I'd like a scene with the Master and the Doctor standing on the deck of the Valiant, kissing or leaning on one another or just otherwise being close. It's raining or there is other precipitation--I'm not sure how high up the Valiant is, so it's possible that rather than actual precipitation they're standing inside a cloud. You can choose. It's sunset or sunrise, which we can see, meaning that it's not very heavy precipitation. (I haven't written any of it, but it's something I thought of today?)

But if you don't want to do Master/Doctor, here is a McShep prompt, from (well, all that I've written) of a story in which when they were in college, John sometimes posed for human figure drawing classes, and Rodney took one, only they didn't realize until they'd been in Atlantis for a while:

"I remember you, you know."

"...Yeah?"

"Sitting exactly like you are now, only the sun wasn't orange, and it was a little lower on the horizon."

"I don't remember that."

"It was years ago. You had that absurdly floppy hair and a constantly harassed expression, like old ladies had been hitting on you."

He propped himself up. The grass cushioned his elbow. "You didn't know me years ago."

"But you admit you had absurd hair!"

"It was the eighties. Everyone had big hair."

"Yours was like a Pekingnese. Like you had a dog on your head. Only darker."

John frowned. "Seriously, Rodney, what are you talking about?

~

...he can feel their pencils tracing him, touching him, the long caresses, the short, rough strokes, running down the curve of his back over and over, a hundred times, a thousand.

...Charcoal is rough, and pastel is soft, cray-pas, rich. When John goes around looking at their easels, the first thing he notices is their hands, the way graphite can be worked into the skin until it shines, the sharp relief where the folds between knuckles collect silvery-gray powder and rubs it smooth.