Rodney seems perfectly suited to be an owl, as evinced by these pictures.
drabble ficlet; sga/animorphs
mcshep, established relationship.
sweet fluff, no redeeming qualities whatsoever.
Rodney as an owl wasn’t that different from Rodney as a human. His scientists found it amusing when Rodney first tried to run the labs with fluttering wings and chirps, but a nip from his sharp beak and one of those yellow-eyed, menacing stares straightened them right up.
“Much more effective,” Rodney liked to say gleefully.
John liked it when Rodney was an owl, because Rodney was gifted with flight. Though there were other birds, none fit Rodney quite as well as that particular one, and John loved it when they flew together, when Rodney let his owl instincts take control, allowing Rodney to feel the rush and pleasure of flight. Rodney got it now, and there were no words for how happy it made John that he could share one of his most favorite things with one of his most favorite people.
Rodney was not, however, any more inclined to like flying when he wasn’t in bird-form. But John was alright with that.
Being owls meant they were more free to be affectionate; they could pass it off as owl instincts, and there would be none the wiser. John took advantage of that new freedom, exchanging kisses with Rodney out in the open. It was weird to kiss with a beak -- not so much a kiss as rubbing his beak against Rodney’s feathers, feeling Rodney press closer. And Rodney would return the favor, press his beak just to the right of John’s eye, and besides some cuddling neither would ever admit to (or talk about), it was as affectionate as they got. Neither were good with emotions. Nudging each other with their shoulders, clapping each other on the back; these were the gestures of affection they liked.
Rodney liked John. He liked to lean against him, rub his head against John’s feathered chest. He also liked giving his practiced thousand yard glare on any being that attempted to get close, human or animal. John pretended to be oblivious, but he kind of liked it when Rodney got possessive. He liked feeling like he belonged to someone, that the person John loved wasn’t going to turn his back on them like so many others had before.
And John, of course, wouldn’t let anything near Rodney either. Rodney was curious, willing to push the envelope in the name of science, and it made John uneasy to think of people grabbing Rodney, holding him down, squeezing him, hurting him, however unintentionally. No, it was best that John protect Rodney from that, keep him safe from himself and others.
Ronon thought they were amusing, when he found them interesting enough to pay attention to. He was much more interested in learning to hunt. Teyla treated them with the same sort of long-suffering fondness they were used to from her, which did little to mitigate her unnerving ability to stare for long periods of time.
At some point, John knew they’d have to start training for missions, but for now, he was content to sit on the branch next to Rodney, watching Ronon’s attempts to swoop and dive and catch the Pegasus equivalent of field mice, with Teyla on the branch below, serene.