"Stop staring at me," Rodney says, trying to push John away without letting go of his coffee, but it can't be done and John just slides closer. Rodney's eyes are squinched shut like a mole's, his hair tufty and weird, his cheeks still creased from his pillow.
John can't resist him like this, grumpy and half-asleep; Rodney's refusal to engage only makes him more tempting.
"Can't," John says, stealing a kiss from Rodney's crooked mouth. Rodney grumbles and hides a smile in his coffee.
The sun's just coming up, the sky a soft orangy pink. From the kitchens, the clank and clatter of breakfast rises and falls. The mess will open soon, but for now they're alone, and John steals another kiss, safe in their morning solitude.