Unspoken
- McShep, Rated G, first kiss, fluff, getting together
- Post shrine. Because Rodney running to John's room meant more to both of them than they admitted. And they both knew it. (inspired by this post from @johnsheppard-assshaker)
John sat at his desk, staring at the cursor blinking on his screen. Mission reports sucked. Mission reports detailing the near death and stupidly risky brain surgery of your best friend? Those sucked ten times worse. He already couldn't get the images out of his head. Rodney's dazed expressions and awkward movements as his body and mind were stolen from him. Taking a deep breath, he looked to the ceiling, staring at the light there until dots danced across his vision in an attempt to chase away the thoughts.
A swift rapping came at his door and he shut his eyes, rubbing his palms into them in an effort to correct his vision. "Come in," he hollered.
It was Rodney. Alive and well, granted very tired looking and with a bandage still across his forehead. "Uh, hi."
"Hey," John greeted back and stood walking around to be next to his friend. "She released you? I hadn't heard."
The scientist humed softly, not quite meeting John's eye as his hand drifted up to lightly touch said bandage. He seemed off–nervous but not in the panicky way his nerves normally presented.
"Everything okay?" John prodded shifting closer and thinking the door closed.
"I, uh, this is awkward," Rodney started and cleared his throat. "About when I was sick, I remember a lot of what happened actually, and about that night…"
John swallowed tightly as a lump settled in his throat, choking him off. Yeah, he remembered too. Was trying really hard not to. It hurt, it hurt too much.
Rodney rushing to his room, pounding on his door, bursting in and holding onto him like he–John–was the only anchor left to his sanity. How frantic Rodney had been about waking up without him there. The unspoken things that had passed between them in that short conversation, that had hung high and loft above them as they sipped beer together under the stars.The evening hard and touching, intimate and depressing all at once.
"What about it?" John made himself say and he knew it came out tight and froggy.
"I'm sorry for how I acted, for running here and– I mean because that was ridiculous, right? Acting like that, like you were–" he drifted off, the last few words being spoken softer, sadder as he lost momentum.
"No," John rebuffed quickly, taking a half step closer. He wanted to reach out to grip Rodney's shoulders just like he had that night. Wanted to say so many of those unspoken things, but he didn't know how.
Rodney met his eyes, and John knew he didn't have to say anything. He couldn't pretend like things hadn't shifted between them, and if the soft nearly pleading look in Rodney's eyes was any give away he couldn't either. So John did it–did what he'd wanted to that night and held back because Rodney had been sick and vulnerable, and it wouldn't have been fair.
Dipping in to kiss the other man was easy for multiple reasons. One because he was already so close; and two, because Rodney didn't put up a fight. Stood there and let it happen, meeting him halfway, head subtly inclining to John as he moved.
"Did I say something I don't remember that night?" Rodney asked when they parted. His tone was thoughtful, and John got the impression that he was asking himself the question more than anything.
"No," John supplied, bringing his hands up to hold Rodney like he had that night. Hands on his shoulders squeezing with reassuring and possessive fingers. "You didn’t have to say it."
"Maybe I want to," Rodney said back, but those were the last words said for some time as John pulled him in for another long deserved, well overdue kiss.