Disclaimer: SGA peeps are owned by buttheads other than myself. *.*
Prompt: written for mcsheplets challenge 51: Handy
Word Count: 460
Notes: unbeta'd. Connected to Moving Day verse, would probably benefit from reading that first, but can stand on its own.
Rodney set the framed diplomas along the wall and frowned up at the empty space, thinking about how they should be arranged. He thought maybe the Doctorates should be foremost in the collection, so maybe in the center, but the Master's and BAs were from some pretty prestigious schools, so he was at a bit of a loss. His lips pursed in frustration.
When the doorbell rang, he growled and muttered about stupid solicitors taking it upon themselves to interrupt him and waste his precious time trying to convince him to buy things he neither wanted nor needed. He jerked the door open, mouth ready to let fly the words he'd muttered, when he saw John standing there, dressed casually in a forest green button down shirt and comfortable jeans. He was shaved, his hair tamed only by vitrue of still being damp in the back, and Rodney gaped.
John laughed. "No."
"It cannot possibly seven already! I haven't even finished my den!"
"McKay. Invite me in."
Rodney swallowed and stepped to the side, waving John in. "Yes. Right, right. Come in. Oh my god! I can't believe -"
John sighed, wrapped a hand around Rodney's neck and pulled him in for a brief but scorching kiss. "Shut up, Rodney. Shower. Get changed. It's fine." He grinned at Rodney's dazed expression.
"Yeah. Uh, okay," Rodney said, and turned down the hall to the bathroom.
John wandered into the den, looked around and noticed the hammer, picture hanging equipment and the several framed diplomas against the wall. He unbuttoned his cuffs, rolled up his sleeves and, listening for Rodney's shower, smiled as he picked up the hammer.
30 minutes later, Rodney strolled into the den, wet hair in spikes around his head and cheeks still flushed from the heat of the shower. His pale blue polo shirt clung to damp patches of skin at the waist of his dark grey slacks. His feet were bare. John swallowed at the sight of him.
"I can't find my shoes-" Rodney started, then noticed the arrangement of frames on the wall. "Oh. You," he waved at them. "You didn't have to do that."
John took a deep breath and unrolled his sleeves. "I know."
Rodney stepped further into the room, taking in the arrangment and nodding. Then moved right into John's space. "So," he said, face serious, "you're pretty handy to have around."
Rodney laid his hands on John's denim clad hips and pulled him close, lifting his face for a kiss. "Oh yeah," he said, lips brushing against John's.
John swallowed, smile tilting his mouth a little. "Gonna keep me?"
Rodney grabbled John's face, thumb curling under his jaw, and pulled him down. "Oh," he whispered, "Definitely." And kissed him.