Once the President and First Lady had moved on to the next ball, the dance floor filled up. Rodney stayed near the wall, watching the dancing and feeling a weird glow in his chest which he absolutely did not attribute to the inauguration or any of its attendant festivities.

He was too smart for that. Government was government; one administration was more-or-less like another. Besides, the IOA was the body that really made a difference in his daily life, and he didn't expect Obama to change any appointments there.

"What do you think?" John materialized at his elbow with a pair of beers.

"What, about the party? It's nice enough," Rodney said noncommitally.

"I meant about our new president."

"He hasn't actually done anything yet," Rodney pointed out. "But he can dance, I'll give him that."

John tipped back his beer and Rodney watched him swallow, looking away quickly before anyone could catch him staring. He was so used to flying under the radar, he didn't even notice it anymore.

"He's set out a pretty solid set of priorities." John's voice was just a hair too casual. Which meant there was something he wasn't saying. Rodney shot him a glance: what was he thinking?

"Oh?" Rodney said, and gulped his Sam Adams because he wasn't sure what else to do. For an American lager, it wasn't bad.

"Dunno if you heard," John said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

Rodney blew out a breath. "What? Look, I don't know what you're talking about. You think he's going to declassify the Stargate program?"

John studiously looked at his polished shoes. "He's going to repeal 'don't ask.'"

"'Don't ask?'" Rodney repeated, and he was about to push back with 'don't ask what?' when his brain kicked in and he realized what John was saying. "Holy shit," he said, too loudly, and a couple of people near them glanced their way, curious. Rodney hushed. "Seriously?" he murmured.

"Yeah," John said, and now he was looking at Rodney -- shyly, slyly, out of the corner of his eye.

"Damn," Rodney said. He couldn't help beaming.

"I've been meaning to tell you," John said, too quietly for anyone else to hear, "That tux looks pretty good on you." His eyes raked Rodney up and down and Rodney felt a wave of heat and hunger.

"I've...always liked your dress blues," Rodney admitted, around the mysterious lump in his throat.

"I've had that feeling." John's eyes flickered to his lips, then back to his eyes again.

"Can we? Really?" Rodney whispered, glancing fast around the room out of force of long habit.

In response, John leaned in and brushed his lips against Rodney's. It was fast, but it left him tingling everywhere, as though his body were magnetized. When he pulled back they were wearing matching dopey grins.

"I think I'm going to like the Obama years," Rodney said. He felt like his heart might burst.

John licked his lips and grinned. "Yeah, me too."

The End