Here be SGA OT3 (McShWeir)
Feb. 2nd, 2006 11:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
prowler_pilotThe second time I tried to write it worked. It came out a little angstier than I'd planned, and I'm blaming it all on my current state of mind.
Title: Rain x Rain
Rating: R
Pairing: Sheppard/Weir/McKay. Heavier on Shep/Weir, though.
Classification: h/c, from angst to fluff in 2500 words
Summary: She was frozen to her very core, and not only physically. (Tag to 1x11, The Eye)
Disclaimer: The characters and the city of Atlantis belong to someone else, I’m just borrowing them for a while.
Beta: My wonderful![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
venom69
AN: I know this is still a little heavy on Elizabeth’s thoughts, but I’m working on being a little more concise. I swear. Sheppard actually thinks in this one, which is a step forward for me (and for him, I guess). Rodney is more of a side character, but I want to get a little more familiar with writing him before I try getting into his thick head.
For venom69, because I’m afraid the p0rn I wanted to give you will have to wait.
Elizabeth stepped quickly into the shower stall, her body still shivering violently with cold and residual adrenaline. Her defense mechanisms had blessed her mind with numbness, allowing her to go through all the necessary motions and find shelter in the intimacy of her quarters before it all came crashing down upon her.
One hand reached out to push the hot water button and immediately returned to its previous task of rubbing her forearms, a small sigh of relief escaping her lips when she heard the pipes in the wall gurgle hungrily.
The pressure sent the water surging upwards and the shower head trembled in an odd mockery of Elizabeth’s unsteady quivering. A moment later the powerful jet of hot water started pounding blissfully on her shoulders.
Her understanding of how the piping system worked in Atlantis was devastatingly limited, but she was definitely grateful it was more effective than the one she’d left behind in Antarctica.
Her skin had already regained color and was rapidly turning to an angry shade of red by the time she could actually feel the scalding heat of the water and, even when she did, Elizabeth didn’t move from her safe corner.
She felt sore and numb, and while her skin now burned from the stings of a thousand hot needles, the cold sliced her from the inside, hard as a diamond, and the humidity painfully stiffened her bones.
Many times she had sat in a comfortable chair, listening warily to self-centered and power-thirsty country leaders threatening each other with harsh words and red faces, when they all knew the only lives that would be changing dramatically were going to be those of their respective people.
She had called it sensibility of the outsider; newspapers reported empathy and sense of responsibility and divine mission, because apparently phony idealism sold more than pragmatism.
Only now was she realizing how arrogant and, in fact, stupidly idealistic she had been in labeling herself rational and pragmatic.
Being open-minded and unarmed didn’t make her the better leader she had hoped she would be. It just made the city a huge, appetizing, sitting duck.
She wasn’t watching from the director’s seat anymore now; she had been unceremoniously pushed on stage without any rehearsing, and she was expected to pull off a decent play. She had spent most of her life judging, and her time to be judged had finally come. It made sense, and it was fair.
What wasn’t fair was that her bright past of negotiator, and all the values it embodied, was staring pitilessly at her battered self from its privileged position of judge and prosecutor.
Sixty Genii soldiers had died in the blink of an eye. Killed In Action. She wasn’t going to use the long-hated word casualty in her report, because she figured there was a limit to hypocrisy, even for her.
The city was safe, and most of the expedition members unharmed.
It all came down to sense of responsibility, after all. Hers, powerful and raw, towards the safety of her people.
She was standing on unsteady feet by sheer force of will, but she didn’t want to lean against the wall. She knew it would be cold. And she didn’t want to feel the cold again.
***
She didn’t know how long she had been standing there, letting Atlantis wash away the cold and the guilt and soothe her muscles, when the door to her quarters hissed open and the careful exuberance of two familiar voices filled her bedroom.
Relief washed over her and she smiled inwardly at the conceited assertions and whiny retorts that were so often the cause of her exasperation and headaches.
Complaints were stifled and good-natured orders given, and eventually the conversation died in a rustle of blankets and shuffling of feet.
Sight replaced hearing and Elizabeth followed the actions of the slender black shadow that was currently moving about the bathroom through the steamy glass.
She saw him undressing and dropping his wet uniform on top of hers on the closed toilet, and she slid the shower door backwards on its rail, opening it a few inches. It wasn’t a blatant invitation to join her, respecting his need to be alone were it the case, but it meant she wasn’t shutting him out either.
