Summary: Carson is drunk and needs to be put to bed.
Disclaimer: Yes, they all belong to me, especially Rodney. Then I wake up.
Notes: Thanks to azicrow for the beta and as usual the ton of encouragement.
“So, this’s my stop,” Carson slurred wistfully, looking at the door to his quarters and not wanting to move away from the steadying hand his friend had placed around his waist. Although standing there not moving was going to get awkward so he pulled the other man into a tight hug instead.
“Are you always this emotional when you’re drunk?” Rodney queried when Carson hadn’t moved out of the embrace after several minutes.
“Ummm umm hmm,” Carson nuzzled into his shoulder, “sleepy”.
“Yes, well, that is why we’re here. See that door, you need to go through it and then there’s a bed.”
“Cannae make it that far,” Carson whined, the alcohol making his accent thick. Rodney tried to ignore how seductive his friend sounded at that moment.
“Fine, honestly I have to do everything around here!” He said injecting as much annoyance in his voice as possible. He manoeuvred the Scot through the door into his room.
“Yes, love, Atlantis’d fall apart without you.” Carson said mockingly, sounding surprisingly sincere.
“Okay bed,” Rodney said as he pushed him towards it, trying to ignore the undercurrent in Carson's tone.
“No,” Carson said slowly as if explaining to a small child, “clothes first.”
“Clothes...” Rodney gulped. “Yes...okay...fine. Where are your night clothes?”
“Don’t have any,” Carson replied unabashed.
“Uhh right,” Rodney said, a little too quickly and stripped him down to his boxers, trying not to stare. However he couldn’t help but notice the muscle definition on those arms; the broad shoulders; the strong, solid thighs; the wide chest with just a light spattering of hair, which trailed down towards the waistband of the boxers.
“Okay, now bed,” Rodney said aware how limited his vocabulary had suddenly become.
“No,” Carson started again in the same patient tone, “now, it’s your turn”
“Excuse me?” Rodney squeaked, clearing his throat.
“You heard me,” he said and pulled off Rodney’s shirt as if to demonstrate his point. Rodney was stunned into not moving for long enough for the rest of his clothes to also end up in a pile on the floor.
Eventually, as Carson started moving them both towards the bed, his brain caught up, “wait...wait, what are you doing?”
“What’s it look like, luv?” Carson pushed Rodney down onto the bed. He lay down down beside him and started to run warm fingers up and down his biceps.
Rodney’s brain was on overdrive now. He’d always wanted this, and for a while he had let himself imagine that his friend returned those feelings. But after Perna and then Laura, Rodney was left with the undeniable conclusion that Carson was depressingly straight. Except the straight man in question was now doing incredibly sinful things involving tongue and nipples. That made him rethink his evidence base a little. Unfortunately Carson had just, almost singlehandly consumed an entire bottle of that strong Athosian vodka on a dare and so was likely to not be in control right now. As much as Rodney wanted to continue letting him kiss and suck his collarbone, it wouldn’t be right. He couldn’t take advantage of a friend like that. He didn’t have all that many as it was and he didn’t want to risk losing one over casual sex.
He ignored how desperately he wanted this and turned to explain and then leave except Carson had fallen asleep, snoring softly. His heart lurched and he suddenly knew, inexplicably, that this wasn’t just sex. He put his arms around the other man and slowly drifted off to sleep holding his lover close.