tigs

So awhile ago, I did that snapshot meme, where people requested unwritten scenes from stories I'd posted. This is the first one. I'm hoping to get a few more done tonight, but we'll see. :)

amy13 requested the morning after the events of Hard to Find.




Or maybe, John thought later, it really began like this:

With John waking up to an empty bed, but also to the smell of coffee, sounds coming through the closed door of his bedroom: cupboards being opened and closed again, water running, the thin clinking of a teaspoon handle tapping against the side of a mug.

Maybe it began with John standing up from the bed, running fingers over his bare chest as he looked around the room: at the mussed covers of the bed, the sweatshirt lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, where Rodney had dropped it the night before.

After a moment of staring, John picked it up, pulled it on again. His hands curled into the front pocket, his knuckles brushing against each other even as he walked the rest of the way across the room, separating again as he reached out to turn the handle, as he stepped into the hallway.

He halfway expected Rodney to meet him before he made it to the kitchen, a cup of coffee with one hand, unspoken questions shadowing his eyes. Questions that John had tried to answer the night before, yes, but as confident as Rodney was, John had also broken the trust between them once, and for all John knew, Rodney might be thinking that faced with the harsh light of day, John would do it again.

Rodney didn't meet him, though.

In fact, Rodney didn't even look up as John walked into the kitchen.

Rodney just said, as he raised this own mug of coffee to his lips, "I left enough for another cup in the pot." Then, as John watched, he flipped the page of, well, it had to be John's newspaper, which Rodney had apparently gone outside to get, like it was his right, like it was his own.

And at that, John let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. He stepped forward until he could curl his fingers around the back of Rodney's neck, rubbing his thumb against the muscle there.

"Thanks," John said, his voice still sleep-gruff, and at that, Rodney did raise his head.

At that, John saw something that was maybe relief in Rodney's eyes. And at that, John smiled.