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It’s silly, really. The bug thing didn’t even happen to him. It happened adjacently to him, but not to him. Rodney leaned his head back against the railing. He’d found this balcony his first week in the city, with its weird ancient rails that were great headrests for looking up and quiet because no one had been on this level. Yet. He took another swig of beer, a cheap IPA that had reached its Drink By date a few weeks ago. Still …
Hand vampires.
Shadow monsters.
Iratus bugs.
Pegasus was like a Wes Craven and John Carpenter nightmare, some part of him regretted walking through the gate but the stupider and bigger part wanted to see what else this galaxy had. He looked up at the Lantean sky and tried to imagine which of those shining dots had Stargates, and which of those Stargates led to the next death trap. Which of those Stargates led to the Ancients, or ZPMs, or the next wonder. He hadn’t mapped them out yet, but he would.
“Aren’t I supposed to be the one moping?” Sheppard asked from the doorway, words coming slow. He tapped Rodney's foot with his own until Rodney looked down and over. When everything spun and closed his eyes and winked one open. Apparently cheap, old IPA also made you really drunk, really fast.
“You look awful,” he mumbled, then looked both eyes back up at those stars. He couldn’t look at John right now. He couldn’t look at the bandage that covered the major's neck and shoulder. He couldn’t see the too pale skin. He couldn’t see the patch of blood that had dried on his collar. He hated the red scrubs Carson insisted they now wear when it was life threatening; he hated that they’d been in Pegasus for less than a month and they had “life threatening scrubs”. He hated thinking back to that half-jumper and imagining himself on the other side of the horizon and unable to help. He hated being back there and imagining himself not figuring it out in time. He hated —
“Yeah,” Sheppard nodded from beside him, hip to hip. Rodney would probably later deny he leaned into the heat between them. “That’s what I’ve been told.”
They sat for a moment, looking up at the stars. Rodney snuck a glance at John then back up.
“I hate it too.” John said quietly.
Rodney groaned and realized he’d spoken out loud, then finished his beer and took the one John was trying to open. “You can’t have that. You’re,” he gestured, “in a life threatening situation. Did Carson even release you?”
John rolled his eyes, grabbed a second beer, opened it, then drank deeply. He leaned his head against the railing and looked up. “How many more planets do you think have bugs?”
Rodney opened his mouth to answer then swallowed it when John’s fingers brushed along side his.
“None that we’re going to,” Rodney answered after too long of a moment. He glanced down, slid his finger alongside John’s, then looked back up.
He knew they’d face the Wraith again, how could they not? But he swore to himself that they wouldn’t be going to anymore planets with bugs. Or shadow monsters. There was a cool breeze around them, one of the reasons he liked this balcony, but he leaned in to the warmth between them.
“I’ll always be on this side of the horizon, Major,” he slurred and thumped his head against the railing.
“Yeah, McKay. I know.”