[The kiss helps. Not enough to make the walk down the hallway and into the kitchen any less painful, or shameful, but as much as John wants to turn tail and run, it's a walk he has to make.
John enters the kitchen fully dressed, as if that might undo some of his earlier nakedness, and starts making coffee. Strong coffee. He'd be tempted to slip some whiskey into it, if he and Poe wouldn't be going back to work in a couple hours.]
His name's Poe. He's on the shuttle team. We're... co-pilots.
[That's one word for it. Truthfully, John has no idea what they are. If they're anything. They haven't talked about it yet. John doesn't know if they will. Talking isn't something John does a lot of, pre or postcoital, but he doesn't have a lot of sex with people he knows well enough to want to talk to, either.
John scrubs his hand over his jaw. He needs to shave sometime before before work. So much for a shared shower.]
I'm sorry, Rodney. I didn't think you'd be back before noon. I'll hang a sock next time.
[Assuming there ever is a next time. This doesn't exactly bode well for the future of whatever it is that's going on between him and Poe.]
What does a sock on the door have to do with anything?
[ He can guess. He definitely guessed. He is definitely, definitely being a shithead. Poe leans against the counter, still wearing that smile, arms crossed over his chest.
It's cute, their mutual horror. He can't help it. The only time he's been mortified by being walked in on (it's happened, once or twice over the years; natural result of sex in occasionally odd places) was that time when he was seventeen and his dad came walking in. Now that took some recovery time.
There's so much untapped humor potential in John referring to them as co-pilots right now, but Poe has mercy. He has at least that much mercy. ]
[Rodney says it both as if it's a completely different word than it is, and as if it's the most distasteful thing he's ever said. John's apology does very little to assuage the discomfort he's feeling, and he avoids eye contact, very pointedly, as the two of them swarm into the kitchen looking rumpled and handsome and post-coital. For a moment, Rodney very strongly feels the lack of intimacy he's been dealing with, but he pushes it aside, because that's the last thing he intends to complain about right now.]
Well, I was going to have some herbal tea because I felt like, for once, I'd be able to actually sleep in this place, but no, that's ruined now. Now, I fully intend to make waffles.
[And if it seems like he's ignoring Poe well. Maybe he is. A little.]
The sock on the doorknob is a time-honored Earth tradition, but you know me and traditions. Never been much for them.
[The disgust in Rodney's voice hurts more than it should. John doesn't let it show, or tries not to, simply looking across the room at nothing in particular with only the briefest hint of a wince.
There's no explaining their relationship. It's complicated. Messy. Somewhere between brother, comrade, and friend, made up of all the best and worst parts. They don't get along, really. They don't even have much in common, other than an interest in remote controlled cars and a shared cause.
But that's just how family is. You don't choose them.
John's belly rumbles. He never did get around to eating dinner.]
[ Poe shifts from his place at the counter, sensing some change in John that he doesn't like. He brushes John's arm lightly with his fingertips, a reminder of where they were last night, a promise of where they'll be again. It's another twist of possessiveness that he has no right to feel. ]
I like waffles.
[ Said as blandly as anything, just like Poe's mmkay when John asked him not to leave. He's not going anywhere unless Rodney kicks him out. ]
[Rodney says it in the dryest, least amused way possible, and of course, of course the disgust has nothing to do with John or what John had been doing. Not really. It's more to do with the complicated tangle of emotions that comes up when he actually witnesses what it is he's always accusing John of. A strange mix of jealousy and envy and anxious admiration and maybe, just maybe a hint of arousal he'd rather not be feeling.
All of that boils down to a very, very vulnerable feeling that he certainly doesn't enjoy, much less in front of a complete stranger when he's exhausted and shaken and that stranger seems to have zero respect for privacy or common decency.
Huffing to himself, he avoids eye contact with either of them as he digs in the freezer for the waffles. In fact, he avoids making visual contact with any part of either of their bodies, having gotten enough of an eyeful of both of them earlier. Instead, he becomes deeply focused on inserting the waffles into the toaster, on getting out several plates to put them on, on making a pot of very, very strong coffee.]
Yes well, sit down then. They'll be done in a moment.
