[closed] by the time i calculated the correct solution

[technospeak]

who: Rodney McKay, John Sheppard
what: Adjusting to the new digs.
when: backdated to early November
where: Their shared apartment.
warnings: nightmare talk? tba if needed



[They've been here a grand total of a week, and Rodney's managed to sleep a full night oh...two of those nights? The last thing he'd expected when he ended up bullied into sharing a room with John Sheppard was to be kept up by the other man. He'd figured maybe a bit of chatter, and then that having John close by and within reach would be soothing, make sleeping in a strange place in a strange place with a subpar mattress easier.

Instead, here he is, woken up for the second time tonight by John making subdued noises from the bed over on his side of the dorm-style room. Rolling over onto his back, he sighs deeply, lifts his hand and scrubs it over his face, shaking his head.]

Let's just...dispense with the illusion that nothing is going on here, John.

[Scrubbing his hand back through his hair, he sighs, eyes closed.]

What's up with you?

Comments

[deploy]

Not now, Rodney.

[John's tired. Exhausted, even. But the only thing worse than having nightmares, in John's personal experience, is having to talk about them. Sure, they've been in each other's head before, but at least they'd both had the courtesy not to talk about it. John doesn't want to admit anything's changed. He'd rather throw a blanket over the elephant in the room than talk about it.]

I don't want to talk about it, and neither do you. So just shut your eyes, and count some puddle jumpers, or leggy blondes, or something. Whatever helps you sleep at night.

[technospeak]

[When John says 'not now' like that, Rodney rolls his eyes, shakes his head, but for a few moments, he's quiet. As ridiculous as he might think it is to even bother denying that John's been waking him up almost every night by stirring around in the middle of it, John doesn't exactly tell him to can it unless there's a good reason.

But when John continues on, talking about how they don't want to talk about it, Rodney lets out the breath he was holding, and rolls his eyes again. He knows John pretty well, and the way he's saying that neither of them wants to talk about it makes it very obvious that John actually does want to talk about it. So he makes a hum of irritation in his throat, and rolls onto his side, facing John's bed.]

No point trying to get back to sleep if you're just going to wake me up in 20 minutes.

[deploy]

Did you check for a pea under your mattress?

[If John's tone has a sharper edge to it than usually, it's because he knows he's guilty, and feels bad about it. They've both been struggling to adjust to this place, and not sleeping isn't doing either of them any favours.

Getting separate rooms would make sense. John could toss and turn, Rodney could snore, and they'd both have some much needed privacy.

Except John wouldn't be able to sleep at all without an eye on Rodney. John doesn't have much left to lose. Just the one thing, in fact. Which is why he sleeps with his gun under his pillow, and Rodney in his line of sight.]

Sorry. [He takes a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling.] You ever notice it was never quiet in Atlantis? Like the city was always, humming, or something. Vibrating. Alive. It bothered me at first, but you get used to it. The waves, too.

[technospeak]

I said you, John, not 'something.'

[There's bite to it, of course, it's sarcastic but much less so than if he were actually being serious about it. John's voice was sharp, almost accusatory, but Rodney lets go of that because this is just how John is. He surrounds everything vulnerable with prickles and razor edges, and Rodney knows that because he does the same thing. Being delicate with each other isn't exactly in either of their playbooks, mostly because it wouldn't work for either of them.

When John softens a bit and says sorry, then explains what it had been like in Atlantis, Rodney makes an idle hum of agreement.]

I wasn't so big on the waves at first. It was incessant and kept making me have dreams about whales. You know, I'd almost gotten over my fear of being eaten by a whale, and then Atlantis.

[There's nothing to take the sting out of missing a place like talking badly about it. Of course, the truth is there isn't really much bad to say about Atlantis.]

[deploy]

I love the waves, when I get to surf 'em, anyway. If people stopped trying to kill us all the time, and I could actually take the board out, I'd be a lot less salty.

[It occurs to John that Rodney's never come with him to any of the mainland beaches. He almost always goes with Ronon, who in typical Ronon fashion, was better at surfing than John was within an hour of catching waves.

He misses Ronon. Teyla, too. Some part of him wonders if this wouldn't be easier with either of the Athosians, but that's not being charitable to Rodney. It's not that he doesn't enjoy his company, John's spent more time with Rodney than anyone, it's just that they have a different kind of relationship. He doesn't worry so much about Ronon, or Teyla.

There's a reason he's sleeping beside Rodney, and not in another room, and it isn't because Rodney's snoring lulls him to sleep.]

Whales. Clowns. Citrus. Confined spaces. Are there any other phobias I should know about?

[technospeak]

You say that, but I somehow doubt it. I feel like you could find a reason to be salty no matter what.

[The truth is, Rodney really misses Atlantis too. He misses everyone there, and everyone who'd been just a quick trip through the Stargate. His sister, his niece, Jennifer, Carson, Ronon and Teyla. Everyone and everything, except John. The one person here with him, and probably the most comforting.

He tries to ignore the little spike of disappointment when he remembers that he's probably not the most comforting for John to have around, and lifts a hand to rub at his forehead, eyes sinking shut.]

Are you really sure that's a question you want to ask? Anyway, we were talking about you, not me.