each hour of the twenty-four

A short bit in the A Is for — series, where Rodney's got amnesia after deAscending and John's an amputee. This bit is about sandwiches, eaten in bed.

John woke up to the smell of peanut butter and the sound of the loose keys on his crappy old laptop being abused.

He was sleeping with the blanket over his head again — he wasn't sure when he'd acquired that habit — and his foot was cold. He twisted around, found Rodney to warm up against, and was thinking about going back to sleep when there was sudden bright light and cool air on his face.

"Lunch?" Rodney asked, and John flailed one hand in front of his face, trying to keep the flying crumbs off. "Well, brunch, probably, but definitely not breakfast, you slept through that. I'm trying to figure peanut butter out," he added, and John had to open his eyes for that, braced for disaster.

There was a tall stack of sandwiches on the nightstand, cut into quarters. Rodney appeared to be making graphs and charts. John yawned wide enough that his jaw cracked and then stretched, putting his arms back so his palms hit the wall and arching up to loosen his back and his shoulders and everything else that was feeling the effects of the previous night's sex marathon.

He even felt a little hungry, until he got a good look at the kinds of sandwiches Rodney had listed in his chart.

"No one in their right mind eats peanut butter with ham," he said, and rolled over to settle his face against Rodney's hip. He got one arm around Rodney's stomach, sliding in under the laptop, and decided to go back to sleep.

"People might if it was any good. I couldn't remember," Rodney added, sounding defensive. "I should be able to remember. Jeannie says I practically lived on peanut butter as a kid. How can I not," Rodney said, and the laptop snapped shut, loud in John's ear and catching some of his hair painfully. "I used to know these things." The laptop was pulled away, taking some of John's hair with it, and dropped carelessly off the bed.

"We're not the men we used to be," John said, curling his palm around Rodney's side and stroking an arc around to his back. "For worse and for better. And by worse I mean ham and ketchup and mayonaise, what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking I was going to pass out from starvation waiting for you to haul your lazy ass up out of bed and make me breakfast, and then it wasn't breakfast time anymore."

"Should've woke me up," John said, shifting up enough to pillow his head in Rodney's lap. "You martyr, you."

Rodney's fingers slid into John's hair and rubbed him behind the ear. "I like watching you sleep," Rodney said. "Did I, before?"

John laughed, hitching himself up some and dragging Rodney down some and then sliding his leg over so that he was straddling Rodney's lap. "We didn't sleep together, before."

Rodney nodded thoughtfully, and let John kiss him. He tasted like peanut butter, mostly, and John was glad that he didn't taste like anything too weird.

"So I was obviously stupider then," Rodney said, sounding smug and sliding both hands down either side of John's spine, around the curve of his ass, and coming to a possessive rest on his thighs. "What the hell was I thinking?"

"Obviously not what you're thinking now."

"But you loved me." Rodney kissed John again, probably to keep him from looking away. John shut his eyes anyway. "I wish I remembered you from before. But I'm glad that this is new, mine and not his. Is that selfish and inconsiderate? It probably is. Have a sandwich if you're feeling emotionally traumatised. The banana ones are surprisingly good."

"Maybe later," John said, and licked over the fine stubble along Rodney's jaw, just because he could. "I've got you for lunch."

"What a dirty, dirty mind you have, John Sheppard," Rodney said. "I like you. Did you know that?"

"Kind of guessed." John kept working his way downwards, exploring Rodney's neck now with mouth and tongue. Rodney couldn't see his face, which he was glad of. Rodney — the Rodney he'd got back, the Rodney he was planning on keeping this time around — had a way of going right through every defense John had. It would have been embarrassing, in a different life.

But in this, the life he had? It felt like love.

* * *

John didn't find it particularly comforting to be pinned down during sex. He knew Rodney was aware of this — Rodney had a scary way of using his genius during sex — but Rodney never said anything. He just made sure that of all the sexual positions they tried out, whether or not there was actual fucking involved (and regardless of who was being fucked), John wound up on top.

Sometimes, John thought it was laziness. Right now, for example, he had the feeling that Rodney was still thinking about the damn sandwiches. He forced himself still, forearms braced either side of Rodney's head, his hips rolling down in one last slow slide of his dick alongside Rodney's. He could feel sweat cooling at the small of his back.

"What?" Rodney said, managing to sound both aggrieved and debauched.

"Focus," John said. "You with me?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Let's check, shall we?" He shoved a hand down between them and grabbed both their dicks, wet with spit and sweat and precum. John dropped his head and bit hard on his lip. He couldn't keep himself from fucking into Rodney's perfect tight grip. "I'm focussing on how insanely hot you are, trying not to come when you're shaking with need." Rodney's thumb swept over the head of John's cock, and then he pushed up, thrusting hard enough into his hand, against John's dick, that John nearly lost balance. Rodney was always one to exploit an advantage, and he twisted his hand, sliding, making it so good and fast and sudden and inescapable that John found himself collapsing forwards, shouting against Rodney's skin.

"And now he crushes me," Rodney said as soon as the afterglow wore off. He shoved John off to the side ruthlessly. John was still trying to come down, breathing hard, not quite back in his body. Rodney poked him. "Hey. No napping. It's your turn to go get food."

"Okay," John said, and reached out to wrap his hand around Rodney's arm. "Minute," he added, and closed his eyes, and smiled himself to sleep.

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