Kass (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} kassrachel) wrote in ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} mcsmooch,@ 2008-06-20 12:39:00 |
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| Entry tags: | author:kassrachel |
Good Shape
I'm so glad the mcsmooch deadline got extended by a few days; it meant I could post this! 1000 words, set sometime after the S4 finale, many thanks to sihayab for beta.
Good Shape
Rodney was the last person John expected to see in the Atlantis gym.
Everyone in the city had collapsed in exhaustion once they got Teyla and her baby safely home. A skeleton crew was keeping an eye on the city, and everyone else was officially off-duty. Not even the marines were working out this morning. John had assumed he'd have the place to himself.
But no: McKay was pumping away on John's favorite elliptical machine, the one that faced the window and, beyond it, the sea. He had his iPod clipped to his waistband, but he popped one earbud out and nodded to John in greeting. "Hey," he said, a little out of breath.
"Hey yourself." John leaned against one wall to stretch his hamstrings. "Thought you'd be taking advantage of the chance to sleep in."
"Yeah, well, I don't want to be out of shape when we go back out there," Rodney pointed out.
John climbed on to the other elliptical, just behind and to the left of the one that Rodney was on.
They churned away in silence for a while. Rodney couldn't see him -- not without turning his neck to an alarming degree -- so John took advantage of the chance to watch him.
McKay had a great ass. His calves were rounded, and his thighs were strong. None of this was news, but John was used to seeing him in work clothes, trousers that hid as much as they revealed. Those silky workout shorts clung to Rodney's ass as if they wanted to be there. Not that John could blame them.
Jesus: he was losing it. Imputing motive to a pair of workout shorts. "What's your plan for the rest of the day?"
Maybe talking would take his mind off McKay's ass.
"I thought I'd go see Teyla this morning," Rodney said, pulling out the other earbud and draping the cord over his shoulders. "Have you held the baby yet?"
John couldn't help the dopey smile. "He's so tiny."
"One of the botanists knitted a little sweater for him," Rodney offered.
"Aww, that's sweet."
But now John was picturing Teyla's son in Rodney's hands. It was the kind of domestic image that shouldn't have been attractive to him, but -- hell, Rodney puffing away at a cardio workout shouldn't have been attractive to him either.
He was so fucked.
*
After thirty minutes of cardio, John stepped down from his machine. Rodney did, too, grabbing a towel and wiping his face.
"You going to lift weights?" Rodney asked. "I don't know if I can spot for you --"
John contemplated the possibility for a split second. Him lying on his back. Rodney standing over him, silk running shorts whispering around his upper thighs. That sounded like a recipe for a really inappropriate reaction to weight-lifting. "No thanks."
Rodney looked crestfallen.
"I trust you to spot for me," John said quickly, "I just don't feel like lifting today."
"Suit yourself," Rodney said, shrugging.
"You want a spot?" It seemed only fair to offer. Though the thought of Rodney bench-pressing was dangerously arousing, too. Biceps and chest. Jesus. Please say no, John thought.
"Nah," Rodney said. "I'm good."
That was a relief; at least he wasn't going to embarrass himself.
"C'mon," Rodney said, and jerked his head toward the door. John slung his towel over one shoulder and picked up his water bottle.
But a few feet before the door, Rodney stopped unexpectedly to fiddle with his iPod and headphones, and John -- busy reciting his new mantra (stop staring, you're being too obvious, stop staring) -- walked right into him. Rodney turned, surprised, which brought them face-to-face. Standing too close. John could feel the heat radiating off of Rodney's body.
Shit shit shit. "Sorry," John said hastily. "I didn't--"
Rodney swallowed, but didn't back away.
For a long instant neither one of them moved. John felt his heart hammering, and noticed Rodney's chest rising and falling. His brain was screaming that men didn't stand this close together, that he had to make some kind of joke and move away now, but he didn't. Because Rodney hadn't. It was like some kind of crazy game of chicken.
Rodney moved first, but not the way John had been expecting. He leaned in just enough to brush his lips against John's.
And then he pulled back, eyes wide and expression suddenly anxious. "I, ah," he cleared his throat, "don't suppose I'd have plausible deniability if I said I didn't mean to do that?"
John's mouth tingled like he'd been gently shocked. "Not really." Before Rodney's face could shift into the all-out panic John was pretty sure was coming, he took the plunge. "I don't either," he said, and leaned in again.
This time it was a real kiss, open-mouthed and hot. John dropped his water bottle so he could use both hands to angle Rodney's head just right, and Rodney slid one possessive arm around John's back. God, his arms were strong. John's running shorts suddenly felt too tight.
"You know," Rodney said when they stopped, "I could probably convince this door to lock, but it would take a while."
"People might wonder why the gym suddenly required a scurity clearance," John said ruefully.
"But I was going to shower before breakfast," Rodney said, giving John a glance that was both sly and hopeful. "You want to--"
"Hell yes," John said, fast, and bent to pick up his water bottle. He gestured toward the door. "After you."
"You just want to watch my ass," Rodney muttered, walking out of the gym.
"Can you blame me?" John felt reckless, high on all of these new possibilities. "It's the best ass in two galaxies."
"If you think flattery's going to get you anywhere--" Rodney's voice was haughty but he was grinning to beat the band.
The transporter doors opened, then whooshed shut behind them. "I'm already where I want to be," John said, and it was true.
(1000 words)
