Warnings: anytime post-"Angelus" in the Ancient!John 'verse
Summary: A lazy morning
Notes: I wanted a last drabble before I left - I leave tomorrow morning, but I'll post what I have of the next bit of "Angelus" tonight, so I'll fill in the details there. Anyway, a nice, kinda sweet, kinda ominous one before I go.
An Ancient!John Drabble
"let me be empty / and weightless and maybe / I'll find some peace tonight / in the arms of the angel."
Sarah Mclachlan "Angel"
He knows that something is wrong.
It's easy to pretend that nothing's wrong. That nothing's changed. That he's still the same man he was before he Ascended.
But he's not. How could he be? He is a hurricane disguised as a man. His flesh is a façade, formed of light and just a fragile. If ever that flesh were to fall away and even a sliver of the power contained in him were to escape-
-well, there's no imagining the consequences. Elizabeta has already paid them.
He'd told her it would be a bad idea to trust him.
But it's easy to pretend. The knowledge, the information, the understanding – it's all beyond mortal understanding. So long as he pretends to be mortal, it's beyond his understanding as well.
And he can pretend.
It's easiest in moments like these, on their rare lazy mornings when they're allowed to sleep until the sunlight starts to filter into their bedroom, as soft and sleepy as they are. When Rodney's drifting on the edge of wakefulness and Iohannes is in a trance-like state from meditating that vaguely resembles sleep. When he can burrow into Rodney's side, head pillowed on his chest or buried in his neck, and pretend that he really is mortal, that he's really just waking from a dream of doing just this; that they really can do this for the rest of their lives and have it mean something.
It's so easy to forget the truth in moments like these, when he wakes Rodney with soft kisses on whatever expanse of bare skin he can reach without moving too far. When he can lazily kiss and touch and explore until Rodney wakes enough to whisper, "Morning," before meeting his mouth with his own and turning Iohannes' sleepy kisses into ones of languid intent. When nothing else matters but lips and hands and desire, and the fate of the universe isn't in balance.
That's not why he does it, of course. Iohannes loves Rodney. He wants to be with him for the rest of the Terran's life, however long he can make it, and genuinely fears what he'll do the day Rodney actually dies. He wants to make a life with him – a family even, if it were somehow possible. But even he has to admit it's a nice side effect.
He never quite manges to forget, though. Not completely. Not one hundred percent. And even during these quiet, stolen moments, Iohannes can't help but remember something is wrong with him. Something has changed. He doesn't know exactly what, but it's true. He just hopes to all the Descendants' false gods that nobody – especially Rodney – ever sees it.