Rodney steps out of the coffee shop and spots John waiting for him across the lobby. He looks so good in his jeans and t-shirt, happy and relaxed, leaning against the concierge station like he doesn't have a care in the world.
A whole week off where nobody knows who they are. Rodney himself is almost giddy with freedom.
"Hey." John's eyes light up. "I got us dinner reservations."
"I got us coffee," Rodney says.
"Go team," John says, and surprises him with a kiss, right there, where everybody can see. Rodney blushes and kisses him back. Best vacation ever.
"What about this one?" John asks, flipping open the cap and letting Rodney take a sniff. It smells woodsy, dark, like men's cologne. It's nice, but not what he's looking for.
"Too heavy." He picks up a squat pink bottle, checks the ingredients, then unscrews the cap. The hit of sugary pink sweetness makes his mouth water; he offers it to John.
John makes a face. "Smells like cupcakes."
Rodney grumbles, but puts it back.
"This one," John says, holding it under Rodney's nose. It's cool and clean, like fresh cucumber. Rodney smiles.
It'll be perfect for their bath later.
John stops at a boutique with a pair of leather pants in the window. "Remind you of anything?"
"My ceremonial locking pants!"
John laughs, pressing his face into Rodney's hair. "Shh!"
"That old cleric spilled wine on my BDUs, so I changed, but then I needed to piss and couldn't get them open and—"
"Teyla realized you'd been pressed into religious service and sent Ronon to rescue you—"
"And you decided if anyone was going to lock me into my pants, it should be you," Rodney finishes, beaming, like it's their fairy tale happy ending, but it kind of is.
They get dressed for dinner.
Rodney lingers in the bathroom, watching John apply his new tinted lip balm.
"I want you to order for me at the restaurant," Rodney decides.
"Should I pull your chair out for you, too?" John asks, sarcastic. He studies himself in the mirror, rolling his lips together, then pursing them, like he's blowing himself a kiss. John looks incredible, the tint carefully chosen to enhance the natural color of his lips. He wipes the corner of his mouth with a finger and raises an eyebrow.
Rodney straightens his tie and raises an eyebrow in return.
Rodney waits until the server leaves, then says, "Asparagus, huh?" and picks one up.
"Yeah, you know." John shrugs, messing around with his baked potato and sneaking looks at Rodney.
Rodney takes a bite of asparagus. He can feel John watching him and he pauses for a sip of water, teasing them both. John squirms, knees bumping against Rodney's under the table.
Rodney doesn't care for asparagus, but he loves what it does for John. For both of them: the dank, grassy smell of Rodney's urine, John's breathless humiliation.
And then a nice long bath to wash it all away.