Every Little Thing
Title: Every Little Thing
Author: Cesare (almostnever)
Word count: ~3200
Ratings/Warnings: SFW. This story should be safe for people with triggers.
Contains: Past Jennifer/Rodney.
Summary: John anticipated a lot of possibilities for disaster when Rodney invited John to his sister's place for his first Christmas after the breakup with Jennifer. Getting drafted into playing a plastic guitar wasn't one of them.
*
John anticipated a lot of possibilities for disaster when Rodney invited John to his sister's place for his first Christmas after the breakup with Jennifer.
Getting drafted into playing a plastic guitar wasn't one of them.
"Can we do "Ghostbusters" again Uncle John? Please please?" Hopping up and down with a toy microphone in her hand, Madison was big trouble in a little Santa hat.
"Sure, squirt," John answered with his best we're-peaceful-explorers smile.
Madison squealed and began shuffling through game menus. John looked around, but there was no sign of the other adults. The Millers disappeared right after Rodney awkwardly volunteered to look after Maddy, and ten minutes after that, Jennifer called and Rodney vanished with the phone. That was fourteen songs ago.
John wondered if he had time to run and sneak a Tylenol, but Maddy could line up songs in her game so fast that John barely had time to blink, let alone get the guitar strap over his head, disentangle from the cords and visit the restroom.
"If there's something strange! In your neighborhood!" Maddy caroled, while John gamely stabbed at the slick colorful keys on the neck of the guitar.
The sad thing was, he'd asked for it. When Maddy started waving around her Lego Rock Band game, John hadn't waited for Rodney to start in about the guitar in John's quarters; he reached for the Fender-shaped controller all on his own.
What he'd since learned was that moderate skill with an acoustic guitar gave him zero advantage when it came to hitting the right buttons at the right time on a guitar-shaped video game controller. The game didn't use musical notation, much to Rodney's disgust. Instead, color-coded Lego blocks slid down the screen to tell John where to put his fingers. And he only knew a handful of the songs.
Even when he knew the guitar riffs, the game reduced everything to five keys and left out some of the notes, confusing him. John was consistently getting scores around ninety percent, which was pretty tragic in a game meant for eight-year-olds.
It could be worse. Madison was taking piano lessons and could hold a tune, and she was clearly having a ball. John would probably be enjoying this if Rodney were still around to question the song selections and make fun of John for moving his hips to the beat of "Walking on Sunshine."
Or even if John just knew why Rodney and Jennifer broke up, if he just knew whether they were likely to get together again... maybe then he could relax.
He was grateful Maddy was such a cheerful kid and so excited to have someone playing her game with her that she barely looked away from the screen. "I want to do this one, can we do this one?"
John resettled his shoulders, trying to force them down, find his slouch again. "You bet," he smiled at her, and his headache eased up a little when she beamed back at him.
At least someone was glad he was here. Rodney invited him, and even insisted when John tried to turn it down with vague noises about seeing Dave (yeah, no) or joining Teyla and Kanaan and Torren and Woolsey on their trip to Spain and France (and he was honestly glad that Teyla's family had bonded with Woolsey over his delight at playing tour guide and showing them Earth, but again... no.)
Then Jeannie phoned him and warmly commanded him to join them, and John stupidly bought into the comfortable feeling of inclusion and agreed to come.
But once they arrived at the Millers', Rodney kept scurrying off to pull Jeannie aside for low-voiced conferences. He didn't go so far as to avoid John, but he managed not to spend much time alone with him.
Through everything over the years, he and John had maintained the same easy, snappish rapport. But for a stretch of their friendship, their public sniping had been counterbalanced by private, quiet, halting conversations, usually under the influence of a couple of beers. Those went away when Rodney got serious about Jennifer, and it seemed like they were never coming back.
John realized with a sinking feeling that Jeannie must have insisted on inviting John thinking that Rodney needed the company. But Rodney obviously would rather John wasn't around.
