October Fics Day 28: Rain
Pairing: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Rating: E
Words: 1,613
Summary: When their mission gets sidelined by the rainy season, the team holes up in a local inn. Cozy tea, a bit of brandy, some questionable board games, and two decidedly un-sexy robes.
A/N: Ok... so it isn't October anymore. But it is still fall! This one just got a bit stuck for me.
Read on AO3 or below!
John peeled off his wet jacket, shook the rain from his hair. Beside him, Teyla was wringing out her own uniform, limp bangs plastered to her forehead.
“What’s the plan?” Ronon asked, handing over a couple of warm, dry towels, and taking their damp outerwear in return. He spread them out over some sort of rack next to the fire. Even with the roaring flames, the dry heat of the inn, he didn’t expect their gear would be remotely wearable for at least another day or two. Just his luck to draw the short straw when it came time for their check in.
“Elizabeth wants us to hold tight for a few more days. Everything’s fine back home, and since things have been quiet here, she thinks it’s worth trying to wait out the monsoon, see if the weather clears up and we can get to the ruins.”
Rodney groaned. Toweling off his hair, and eyeing the ever worsening conditions outside, John couldn’t help but agree with him. A little break had been novel for the first night, but they were coming on day three at the inn, and no end was in sight.
“Ah, so you will be remaining for a few more days yet, Colonel.” Valle, the innkeeper, appeared from the kitchen, balancing a large tray of steaming mugs. “You are welcome as long as you need shelter. We do not receive many travelers during the rainy season.”
“Wonder why…” Ronon mumbled, as a particularly loud slash of rain beat down on the windows, and the wind whistled through the trees.
“I thought perhaps you could use some warm tea. I can add a shot of our local brandy if you’d like?” Valle offered with a smile.
Ronon perked up, and even Teyla seemed to lean in a bit closer to the drinks, but John shook his head. “Thanks, but we’ll be alright.” He turned to the rest of the team. “Remember kids, this is still a mission, not a vacation.”
“John, our relationship with this village is well established, and Valle has been nothing but hospitable to us. So long as the weather remains poor, we are unable to proceed with the mission. It will not hurt us to relax a bit.” Teyla sounded tired and frustrated, and John raised his hands in defeat.
Turning to Valle, Teyla smiled. “Thank you, we’d love to sample the brandy.”
Valle placed the tray of tea down, and returned to the kitchen. They did a poor job of hiding their smile, and John scowled in return.
“We need to remain alert.”
“We need to remain warm,” Teyla countered, even as a small chill passed through her own body. She moved to sit on the floor near the fire, dripping small puddles of water in her wake. “Besides, a small amount of brandy should not be enough to render you incapictated, especially after the large breakfast Valle provided earlier.”
“Dunno, Sheppard doesn’t always hold his liquor well,” Ronon smirked.
“One time- that was one time!”
“And yet, we still remember it like it was yesterday.” Rodney pressed a mug into his hand, wrapped another warm towel around his shoulders. “You’re shivering,” he frowned. “Maybe we should see if Valle has some spare clothing. You’ll catch a cold sitting around in wet clothes all afternoon.”
Just then, Valle reemerged with a large, clear bottle filled with a golden liquid, as well as a pile of woolen fabrics. “I couldn’t help but overhear,” they smiled sheepishly. “I was about to offer up some spare clothing myself. I’m afraid all I have that might suit in this weather are these ceremonial robes - we wear them for the harvest festival. They are wool, although very soft.”
“Thank you,” Teyla accepted the robes. “We are very grateful for any form of dry clothing.”
Teyla retired to her room to slip into her robes, while John remained by the fire, stubbornly sipping his tea. Rodney poured a small shot of brandy into it, over John’s protests, and he had to admit, the tea, brandy, and fire were going a long way towards returning the feeling to his extremities.
But even an entire bottle of brandy wasn’t going to be enough to warm his core, and the soaked, stiff fabric of his uniform was beginning to chafe.
Teyla reemerged, practically swimming in the oversized, colorful robes. They looked ridiculous, like the ponchos the hippies used to wear on his college campus, and they somehow made Teyla look frumpy and squat. On the other hand, she also looked much happier. And drier.