Elizabeth trusted him to understand her need for comfort without necessarily having to let go of the last remnants of her thrashed pride.
The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by the man and, soon enough, a waft of cool air pimpled the skin of her arms as the door disappeared completely from her view and he stepped under the spray of water.
His eyes didn’t leave hers even as he pushed the door back in place, gauging her conditions with an apprehensive look at her body. A few purple bruises stood out sharply against her pale skin where she had been roughly grabbed, and anger boiled within his veins with renewed vigor.
He hoped his single shot had managed to kill Kolya.
He wanted the Genii medicine to be less advanced than what Carson thought, and he wanted Kolya dead.
For the two fallen soldiers in the morgue.
For Rodney’s arm and for the haunted look lingering in Elizabeth’s eyes.
He wasn’t surprised when she surrendered submissively to his fierce embrace and rested her head wearily on his shoulder. He wasn’t prepared for the weakness of her hold on his hips, though, and the lack of emotions that usually burned inside her like a raging fire.
She was warm and heavy and trembled slightly, leaning on him with every ounce of her spent body. Her lips closed tiredly around his collarbone and his heart skipped a beat, a familiar warm weight settling deep down his abdomen. The strong arm around her waist tightened, plastering her to him as if he wanted to meld the two of them together.
“I was panicking out there for a while, you know.” His voice reverberated hoarse and deep in the enclosed space of the shower stall.
“Thank God you have a good aim. And Rodney would make a fair attorney.”
“I’ll get him all the damn junk food he wants even if it means walking all the way back to Earth.”
“We’ll thank him together. How is he?” She asked, tilting her head backwards to look at him with concerned eyes.
“Carson bandaged his arm and said he should take it easy for a couple of days. He wouldn’t stop talking in the infirmary, so…” Elizabeth nodded in understanding and the smallest hint of a smile graced her face.
The smirk that appeared instinctively on his face was both a further reassurance on the scientist’s medical state and contentment at seeing the dark shadow starting to lift from Elizabeth’s eyes.
“I take it he’ll be okay soon. I’m glad, that wound looked pretty nasty.” Elizabeth sighed in relief. All the people who worked closely with Dr. McKay had sooner or later learned that his concept of call of distress consisted in silence. As long as his uninterrupted babbling buzzed comfortably in their ears, there was usually nothing to worry about.
“He will.” John ran his hands up and down her back repeatedly before releasing her. “He’s probably already drooling on your pillow.”
He reached blindly for the soap bar and began lathering his hands.
“I checked on the rest of the expedition via Stargate on the way here.” Elizabeth turned on her heels as she spoke quietly. “There are a few deflated egos, hangovers and headaches, but they all seem to be fine.” She heard the soap’s dull clunk as it was dropped back onto the steel dish and felt tender fingers brushing her hair and neck as they moved the mass of curls aside. “I’ve scheduled…” Part of her tension was released through a sigh as John’s hands started to move gently on her shoulders. “…I’ve scheduled their return for 10.00am tomorrow morning. Bates will be leading the operation.”
“Mh-mh.” John craned his head to drop soft kisses where her neck met her shoulder, feeling the silky texture of her skin on his tongue and sucking the water droplets before they rolled down her front.
His hands all the while soaping her arms and sides, he moved his mouth down towards her shoulders. He loved the taste of her and water and the faint smell of the military-issued soap tickling his nostrils. He was fairly sure that showering with her or Rodney was by far his favorite rare luxury on Atlantis.
That and sex with them, obviously.
He, too, appreciated the intimacy and care that came with washing each other, a social behavior that probably dated back millions of years and evolved to be something more private and meaningful, and yet, while Elizabeth and Rodney could spend hours cuddling in the shower, his self-control wore thin rather quickly when he had his hands on someone else’s naked body and this someone’s hands on him.
Which led to sex in the shower every time exhaustion didn’t take the better of them.
His touch and kisses weren’t meant to arouse this time, though. Just to soothe and comfort, and take away some of the physical pain from her muscles when he knew the emotional healing would take much longer.
“We killed more than sixty people today.” Elizabeth blurted out, without turning her head.
He had been wondering when that was going come up. “And I gave the order.” Uncaring of her inner turmoil, her right nipple puckered reflexively against John’s palm.
“They knew what they were getting into when they challenged us. It’s not your fault.” He stroked her ribcage gently, feeling the small bumps of the bones under his moving fingertips. Despite his continuous pestering, she still wasn’t eating enough.