It sucked, especially because John started the trip in a great mood. Atlantis had been on Earth way too long. Rodney polished up his wormhole drive well enough to send some F-302s and finally the General Hammond and the Daedalus to Pegasus. Teyla and her family had been back and forth four times now, on top of the team's two extended trips, going on offworld missions using the Alpha site as a base. That meant they didn't leave their allies hanging, but it also gave the bureaucrats an excuse to hem and haw over sending Atlantis itself back.
Eventually some committee somewhere issued a report on the benefits and drawbacks of keeping Atlantis parked in the Pacific and recommended that the city return to Pegasus. The city would leave Earth on March 1st, 2011. Everyone who was reupping to the expedition would be returning after the holidays, and John had been happy to see that even after so long, nearly two-thirds of the old crew were coming back.
The vote ending Don't Ask, Don't Tell was John's more private cause for celebration. He didn't see himself coming out any time soon, but it was progress, and a relief to know the people who came after him wouldn't have to make the same kind of compromises, eventually. They'd make different compromises, but there was reason to hope they'd be better ones.
John had every reason to be content, fumbling his way through the end of "Kung Fu Fighting" while Madison bounced joyfully around him.
Maybe if Rodney would get off the goddamn phone.
"I don't know this one's words so I'm going to switch to drums, okay Uncle John?" said Madison, picking "Summer of '69".
"Okay," he agreed, shuffling aside so she could see the screen from behind the toy drum kit. Rodney picked it off her wishlist as her Christmas gift; John suspected Rodney had been hoping the drums would be a nuisance, but the patter of the sticks against the pads never got that loud no matter how hard Maddy pounded.
Once the song was playing, John wished for more noise. He barely knew this one, or so he thought, but as he pressed the keys and followed along, he remembered driving around in his first car, the radio blaring unheard while he simmered with everything he and his father weren't saying to each other about John's plans for college.
He must have heard this song a hundred times that summer without ever really listening to it, but here it was in his head unlocking all those memories, like the control chair lighting up for his ATA gene.
He was pretty sure this song played at Mitch's wedding reception, too. He could almost see Mitch and Kelly turning around the dance floor, careless to the music, wrapped up in each other.
Standing on your mama's porch, you told me that you'd wait forever... He was horrified to realize he was kind of choking up.
John focused harder on the little Lego bricks floating by, hating this. He didn't even have this kind of reaction to songs he liked.
Naturally that was when Rodney finally decided to show up again, strolling into the room tossing the cordless phone from hand to hand. He looked cheerier. Maybe they'd reconciled. John's fingers slipped on the keys, ruining the end of the song.
"Seventy-four percent," said Rodney when the scores came up. "You know this is a kid's game, right?"
Sure. Bring it, he thought, and finally ducked out from under the guitar strap. "Guess that means it's your turn."
"Look, I have a philosophical objections to a game that purports to simulate the experience of playing music without even offering the option of viewing the notes on a staff in proper notation," Rodney tried to back away, but John firmly saddled him with the guitar.
"That's okay, Uncle Mer!" said Madison. "I'm done playing now! Oh but if you wanna go more Uncle John, here's the microphone and if you move these levers you can make the drums go higher so you can play them too."
"Thanks, Maddy," said John as she handed him the drumsticks and sped off yelling "I NEED COOKIES!"
Surprisingly the mention of cookies didn't lure Rodney to follow right away. "Did you want to keep going?" he asked, mock solicitous. "I'm sure you want a chance to sing Bon Jovi. I noticed when you played it with Madison earlier you were mouthing the words."
"Everybody knows Bon Jovi," John shrugged.
"Oh, I think there's more to it than that," said Rodney smugly. "I suspect a secret hair metal-loving past."
"You're the one who had REO Speedwagon hair back in the day." The photos Jeannie showed him had some truly frightening hair on evidence, but also the heartache of seeing Rodney when he was young and pretty and held himself like he suspected anyone who got close was planning to shove him into a locker.
John was amazed all over again that he and Rodney ever managed to become friends, remembering the way Rodney eyed him at first with that same kind of suspicion, like John was just waiting to yell Psych! and dump his books.
