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"Wow... It's finally over."
The look on John's face makes Rodney tilt his head to the side, questioning the unhappiness that suddenly instills itself over his usually even-keeled team leader. "Colonel?"
A couple of beats later, John leaves the memories of his past, and his attention rejoins Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon at their usual table in the mess. "Oh, um," John starts, pushing his feelings down deep while regaining what is to him, normality. "Don't Ask, Don't Tell was repealed. Finally." He looks around the table, meeting the eyes of his teammates. "Going to the President's desk next week. Things may...may change a bit around here."
"This is wonderful news, John," Teyla says evenly. After studying John, she cocks her head to the side and adds, "So why is it you still appear unhappy?"
Sheppard looks around, unaware of the emotions still displayed markedly across his face. Ronon looks at him through half-lidded eyes, and Rodney is posed with a forkful of meat-of-the-day hovering near his mouth. "It's... It's nothing. Really." He tries to push a little more, but he'd been through too much with his team. They knew him almost as well as he knew himself. Rodney's strong hand finds its way to his shoulder, while Teyla grasps one of John's hands. Ronon just nods, though the feeling implied was as warm as an embrace. "I, uhh...," he starts, but immediately follows up with, "I'm not so good at this."
Teyla squeezes his hand, while Rodney runs his hand up and down Sheppard's back, warmth radiating through the thin cotton of Sheppard's ever-present black tee shirt, all the while ignoring the boundaries of personal space as only Rodney can. "John?"
"I, uhh... I was once...involved. With a soldier." The break in his voice was barely noticeable. He looks around the table, eyes only greeted by the warmth of his friends. "He was umm," he steals a look at Rodney, "Canadian, actually." He watches a smile blaze across Rodney's face, eyes sparking back at him. "Part of the JTF Air Wing. That's how we met." John wipes at his eyes, unaware how powerful the memories coming back are. "We... We went on a joint recon once. Both took troops out in Hercules transports to a remote province. Had a couple'a days of just waiting to hear back, so we ended up spending a lot of time together at the base. Just spent time talking, getting to know each other. It's like we had this...this...connection, you know?" His team members nod back at him, and Rodney throws in an extra squeeze. "Anyway, we just...clicked. Spent as much time together as we could. I always requested those JTF recons, because I knew he'd be there."
"What was his name?" Ronon asks, voice barely a hint of the gruff it usually held.
"Sammy. Samuel Turenne." John fumbles with the pronunciation.
"Aah, Québécois," Rodney offers, pulling off the French pronunciation without a hitch.
"Oui," John spits out in his heaviest American drawl, quickly followed by a morose smile. "Anyway... It was the Military. You know, no privacy. No nothin'. We just had those recon 'weekends'. But we made the most of them. Or at least, you know, as much as you can in a war zone."
"What happened to him, John?" Teyla asks evenly.
"He, uhh..." John looks down at the table, hands fidgeting away from Teyla's. "We landed to pick up our soldiers after a recon. Well," he fights the crack in his voice, "there was some enemy fire following our guys... He. He didn't make it." Rodney's hand ventures from John's back to his thigh, offering a comforting squeeze. After a few seconds, he adds, "The connection Sammy and I had... I never had that with Nancy. I never felt that before. With anyone. And, uh... I haven't felt it since."
John feels Rodney's hand suddenly freeze and start to pull away, so he captures it with his own. "Well, maybe...once." He looks deep into Rodney's eyes. "Just once more." His eyes convey what his voice can't, and he feels Rodney turn his hand, fingers entangling with is own. Eyes locked, John leans forward and captures Rodney's mouth, planting a small, tentative kiss before he feels Rodney's hand at the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Tongues entwine with Rodney making mewling noises, which John recognizes as the same noise Rodney uses when they break into the secret stash of molten lava chocolate cakes the baker keeps for special occasions.
They ignore the world around them until they hear the clasp of Ronon's hands, followed with, "'Bout fucking time!", and they break apart, looking around the room sheepishly.
Leaning together, forehead to forehead, John gazes into the blue pools of Rodney's eyes. "Yeah, buddy," he offers back to Ronon, "it sure is." He stands, oblivious to the rest of the room, then pulls Rodney up. After capturing Rodney's mouth one last time, he takes Rodney's hand in his and leads them out of the cafeteria.