“John.” She said his name as though it were a rebuke, and pointedly handed him a robe. He sighed, resigned, and headed to his and Rodney’s room, the boots squelching unpleasantly with every step.
John had to admit that it was a relief to be dry and warm, even if wearing a loose robe and nothing else left him feeling vulnerable. But the material was soft, and as he warmed himself by the fire, listening to the patter of rain outside and drinking his second serving of spiked tea, he almost forgot that he was dressed like an extra from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor DreamCoat. And the looks Rodney was giving him, hungry and intense, his eyes sweeping down the length of John’s neck, following the deep v of the robe? Well those warmed him in a different way.
They whiled away the afternoon by the fire, telling stories and playing some sort of board game that Ronon recognized, that seemed to be a cross between checkers and backgammon. The storm raged on outside, but the inn was warm and cozy, the room soft and bright in the light of the fire. On their fourth round of the game, John stifled a yawn, the dreary weather and the soggy tramp to the gate finally catching up to him.
“Maybe we should take a nap,” Rodney suggested.
“I’m fine,” John bit back another yawn. “Just the tea. And brandy.” He glared at Teyla.
“Yes, but it wouldn’t hurt to rest. In bed.” Rodney raised his eyebrows meaningfully. “You know, together?”
Ronon snorted, and Teyla smiled indulgently, dry clothing and brandy having restored her good humor.
“We will keep watch, John. Go enjoy your… nap.”
Rodney dragged him upstairs, pushed him into their room and onto the bed, tumbling down after him, his hands running up the hem of the robe.
“Rodney,” John whined. “We can’t.”
“This stupid, stupid, robe.” Rodney muttered, his hands smoothing down John’s sides, skimming the lines of his waist. “How do you look so sexy in such a stupid robe? Me? I would look like a pudgy extra in Dune, but you… god.”
John meant to protest, he really did, but then he was falling back on soft pillows, and Rodney’s warm hands were sliding up his thighs, and Rodney was making a little gasping noise of delight when he realized that John had been commando under the robes, and all thoughts flew out of his head.
Rodney didn’t even bother to remove the robe, just rucked it up and over John’s waist, and set about nuzzling John’s hairy thighs, the tender, soft skin of his balls, his hot, moist breath leaving John shivering.
John was already half hard by the time Rodney took him into his mouth, and John relaxed back, let his muscles melt into the soft down bed, let Rodney lick and suckle him to full hardness. He thought he could do this all afternoon maybe, just lay back and let Rodney warm his cock in his hot, wet mouth. The rain had slowed to a quieter patter, and swaddled among blankets and pillows and his robe, John felt cozy, relaxed.
But Rodney’s mouth was restless, full lips massaging at the head of his cock, tongue teasing up and down the shaft. Almost involuntarily, John’s hips began to thrust up to meet Rodney’s mouth, and with a small, muffled moan, Rodney began to suck him off in earnest, head bobbing steadily.
John felt Rodney’s firm, strong hand grip at the bottom of his cock, jacking him off with a mix of his own pre-come and Rodney’s spit, while Rodney’s lips and tongue focused on the head, and that was it, John was lost. Sparks of pleasure shot through his gut, and he arched off the bed, pressing his cock deeper into Rodney’s warm, welcoming mouth as he came with a shaky sigh.
Without missing a beat, Rodney swallowed him down, tenderly suckling his softening cock until it became too much and John pushed him away. Rodney stretched out on the bed beside him, his hand petting up John’s stomach and his chest, stroking him beneath the robe.
The mattress shuddered beneath him, and John realized Rodney had started jerking off next to him, stripping his own cock quickly, the red, flushed head peaking through his tightened fist. He reached down to lend a hand, only then Rodney’s finger circled John’s nipple, and still sensitive, John gave a small shudder. And that was enough - Rodney came with a low moan, leaving a sticky, white mess on his own heaving belly.
After a few long, gasping moments, Rodney moved to clean himself up, and tugged John’s robes back down his legs. He pulled the cover up around them and held John close, the heat of his broad chest seeping through the fabric of the robes.
“What’re we doing?” John mumbled into the pillow. Rodney seemed to understand.
“We’re napping now. Go to sleep,” he ordered.
And there, safe and warm and dry in their bed, shielded from the storm and the wind outside, they slept.