But here they were. It hadn't been easy. It took another galaxy to do it.
And maybe this galaxy would undo it. The paperwork had been crossing John's desk for a while now, and he knew by heart which of the Atlantis veterans were coming back with them. Keller's name wasn't on that list. If she was staying, if she and Rodney got back together...
"Ha ha. It's not as if I had it on purpose," Rodney was saying, busily switching off all the game paraphernalia and the home theater system. "I just happened to have more important things on my mind than constantly getting it cut."
"Constantly, huh?"
Rodney waved him off.
John couldn't help tensing at the sound of a car rolling up next to the house, even though he knew it was almost definitely Jeannie and Kaleb coming back. Rodney gave him a rueful look of understanding.
"I miss the thigh holsters," he said.
"No kidding."
"Especially yours," Rodney added, going to the door.
Jeannie came in, nose and cheeks pink, happy. "Thank you so much, you guys," she said, standing aside as Kaleb carried in a bag of groceries. "Was she a total monster?"
"She wore John out with her fake music game. Ooh, cream cheese," he spotted. "We could make cream cheese frosting to put on the rest of the sugar cookies."
"Mer! Those cookies are already frosted!"
The Millers had hardly put away their groceries before they were right back back out the door, this time with Madison in tow. "We'll be back around nine," said Jeannie. "Thanks again. You know how it is, we just had to get out of the house."
Once they were gone, John found himself standing with Rodney in the dining room, both of them a little stunned at the sheer quiet. They'd arrived just before Christmas and now it was after New Year's; it was the longest period of time John had spent around civilians in years, and the Millers' house always seemed vibrant and haphazard compared to Atlantis. There might be a crisis every week, there might be danger and chaos, but the crew quarters were utterly soundproofed.
"Sit," said Rodney, pointing toward the living room. "I'll make eggnog."
John sat on the sofa, a little dubious; there was eggnog already in the fridge, so "making" it just meant mixing in the brandy. Sure enough, when Rodney handed him a cup, John barely tasted it before his tongue went numb. "Jesus, Rodney," he said, "I could light this on fire!"
Right on cue, Rodney's chin went up, but he seemed almost to remind himself to relax; he smiled a little, nervous but real, and clinked his glass against John's. "We'll be back on duty before you know it. Might as well seize the day."
"This smells like about three days' worth of seizing," John said, but he drank. After the first bracing hit, it tasted all right. And after a few more swallows, he was ready to ask, "How'd it go on the phone with the doc?"
Rodney chuckled. It was such a rare sound that John's head jerked up; generally the best anyone ever got out of Rodney was a huff of acknowledgment that they'd said something that might be viewed as nominally amusing.
"Sorry," Rodney said. Somewhere in there, Keller had taught him that apologizing didn't always mean accepting blame, and Rodney had been doling it out a lot more frequently since. "This, ah, isn't my first of these... or my second."
John took another belt of eggnog-tinted brandy. "Something to celebrate?"
Rodney exhaled softly and let his head fall. John looked over, startled to see Rodney still smiling, looking as relaxed as John had ever seen him. Brandy, who knew. Rodney turned his head and aimed the smile at him directly. "I can't believe I ever thought you were hard to read."
"Okay...?"
"I think it's those faces you make," Rodney went on thoughtfully. "All those quick fake-looking little expressions you have. It's like dazzle camouflage. Even if something real does show on your face, it's easy to write off as another one of your bizarre facial contortions."
What the hell. "You got me, Rodney. That's why I do an hour of face yoga every day. That was definitely my plan."
"I wouldn't put it past you," said Rodney. "Except maybe the part about having a plan." He straightened, leaning back against the sofa cushions. "Jennifer decided she wants to come back to Atlantis when we finally get off this rock. We had a talk about our working relationship."
John nodded. He leaned back too; the universe was off-kilter if Rodney looked more relaxed than he did. "It's good she's coming back," he offered. "She learned to handle herself pretty well."
