"I hate sand," John says mournfully, staring across the road at the beach.
"You've been sayin' that a lot lately," Rodney comments. He shades his eyes with one hand and squints at the Pacific. The Pacific winks in the sunlight, or at least it seems that way to John.
"Yeah, I know." He'll cross it to get to the pier and the ocean, but that doesn't mean he has to like it. It still reminds him of the Gobi, even after all this time.
At least he's not asking why they didn't go to Canada instead. They don't know anyone in Canada. But they know folks in LA.
Well, knew, anyway.
John sighs. Rodney puts his hand low on John's back, a brief comforting touch, and they cross the road. John looks both ways out of habit. The chances of a car coming by are infinitestimal, but he can't stop himself.
He feels better and much more settled once they reach the wharf. He likes the beach, it's just the sand he can't stand.
(posted here because i originally wrote it as a comment fic for
merditha, but the post is flocked. and this way i can link to it from the master sticky post o' fic and stick it in memories. :D i am nothing if not a completist that way.)