The pressure is insistent, edging John further and further away from the world of dreams and into the more present and immediate world of oh god, I gotta get up. He's there now, just on the other side of that twilight, in the tiny space between being aware – he can hear the faint rumble of Rodney's snores – and actually opening his eyes, where just a few seconds can mean the difference in wakefulness and falling back to sleep.
In this space, he senses the pressure even more. It's not painful, exactly, it's just there. From somewhere – the part of him that's already preparing for the day – the command goes out for his eyelids to raise. John blinks time and time again to focus.
Rodney's beside him, his hair sticking up in little tufts here and there, skirting John's side of the pillow. John smoothes it down with his chin before planting a soft kiss on the top of Rodney's head. That's when he feels the pressure again.
Looking down, Rodney's knee is pressed into his belly; his knee! How on earth does Rodney have enough room on the bed to get his knee... oh. It's then that John notices Rodney's arm around his waist; and good thing too. He glances over his shoulder but doesn't dare move, because if he does he'll be on the floor.
He tries nudging Rodney a little, not wanting to wake him, but that does no good. Next, he tries just shifting over – maybe Rodney will somehow magically shift with him – but that doesn't work either. In fact, that just presses the knee harder into John's stomach. He tries to push Rodney's knee away, but it just comes right back and John just stares at it.
He leans in close to whisper in Rodney's ear, to wake him just enough to move. Rodney takes longer to come out of that space between waking and eye opening than anyone John's ever seen, but he knows Rodney's brain is working even if his eyes aren't.
He smiles at the relaxed face next to him. Hell, he bets Rodney could run formulas or dictate dissertations before actually opening his eyes.
"Rodney?" John says again, a little louder, rocking his shoulder a little. "You're taking up the whole bed... get your knee out of my stomach."
There's a big whooshing sound as Rodney drags in a deep breath. "Mmmmm... need more room," he mumbles. "...y'don't, y're skinny... hmmmm."
"C'mon, Rodney, move. My ass is hanging off the bed."
Rodney's eyelid flutters a little. Slowly, he lowers his knee, but still has his arm around John. "Nnghh... when Woody an' Buzz L'tyear sleep t'gether... don't think Woody gets biggest share of the bed, d'ya..."
John stares in open bemusement as Rodney rolls over on his back, arm flailing and hanging off the other side of the bed. "Okaaay, so that would make you..."
"Buzzzz." Rodney breathes the word lazily out into the air and smacks his other hand into John's chest. "Y're... Woody, not much room," he rambles before turning over onto his side, finally giving John some space.
John grins fondly at Rodney's back, pulling up the covers that his shifting has displaced. "Oh and you think Woody and Buzz..."
Rodney's hand rises in a limp, half-hearted attempt at making a point. "Mmmmm... th're so doin' it." His hand falls back against the bed and then there's nothing but the low drone of his breathing.
John inches closer and slings his leg over Rodney's hip, reaching around to pull him close; his very own life-sized Buzz Lightyear. He nuzzles into the warm, sleepy scent of Rodney's bare skin and has to rethink that whole dissertation thing.
What's more, he makes a mental note not to let Teyla and Torren make the choice for movie night for a while.
Summary: He tries nudging Rodney a little, not wanting to wake him, but that does no good.