"Please. Will you just ask already?" Rodney complained. "No, we're not getting back together."
"Not really my business," John said. "But, uh, sorry. About that."
Rodney snorted, but quickly turned it into a cough. John had to shake his head at the tiny attempt to be considerate.
Finishing off his drink, Rodney said, "Ah, okay, I... wanted to ask you something."
John's perverse streak made him want to wonder aloud if it was the "don't ask" kind of asking, though the question itself would be an answer even if that wasn't anything like what Rodney meant to ask him. And anyway... he smiled a little, remembering: there was no "don't ask" asking anymore.
"I was wondering," said Rodney, "if the recent legislation changes anything."
Oh. Huh. "Not immediately," John said. "For now, people can still be separated under section 654 of title 10. There's going to be some slow-grinding gears moving to get benefits and pensions updated. It might take another year before the new policies go into effect."
Rodney made a dissatisfied noise.
"Yeah, well. Bureaucracy," John said. "Why do anything slow when you can do it really slow?"
"No-- well, yes, also that, but no," Rodney foundered. "I was-- I meant, does it change anything for you."
John had plenty of practice at shrugging off much more pointed questions and remarks along those lines, but hearing it from Rodney made him tighten up all over, even as it made his whole body feel a little lighter.
"Ask me in a year," he said finally.
"Okay," said Rodney. "So while that one's on hold, here's another." He hesitated longer for this one. "Does the fact that I'm single again change anything...?"
John looked around the room. Icicles from the tree matted in the carpet, the plastic guitar tilted against the end table, the drum set in the middle of the floor... he'd imagined this moment in dozens of ways and he'd never pictured anything like this.
"Yeah," he said, looking down into his empty-- oh hey, how'd that happen?-- cup.
"All right," Rodney said. "Um. So... ask again in a year?"
John shook his head blindly and leaned against him, hoping, and when he turned his head Rodney was there.
It was the shallowest grade-school kiss, lips barely brushing, but everything else could come later; this was exactly what he wanted right now, a gesture of recognition and affection, finally, finally, finally.
They separated, and Rodney ducked his head. John had never seen his uneven mouth slant up quite like that before: happily.
"Thank goodness we finally got that settled," said Rodney. "I've been telling myself on a yearly basis that I'm over you and it was seriously starting to wear thin."
"Good," John said. He extended one finger to touch Rodney's sleeve. Just that was enough to give him a sense of hope he'd almost forgotten he could feel.
"Of course I wouldn't use words like 'at first sight' or anything," said Rodney. "But they might possibly be applicable."
"Along with words like 'lust' and 'horny'?" John suggested, holding back a laugh.
Rodney bumped shoulders with him, throwing him an elbow, but as always he couldn't quite bring himself to lie. "Fine, yes," he said, affronted. "Those words also apply."
Rodney being Rodney, he could probably lay out love flat on the table if he decided to go there. The indirectness was probably for John's sake, and there was a lump in his throat John was firmly identifying as appreciation for that.
Somehow he found himself getting words past it. "You have to know," his voice sounded awful, destroyed, "that I would do anything for you."
"Yeah," Rodney answered. He moved his hand so that their fingertips touched and looked there, stroking John's fingers, until John pulled himself together.
"Anything. Except more Lego Rock Band," he said. "Madison made me play "Ghostbusters" with her four times."
"Does that mean you're not going to serenade me with Bon Jovi?"
John felt light and warm with relief, coming out the other side of the moment he'd waited so long for, and finding this familiar territory waiting for him.
"Well," he said seriously, "You do give love a bad name."
"More of a clumsy-but-means-well name, going by my last two exes," Rodney sighed. He looked at John with none of the usual mugging and eyerolling between them, a level gaze. "It is that, for me, you know."
"It's Bon Jovi for you?" John couldn't help himself. Being happy might actually make him more of a dick.
"Yes," Rodney said, all exasperation, but he looked happy too. "You asshole. It's Bon Jovi for me."
"Hey, me too," John couldn't stop grinning. "Rock on."
