Clown Hugs

"I still can't figure out where the clown came from," Rodney said, bending his arms a little, letting the rail beneath his hands take more of his weight. The ocean in front of them looked like every other ocean Rodney had ever seen, but he could still feel the difference. This ocean wasn't home yet.

"That was me," John said. He was standing next to Rodney, hands on the rail, close but not too close, just like always.

"You have a fear of clowns?" Rodney asked, surprise in his voice. It seemed so--normal.

John shrugged. "Everyone's afraid of something."

That was true enough. "Like hugging."

"You're afraid of hugging?"

Rodney shook his head. "No, no, you're afraid of hugging."

"I am not afraid of hugging," John said, glaring at Rodney, but it looked forced, at least to Rodney's Sheppard-trained eye.

"If you say so," Rodney replied, throwing in a single-shoulder shrug just to be annoying. He'd learned from the best, after all.

"Why in the world would you think I'm afraid of hugging?" John pointed at him. "I hugged Teyla just yesterday."

"Let me guess, it was after Kate died and she initiated it."

"Still counts."

"Right." Letting go the rail, Rodney took a step back. It was always like this, like it had been in the dream. They'd fight for each other, nearly die for each other, and when it was over, when it was just the two of them, alive and staring at one another, they'd find a way to step to the side instead of forward. It wasn't just John. Rodney did it, too.

He was doing it now. "I should get back to the lab." He had started to turn when John's hand wrapped around his wrist.

"We can," John said, looking over Rodney's shoulder. "If you want."

Of all the brave things he'd seen John do, this had to be in the top ten, maybe the top five. Because John didn't reach out, not like this, and Rodney didn't reach back.

Except he was.

He took a step closer, lifting his free arm. John let go of his wrist, and stepped toward him, arms going around Rodney's waist. Settling his own arms around John's shoulders, Rodney stood there. He could feel John's torso touching his, John's arms holding him as tentatively as Rodney was holding him.

"See?" John said quietly, "Not afraid."

Rodney laughed, because they so were, and John knew it, too. "Yeah, well, next time I'm wearing an orange wig."

Answering Rodney's laugh with his own, John tightened his grip a little. Rodney did, too, and he could feel the laughter vibrating in John's chest and belly.

With a last squeeze, he let go.

And made a mental note to get a clown wig.