Instantly, Rodney crumbles under Ronon’s impressive glare. An immediate hand gesture follows a stoic though mumbled apology, “Right, sorry” Politely Rodney steps to Ronon’s right in order to pass him.
Not two steps and Ronon is still directly in front of him, blocking his way.
“What? Said I was sorry,” Rodney states the obvious, now more annoyed than sorry.
Ronon doesn’t move.
Rodney huffs, “Fine, fine.” Taking a deep breath then exhaling, Rodney looks up and this time is slightly more sincere as he apologizes. “I’m sorry, alright. Working, here, important things to do. Now if you don’t mind?” The last wasn’t a real question and he automatically moves to step around Ronon, but again Ronon moves with him, blocking his way.
Slight irritation is upgraded to genuinely pissed, as Rodney clamps his lips together and tries to scurry around Ronon. Each move he makes is quickly and effectively blocked.
Minutes pass, as they do nothing but dance around each other. Ronon not only blocks Rodney’s way to return to the lab, but he also blocks him from leaving in any direction.
Frustrated and angry, Rodney stops trying to get past Ronon. “This is ridiculous! Will you PLEASE move out of my way and let me pass?”
Smirking, Ronon only replies, “No.”
Flabbergasted, Rodney can only stare, trying and failing to process what Ronon says. Finally he mumbles, “Wh--what? Why?”
Grinning like he’s won a prize Ronon firmly states, “Christmas kisses.” At Rodney’s confusion, Ronon’s chin cinches indicting Rodney should look at the ceiling above his head.
Slowly Rodney follows Ronon’s gaze.
There, just above his head, hangs what looked like a sprig of mistletoe. Immediately, Rodney shakes his head, he can’t—doesn’t--mean . . . . Rodney’s mind spirals at the implication because he’s never thought this way, not of Ronon. Anyway, the man was . . . Words fail him as he glances from the mistletoe back to Ronon, back to the mistletoe back to Ronon. Ronon just stands there, grinning like an idiot, showing all of his teeth. The only thing missing was feathers, since Ronon resembled the proverbial cat that just swallowed the canary.
Ignoring the imaginary feathers, Rodney’s mind kicks back into gear, and concedes it must be a joke, one that is at either Ronon’s expense, his expense, or both of their expenses. The only thing he knows for sure is once he discovers who is the practical joker, he is going to make them pay. Swallowing several times just to ease his nerves and suddenly dry throat so he could speak, Rodney points up, shaking his finger and demands, “You know what that is . . . traditionally what it means on Earth?”
Nodding, Ronon’s smile only widens as he leans forward like he is going to share a cherished secret and confidently explains in a voice just above a whisper, “Mistletoe. On Earth you hang it so you can get Christmas kisses from whoever is standing underneath it.”
Rodney’s mouth opens then closes; he honestly didn’t expect Ronon to know. Then Ronon winks, almost laughing at Rodney’s expression. Flustered Rodney asks, “Where did . . . ?”
“Lorne. Their last mission on MR17. Parrish found some and they brought it back with them. After it was cleared, Parrish was going on and on about it and he explained the tradition, then Lorne shared some kisses.”
Nodding distractedly, Rodney asks, “What? You and . . . .Lorne?”
Ronon shrugs. “Yeah, but he was more interested in sharing the rest with Sheppard.”
Stunned, Rodney can only blink in shock as he thinks of Sheppard and Lorne, kissing under the mistletoe. Whatever happened to ‘don’t ask, don’t tell?’
“And now you want . . . From me?”
Solemnly Ronon nods.
At Ronon’s seriousness, Rodney starts to realize that maybe this isn’t a joke. His mind races at what Ronon has just proposed. The sudden realization that Ronon might be, if nothing else, somewhat attracted to him (for at least a few kisses) leaves his heart racing. Just the thought Ronon’s mouth over his, of long wet kisses from that large, wide, beautiful mouth, with a perfect set of pearly white teeth, a mouth that could most likely swallow him whole. The image slams into his consciousness, and he feels the tips of his ears burning, unable to stop his reaction. He knew without a doubt his face was flushed red.
Ronon crooks a questioning brow as Rodney starts to turn several shades of red.
“Sheppard said it was usually best to catch a person unknowingly. Otherwise the person you want might purposely avoid giving out kisses.”
“You told, um, discussed this with Colonel Sheppard?”
“He did seem kind of surprised, but said it didn’t matter either way because you were from Canada.” Confused, Ronon shrugs like what Sheppard had said really didn’t make sense to him.