Author: Cesare (almostnever)
Word count: ~3200
Ratings/Warnings: SFW. This story should be safe for people with triggers.
Contains: Past Jennifer/Rodney.
Summary: John anticipated a lot of possibilities for disaster when Rodney invited John to his sister's place for his first Christmas after the breakup with Jennifer. Getting drafted into playing a plastic guitar wasn't one of them.
*
John anticipated a lot of possibilities for disaster when Rodney invited John to his sister's place for his first Christmas after the breakup with Jennifer.
Getting drafted into playing a plastic guitar wasn't one of them.
"Can we do "Ghostbusters" again Uncle John? Please please?" Hopping up and down with a toy microphone in her hand, Madison was big trouble in a little Santa hat.
"Sure, squirt," John answered with his best we're-peaceful-explorers smile.
Madison squealed and began shuffling through game menus. John looked around, but there was no sign of the other adults. The Millers disappeared right after Rodney awkwardly volunteered to look after Maddy, and ten minutes after that, Jennifer called and Rodney vanished with the phone. That was fourteen songs ago.
John wondered if he had time to run and sneak a Tylenol, but Maddy could line up songs in her game so fast that John barely had time to blink, let alone get the guitar strap over his head, disentangle from the cords and visit the restroom.
"If there's something strange! In your neighborhood!" Maddy caroled, while John gamely stabbed at the slick colorful keys on the neck of the guitar.
The sad thing was, he'd asked for it. When Maddy started waving around her Lego Rock Band game, John hadn't waited for Rodney to start in about the guitar in John's quarters; he reached for the Fender-shaped controller all on his own.
What he'd since learned was that moderate skill with an acoustic guitar gave him zero advantage when it came to hitting the right buttons at the right time on a guitar-shaped video game controller. The game didn't use musical notation, much to Rodney's disgust. Instead, color-coded Lego blocks slid down the screen to tell John where to put his fingers. And he only knew a handful of the songs.
Even when he knew the guitar riffs, the game reduced everything to five keys and left out some of the notes, confusing him. John was consistently getting scores around ninety percent, which was pretty tragic in a game meant for eight-year-olds.
It could be worse. Madison was taking piano lessons and could hold a tune, and she was clearly having a ball. John would probably be enjoying this if Rodney were still around to question the song selections and make fun of John for moving his hips to the beat of "Walking on Sunshine."
Or even if John just knew why Rodney and Jennifer broke up, if he just knew whether they were likely to get together again... maybe then he could relax.
He was grateful Maddy was such a cheerful kid and so excited to have someone playing her game with her that she barely looked away from the screen. "I want to do this one, can we do this one?"
John resettled his shoulders, trying to force them down, find his slouch again. "You bet," he smiled at her, and his headache eased up a little when she beamed back at him.
At least someone was glad he was here. Rodney invited him, and even insisted when John tried to turn it down with vague noises about seeing Dave (yeah, no) or joining Teyla and Kanaan and Torren and Woolsey on their trip to Spain and France (and he was honestly glad that Teyla's family had bonded with Woolsey over his delight at playing tour guide and showing them Earth, but again... no.)
Then Jeannie phoned him and warmly commanded him to join them, and John stupidly bought into the comfortable feeling of inclusion and agreed to come.
But once they arrived at the Millers', Rodney kept scurrying off to pull Jeannie aside for low-voiced conferences. He didn't go so far as to avoid John, but he managed not to spend much time alone with him.
Through everything over the years, he and John had maintained the same easy, snappish rapport. But for a stretch of their friendship, their public sniping had been counterbalanced by private, quiet, halting conversations, usually under the influence of a couple of beers. Those went away when Rodney got serious about Jennifer, and it seemed like they were never coming back.
John realized with a sinking feeling that Jeannie must have insisted on inviting John thinking that Rodney needed the company. But Rodney obviously would rather John wasn't around.