“I know. The problem is, I don’t feel sorry about it.” If anything, she had felt victory surge through her veins when the shield had activated with its familiar chime.
The stroking stopped.
They were both still for a moment, Elizabeth aware of the way John’s chest moved with his breathing behind her, and how it pressed lightly against her back as he inhaled deeply before speaking.
“We were defending Atlantis.” He applied some pressure on her abdomen, urging her against him in a gesture of additional affection.
“It goes against everything I’ve always believed in. I don’t want to become the kind of person I used to despise on Earth.” Elizabeth strained a little against his tight hold and he stepped back, allowing her the space she needed.
He lathered his hands again and hesitated a little before he crouched down to soap her legs. She didn’t object this time.
“And you won’t. It was them who attacked us when we were the most vulnerable. You just did what you had to do to protect us and the city.” He paused as he stood up and let the water wash the suds from her body. “You’re still a good person, Elizabeth. Don’t let this affect your faith in yourself.”
She turned to face him and picked up the soap. “John…” He took hold of her wrist, effectively blocking her hand, and took the soap bar from her.
“I can finish here. You go get some sleep. You’ll feel better afterwards.” He, for first, doubted his own words, but he also knew that Elizabeth needed to rest.
He had been one inch short of asking Carson to keep her in for the night if it hadn’t been for his own selfishness, the need to have her near and be sure she was alive and real.
Elizabeth nodded, not entirely convinced, but left the shower and John’s warmth after a long kiss on his lips and a whispered ‘thank you’.
He watched her wrap herself in a towel and limp to the adjacent room, where Rodney was still sprawled on her bed, and resumed washing himself.
***
John stepped into the bedroom, a towel tied around his hips and hair dripping, to find Elizabeth and Rodney huddled under the covers, her back to his chest and his bad arm resting carefully on her waist.
It wasn’t hard to tell Rodney was very much asleep from the way his mouth hung slightly open as he snored. He figured Elizabeth had to be, too, for she didn’t react to his presence.
He opened the bottom drawer of her dresser as quietly as possible and moved aside the books that hid the spare uniform he kept in her quarters. Next to his was Rodney’s, crumpled and stuffed haphazardly under two tomes only Elizabeth could think about reading.
He took it out, too, figuring the scientist would need it sooner or later, and left it on a nearby chair, where Elizabeth’s discarded towel also lay.
“Where are you going?” A male groggy voice asked. John stiffened with the jacket in his hands, mildly started by the broken silence.
“Rodney?” He said quietly, and turned to see his lover staring back at him, eyes glazed over by sleep, but still questioning.
“No, Oz, the Great and whatever.” He mumbled grumpily and sank further under the blankets.
“The Terrible.” John added unconsciously.
“Where are you going?” The same question again, more impatient. Rodney didn’t like to wait.
“I’m checking on the rest of the team.” John circled the bed to where Rodney lay and bent to kiss him on the lips. The scientist responded immediately by parting his lips and inviting him in.
The mattress dipped under John’s weight as he pressed his hands to the edges for leverage and deepened the kiss. He tasted like the bland sedative Carson had coerced him into taking and the unique flavor he’d come to know as Rodney.
The attempt to lift his injured arm to cup John’s nape and bring him down further failed and their mouths lost contact as a jolt of pain ran up Rodney’s sensitive nerves and the limb fell limply onto Elizabeth’s hip.
“Hey, careful with that.” John pulled back. “You okay?” He adjusted the arm’s position and ran a hand up to his shoulder and down again, where he met a smaller, distinctly female hand.
“Sorry we’ve woken you up.” He stroked her hand for emphasis and retreated from the bed.
Elizabeth stretched a little against Rodney, but her eyes remained all the while on her second in command.
“What’s with the uniform?”
“I’m taking a walk to the control room. I’ll make sure Ford isn’t breaking anything and I’ll check for any intruder that might have been undetected. I’m getting something for you two to eat, too.”
The look in Rodney’s eyes at the last statement told him this was probably the best idea he’d heard that day.
“Double tuna and cake?” He asked hopefully.
“Only if you finish all your vegetables.” He tapped the other man’s wrist affectionately and bent again to place a light kiss on both their lips before he reluctantly tore himself away from them and stepped to the door. “You two sleep. I’ll be back soon.”
His stomach clenched with tenderness as he watched his lovers stare back at him through slitted eyes and with sleepy smiles on their lips.
