“You heard me.”
Rodney just stared. He couldn’t help it.
“You’re— You’re telling me this now?” he spluttered. John shrugged.
“Better late than never?” he said with a weak smile.
“You’re an idiot,” Rodney said, shaking his head incredulously. “Life or death situation, and what does he do?” he asked the empty air above them. “Like I need anything else to distract me right now!”
John stepped closer. “Distract you from… what, exactly? We’re trapped in a cave, your instruments don’t work, and we have no idea whether Ronon and Teyla heard the collapse,” he said slowly.
“Oh, perfect.” Rodney backed up a step, sagging into the wall opposite the impressive pile of rocks that covered the entrance. “Perfect,” he said again, gesturing around at the dimly lit room. “I suppose next you’ll tell me those flares only last fifteen minutes?”
“Not panicking was what I didn’t want to be distracted from, in case you’re still wondering,” Rodney groaned.
“I don’t see what’s so panic-worthy about it,” John said, sounding a little hurt. “Besides, I kind of thought that would be the distraction.”
“Wait, so you’re taking it back? Oh no no no no no. No way, Sheppard,” Rodney said, waving his hand indignantly. “You can’t just say something like that and—mmmphhhh!”
John tasted like dust and powerbar and something vaguely bittersweet that Rodney didn’t recognize until it occurred to him that it might just be John himself. By the time he realized that one of the flares had gone out, Rodney had a hand fisted in John’s shirt and his head was swimming as he sought out that sweetness in the corner of John’s mouth, against his tongue, along the swell of his lower lip. John had one hand at the small of his back and the other was, god, touching his face so tenderly that Rodney had trouble catching his breath.
“So you’re okay with it, then?” John asked when they finally pulled apart. His voice held more than a small amount of amusement, and his eyes sparkled in the stuttering light of the remaining flare.
“Of course I am, don’t be stupid,” Rodney said automatically. “You’re not the one who’s been harboring inappropriate feelings about his best friend for the past year and a half!”
“Oh, my god, you really are brain damaged,” Rodney said, gaping. “How long have you been denying me sex with your repression and your cleverly-disguised feelings of—mmmmphh!”
“Long enough,” John said decisively, many minutes later.
“Long what?” Rodney asked against his throat, having completely forgotten what they’d been talking about. He supposed he should get around to freaking out at some point, given that their last light had extinguished itself and they only had one radio, not that it would work anyway, but he just couldn’t get up the indignation, not when John was…
“So, um. Me, too,” Rodney said as an afterthought.
“I know,” John said smugly.
“Who are you, Han Solo? I was trying to—mmpphhhh!”
Rodney gave up and pulled John closer, adding ‘get a kiss in edgewise’ to his list of things to do the next time he had the energy and inclination to care.