It sucked, especially because John started the trip in a great mood. Atlantis had been on Earth way too long. Rodney polished up his wormhole drive well enough to send some F-302s and finally the General Hammond and the Daedalus to Pegasus. Teyla and her family had been back and forth four times now, on top of the team's two extended trips, going on offworld missions using the Alpha site as a base. That meant they didn't leave their allies hanging, but it also gave the bureaucrats an excuse to hem and haw over sending Atlantis itself back.
Eventually some committee somewhere issued a report on the benefits and drawbacks of keeping Atlantis parked in the Pacific and recommended that the city return to Pegasus. The city would leave Earth on March 1st, 2011. Everyone who was reupping to the expedition would be returning after the holidays, and John had been happy to see that even after so long, nearly two-thirds of the old crew were coming back.
The vote ending Don't Ask, Don't Tell was John's more private cause for celebration. He didn't see himself coming out any time soon, but it was progress, and a relief to know the people who came after him wouldn't have to make the same kind of compromises, eventually. They'd make different compromises, but there was reason to hope they'd be better ones.
John had every reason to be content, fumbling his way through the end of "Kung Fu Fighting" while Madison bounced joyfully around him.
Maybe if Rodney would get off the goddamn phone.
"I don't know this one's words so I'm going to switch to drums, okay Uncle John?" said Madison, picking "Summer of '69".
"Okay," he agreed, shuffling aside so she could see the screen from behind the toy drum kit. Rodney picked it off her wishlist as her Christmas gift; John suspected Rodney had been hoping the drums would be a nuisance, but the patter of the sticks against the pads never got that loud no matter how hard Maddy pounded.
Once the song was playing, John wished for more noise. He barely knew this one, or so he thought, but as he pressed the keys and followed along, he remembered driving around in his first car, the radio blaring unheard while he simmered with everything he and his father weren't saying to each other about John's plans for college.
He must have heard this song a hundred times that summer without ever really listening to it, but here it was in his head unlocking all those memories, like the control chair lighting up for his ATA gene.
He was pretty sure this song played at Mitch's wedding reception, too. He could almost see Mitch and Kelly turning around the dance floor, careless to the music, wrapped up in each other.
Standing on your mama's porch, you told me that you'd wait forever... He was horrified to realize he was kind of choking up.
John focused harder on the little Lego bricks floating by, hating this. He didn't even have this kind of reaction to songs he liked.
Naturally that was when Rodney finally decided to show up again, strolling into the room tossing the cordless phone from hand to hand. He looked cheerier. Maybe they'd reconciled. John's fingers slipped on the keys, ruining the end of the song.
"Seventy-four percent," said Rodney when the scores came up. "You know this is a kid's game, right?"
Sure. Bring it, he thought, and finally ducked out from under the guitar strap. "Guess that means it's your turn."
"Look, I have a philosophical objections to a game that purports to simulate the experience of playing music without even offering the option of viewing the notes on a staff in proper notation," Rodney tried to back away, but John firmly saddled him with the guitar.
"That's okay, Uncle Mer!" said Madison. "I'm done playing now! Oh but if you wanna go more Uncle John, here's the microphone and if you move these levers you can make the drums go higher so you can play them too."
"Thanks, Maddy," said John as she handed him the drumsticks and sped off yelling "I NEED COOKIES!"
Surprisingly the mention of cookies didn't lure Rodney to follow right away. "Did you want to keep going?" he asked, mock solicitous. "I'm sure you want a chance to sing Bon Jovi. I noticed when you played it with Madison earlier you were mouthing the words."
"Everybody knows Bon Jovi," John shrugged.
"Oh, I think there's more to it than that," said Rodney smugly. "I suspect a secret hair metal-loving past."
"You're the one who had REO Speedwagon hair back in the day." The photos Jeannie showed him had some truly frightening hair on evidence, but also the heartache of seeing Rodney when he was young and pretty and held himself like he suspected anyone who got close was planning to shove him into a locker.
John was amazed all over again that he and Rodney ever managed to become friends, remembering the way Rodney eyed him at first with that same kind of suspicion, like John was just waiting to yell Psych! and dump his books.