[John takes a seat at the table beside Poe. He slept more last night than he has in days, but he's still tired. This morning's drama killed any chance of him going back to bed, or relaxing, for the rest of the day.
He lays his head on his arms for just a moment, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and sits up again. That's as much of a recovery as he'll allow himself for now. He glances over at Poe, smiles, and rests his elbows on the table.
The waffles do smell good, in that entirely synthesized, commercial American breakfast sort of way. The last time someone brought a package of Eggo waffles to Atlantis there was a riot.]
Poe debates where to sit, not wanting to force Rodney to sit next to him, not sure if sitting next to John would make Rodney more uncomfortable or less. He finally gives a mental shrug and sits down next to John, bumping shoulders with him before he gives John just enough space that they won't be jostling elbows. ]
I just want butter. [ He rubs his chin, the faint start of a beard. ] Thank you, Rodney. You want a hand?
[ Cavalier he might be, but his dad still raised him polite. ]
[Rodney continues to busy himself with breakfast, popping two of the waffles out and putting them on the first plate before putting in another two. Turning, he puts a fork on the plate and furrows his brows a little at the two men at the table (or, more specifically, their hands - he still can't bring himself to look at their faces) before putting the plate in front of Poe.
It's only proper manners to serve the guest first.]
Turning back to the toaster, he puts two more waffles on another plate, which he drops in front of John, then puts the butter and syrup on the table as well before popping in more waffles and pouring himself a cup of coffee.]
[John bumps Poe back as he sits, smiling down at his plate. The whole Rodney catastrophe wasn't how he'd imagined their morning after, but it wasn't the worst that could've happened. He's almost in a good mood, once the smell of coffee is stronger than the lingering shame.]
I'd like some. Please and thanks.
[John smears butter onto his waffle, followed by a drizzle of syrup. American style. He doesn't wait for Rodney to sit down before tearing into his breakfast with an uncharacteristic appetite.]
[ Yeah, he's in the nerf hut with this one. Poe sighs under his breath and goes to dress up his waffles, putting on far more butter than they need. There's really nothing he can say to make this whole situation better--probably anything he could say would only make it worse. ]
Yep, shuttle patrol today. [ That, at least, he can smile about. It's not much of a flight, but it's something. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-28 07:24 pm (UTC)[The kiss helps. Not enough to make the walk down the hallway and into the kitchen any less painful, or shameful, but as much as John wants to turn tail and run, it's a walk he has to make.
John enters the kitchen fully dressed, as if that might undo some of his earlier nakedness, and starts making coffee. Strong coffee. He'd be tempted to slip some whiskey into it, if he and Poe wouldn't be going back to work in a couple hours.]
His name's Poe. He's on the shuttle team. We're... co-pilots.
[That's one word for it. Truthfully, John has no idea what they are. If they're anything. They haven't talked about it yet. John doesn't know if they will. Talking isn't something John does a lot of, pre or postcoital, but he doesn't have a lot of sex with people he knows well enough to want to talk to, either.
John scrubs his hand over his jaw. He needs to shave sometime before before work. So much for a shared shower.]
I'm sorry, Rodney. I didn't think you'd be back before noon. I'll hang a sock next time.
[Assuming there ever is a next time. This doesn't exactly bode well for the future of whatever it is that's going on between him and Poe.]
Wait, you wanted herbal tea or something, right?
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-28 08:15 pm (UTC)[ He can guess. He definitely guessed. He is definitely, definitely being a shithead. Poe leans against the counter, still wearing that smile, arms crossed over his chest.
It's cute, their mutual horror. He can't help it. The only time he's been mortified by being walked in on (it's happened, once or twice over the years; natural result of sex in occasionally odd places) was that time when he was seventeen and his dad came walking in. Now that took some recovery time.
There's so much untapped humor potential in John referring to them as co-pilots right now, but Poe has mercy. He has at least that much mercy. ]
And I kinda like 'Doe'.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-02-04 10:54 pm (UTC)[Rodney says it both as if it's a completely different word than it is, and as if it's the most distasteful thing he's ever said. John's apology does very little to assuage the discomfort he's feeling, and he avoids eye contact, very pointedly, as the two of them swarm into the kitchen looking rumpled and handsome and post-coital. For a moment, Rodney very strongly feels the lack of intimacy he's been dealing with, but he pushes it aside, because that's the last thing he intends to complain about right now.]
