Title: Five Cuddles That Might Have Been
Summary: Five different universes, five different Johns, five different Rodneys, five different cuddles.
Author's Note: For challenge #6- Cuddling. This fic is 4/5 AU.
Disclaimer: They're not mine (would that they were!)
Feedback: is good in any universe.
John whimpered and clung to Rodney, body shaking. Rodney knew the shaking was bad, it meant physical stress, pain, shock, all sorts of bad things that could be happening. He knew the shaking was bad, but it was the whimpering that worried him, because John Sheppard was not a whimper-er.
So he stroked his hair and held him close and waited for help to come. And when John's arms wound themselves around Rodney's body, he just held on tighter.
There were stars out, and John pointed to them in turn, putting made-up names to constellations and claiming that they looked like things.
Rodney let his head rest on John's shoulder, let his arm rest across John's chest, and let himself feel happy. Maybe the rest of their lives were uncertain-- maybe they would want different things or go different places. Maybe John would, as he'd said he was going to, join the military, and Rodney didn't want to think about all the things that could happen to him if he did.
But tonight, they were just two guys on the verge of everything. Tonight, John was his boyfriend, and his pillow, and *there*. And for once in his life, Rodney was content not to worry about what might happen next.
The rain was steady, and it made the whole house chilly. John had built a fire, and now he and Rodney were under one dark blue afghan, feet side-by-side on the big ottoman they used as a coffee table, in matching woolly socks.
Lucky was on the chair, curled in on himself with his tail lashing angrily as he listened to the rain. Resigned to being an indoor cat for the day, he nonetheless assumed that the weather was John's fault, and would not sit on the sofa as long as John was there.
Not that John minded the cold shoulder. With the cat on the other side of the room, there was only one person close enough for Rodney to pet.
The scent was getting stronger, and Rod eventually realized that it was something like aftershave, and that Sheppard, who had been on the opposite wall, was now very, very close.
"What is it?"
"I'm freezing. I thought maybe..."
"My side of the cell was warmer?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Maybe we could share some heat." Sheppard finished.
"Fine. But... Fine." No use arguing, and not freezing to death would be nice.
They sat shoulder to shoulder while Sheppard listed off all the reasons he wished he never came to this galaxy. Being kidnapped by the Genii was number one. And number three. And number five.
Eventually, Rod realized that Sheppard wasn't just complaining. His arm had been ever-so-slowly inching its way across his back, 'til it lay over his shoulders, making him feel like he was Sheppard's date to the movies, and this was so wrong, because if he *was* Sheppard's date to the movies, it should be his arm around Sheppard's shoulders.
He rectified the situation.
Sheppard shifted, resting his head on Rod's shoulder with a soft sigh.
Once they got out of this mess, maybe a movie wouldn't be so bad...
This was going somewhere. Oh yes, this was going somewhere.
Rodney ran his hand up and down John's side, nestled down against his chest where he smelled like soap and musk and the Dominican bay rum cologne that he'd somehow discovered drove Rodney crazy. John was dropping lazy kisses to the top of Rodney's head, sliding one hand along his upper arm, the other trapped under Rodney's hip.
"You wanna?" John murmured, half a laugh in his voice, and he nudged the tented front of Rodney's boxers with his own, chuckling warm and dark when Rodney sucked in a breath. "Is that a yes?"
"Yes..." Rodney hissed, rolled John underneath him, plastered the lengths of their bodies together. The hand that had been trapped beneath him slid up to cup his backside, and John's other hand travelled the rest of the way down Rodney's arm until fingers wove together.
Rodney kissed John's chest, then his neck, his chin, and finally his lips, long and slow and warm, not hot. He broke the kiss to stare at their hands, at the two identical glints of gold. His head dropped back down to John's shoulder and he shifted more comfortably between John's thighs.
"I think I like being married." He said.
"Me, too." John smiled, rolling his hips. "You gonna get those boxers off?"
"Maybe. You?" He nuzzled his husband's collarbone, nipping lightly.
"Oh, yeah." John squeezed him before releasing him.
Yes. Definitely going somewhere.