“You’ll be okay.” He repeated to himself, and with a wave of his hand, the door hissed open and he was gone.
Title: Rain x Rain
Rating: R
Pairing: Sheppard/Weir/McKay. Heavier on Shep/Weir, though.
Classification: h/c, from angst to fluff in 2500 words
Summary: She was frozen to her very core, and not only physically. (Tag to 1x11, The Eye)
Disclaimer: The characters and the city of Atlantis belong to someone else, I’m just borrowing them for a while.
Beta: My wonderful
venom69AN: I know this is still a little heavy on Elizabeth’s thoughts, but I’m working on being a little more concise. I swear. Sheppard actually thinks in this one, which is a step forward for me (and for him, I guess). Rodney is more of a side character, but I want to get a little more familiar with writing him before I try getting into his thick head.
For venom69, because I’m afraid the p0rn I wanted to give you will have to wait.
Elizabeth stepped quickly into the shower stall, her body still shivering violently with cold and residual adrenaline. Her defense mechanisms had blessed her mind with numbness, allowing her to go through all the necessary motions and find shelter in the intimacy of her quarters before it all came crashing down upon her.
One hand reached out to push the hot water button and immediately returned to its previous task of rubbing her forearms, a small sigh of relief escaping her lips when she heard the pipes in the wall gurgle hungrily.
The pressure sent the water surging upwards and the shower head trembled in an odd mockery of Elizabeth’s unsteady quivering. A moment later the powerful jet of hot water started pounding blissfully on her shoulders.
Her understanding of how the piping system worked in Atlantis was devastatingly limited, but she was definitely grateful it was more effective than the one she’d left behind in Antarctica.
Her skin had already regained color and was rapidly turning to an angry shade of red by the time she could actually feel the scalding heat of the water and, even when she did, Elizabeth didn’t move from her safe corner.
She felt sore and numb, and while her skin now burned from the stings of a thousand hot needles, the cold sliced her from the inside, hard as a diamond, and the humidity painfully stiffened her bones.
Many times she had sat in a comfortable chair, listening warily to self-centered and power-thirsty country leaders threatening each other with harsh words and red faces, when they all knew the only lives that would be changing dramatically were going to be those of their respective people.
She had called it sensibility of the outsider; newspapers reported empathy and sense of responsibility and divine mission, because apparently phony idealism sold more than pragmatism.
Only now was she realizing how arrogant and, in fact, stupidly idealistic she had been in labeling herself rational and pragmatic.
Being open-minded and unarmed didn’t make her the better leader she had hoped she would be. It just made the city a huge, appetizing, sitting duck.
She wasn’t watching from the director’s seat anymore now; she had been unceremoniously pushed on stage without any rehearsing, and she was expected to pull off a decent play. She had spent most of her life judging, and her time to be judged had finally come. It made sense, and it was fair.
What wasn’t fair was that her bright past of negotiator, and all the values it embodied, was staring pitilessly at her battered self from its privileged position of judge and prosecutor.
Sixty Genii soldiers had died in the blink of an eye. Killed In Action. She wasn’t going to use the long-hated word casualty in her report, because she figured there was a limit to hypocrisy, even for her.
The city was safe, and most of the expedition members unharmed.
It all came down to sense of responsibility, after all. Hers, powerful and raw, towards the safety of her people.
She was standing on unsteady feet by sheer force of will, but she didn’t want to lean against the wall. She knew it would be cold. And she didn’t want to feel the cold again.
***
She didn’t know how long she had been standing there, letting Atlantis wash away the cold and the guilt and soothe her muscles, when the door to her quarters hissed open and the careful exuberance of two familiar voices filled her bedroom.
Relief washed over her and she smiled inwardly at the conceited assertions and whiny retorts that were so often the cause of her exasperation and headaches.
Complaints were stifled and good-natured orders given, and eventually the conversation died in a rustle of blankets and shuffling of feet.
Sight replaced hearing and Elizabeth followed the actions of the slender black shadow that was currently moving about the bathroom through the steamy glass.
She saw him undressing and dropping his wet uniform on top of hers on the closed toilet, and she slid the shower door backwards on its rail, opening it a few inches. It wasn’t a blatant invitation to join her, respecting his need to be alone were it the case, but it meant she wasn’t shutting him out either.
Elizabeth trusted him to understand her need for comfort without necessarily having to let go of the last remnants of her thrashed pride.