Well, I was going to have some herbal tea because I felt like, for once, I'd be able to actually sleep in this place, but no, that's ruined now. Now, I fully intend to make waffles.
[And if it seems like he's ignoring Poe well. Maybe he is. A little.]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-02-15 12:53 am (UTC)[The disgust in Rodney's voice hurts more than it should. John doesn't let it show, or tries not to, simply looking across the room at nothing in particular with only the briefest hint of a wince.
There's no explaining their relationship. It's complicated. Messy. Somewhere between brother, comrade, and friend, made up of all the best and worst parts. They don't get along, really. They don't even have much in common, other than an interest in remote controlled cars and a shared cause.
But that's just how family is. You don't choose them.
John's belly rumbles. He never did get around to eating dinner.]
Waffles sound good.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-02-25 04:57 am (UTC)I like waffles.
[ Said as blandly as anything, just like Poe's mmkay when John asked him not to leave. He's not going anywhere unless Rodney kicks him out. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-11 08:55 am (UTC)[Rodney says it in the dryest, least amused way possible, and of course, of course the disgust has nothing to do with John or what John had been doing. Not really. It's more to do with the complicated tangle of emotions that comes up when he actually witnesses what it is he's always accusing John of. A strange mix of jealousy and envy and anxious admiration and maybe, just maybe a hint of arousal he'd rather not be feeling.
All of that boils down to a very, very vulnerable feeling that he certainly doesn't enjoy, much less in front of a complete stranger when he's exhausted and shaken and that stranger seems to have zero respect for privacy or common decency.
Huffing to himself, he avoids eye contact with either of them as he digs in the freezer for the waffles. In fact, he avoids making visual contact with any part of either of their bodies, having gotten enough of an eyeful of both of them earlier. Instead, he becomes deeply focused on inserting the waffles into the toaster, on getting out several plates to put them on, on making a pot of very, very strong coffee.]
Yes well, sit down then. They'll be done in a moment.
[He mumbles it. Quiet.]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-20 07:43 pm (UTC)[John takes a seat at the table beside Poe. He slept more last night than he has in days, but he's still tired. This morning's drama killed any chance of him going back to bed, or relaxing, for the rest of the day.
He lays his head on his arms for just a moment, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and sits up again. That's as much of a recovery as he'll allow himself for now. He glances over at Poe, smiles, and rests his elbows on the table.
The waffles do smell good, in that entirely synthesized, commercial American breakfast sort of way. The last time someone brought a package of Eggo waffles to Atlantis there was a riot.]
Do we have any syrup, chef?
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-25 06:42 pm (UTC)Poe debates where to sit, not wanting to force Rodney to sit next to him, not sure if sitting next to John would make Rodney more uncomfortable or less. He finally gives a mental shrug and sits down next to John, bumping shoulders with him before he gives John just enough space that they won't be jostling elbows. ]
I just want butter. [ He rubs his chin, the faint start of a beard. ] Thank you, Rodney. You want a hand?
[ Cavalier he might be, but his dad still raised him polite. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-26 02:35 am (UTC)It's only proper manners to serve the guest first.]
No, thank you. You've already done quite enough.
[It's curt, brusque - manners, he might have, but polite is not exactly Rodney's forté.
Turning back to the toaster, he puts two more waffles on another plate, which he drops in front of John, then puts the butter and syrup on the table as well before popping in more waffles and pouring himself a cup of coffee.]
Coffee anyone?
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-30 09:19 pm (UTC)I'd like some. Please and thanks.
[John smears butter onto his waffle, followed by a drizzle of syrup. American style. He doesn't wait for Rodney to sit down before tearing into his breakfast with an uncharacteristic appetite.]
Work soon. We're gonna have to dine and dash.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-02 02:53 am (UTC)[ Yeah, he's in the nerf hut with this one. Poe sighs under his breath and goes to dress up his waffles, putting on far more butter than they need. There's really nothing he can say to make this whole situation better--probably anything he could say would only make it worse. ]
Yep, shuttle patrol today. [ That, at least, he can smile about. It's not much of a flight, but it's something. ]