Work Text:
"Hey," John says, looking up from his newest stash of comic books. "Ready for that celebratory drink?"
One look at Rodney's serious, slightly pained look, John realized the plan hadn't gone as expected.
"Oh jeez, I'm sorry. She's an idiot." John tosses the latest issue of CIVIL WAR onto the pile and swings his legs off the bed. "You need something stronger than beer, c'mon."
"What, um, no." Rodney's brows draw together and then he shakes his head, almost like he shakes the cobwebs away. "No, she didn't say no. Well, she did. Sort-of. But it was only after I said no first."
"What?"
Rodney sinks down in the chair, looking less lost and more like a man who'd reached his level of exhaustion and then took two more laps.
"I realized, when I thought I was dying, that I'm not ready for this. Jeannie put the thought in my head and it seemed like a good idea, all the evidence was there, but--" Rodney sighs and John sits on the foot rest next to him. "It would've been a mistake."
The room is silent for a few minutes, and while they can hear the breeze, the breaking of the waves against Atlantis, John chews on his bottom lip and thinks of what he could say.
"C'mon," he says finally, touching Rodney's knee--a little longer than a pat, not quite resting his hand there. "Let's go get a late dinner, and maybe a drink. I'll even let you win at golf."
The look that flashes over Rodney's face lets John know that Rodney's going to be okay. That they're going to be okay.
End.