The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by the man and, soon enough, a waft of cool air pimpled the skin of her arms as the door disappeared completely from her view and he stepped under the spray of water.
His eyes didn’t leave hers even as he pushed the door back in place, gauging her conditions with an apprehensive look at her body. A few purple bruises stood out sharply against her pale skin where she had been roughly grabbed, and anger boiled within his veins with renewed vigor.
He hoped his single shot had managed to kill Kolya.
He wanted the Genii medicine to be less advanced than what Carson thought, and he wanted Kolya dead.
For the two fallen soldiers in the morgue.
For Rodney’s arm and for the haunted look lingering in Elizabeth’s eyes.
He wasn’t surprised when she surrendered submissively to his fierce embrace and rested her head wearily on his shoulder. He wasn’t prepared for the weakness of her hold on his hips, though, and the lack of emotions that usually burned inside her like a raging fire.
She was warm and heavy and trembled slightly, leaning on him with every ounce of her spent body. Her lips closed tiredly around his collarbone and his heart skipped a beat, a familiar warm weight settling deep down his abdomen. The strong arm around her waist tightened, plastering her to him as if he wanted to meld the two of them together.
“I was panicking out there for a while, you know.” His voice reverberated hoarse and deep in the enclosed space of the shower stall.
“Thank God you have a good aim. And Rodney would make a fair attorney.”
“I’ll get him all the damn junk food he wants even if it means walking all the way back to Earth.”
“We’ll thank him together. How is he?” She asked, tilting her head backwards to look at him with concerned eyes.
“Carson bandaged his arm and said he should take it easy for a couple of days. He wouldn’t stop talking in the infirmary, so…” Elizabeth nodded in understanding and the smallest hint of a smile graced her face.
The smirk that appeared instinctively on his face was both a further reassurance on the scientist’s medical state and contentment at seeing the dark shadow starting to lift from Elizabeth’s eyes.
“I take it he’ll be okay soon. I’m glad, that wound looked pretty nasty.” Elizabeth sighed in relief. All the people who worked closely with Dr. McKay had sooner or later learned that his concept of call of distress consisted in silence. As long as his uninterrupted babbling buzzed comfortably in their ears, there was usually nothing to worry about.
“He will.” John ran his hands up and down her back repeatedly before releasing her. “He’s probably already drooling on your pillow.”
He reached blindly for the soap bar and began lathering his hands.
“I checked on the rest of the expedition via Stargate on the way here.” Elizabeth turned on her heels as she spoke quietly. “There are a few deflated egos, hangovers and headaches, but they all seem to be fine.” She heard the soap’s dull clunk as it was dropped back onto the steel dish and felt tender fingers brushing her hair and neck as they moved the mass of curls aside. “I’ve scheduled…” Part of her tension was released through a sigh as John’s hands started to move gently on her shoulders. “…I’ve scheduled their return for 10.00am tomorrow morning. Bates will be leading the operation.”
“Mh-mh.” John craned his head to drop soft kisses where her neck met her shoulder, feeling the silky texture of her skin on his tongue and sucking the water droplets before they rolled down her front.
His hands all the while soaping her arms and sides, he moved his mouth down towards her shoulders. He loved the taste of her and water and the faint smell of the military-issued soap tickling his nostrils. He was fairly sure that showering with her or Rodney was by far his favorite rare luxury on Atlantis.
That and sex with them, obviously.
He, too, appreciated the intimacy and care that came with washing each other, a social behavior that probably dated back millions of years and evolved to be something more private and meaningful, and yet, while Elizabeth and Rodney could spend hours cuddling in the shower, his self-control wore thin rather quickly when he had his hands on someone else’s naked body and this someone’s hands on him.
Which led to sex in the shower every time exhaustion didn’t take the better of them.
His touch and kisses weren’t meant to arouse this time, though. Just to soothe and comfort, and take away some of the physical pain from her muscles when he knew the emotional healing would take much longer.
“We killed more than sixty people today.” Elizabeth blurted out, without turning her head.
He had been wondering when that was going come up. “And I gave the order.” Uncaring of her inner turmoil, her right nipple puckered reflexively against John’s palm.
“They knew what they were getting into when they challenged us. It’s not your fault.” He stroked her ribcage gently, feeling the small bumps of the bones under his moving fingertips. Despite his continuous pestering, she still wasn’t eating enough.
“I know. The problem is, I don’t feel sorry about it.” If anything, she had felt victory surge through her veins when the shield had activated with its familiar chime.
