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John is woken up up by a hissing whisper rather close to his ear that slices through his hangover-ridden brain like a knife, and he should probably give Rodney points for trying, but stealthy, he is not. But at least he is making an effort, and John's hangover is thanking him for it, at least a little, because Rodney's normal voice is not exactly kind to headaches.
"I don't know. I woke up and he was there, in my room, drunk, babbling, not making sense... what should I do?"
John guesses he's talking to Teyla, as she is the one Rodney usually goes to the rare times he actually makes an effort to find out what goes on in other people's brains. Generally he is of the opinion that if he, being a genius, doesn't get it immediately, it's not worth knowing, at least where humans and their emotions are concerned. In Rodney's opinion, people have mouths, and apart from food input, those mouths shall be used to complain. He's leading by example.
But it's no secret John isn't exactly the chattiest person around (that would be Rodney). On any given day, Rodney uses as many words as John uses in a week, and John already has a hard time telling Carson that his belly hurts, because that fruit the friendly natives gave them? Not too friendly to his indigestion. Talking about emotions is pretty much out of the question.
Unless he is drunk (if he believed in the existence of god, he would suspect being a chatty drunk were his punishment for something), which is why he usually tries to not go any further than pleasantly buzzed.
But Rodney is chatty not merely because he likes to hear himself talk; he's serially bad with people, and he sort of expects people to be bad with him back, so he makes sure to inform everyone within listening vicinity about what is going on with him. He is, surprisingly, discrete when necessary, but ever since John upgraded from "best friend" to "significant other", any filters he seemed to have had (that John wasn't even aware of until they were gone) dissolved, and he thenceforth informed John about everything and anything that was going on with him. That not only includes the stuff John got told before, perceived and actual health issues and complains about morons et cetera, but now also the full landscape of Rodney's emotions. At the beginning it had made him very uncomfortable, until he had learned that not only did Rodney not expect a response, he actually got confused if John gave one. "It's not like you can actually do anything about it," he had said one day, wearing a puzzled expression. In the next breath, he had unravelled a story about one of his ex-girlfriends who had taken him to a couples counselling session once, in which he had been informed he should express his emotions freely. Rodney had apparently interpreted that as an official permission to talk about everything. Then he had said, in the naked way he had taken up speaking to John, "This right now makes me really insecure, you know. Do you want me to stop doing that? I mean I probably should've figured, and now that you mentioned it" - John had done nothing of the kind - "I realise this probably makes you uncomfortable, doesn't it? You have a real problem talking about what is going on with you, I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier, I could write a journal or something instead-"
"No!", John had quickly interrupted, having long learned that, to get in a word with Rodney, one had to break in into his steady flow of sentences. Rodney acted like it was normal to be interrupted, which, to him, it probably was. "I, you know, like it. When you talk. About stuff. I just don't know what you expect from me." (With that he had completely exhausted his reservoir for talking about sensitive stuff for at least a week.)
Rodney just shook his head, looking bemused, said "I love you, you know," explained that listening was about all he expected from John and then launched into a tale about something or other, nothing of significance.
Thing is, after he got used to it, John really started to appreciate Rodney's openness, because it gives him the advantage of knowing what's going on without having to guess first, and then he can simply do whatever is necessary to make Rodney feel better. Having been only with people who didn't outright say what was bothering them, John really appreciates this, and he's well-aware that this is one of the reasons their relationship works so well, despite some issues. There's no guessing involved and no hurt feelings because John doesn't simply know whatever the fuck he did wrong, much less what to do to make it better. Sometimes Rodney even gives him instructions or pointers, like "If you continue not touching me after sex I'm going to become insecure that you're only using me for sex" when John had fallen asleep immediately after three times in a row. He's pretty damn lucky, he knows, because if it weren't for Rodney's openness, they would fight a lot more.