But here they were. It hadn't been easy. It took another galaxy to do it.
And maybe this galaxy would undo it. The paperwork had been crossing John's desk for a while now, and he knew by heart which of the Atlantis veterans were coming back with them. Keller's name wasn't on that list. If she was staying, if she and Rodney got back together...
"Ha ha. It's not as if I had it on purpose," Rodney was saying, busily switching off all the game paraphernalia and the home theater system. "I just happened to have more important things on my mind than constantly getting it cut."
"Constantly, huh?"
Rodney waved him off.
John couldn't help tensing at the sound of a car rolling up next to the house, even though he knew it was almost definitely Jeannie and Kaleb coming back. Rodney gave him a rueful look of understanding.
"I miss the thigh holsters," he said.
"No kidding."
"Especially yours," Rodney added, going to the door.
Jeannie came in, nose and cheeks pink, happy. "Thank you so much, you guys," she said, standing aside as Kaleb carried in a bag of groceries. "Was she a total monster?"
"She wore John out with her fake music game. Ooh, cream cheese," he spotted. "We could make cream cheese frosting to put on the rest of the sugar cookies."
"Mer! Those cookies are already frosted!"
The Millers had hardly put away their groceries before they were right back back out the door, this time with Madison in tow. "We'll be back around nine," said Jeannie. "Thanks again. You know how it is, we just had to get out of the house."
Once they were gone, John found himself standing with Rodney in the dining room, both of them a little stunned at the sheer quiet. They'd arrived just before Christmas and now it was after New Year's; it was the longest period of time John had spent around civilians in years, and the Millers' house always seemed vibrant and haphazard compared to Atlantis. There might be a crisis every week, there might be danger and chaos, but the crew quarters were utterly soundproofed.
"Sit," said Rodney, pointing toward the living room. "I'll make eggnog."
John sat on the sofa, a little dubious; there was eggnog already in the fridge, so "making" it just meant mixing in the brandy. Sure enough, when Rodney handed him a cup, John barely tasted it before his tongue went numb. "Jesus, Rodney," he said, "I could light this on fire!"
Right on cue, Rodney's chin went up, but he seemed almost to remind himself to relax; he smiled a little, nervous but real, and clinked his glass against John's. "We'll be back on duty before you know it. Might as well seize the day."
"This smells like about three days' worth of seizing," John said, but he drank. After the first bracing hit, it tasted all right. And after a few more swallows, he was ready to ask, "How'd it go on the phone with the doc?"
Rodney chuckled. It was such a rare sound that John's head jerked up; generally the best anyone ever got out of Rodney was a huff of acknowledgment that they'd said something that might be viewed as nominally amusing.
"Sorry," Rodney said. Somewhere in there, Keller had taught him that apologizing didn't always mean accepting blame, and Rodney had been doling it out a lot more frequently since. "This, ah, isn't my first of these... or my second."
John took another belt of eggnog-tinted brandy. "Something to celebrate?"
Rodney exhaled softly and let his head fall. John looked over, startled to see Rodney still smiling, looking as relaxed as John had ever seen him. Brandy, who knew. Rodney turned his head and aimed the smile at him directly. "I can't believe I ever thought you were hard to read."
"Okay...?"
"I think it's those faces you make," Rodney went on thoughtfully. "All those quick fake-looking little expressions you have. It's like dazzle camouflage. Even if something real does show on your face, it's easy to write off as another one of your bizarre facial contortions."
What the hell. "You got me, Rodney. That's why I do an hour of face yoga every day. That was definitely my plan."
"I wouldn't put it past you," said Rodney. "Except maybe the part about having a plan." He straightened, leaning back against the sofa cushions. "Jennifer decided she wants to come back to Atlantis when we finally get off this rock. We had a talk about our working relationship."
John nodded. He leaned back too; the universe was off-kilter if Rodney looked more relaxed than he did. "It's good she's coming back," he offered. "She learned to handle herself pretty well."
