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“Do you miss it?”
John doesn’t answer right away. He keeps looking up at the sky in a distant, unblinking sort of way. A long piece of grass hangs from his lips, his back resting against the solidity of the tree trunk behind him.
His shrug is typical John— non-verbal, non-committal.
Rodney almost doesn’t press. His head is resting in John’s lap, John’s thumb is brushing idly against his collarbone. The sky is blue and clear above them, the sun warm but not uncomfortable. It feels, honestly, like perfection. Why mess with it?
Not this had ever been his idea of perfection, anymore than it was John’s. Lounging in a meadow? For what was now an indeterminate amount of time? No. The old Rodney would have seen this as a moronic waste of productive hours. Moreover, even if the old Rodney had been game to try, he’d have been such a fidgety mess within 5 minutes, he’d have had to get up and do something. Even if all he could do was pace and work on his latest theory in his own head. Something that had happened all too often on diplomatic off-world missions until one of his teammates threatened various levels of bodily harm unless he sat down (“right the hell now” - John).
As if it was his fault that his brain worked at the speed of light — ideas, connections, innovations, solutions — all coming to him, all the time, no matter where he was or what he was doing. And, that wasn’t all that was going on up there. Oh no. There was the portion dedicated to worry, analyzing all the ways things could go wrong all the time. Of course, there was also all of his observations (“complaints” - Ronon), trivia, wit, etc., taking up what little mental space was left. His brain was busy. He was busy. So sue him if pacing helped. Also, how was he supposed to dump all of that out of his brain and just be… still? Improbable. Impossible. Or had been.
Life had been a lot different since the evacuation, since the Stargate had become inert.
Just as there wasn’t a lot of call for flying puddle jumpers that had no way of being re-charged (emergencies only), there wasn’t a lot of call for astrophysics on a brand new colony with nothing but the technology they’d been able to bring with them. New things, things old Rodney would never have imagined for himself, kept him busy — tilling the earth, building shelters, sanitizing water — until his mind was the most empty and still that it had ever been. Clear enough to finally see things he’d missed on Atlantis— John’s smiles and smirks that were for him alone, John’s teasing that was so obviously flirting, John’s eyes on him all the time.
“Sure. I miss it. Sometimes.”
“But?” It sounded like there was a but.
“But I have other things now. Things I didn’t have then.” The thumb that had been brushing Rodney’s collarbone moves up, brushes his cheekbone instead. Warmth having nothing to do with the sun unfurls in his chest.
“‘Other things,’ huh? Rodney-shaped things perhaps?”
John rolls his eyes in that theatrical way of his, but doesn’t stop cupping his cheek. “Yes, dumbass.”
Rodney sniffs. “Oh the sweet things you say to me. The romance! I’m overwhelmed! Watch while I faint like a southern belle from your pretty words.”
That gets him launched off John’s lap, something he almost protests, but very quickly John is on top of him, a comfortable, familiar weight pressing him into the soft grass.
“I’ll have you know I meant dumbass very affectionately.”
“Oh yes, it’s one of the universally acknowledged terms of endearment. Right up there between baby and darling.”
John adopts a falsetto. “Oh my darling, Rodney.” He drops lilting tone. “Better?”
“Yes, baby.”
John’s nose crinkles adorably. “Can we agree pet names are not our thing?”
“Unless they’re ‘dumbass’?”
“Yes. Obviously.”
“Fine. Kiss me dumbass.”
John grins one of those grins that are for Rodney alone. “Don’t mind if I do.”
The kiss is soft. Sweet. Slow. Gentle. Unhurried. Things they have time for without an ancient city constantly breaking down, without off-world missions going awry, without enemies trying to kill them every week.
They’ve lost some things. Yes. Things that were important to them both, but they’ve gain so much they didn’t have before.
He’s glad John sees it too.