Thing is, knowing first-hand that being open and talking about things makes everything better and easier doesn't actually help him express himself better. It's always been a problem, in all his relationships and the reason for more than one break-up, his divorce included, but this is the first time it really fucking bothers John. Not just because he feels terribly selfish next to Rodney, because he does make Rodney having to intuit more often than not (not being Rodney keeping on guessing until John nods), but also because this is pretty much the first time he wants to be able to say things because he wants to, not because he's being asked to. His previous partners had tried to make it easier for him, asking supporting questions or giving him openings to express himself, but that had only made it harder. Rodney, in contrast, doesn't seem to expect anything from him he isn't able to give on his own; he makes it easy by listening patiently and not making a big deal out of it when John does manage to say something intimate, but he never says "I need this from you" or otherwise makes John feel like he's failing in some aspect.
Controversially, this is what makes John want it, want to be able to talk about his feelings, if not effortlessly, then at least with less problems than before.
The last straw had been, though, when he had realised that he and Rodney had been together for over a year now and he had never even told Rodney that he loved him. He had managed to tell Rodney on some occasions that he was his favourite something (genius, scientist, movie critic), but never actually those three words. Rodney says them to him frequently, and John has barely gotten used to admitting his feelings to himself, even though he knows they had been there for a long time before they even got together.
So, yesterday evening he had gotten as drunk as possible while still remaining coherent and then explained to Rodney in detail what he meant to him (he might have said something about how he loved Rodney like Rodney loved coffee, maybe, at least in the sense that he was happier getting up in the morning knowing there'd be Rodney soon; he really did get rambly when he was inebriated enough). He has vague memories of Rodney staring at him with wide eyes while he blathered something about chocolate and how he wants to spend the rest of his life making Rodney happy, and it makes him want to groan and hide under his pillow, but he has a pounding in his head that makes all moving unwise, and also he thinks that, if he didn't manage to tell Rodney these things while sober, he could at least have the balls to look him in the eye afterwards.
"I fell asleep again," Rodney whispers, sounding embarrassed. "He got all cuddly all of a sudden and made me lie down and then he started to hum and I was tired." John doesn't remember that part – he probably was more drunk than he had thought, which is maybe a good thing. At least he hadn't started to sing, he's moderately sure of that. He usually goes through the singing phase before he starts being rambly, so it doesn't seem likely, thankfully.
Rodney listens to whatever Teyla has to say, then suddenly turns, saying "No, he looks- awake." Rodney blinks and John just knows his face must be as red as a tomato now, but he doesn't look away, and Rodney swallows and says, "I'll call you back," taking his radio off without waiting for a reply.
"So," Rodney says. John doesn't say anything, because he has no idea what he should say; he's never going to apologise for the previous evening, but he is seriously incapable of saying anything of emotional significance right now. Not to mention that, even if he weren't, he has no idea what he could say.
"Uhm. I thought perhaps you had eaten something weird that made you all clingy and talkative, except we weren't on any missions yesterday and nobody would give you anything to eat they hadn't tested first, so I called Teyla to ask if any of the Athosians gave you a gift or something, but she says they didn't."
"Nope." John licks his dry lips. His voice his rough, and he needs some water, but if he gets up now he might start pretending it never happened and hate himself while doing it. He'd rather not do that. "That's me, drunk. I'm sort of always like this, it's why I try not to get drunk. Ever."
"Oh. Uhm." Rodney shifts a little closer. "So what was that? Why did you get drunk? Did anything happen?"
John licks his lips again, fumbling for words. Seems like he has to dig up whatever is left of his Dutch courage to at least explain. "No, just. I realised I've never said it and you say it all the time and. I wanted to say it but I can't, so."
"So you got drunk," Rodney supplies, and John nods. "You know, I did mean it when I said you don't have to say it, or really anything that you're not comfortable saying."
"I'm not comfortable not saying it." John says it quickly, frowning slightly and distracting himself by trying to calculate the the missile trajectory of a jumper in a slingshot. "I'm more uncomfortable not saying it than I was saying it." It's actually true, and even now, he's less uncomfortable than he had been not having said it. He actually feels better now, calmer.
Rodney shifts even closer, completely disregarding any morning breath (and John's mouth tastes like something died in there), and doesn't say anything at all. But he's smiling.