"Please. Will you just ask already?" Rodney complained. "No, we're not getting back together."
"Not really my business," John said. "But, uh, sorry. About that."
Rodney snorted, but quickly turned it into a cough. John had to shake his head at the tiny attempt to be considerate.
Finishing off his drink, Rodney said, "Ah, okay, I... wanted to ask you something."
John's perverse streak made him want to wonder aloud if it was the "don't ask" kind of asking, though the question itself would be an answer even if that wasn't anything like what Rodney meant to ask him. And anyway... he smiled a little, remembering: there was no "don't ask" asking anymore.
"I was wondering," said Rodney, "if the recent legislation changes anything."
Oh. Huh. "Not immediately," John said. "For now, people can still be separated under section 654 of title 10. There's going to be some slow-grinding gears moving to get benefits and pensions updated. It might take another year before the new policies go into effect."
Rodney made a dissatisfied noise.
"Yeah, well. Bureaucracy," John said. "Why do anything slow when you can do it really slow?"
"No-- well, yes, also that, but no," Rodney foundered. "I was-- I meant, does it change anything for you."
John had plenty of practice at shrugging off much more pointed questions and remarks along those lines, but hearing it from Rodney made him tighten up all over, even as it made his whole body feel a little lighter.
"Ask me in a year," he said finally.
"Okay," said Rodney. "So while that one's on hold, here's another." He hesitated longer for this one. "Does the fact that I'm single again change anything...?"
John looked around the room. Icicles from the tree matted in the carpet, the plastic guitar tilted against the end table, the drum set in the middle of the floor... he'd imagined this moment in dozens of ways and he'd never pictured anything like this.
"Yeah," he said, looking down into his empty-- oh hey, how'd that happen?-- cup.
"All right," Rodney said. "Um. So... ask again in a year?"
John shook his head blindly and leaned against him, hoping, and when he turned his head Rodney was there.
It was the shallowest grade-school kiss, lips barely brushing, but everything else could come later; this was exactly what he wanted right now, a gesture of recognition and affection, finally, finally, finally.
They separated, and Rodney ducked his head. John had never seen his uneven mouth slant up quite like that before: happily.
"Thank goodness we finally got that settled," said Rodney. "I've been telling myself on a yearly basis that I'm over you and it was seriously starting to wear thin."
"Good," John said. He extended one finger to touch Rodney's sleeve. Just that was enough to give him a sense of hope he'd almost forgotten he could feel.
"Of course I wouldn't use words like 'at first sight' or anything," said Rodney. "But they might possibly be applicable."
"Along with words like 'lust' and 'horny'?" John suggested, holding back a laugh.
Rodney bumped shoulders with him, throwing him an elbow, but as always he couldn't quite bring himself to lie. "Fine, yes," he said, affronted. "Those words also apply."
Rodney being Rodney, he could probably lay out love flat on the table if he decided to go there. The indirectness was probably for John's sake, and there was a lump in his throat John was firmly identifying as appreciation for that.
Somehow he found himself getting words past it. "You have to know," his voice sounded awful, destroyed, "that I would do anything for you."
"Yeah," Rodney answered. He moved his hand so that their fingertips touched and looked there, stroking John's fingers, until John pulled himself together.
"Anything. Except more Lego Rock Band," he said. "Madison made me play "Ghostbusters" with her four times."
"Does that mean you're not going to serenade me with Bon Jovi?"
John felt light and warm with relief, coming out the other side of the moment he'd waited so long for, and finding this familiar territory waiting for him.
"Well," he said seriously, "You do give love a bad name."
"More of a clumsy-but-means-well name, going by my last two exes," Rodney sighed. He looked at John with none of the usual mugging and eyerolling between them, a level gaze. "It is that, for me, you know."
"It's Bon Jovi for you?" John couldn't help himself. Being happy might actually make him more of a dick.
"Yes," Rodney said, all exasperation, but he looked happy too. "You asshole. It's Bon Jovi for me."
"Hey, me too," John couldn't stop grinning. "Rock on."