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"Ha!" says Rodney, stalking into the kitchen from his office, brandishing a print-out. "Ha!"
It's almost eleven at night, the dishes are finally done, and John's just finished uncapping a beer. "Ha?" he asks when Rodney doesn't offer more information.
Rodney grins. "Wanna go to Polk County and get married?"
"Polk County?" John says, grimacing in the manner of a man who thinks people who live west of Tama County are pretty much out of their minds.
"And get married?" Rodney repeats, waving the paper he's holding. "I should've known I could count on you to miss the important part of what I was saying in favor of indulging in round four-hundred-and-twenty-seven of your own, personal Iowa grudge match." He tilts his chin. "And I quite liked that coffee shop on – "
"Ingersoll."
"Right, right, so the whole of Polk County cannot be doomed, because I need to be able to go to – "
"Zanzibar's."
"Exactly, whenever I'm forced to go to Des Moines for any reason whatsoever." Rodney nods. "We are not nuking Des Moines."
John sighs and sips from his beer. "Fine. So you – " He gestures for the papers.
"Oh! Right – well, see – " Rodney hands them over and grins gleefully, rocking back onto his heels. "Judge – something something, I forget his name, not important, anyway, he says it's unconstitutional for the state to deny same-sex partners marriage licenses. Which I could have told him if anyone had asked, I mean, what does equal protection of the law mean if not – "
John skims the newspaper article Rodney's printed out. "Today?"
" – a means for . . . what? Yes, yes just now, actually, a few minutes ago. Didn't you hear the shrieks of a thousand agonized conservatives? Sense their astral mourning?"
John eyes Rodney warily. "Did you just say 'astral mourning'?"
Rodney rolls his eyes. "I'm open to other explanations for – " he waves a hand " – phenomena when it suits me."
"Okay." John nods and takes another pull from his beer. "Says here they're going to appeal."
"Well of course they're going to appeal, because they're – "
"And try and get an injuction in the meantime."
" – assholes with no imagination. Do you know it's $93.50 for a marriage license in Polk County? They're sitting on a fortune but apparently can't feel all the shiny, shiny quarters beneath their asses for the seven layers of their preternaturally bunched-up underwear and – "
John grins. "It's pretty cool, though."
Rodney grinds to a halt, blinks as if sorting out what's cool (and hoping it's not bunched up underwear) then grins right back. "Yeah."
"It's cool and – " John tilts his head. "Did you just propose?"
Rodney frowns. "Did I – did I – what? With the – huh?"
"I think you just proposed," John says, arching an eyebrow.
Rodney takes a step backwards. "Well. If I did it was – purely – you know. Fueled by my rampant hatred for unfounded prejudice and legal shenanigans of the – "
"Shenanigans?" John repeats, setting his beer on the table and matching Rodney's step back with a step forward of his own. "You just proposed," he says with a smirk.
Rodney huffs as his back hits the wall. "Well. I can't think why. Since you're being a jerk about it."
John just keeps on smiling, presses his palms to the wall on either side of Rodney's shoulders. "I think it's more you haven't shut up long enough to hear my answer."
"Oh?" Rodney asks, looking a little unhinged.
John shrugs. "I could have you stick around," he says.
"You could – " Rodney's face lights up, then he narrows his eyes. "You are a jackass. What kind of 'yes' is that?" he asks, smacking John on the arm. "I propose to you with all new judicial opinion . . . "
"Were they all out of rings?" John teases.
"And you," Rodney says, smacking him on the arm again, "just slouch there in all your, your, you lean-middled glory and – "
"Yes, Rodney," John grins.
"Hmm?" Rodney manages, eyes big.
"I'm saying yes."
Rodney blinks a couple of times and when he grins it's wide and goofy and god help him, John thinks it's charming. "You said yes!" Rodney whispers, as if he's confiding a secret.
John laughs and kisses him, gathers in all of that big ole smile that he can. "We should probably hold off, though," he murmurs as he pulls back and peppers Rodney's jaw with kisses.
"On what?" Rodney asks, slipping his hands into the back pockets of John's threadbare jeans.
"On setting a date."
"Until the administration changes?"
"Until the assholes get through with their appeal."
Rodney tips his head back so that John can keep kissing his neck. "I don't see why. Protest weddings are all the rage. We could ask Mrs Gunderson to dress up as Lady Liberty. Jim can be Abe Lincoln – I'm pretty sure he'd free the gays if he were still around – and Ronon can be, can be – oh! He can be Plato! The Greeks enjoyed their man love. And Finn can be Underdog and Merrie can be Abigail Adams – "
"She's two," John reminds him, coming up to kiss his nose.
"But she has the ringlets," Rodney says seriously.
John laughs and noses Rodney's ear. "As if I could say no to you," he chuckles.
Rodney wriggles happily. "This is brilliant, really, it's so brilliant. Can we have engaged sex now? We've never had engaged sex before."
John pulls away and reaches for his beer again. "Do you reckon it's better than the regular living-together, father-of-two sex?"
Rodney grins. "Won't know until we try, will we?" He steals John's beer right out of his hand and makes a beeline for the stairs. "Last one there's a – a – physicist from the University of California Irvine who will remain nameless!" he calls.
John looks around his kitchen, where it seems all the paradigm-shifting events of his life seem to unfold, and grabs another beer from the fridge. "Engaged," he says, laughing at himself. "God help us." And he follows.