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It’s Valentine’s Day, 2040, and Rodney had made plans. But that spiky white-haired, daredevil scoundrel of a husband had derailed them. How? By poking his head into someplace new, not fully explored. At least not by Rodney. And, now, they were trapped. Doomed ... oh, so very doomed.
Rodney struggled against his bonds, but they were heavy and unyielding. Contributing to his helplessness, his limbs felt as dense as lead, as floppy as a jellyfish. Not that he knew whether jellyfish were floppy. Or cared to know. That was one of the soft sciences. Though ... mmm ... jelly reminded him of Jell-O, all jiggly and sweet. Now he was hungry, too.
He couldn’t even lift a finger, though in his mind he was straining to reach out to John, to be able to touch him – to share even a tiny morsel of physical comfort.
But the brutes had separated them. It wasn’t fair. To listen to his husband’s moans and groans as he himself was being worked over relentlessly while emitting gasps and whimpers was sheer torture.
His mind stuttered back to how he’d envisioned they’d be spending the evening. Alone. In their suite. Starting with a candle-lit bath in the huge tub filled to the brim with swirling bubbles. But John had been as stubborn as his donkey braying laugh suggested, had said they could have a bubble bath any old time (such heresy!), and that he had something better in mind. He’d called it a personal mission. He said they’d both enjoy it. He’d gazed at Rodney with earnest eyes and promised. Bastard.
Finally, there was a prolonged silence. Rodney cracked open an eye cautiously, just in case their handlers were still hovering nearby. But they’d retreated. Pounding their victims must have tired them out, poor babies. Rodney smirked. Before they’d left, Bjorn and Carlos had rolled the two massage beds together, clicking the connecting locks into place. Rodney's smirk morphed into a smile, his facial muscles just about the only ones that hadn’t been subjugated into a state of blissful oblivion. He whispered hoarsely, “John?”
Rodney watched John’s face as his eyes flickered open, his lashes fluttering. “Yeah, buddy?”
“Oh, good. Just wanted to be sure they hadn’t pummelled your voice out of your body.”
John sighed and replied in a languorous tone, “Nah. Just the stress in my back and neck. So, are you glad I dragged you, metaphorically kicking and screaming, may I remind you, to this place in the new tower?”
Rodney scowled. Talk about spoiling the afterglow of a prolonged expert massage. “Well, what was I supposed to think when the place has such a frou-frou name?”
“You mean ‘Adonis & Aphrodite - Atlantis Spa and Salon’? Those are appropriately descriptive names of a Greek god and goddess who were always considered to be the epitome of beauty and sexual vitality.”
Rodney's snort of derision was his only editorial comment as his glance lingered over the body lying next to him, the familiar still-lean contours unfortunately obscured by the layers of swaddling blankets, but the best example of 'beauty and sexual vitality' in his book. “So how much longer can we dawdle in this decadence? I don’t think I have the strength in my pinky to even pull on my sweats.” He extended and waggled his now uncovered little finger for emphasis.
“Relax,” John murmured. “I figured we deserved the extended down-time, so we don’t have to leave until tomorrow at 1300 hours.”
“But what about f-?”
John cut him off quickly, knowing exactly what would cause Rodney to worry. “I've taken care of everything, Rodney. We’re having a special dinner delivered tonight and brunch tomorrow. I made sure to include your faves. If that's not enough, there are drinks and snacks in the mini-fridge.”
“Have I told you recently you’re the best husband?”
“Hey, I’m your only husband,” John replied with a soft growl.
Rodley chuckled. “You’re forgetting P3X 4Y when we both had to marry Ronon, then get naked and immersed in the sacred mud. While Teyla perched on a throne and ate luscious fruits. ”
John remembered - enough to begin squirming under his heavy covers until he was able to uncover his left hand, revealing the wedding band made of Ancient metal. “Didn’t count. I kept my fingers crossed the whole time! And we got a Jumper full of those fruits - citrus-free - when we left.”
Rodney hummed in contentment. “Do you ever miss it?”
“What? Mud? Ronon? The hour-long shower to get rid of the mud? Snickering Marines? What specifically?”
“Missions and, I guess, all the rest of it.” Rodney waved his hand through the air.
“You know I never thought I’d live to see retirement age, with my rank intact, let alone in a safe, declassified Atlantis colony.”
Rodney nodded his head, a tiny gesture. “We both made it. And now it’s the kids’ turn to be in charge.”
John wriggled under the covers until he could press closer to Rodney’s body. “Finally! After decades, you’ve figured out how to delegate.”
“Only because I trust Mads with my labs.”
"Don't you mean Madison's labs?"
Rodney mock-sighed. "Eventually. Maybe in another decade."
“So, you’re fine, I’m fine, we’re all fine.”
Rodney pouted. “Not entirely.”
John frowned. “What now?”
Rodney smiled, his mouth soft and pliant. “We need to be kissing. Even if we can’t rouse anything else for hours....”
Before John complied, he whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day. Now let’s see whether we can get certain body parts on board ahead of schedule.” With a thought, he dimmed the lights. They had enough time for a nap and some frolic before dinner arrived. But, first, he had a husband to kiss.