Sorry this took so long hun. Real live decided to rear it's ugly head, and between avoiding my father for a few hours, saying goodby to my mother (she's gone for the weekend *whimpers*) and opening our pool, I didn't have time to sit and write. But, it's done.
Not Beta-ed. Just a quick thing I whipped together for Sethoz who is having a crappy time, and needed cheering up. Here you go love, hope this helps.
Another Day In Paradise
It had been one thing after another, after another, after another, until it was three in the morning. The probably would have gone all night, if Grodin hadn't tripped coming down the stairs from the jumper bay and landed on his ass right in front of Weir's office. The noise he made was enough to catch their attention.
Looking at the clock, They had decided to adjourn for the night, Elizabeth stopping to check on Peter, he assured her he was fine, before heading off to sleep. Bates and Sheppard weren't so easily fooled, and had pulled the man up to his feet and hauled him down to the infirmary, where the night doctor had assured them that it was a slightly sprained knee. He'd have to wear a brace for a few weeks, and take it easy, but John was sure he could coax a chair out of Rodney for Peter to sit in. He might bitch and moan about his staff, but John knew Rodney considered both Peter and Radek Zelenka, to be close friends.
Having made sure that Grodin was reasonably Ok, John ordered Bates to bed for the next eight hours. The Seargent had opened his mouth to protest, and nearly taken a header into the wall. John's look could barely be called a glare, more like a pointed stare. Bates got the point, muttered a 'Yes, Sir', before starting off down the hall toward his quarters.
With a call to the Marine's on duty in the gate room to tell them tomorrow, er... today, was going to be a half day, he then told them if anyone called on either him, Bates, Weir, or any of the command staff for the next eight hours, that person might as well consider themselves volunteered for lab duty for the next month. John smiled. There was nothing the Marines hated more than standing guard in the labs. Between the multiple languages, technical terms six syllables long, and the scientists tendency to ignore basic safety protocols that nearly got themselves blown to bits, it was the hours or just standing that drove the action ready men stir crazy. And it was exactly why John used it as punishment.
A quick glance at this watch told him it was closer to four than he liked to admit, but at least he was finally on his way back to quarters, now that all bases were covered. Weir would be pissed that they had deceived her, but the fact that she had not even noticed the pain lines on Grodin's face told the how tired she had been. And she would appreciate the uninterrupted eight hours, even if she would chew him out for going behind her back.
After nearly bouncing off the wall like a ping-pong ball for the fifth time, John tried to pay a little more attention to where he was, rather than his destination. Bed would mean nothing if he was to bruised to fully enjoy it.
Finally, after what felt like half of Atlantis, John reached his door. 'Thinking' them open, he groaned in relief as he dropped onto the edge of his bed. Bending over, he started to pull off his boots, only to realize he couldn't see
his boots. The lights in his room hadn't turned on, and what little that had bled in from the hall was left when the door shut.
Nudging the lights up a little, he winced at the moan of annoyance that emanated from the head of the bed. The mass in the center of the bed shifted, burrowing deeper under the pillows, muttering so soft he could barely make it out. Something about 'lights' couch' and him being a 'damn asshole'
“Sorry.” The mass shifted again, a lone foot emerging to poke him in the ass.
“Just turn off the damn lights already. Trying to sleep.“
“Yeah, just let me get my boots off.” More muttering. And while his french had vastly improved over the last few months, that was a word he didn't know. Though he had a sneaking suspicion his parentage had just been called into question.
“Strip now, think after the damn lights are off.” Whoops.
Quickely untying his laces, he tucked his boots in the corner with the other pair, grabbed a pair of boxers and a tee-shirt from his trunk, before heading into the bathroom, dimming the lights as he went. A slightly mollified grunt from the lump was all the thanks he got, but he knew to take it in the context it was given.
Stripping out of his rumpled uniform, he decided a quick shower wouldn't hurt. In fact, it was a necessity. He smelled like sweat and recycled air. Not the best way to impress your bedmate.
Fifteen minutes later, showered, teeth clean, dirty uniform tossed in the basket in the corner, dressed in his clean clothes, he was pulling back the covers of the bed and sliding underneath. The lump grumbled at the intrusion into it's space for a moment, before rolling over and letting him have the warm spot. John knew there was a reason he loved him.
Rolling so his chest was tucked along Rodney's back, he reached out and pulled the scientist close, tucking one arm under his own pillow, the other resting on his lovers chest.
Feet took a little more wiggling, but he finally got one knee wedged in between Rodney's, the other resting against the back of McKay's calves, so they were basically fused from toe to top.
“Long day?” John snorted softly into Rodney's nape, earning him a grunt and a soft tap in the stomach with an elbow.
“Ow. And yes. Now, weren't you the one that was bitching about me interrupting you a minute ago? Go to sleep.“ Even though he couldn't see it, John felt Rodney's smile.
“You remember to set the alarm?”
“Gave everyone a half day tomorrow, and threatened anyone who disturbed the senior staff for the next eight hour with lab detail. Now, go to sleep!“ It was Rodney who snorted this time, before snuggling closer to John. Another mumble, then the deep easy breathing of sleep. John smiled and dropped a kiss to Rodney's neck before following him under.
“Love you to, Rodney.”