The stroking stopped.
They were both still for a moment, Elizabeth aware of the way John’s chest moved with his breathing behind her, and how it pressed lightly against her back as he inhaled deeply before speaking.
“We were defending Atlantis.” He applied some pressure on her abdomen, urging her against him in a gesture of additional affection.
“It goes against everything I’ve always believed in. I don’t want to become the kind of person I used to despise on Earth.” Elizabeth strained a little against his tight hold and he stepped back, allowing her the space she needed.
He lathered his hands again and hesitated a little before he crouched down to soap her legs. She didn’t object this time.
“And you won’t. It was them who attacked us when we were the most vulnerable. You just did what you had to do to protect us and the city.” He paused as he stood up and let the water wash the suds from her body. “You’re still a good person, Elizabeth. Don’t let this affect your faith in yourself.”
She turned to face him and picked up the soap. “John…” He took hold of her wrist, effectively blocking her hand, and took the soap bar from her.
“I can finish here. You go get some sleep. You’ll feel better afterwards.” He, for first, doubted his own words, but he also knew that Elizabeth needed to rest.
He had been one inch short of asking Carson to keep her in for the night if it hadn’t been for his own selfishness, the need to have her near and be sure she was alive and real.
Elizabeth nodded, not entirely convinced, but left the shower and John’s warmth after a long kiss on his lips and a whispered ‘thank you’.
He watched her wrap herself in a towel and limp to the adjacent room, where Rodney was still sprawled on her bed, and resumed washing himself.
***
John stepped into the bedroom, a towel tied around his hips and hair dripping, to find Elizabeth and Rodney huddled under the covers, her back to his chest and his bad arm resting carefully on her waist.
It wasn’t hard to tell Rodney was very much asleep from the way his mouth hung slightly open as he snored. He figured Elizabeth had to be, too, for she didn’t react to his presence.
He opened the bottom drawer of her dresser as quietly as possible and moved aside the books that hid the spare uniform he kept in her quarters. Next to his was Rodney’s, crumpled and stuffed haphazardly under two tomes only Elizabeth could think about reading.
He took it out, too, figuring the scientist would need it sooner or later, and left it on a nearby chair, where Elizabeth’s discarded towel also lay.
“Where are you going?” A male groggy voice asked. John stiffened with the jacket in his hands, mildly started by the broken silence.
“Rodney?” He said quietly, and turned to see his lover staring back at him, eyes glazed over by sleep, but still questioning.
“No, Oz, the Great and whatever.” He mumbled grumpily and sank further under the blankets.
“The Terrible.” John added unconsciously.
“Where are you going?” The same question again, more impatient. Rodney didn’t like to wait.
“I’m checking on the rest of the team.” John circled the bed to where Rodney lay and bent to kiss him on the lips. The scientist responded immediately by parting his lips and inviting him in.
The mattress dipped under John’s weight as he pressed his hands to the edges for leverage and deepened the kiss. He tasted like the bland sedative Carson had coerced him into taking and the unique flavor he’d come to know as Rodney.
The attempt to lift his injured arm to cup John’s nape and bring him down further failed and their mouths lost contact as a jolt of pain ran up Rodney’s sensitive nerves and the limb fell limply onto Elizabeth’s hip.
“Hey, careful with that.” John pulled back. “You okay?” He adjusted the arm’s position and ran a hand up to his shoulder and down again, where he met a smaller, distinctly female hand.
“Sorry we’ve woken you up.” He stroked her hand for emphasis and retreated from the bed.
Elizabeth stretched a little against Rodney, but her eyes remained all the while on her second in command.
“What’s with the uniform?”
“I’m taking a walk to the control room. I’ll make sure Ford isn’t breaking anything and I’ll check for any intruder that might have been undetected. I’m getting something for you two to eat, too.”
The look in Rodney’s eyes at the last statement told him this was probably the best idea he’d heard that day.
“Double tuna and cake?” He asked hopefully.
“Only if you finish all your vegetables.” He tapped the other man’s wrist affectionately and bent again to place a light kiss on both their lips before he reluctantly tore himself away from them and stepped to the door. “You two sleep. I’ll be back soon.”
His stomach clenched with tenderness as he watched his lovers stare back at him through slitted eyes and with sleepy smiles on their lips.
“You’ll be okay.” He repeated to himself, and with a wave of his hand, the door hissed open and he was gone.
