Disclaimer: Not mine.
Title: A Series of Wedded Events
Summary: Proposal, planning, and honeymoon in glimpses.
Rodney stood there, fidgeting, "Here. Don't answer now, I mean you don't have to but maybe in the future... If it's alright. We don't have to or anything but I thought..."
"Maple leaves?" John peaked an eyebrow.
"Well unless you've found away around the whole US-Gay-Marriage thing, we're getting married via my citizenship so yes, maple leaves."
"You've picked everything else. I'm deciding this. We do it in that nice room on the south pier with the huge windows and candle light." John argued, watching Rodney's face contort into a grimace of displeasure.
"Fine. Let's have a fire that kills us all." He stomped away and John reminded himself that he loved the bastard.
"And now they want to carry flowers..." Rodney huffed and glared before shoving himself into a seat.
Elizabeth grinned, "Yes, Rodney. We want to carry flowers. That's generally something that bridesmaids do. So pick something."
"You pick because you could carry lighters to add to my fiery death for all I care." He poked the magazine in front of him, "And I suppose you actually want to wear dresses."
"We have to give something. That's the idea of a wedding favor." John stated, staring at his fiance and trying not to add the word Bridezilla to his name. He picked up a magazine and showed it to Rodney, "That's nice."
"I am not giving out ugly jewelry at our wedding. Especially nothing so disgustingly commericalized as that."
"No. Just no!" Rodney crossed his arms and tapped his foot.
"Come on, Rodney. It'd be fun!" John smiled, trying to go for charming but falling short.
Rodney only deepened his glare and said, "It's a good thing you have that picture because you're definitely not getting any tonight."
John set the coffee cup down beside the magazine and snatched it away once Rodney took the first long sip.
"I was reading that!"
"Yes, and Elizabeth has been threatening to castrate you if you get any bitcher so drink your coffee and let's have sex so you'll calm the hell down," John told him and watched as Rodney finished the cup in record time.
Rodney sighed as he looked over at the pile of magazines, still pretty annoyed that he had to look at hundreds of pictures of brides to find the information he needed, and opened one at random.
A post-it note glared at him. John's scribbled "I love you" made him smile and Rodney hoped he could get in some time that night alone with John.
He flipped the page to find another. "I miss you," it read and he looked up at their closed bedroom door.
The plans could wait.
Carson took the box, popping it open to ensure that yes, both bands were still there before placing into a pocket inside his jacket.
Rodney paced in front of him, rubbing his temples and talking to himself.
Laura leaned over and whispered to Carson, "I think he's nervous. Did you bring the Dutch courage?"
"Of course." Carson smiled and produced a flask from his other pocket.
"Shove that in my face and see what happens, Sheppard." Rodney warned, holding John's wrist.
"I won't shove it in your face," he told Rodney, utterly serious and innocent looking, "I promise."
Rodney knew something was up when John lifted the piece of cake and smiled. Then smushed the entire piece into his crotch.
Rodney picked up the flute, grinning demonically at John who didn't know what was coming until Rodney had dumped the entire thing over his head.
The number of camera flashes that went off were enough to illuminate the entire hall.
Elizabeth told them later that it had been the best wedding she'd ever attended, even if Rodney had had cake on his crotch and John smelt of alcohol.
Rodney’s knuckles were white and taut, his eyes closed so tight it bordered on painful and John’s single glance at Rodney during take off had him a little worried. It was after the seatbelt light went off and the pilot declared they were at cruising altitude that John turned to his new husband, “You okay?”
Strangling out a noise, Rodney shook his head and let one hand reach to crush John’s left wrist. He never opened his eyes.
“Hey, relax.” But Rodney couldn’t and John pushed the armrest between them up, shuffling closer. He put one arm across Rodney’s shoulders then, “I didn’t know you didn’t like to fly.”
“Okay when it’s the ... jumpers.” He chanced a look to ensure no one was about to ask what they were talking about before continuing, “These things? Not so easy to be in.”
"I hate you." Rodney glared at him, crossing his arms and trying desperately to not be turned on by his uniform-clad husband.
John just grinned.
Rodney limped into their cabin, rubbing his thigh as he walked, "You're trying to kill me, aren't you? Do you want out of the marriage already because really a divorce is a lot easier than giving me a heartattack!"
"Come on, Rodney. We did what you wanted," John wheedled. They'd gotten into the hotel the night before and he was looking to get in some time surfing. If only he could get Rodney out of the room.
"No, we didn't do what I wanted. I wanted to stay locked in a cabin having sex for a week in every possible position in front of a fireplace, but you wanted to go do things." Rodney pouted.
"God, what happened to you? You're soaked to the bone." Rodney disappeared, returning a few seconds later with one of the large bath sheets.
"I went surfing, Rodney." John laughed.
Guiding John toward the rather large bathroom, he responded, "You're freezing. Are you trying to catch Pneumonia because if so I demand you wait until after we get back to Atlantis."
John wasn't entirely sure how Rodney managed it but by the time he'd gotten the upper part of his wet suit undone, Rodney had him up against the tile and really he wasn't going to try to get away.
Jeannie grinned at them, holding the baby in her arms up, "This is Isabel."
Rodney watched John's face as he reached for the tiny child, and swallowed. Well crap.
"She's adorable." John leaned against the couch, cooing at Isabel and smiling.
Rodney waited and Jeannie didn't disappoint. "She's much better than Rodney was. He screamed from the day he was born, literally. Doesn't seem to have stopped." She grinned at him and Rodney remembered why he avoided having children - inflicting his family on them would just be cruel.
“I wonder if they take donations,” John whispered to Rodney, looking at the huge scene with a smile. “We could gift them with some of that stuff Wex found.”
Rodney snorted and started to walk away. He knew John was just waiting to ask him about his time at Northwestern, but Rodney had consistently refused. He certainly was not going to share with his husband the trysts of yesteryear.
After all – the fact that he’d had sex in the dean’s office was for only for him to know.
John flipped over the phone in his hand, staring at it and back at Rodney sleeping in their bed. They’d been given two weeks leave and they’d used a week and a half of it to the fullest.
He wiped his thumb over the keys, stared at it, and contemplated. Rodney wanted him to do this and damnit, he could. He was a member of the Air Force. He could do this.
One key. A shrill noise. The rest followed and John lifted the phone to his ear. It rang twice and John swallowed around the ball in his throat, “Hi, Dad.”