If you were to look for the two people on Atlantis who never seemed to shut up, you wouldn't have to look much farther than Rodney McKay and John Sheppard. The two were always nattering on about one thing or another and it was almost enough to drive everyone else completely crazy. John's laid back half-whine and Rodney's strident bluster made for a tumultuous mix.
But when it came to themselves, to John and Rodney, to them together, they were quiet. There never seemed to be a need for much talk. They didn't talk about setting dates, they just seemed to happen. They didn't talk about going to bed, they just looked at one another and fell on each other. They didn't talk about what it meant to have a relationship because there never seemed to be a need to. Sometimes they worried to themselves that the two of them didn't talk enough.
Neither of them had ever been much for personal talks. Somehow that felt a little too cheesy, too cheap, too sappily romantic and at the same time stupid. Neither of them wanted to feel that foolish in front of the other. But both John and Rodney wanted to find a way to show the other just what he meant to him without tripping over awkward words. And one day, they did.
John Sheppard was quiet that February morning, striding through the halls of Atlantis. He didn't meet the eyes of anyone he passed. He didn't notice the silent figure who passed on his right. Friendly good mornings were met with a distracted nod as he hurried along, arms pressed close to his chest secretively. He didn't want anyone to find out what he carried. Sheppard had thought it was a good idea, still did, but it was embarrassing all the same.
To his relief, no one was in the lab. It was a little surprising: most of the time at least McKay was there working. But it was empty and lifeless. Moving quickly and quietly, John spotted Rodney's laptop laying idle on his desk. He looked left and right furtively, then quickly jerked his contraband from under his vest and laid it on the open laptop's keyboard. Then Colonel John Sheppard turned tail and got out of there.
Rodney McKay was quiet that February morning, trotting through the halls of Atlantis. His eyes darted everywhere without really seeing anything, trying to make sure no one was watching him without seeming like he was watching them. He didn't notice the silent figure who passed on his right. Rodney's arms were crossed protectively over his chest and his posture screamed 'keep away!' even more than usual. He didn't want anyone to find out what he carried. McKay had thought it was a good idea, still did, but it was embarrassing all the same.
He was unsurprised to find Sheppard's office empty. The colonel disliked being desk bound and avoided it when at all possible. Rodney rolled his eyes at the piles of unfiled paperwork sitting everywhere and concentrated on John's laptop. He looked left and right furtively, then snatched his contraband from his jacket pocket and propped it on the laptop's closed lid. Then Doctor Rodney McKay turned tail and got out of there.
When John returned to his office after his smuggling run, he was surprised to find a white envelope sitting on his computer. The elegantly written name across the front was his own.
When Rodney returned to his lab after his smuggling run, he was surprised to find a white envelope sitting on his keyboard. The name scratched across the front was his own.
Tentatively, John took up the envelope. He wasn't really sure what to make of this offering, but suddenly he was afraid of what was inside. He pulled open the flap with shaking fingers.
Gingerly, Rodney picked up the envelope. For once he didn't know what to think and that, plus the mystery of the envelope, left him feeling very nervous. He opened the flap with trembling fingers.
John pulled the card out of its sheath and let out a long, slow breath at the sight. It wasn't a card you could buy in any store. This one had been handmade with cardstock and a Sharpie. Two letters swept across the cover, intertwined inextricably and beautifully. J and R. John smiled and opened the card.
Rodney fumbled the card from the envelope and caught his breath at the sight. It wasn't a store-bought card, obviously. This was handmade with copy paper and a pencil. A sketch of the stargate adorned the cover and while that was lovely, the stick figures walking through it hand in hand were less well done. Rodney smiled and opened the card.
Sheppard read quietly to himself.
My lover's voice speaks softly, kindly when I'm frightened or sad, laughs with me over silly things no one else would find particularly funny, whispers tenderly to me of touch, of skin upon skin, when we're curled up closely in the dark blanket of night.
McKay read quietly to himself.
My lover's voice sings to me of love even in silence, when I look into those eyes and see something that no words, no matter how beautiful, could ever come close to saying. Nothing is as sweet to me as my lover's voice whispering "I love you" followed by my name.
John's breath hitched in his throat.
I love you, John Sheppard. Happy Valentine's Day.
Rodney's heart skipped a beat.
I love you, Rodney McKay. Happy Valentine's Day.