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Rodney loaded the popcorn with butter and then added a little more for good measure - Carson and his mother hen cholesterol-clucking be damned; popcorn wasn't popcorn without real butter. He grabbed the bowl and headed into the sitting room, sinking down on the couch next to John with a sigh - getting the extra-depth, super-squishy cushions had been such a good idea.
"Hey, I thought we were watching the new Iron Man?" There was something on the TV with dogs and snow and people looking disgustingly happy in sub-zero temperatures. Rodney shivered.
"We are," John smiled, snagging a handful of popcorn and pointing a buttery finger towards the screen. "I was just channel surfing and found this show about the Iditarod. I've always thought it looked kind of cool - just you and your dog team out on the trail. The guys who win it are pros but anyone can take part. Wouldn't it be awesome to train up a team and give it a shot?"
"What?" Rodney swallowed quickly around a mouthful of buttery bliss. "Years of fighting the scourge of two galaxies wasn't enough danger and excitement for you? We've finally retired and now you want to risk life and limb standing on a framework made out of toothpicks, being pulled to your death in the icy wastes of Alaska by a pack of marauding wild dogs who would probably be chomping down on your still-warm corpse before you could say 'sit'?"
"That doesn't even make any sense, Rodney," John smirked. "And it's semi-retired - plus they're trained sled dogs, not rabid wolves."
"Yes, yes, semi-retired, top secret military consultants, blah, blah, blah. That's not the point. The point is that we managed to survive the Wraith and the Replicators, as well as countless other people who seemed to want to kill us for no better reason than that they took offence at your hair…"
"Hey!" John patted his hair and looked vaguely wounded, though there was a telltale crinkling around his eyes.
Rodney ignored him. "And now you want to do this?"
John grinned, the happy, boyish, adorable grin that always made Rodney melt - every damn time - and didn't General Twist You Round His Little Finger (Semi-Retired) just know it?
"But Rodney - it looks fun!"
"Fun? It's over a thousand miles of certain snowy death and carnage!"
"Aw, come on. It's not that bad," John wheedled - and that was so unfair because he knew that Rodney could never say no to that voice. "You'd come and support me, right?"
"Hmmph, if you mean wearing a snugly insulated snow suit and drinking a chocolate mocha while waving as you crossed the finish line in Nome, then maybe," Rodney grumbled.
John laughed and snuggled closer, bumping at Rodney's shoulder. "Knew I could count on you, buddy."
Rodney snorted but dropped a kiss to John's temple, attention caught for a moment by the action on the screen. "You know I bet we could reduce the weight of the sled if we used that alloy we found on BDY-101 and I'm sure I could reduce the drag coefficient of those runners, hmmm … pass me my laptop will you? I just want to run a few figures."
John's smile widened - distracting and beautiful - and he pressed closer, wrapping an arm around Rodney's shoulders. "Maybe later - how about we just watch TV and eat popcorn for a while, huh?"
Rodney nodded, calculations already forgotten, and settled comfortably into John's warmth. TV and popcorn - and John - he could definitely live with that.
The end
Title taken from 'A little bit of life' by Craig Morgan