John was not amused. Well, he was, a little, because Rodney's attempts to scowl and pout simultaneously was both hilarious and pathetic, but that was beside the point. The point was that Rodney was in pain, and John felt bad.
Okay, that was a lie as well. The point was that Rodney was not particularly mobile, supported by crutches and a recently bum knee, and that meant no off-world travel in the disernable future. That also meant that John was now relegated to becoming Rodney's coffee boy, because when Zelenka found out about Rodney's troubles he disappeared quickly, cackling all the way.
Unfortunately for John, Rodney had discovered that John has a bit of a need to be a gentleman, and being a gentleman means that you don't ignore your lover when they're in pain. Of course, for all John knew Rodney had bullied Beckett into giving him crutches for coffee-gathering, love-mongering purposes, but John sincerely thought Beckett was stronger than that. Or at least hoped.
The real point is that John really dislikes himself right now, because Rodney's looking sad and hurt, and that means John's practically running to get him coffee, to bring him lunch, to escort him back to his rooms. That means John's tending to him like a particularly inept and worried mother, brushing back Rodney's hair from his forehead and checking for a fever that logically wouldn't be there. And isn't. But still.
John dislikes himself because Rodney's grinning at him, soft and knowing, forgetting to be in pain because John is apparently being i cute /i . John thinks this side of Rodney is not really very endearing, but that's another lie, because he's still tying himself in knots over Rodney, still slipping into the tiny bed beside him, wrapping his arms tight around Rodney and burying his face in Rodney's shoulder, as if he was the one hurt.
John feels about two years old, ridiculous and immature about this, and now Rodney's the one toying with his hair, the one ignoring whatever pain he feels to press soft kisses against John's cheeks, John's closed eyelids. John feels sleepy and coddled, something that would probably be a source of outrage most of the time, but right now he's happy about it.
Right now he feels like something's clicked, and he's grinning lazily, because he's gotten Rodney seven cups of coffee and four meals today. He's rolled his eyes and tugged at his hair and fought the impulse to go to Beckett to see if Rodney's faking, and he finds he doesn't even mind that off-world missions are temporarily not an option.
Really, the point is that John is crazily, stupidly in love, and right now he's tired enough to take that as it is.