sga_flashfic | Fic: Proofs, by solvent90 (Gwen)

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Title: Proofs (Documentation challenge)
Author: Gwen
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: R-ish

Rodney’s handwriting is startlingly neat. You’d think, to look at him – to listen to him – that it would be slapdash and sharp-angled, words running off the line and scrambling into each other, but it isn’t like that at all. It’s a little angular, leans to the left, but it’s smooth and well-spaced and, very obviously, careful. No crosses-out or scribbles, or o’s mutated into a’s. In writing, Rodney has obviously never started a sentence he didn’t know just how to finish. Even the post-it notes covering nearly available inch of wall, equations, cryptic phrases with little question-marks – one just says of course! and three sets of equations – they’re pinned at absurd, careless angles, like Rodney’s obviously slapped them on wherever his hand happened to be at the time, but the words themselves look like they’re in fifth draft, smooth as print and as utterly sure.

*

John thinks of them at odd times in the day. When Rodney’s talking a mile a minute in a meeting, so impatient even his hands can’t keep up with him; slapping at the keyboard on his laptop, sharp and so fast John can barely see his fingers move; his face twitching agonised impatience a million times a day when the world around him can’t possibly go quick enough to match whatever’s happening in his head; his body frantic under John’s easy-moving hands in the narrow corner of his darkened room, the way he tips his head back and squeezes shut his eyes, shaking his head, his words gasped out, sharp and uneven. Please yes now come on now yes come on come on. His kisses are slower and softer but tentative; they waver and break against John’s mouth the way the even lines of his equations never do.

Then one day he’s in Rodney’s bed, waiting to catch his breath before heading back to his own room. Idly, he pulls open a bottom drawer and finds a sheaf of yellowing lined paper in there. It’s Rodney’s writing, numbers and words, but nothing like John’s seen before: it’s furious, whole sections crossed out, little marginal notes and scribbles, the pen scored deep enough to break the paper in places.

“What’s this?”

“Hm?”

There’s always about ten minutes after an orgasm when Rodney’s absolutely blissed out, nearly mellow, and prepared to answer direct questions with only a minimum of sarcasm. John’s taken advantage of it before.

He flaps the papers under Rodney’s nose and Rodney yawns wide enough to nearly crack his jaw and then cracks an eye at the papers.

“Oh. Yeah, first thesis. I – second year of grad school, I had something of a breakthrough, had to change my whole approach.” His face takes on a trace of smug. “You should have seen my thesis adviser’s – anyway.” He flaps a hand and yawns again. “Sentimental value.”

John stares at the sheaf again, the words scrambling across the pages, slipping off the lines. Rodney’s watching him now, a little puzzled crinkle between his eyebrows, and John doesn’t really know what’s going on his own head, so he reaches for something neutral to say.

“You, uh. You’ve got nice writing.”

Rodney blinks slowly at him, twists his head to look at the sheaf and then twists back to give John a disbelieving stare. John grins a little, can’t help it with Rodney giving him that you can’t possibly have said that look and then jerks his head to the post-its.

“I mean now.”

“Oh.” Rodney settles back against him, body heavy and warm. John can feel his breath, starting to even out. “Well.” Breath. “I know what I’m doing now.”

There’s a little pause but Rodney’s coming out of his orgasm-haze now and he shifts a couple of times and then says, awkwardly,

“So, anyway, you, um, you probably should –”

“I thought I might stay.”

John blinks. He had no idea that was about to come out of his mouth. Rodney’s eyes go wide and kind of strange but he doesn’t say anything, so John has to go on.

“I mean – if that’s – I could just head out early, so –”

His voice is faster than usual, faster than he means, and there’s something, a little jagged twist of uncertainty, in his voice that he hasn’t heard in himself in years. He’s about to pull a smile and shrug and just back the hell out of there when Rodney’s hand is suddenly on his face, warm and very careful. His eyes are still wide and dark but his expression is very still, very quiet. His thumb touches the corner of John’s mouth and it’s soft and it’s slow, but it isn’t tentative.

“Yes. Yes, stay.”

*

The next morning, trying to follow Rodney’s hands at the next meeting is so dizzying as to be nearly impossible. He’s trying to explain some new amazing Ancient thing and he doesn’t manage to get to the end of a single sentence. But their bodies brush as they’re leaving, and Rodney’s slow little twist of a smile, the brief touch of his fingers at John’s wrist is easy as falling, sure as gravity.

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hotspur18.livejournal.com

Wow. Brilliant. Just brilliant. You got *everything* into this, their characters, the importance of academia, the fact that things have changed, John's old insecurities versus Rodney's new-found confidence 'I know what I'm doing now' - *yeah*.

*bounces with a little element of squee*

I love this. I so do.

:-) xx

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