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Rodney doesn’t think about it. He can’t. Not while he’s buried under the rubble with Lorne, and not out in the jumper with Sam. Relief hits him hard when Marks confirms Ronon and John’s signal, but he can’t do anything about it. Teyla’s still out there, the Wraith ship is still firing on them—there’s still too much to do. He can’t even justify slipping off to the infirmary, not before he’s got Teyla back.
Ronon catches him, in the rear of the jumper, pushes him against the bulkhead and kisses him, hands up, bracketing his face, breathing life and frustration and relief into him. Rodney kisses back, muscles them around to get Ronon up against the wall instead, puts everything he can into it before pulling away, his hands still wound in the front of Ronon’s shirt.
“Knew you’d make it,” Ronon says, his smile soft and genuine, despite everything.
There’s no way Rodney’s about to admit he’d nearly given up hope, so he kisses Ronon again, feels the heat of him, the steadiness of his breathing, the beat of his heart.
“Get a room,” John says as he stalks past them. His hand catches on Rodney’s shoulder, though, and he squeezes. His grip is weaker than it should be, gone before Rodney can turn around.
“Hey,” Rodney says, grabbing John’s arm.
John winces, his breath catching and shallow, but he doesn’t pull away again, just watches Rodney, his eyes bright with pain or determination or both. So Rodney pulls him in, wraps his arm around him and presses his face into John’s shoulder, breathing in sweat and dust and blood and the detergent scent of John’s fresh shirt, his other hand still resting over Ronon’s heart.
“Hey,” John says, breath shaky as he presses a kiss to the side of Rodney’s head.
Rodney’s willing to ignore the way John has one arm wrapped protectively around his side when his free hand winds around Rodney, pulling him closer. He’s more than content to hold John—to hold Ronon, too, as Ronon wraps himself around them both.
“Come on,” Ronon says, lips brushing Rodney’s forehead. “Teyla’s waiting.”
Pulling back, Rodney can’t quite bring himself to let go of either of them. “For Teyla,” he says, because Ronon’s right. This mission isn’t over.
John takes another breath, steadier this time, despite the way he has to grimace through it. “For Teyla.”