bed. Rodney nods, using all of his sleep-leeched energy to keep the regret from showing on his face as he throws back the blanket with his free hand.

"Woah, woah," John objects, his thumb brushing softly across Rodney's wrist even as he presses his weight down with his left palm flat on the mattress beside Rodney, trapping him. "I wasn't kicking you out," he adds, his voice so gentle that Rodney flushes and struggles to get up, sure that John's angling toward pity, now.

"No, no—your mattress is uncomfortable anyway, I didn't mean to fall asleep, I'll just—"

Rodney's words are interrupted by John's mouth on his, by John's body sliding to rest against him. He's surprised enough to flail at John a little, unsure of where to put his hands until the flight or fight mechanism in his brain registers 'oh, hey, tongue' and slips away. The kiss is dynamic as always, wet openmouthed kisses that devolve into small teasing nips and back again. This time, though, John's got a hand on Rodney's face, and it stays there, comforting and grounding him until they break apart.

"Don't be stupid," John says, and Rodney smiles to see his influence on the other man, so caught up in associative pride that he misses it when John pulls away for a brief moment and then returns in just his boxers. He smiles through his yawn, and when John burrows up beside him, Rodney's too tired to realize the significance of it. He's even magnanimous enough to yield to John's tug on the pillow, falling asleep not long after. He doesn't dream.