“Right, and he didn’t . . . He didn’t share his own, or Lorne. No, he wouldn’t, would he? Usual US military bullshit; the whole thing can . . . well, it sucks. Especially if you were in the Colonel’s shoes,” Rodney glances down, trying to think of what to say, or do, for that matter. Biting his lip, bouncing on his toes he glances up at the mistletoe. “So, kisses?”
Enthusiastically Ronon nods and waits.
Both just stand there, grinning and staring at each other. Finally, Rodney realizes he’ll have to make the first move, and the thought that Ronon would wait, wouldn’t just take control, thrilled Rodney to no end. It just wasn’t something he expected.
Taking a step forward, standing on his toes, Rodney firmly grabs Ronon by the shirt and pulls his head down to a more manageable level.
Tentatively, Rodney’s lips hover over Ronon’s, breathing in his hot breath. His tongue peeks out to taste Ronon’s lower lip before moving a fraction of an inch closer, as he instinctively moves then proceeds to devour Ronon’s mouth.
Seconds later, Rodney is suspicious when he realizes Ronon hasn’t moved and hasn’t responded to his kiss. Hesitantly, Rodney starts to pull away, then abruptly he feels Ronon’s hands go around him then lift him. Suddenly, he is crushed against the wall of the corridor, leaving him with no questions that Ronon wants this as he bodily presses into Rodney and eagerly returns his kisses.
The chime for his office door rings. Pleased, John calls out, “Come in,” needing anything to distract himself from the paperwork on his desk.
Immediately Lorne steps in, smiling, “Sir, here you go. Last two mission reports.”
Glancing at the folders, John bites off a tad too sarcastically, “Gee, thanks, more paperwork.”
Lorne only laughs, and then asks, “Maybe a few Christmas kisses will cheer you up?”
Startled John looks up, then slowly stands self-consciously, “Huh?” A pause. “Ahm, Major--,” Nervously John’s hands move to his neck, trying to rub the tension away. “I know we’re close—friends, good friends, but still--” John shakes his head. It wasn’t a good--or rather a healthy--career choice. “--even in private, especially when the Daedalus is stationed here. It’s a bit risky, not to mention somewhat presumptuous.” Then, under his breath almost to himself he adds, trailing off, “maybe under different circumstances . . ..”
Pulling his hand out of his pocket, Lorne produces several red and green Hershey’s kisses. Blushing, Lorne just shrugs. “Sorry, sir . . . I meant Hershey’s kisses. My grandmother, she always called them Christmas kisses.”
John just stares at the foil-covered chocolate candy in Lorne’s hand. Gulping hard, he whispers, “Kisses, Christmas kisses?”
“Yes sir.” “I’m sorry, if….”
He never finishes as John raises his hand to stop him; his mouth hangs open, then slowly John asks, “Mistletoe? What exactly did you tell Ronon?”
Confused, Lorne just shakes his head, “Nothing. I mean I saw him at breakfast. David, Dr Parrish was telling him about the regular tradition on Earth when I came over to the table. Then he and Laura left when Ronon went to get seconds. When he got back, we didn’t really talk. It’s not like Ronon’s much of a talker, anyways. Especially when he’s eating.”
John nods at the accuracy, but he needs more to confirm what his gut already knows. “And the Christmas kisses, did you share any with Ronon?”
“A few, mentioned I was planning on sharing the rest with you.”
Staggered by the absurdity, John sits down and is instantly bombarded with image after image from earlier in the day. Of Ronon’s eagerness, a man on the hunt. Showing John the sprig of mistletoe he had gotten from Parrish. How he knew Rodney was the perfect candidate. Of his plan to capture Rodney to procure Christmas kisses. Now it all made sense—food, chocolate, of course Rodney was perfect. Everyone knew Rodney had hidden stashes of coffee and chocolate, why not *fucking* Christmas kisses. “Oh god, Rodney’s going to kill me--.you, us. Shit!”
Lorne just stands there, trying to comprehend everything that just happened and what didn’t happen. He isn’t sure about everything but something had happened with Ronon and Rodney—that Ronon had somehow confused mistletoe kisses with his chocolate Christmas kisses. But none of it matters when he can’t think past, just kept replaying John’s words, “we’re close—friends, good friends . . . maybe under different circumstances . . ..” But it was remembering John’s heated blush of embarrassed excitement that decides it for him.
So maybe right now isn’t the right time, but in the very near future he knows he is going to trade his grandmother’s Christmas kisses in for real mistletoe kisses—though he has a funny feeling John wasn’t gonna mind at all.