#i think if carson ever asked rodney to go fishing with him rodney would get flashbacks have a panic attack and promise that he would go

[botanicallyinclinednerd]

A lot of things kill me about Rodney and his character development, but one of the things that devastates me the most is how determined Rodney is to be a good friend to clone Carson. He clearly still feels guilt about Carson's death and feels like he wasn't a good friend the first time around, but for fucks sake, he going to do it it right this time.

[ragingpancake]

Ancients bless you for writing McShep. ♥️ I would LOVE to read something about John finding out Rodney plays piano o.o ... And maybe Rodney finds out John plays guitar O.O ... And m a y b e they start playing together 🥺🥺🥺 Or really anything involving them and their respective instruments; it can go wherever you want. ♥️

A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay on this! Thank you so very much for sending me this prompt! I hope you enjoy it! There are a lot of things he thinks he’d rather be doing at two am. Sleep, for one thing, because it’s been a long few days and while the bed the SGC had offered him at Cheyenne Mountain wasn’t as comfortable as the child sized bed he’d grown used to in Atlantis, it served the purpose well enough. But it’s not just the Pegasus Galaxy that hates them and so here he is, driving down the familiar streets of Fort Carson on his way back to the rundown bar he’d left most of his people at about four hours earlier. He’s annoyed, but he also understands: the memorial service for Carson had been rough, his loss felt more acutely somehow here on Earth than it had been on Atlantis and so despite the fact that the bartender had to call him to round up his group of misfits and herd them back to the base, he won’t be too hard on them. Pulling into the bar parking lot, he parks the borrowed car and climbs out, and even from here, he can hear the noise coming from inside and there are a lot of things he expects to find, but as he pulls the door open and steps inside, this is… one hundred percent not one of those things. “Sing us a song you're the piano man

Sing us a song tonight

Well we're all in the mood for a melody

And you've got us feelin' alright

Now John at the bar is a friend of mine—" Rodney spots him now and from his place at the piano, he falters, hitting the wrong keys in his haste to stand and wave, grinning broadly. “Hey! My buddy John! John! Hey! Come here!” John can tell, even from the doorway, that Rodney is completely wasted. His cheeks are flushed, eyes glazed, and Evan Lorne behind him isn’t in any better shape. The only one who appears to not be completely obliterated is Ronon, who’s leaning against the bar with an amused look on his face. John nods in his direction and walks over, never pulling his eyes from Rodney as he sinks back down onto the piano bench, resuming his rousingrendition of Piano Man while the left over stragglers in the bar hoot and holler, clearly enjoying the performance. “How long’s it been like this?” He asks Ronon. “Since ‘bout an hour after you left.” “Why didn’t you call me?” John asks and the look he gives the Satedan isn’t the most charitable. Ronon is not phased, merely shrugging one shoulder. “I dunno. Seems like he probably needed it. He’s had a hard time of it.” John can’t argue that. Out of everyone on Atlantis, he thinks Rodney was probably the closest to Carson. For all the ways they bickered and fought, there was a true friendship there, probably one of the most genuine friendships that Rodney’s ever had. Losing Carson was hard. He leans against the bar beside Ronon, arms crossed over his chest as he just watches, letting Rodney finish up and for the first time since the memorial, John really looks at him; he kind of wants to kick his own ass for not seeing it before, the weight of Rodney’s grief and guilt. Shit. “Yeah,” John sighs finally, making his way up to the bar stage before Rodney can be coerced into an encore performance. He supposes Rodney did need this. “Alright, buddy. C’mon. Time to go.” “But, but, but! John—” “Bar’s closing, pal. C’mon.” For a second, John thinks he’s going to have to enlist Ronon’s help in getting Rodney out, but it’s easy enough to manhandle him on his own, leaving Ronon to Lorne. --- The ride back to Cheyenne Mountain is mostly uneventful. Lorne passes out in the back seat, drooling on Ronon’s shoulder, while Rodney rambles incessantly about putting in an official request to bring a piano back to Atlantis, waxing poetic about all of the benefitsof music in regards to mental health. John placates him, promising he’ll make the request for the next Dedalus run and it seems to be good enough for Rodney who gives him a brilliant crooked smile. John hadn’t realized, until this moment, how long it’s actually seen since the last time he saw Rodney smile a real, genuine smile. Even though he knows it won’t last for much longer.

--- By the time they make it back to the mountain, it’s nearing 4am. Once again, Ronon takes Lorne, leaving John with Rodney and it’s easy enough to usher him back to John’s own quarters so he can keep an eye on him. Rodney’s gone quiet now and John imagines that the alcohol is starting to wear off, the feelings that Rodney had been trying so hard to suppress, creeping back in. “This isn’ my room,” Rodney slurs, and John shrugs. “I can take you there if you want. Just figured it’d be easier to keep an eye on you here.” “Oh,” Rodney says and not for the first time that night, John finds himself surprised by the scientist. He’d been gearing up for a fight, truthfully. Instead, Rodney trudges over to the bed and sits down, nearly pitching forward before John grips his shoulder, keeping him from toppling over. “Easy. I got ya.” And something shifts on Rodney’s face then. Here it comes, John thinks. “I should’a had Carson,” he says, voice strangely tight. “Fishing. We were supposed to go fishing. He wouldn’t have been in the city if I hadn’t—” “—Rodney,” John says, voice gentle. “You cannot go down this road, buddy. You know that. What happened to Carson is not your fault. You’re smart enough to know that.” “Maybe,” he says and he lets John guide him back down against the mattress. “But I should have gone. He was, he was a good friend, you know? So are you. Better than I deserve. So much better.” “That’s not true either,” and it’s these moments that the little cracks in Rodney are visible, the self-loathing thickening the air until it’s almost hard to breathe. “You’re a good guy, Rodney. A pain in the ass, sure, but you’re good. That’s why Carson liked you so much. He knew that. Even if you’re always trying to make sure no one actually sees you.” But they do. John does. He always has. “You gotta get some sleep, alright? We’re heading back tomorrow.” “Yeah,” Rodney agrees. “Yeah. ‘m tired. You should, you should sleep too.” “Don’t worry about me, buddy. Just get some sleep, alright? I’ll be here when you wake up.” And that’s all Rodney needs to close his eyes, the alcohol making it easier to drift into much needed sleep, leaving John to his own thoughts. There’s no point in sleeping now, he thinks. They’re due to Gate out in a few hours, so rather than even try, he reaches for the guitar he’d brought back with him, settling back into the chair across from the bed. He plucks the strings slowly, some long forgotten melody filling the quiet of the room as he watches Rodney sleep. They’ve lost a lot of people. Ford. Griffin. Abrams. Gall. Carson. Each of them have left their mark on all of them, carved into their hearts, their minds. John has spent so much time not letting himself feel, but tonight, it hits him all at once and for a moment, he can’t even breathe. They’ve lost. They keep losing and one day, he has no delusions about losing Rodney too, whether out in the field or to someone better than him, someone like Katie Brown. They have a finite amount of time, and it’s never been as clear to him before as it is now. Rodney is going to spend the rest of his life regretting not going on that damn fishing trip; John will regret not ordering Carson to stand down. It adds to the laundry list of all his other regrets, and he doesn’t think he has room for anymore. He knows what he must do. He settles back, strumming again against the strings, eyes never leaving Rodney’s face. Tomorrow, he decides. Tomorrow, when Rodney’s sobered up, when they’re back home on Atlantis, John will tell him. Maybe they can help each other navigate through the hurt, the loss, and for once… for once, they can deal with what they’re feeling together instead of alone. It���s at least worth a try.