400%
By Pares

"So if you have to be taken hostage, the Nez're-al are not a bad way to go. Five star accommodations, good food, everything short of a mint on the pillow, really," Rodney said. Initially, his hands had been knotted tensely on the table at the debriefing, but they'd relaxed as he warmed to the task of deriding the Nez're-al as moronic money-grubbing miscreants, while still managing to compliment their high thread counts.

John tried not to wonder if the beds had come with some alien brand of Magic Fingers as Elizabeth gave Rodney a wry look.

"Well, I'm glad you don't seem any the worse for wear. Lt. Cadman?" Weir's large eyes focused on her, her smile tempered with concern. "I hope you found your stay just as agreeable?"

"Yes, sir. It was kind of nice to have time to soak in a hot tub." Weir studied her a moment longer, but apparently took her at her word.

"Still. I can't imagine it was much fun to wait on being traded to the Genii, or worse. The two of you have the rest of the day to yourselves, and you're both on stand down for the next two days. Try and work an hour with Dr. Heightmeyer into your busy schedules," she said, looking pointedly at Rodney, who rolled his eyes. "Colonel Sheppard, do you have anything to add? Impressions of the Nez're-al compound?"

He had plenty of impressions of the Nez're-al compound, but as most of them involved a moaning, writhing lieutenant and a kneeling, naked astrophysicist, John had to devote a fair amount of self-control to not letting his eyes so much as flicker their way.

"They had some pretty nice digs. Fortified walls, watch towers. No ocean view, though. Hermiod's scan also showed an underground complex that could give the Genii a run for their money—I think they've been working together for a while now. Zelenka says they maybe had some parallel development in their cultures, but I'm thinking it's probably a history of traded espionage that let them both end up with a basement rumpus room featuring the beginnings of a nice little nukes program."

Rodney's mouth thinned. "Oh god, do you think we were subjected to any radiation?" He started patting at his chest and neck, as if expecting a second head to start sprouting at any moment. Even Cadman went a little white around the eyes.

"Relax, Rodney. I'm sure Carson would have mentioned a little thing like radiation poisoning. Actually, the scans showed that the Nez're-al had some pretty decent shielding. Also? You were being held about six miles outside the city, so. You'll probably be fine."

Closing her notebook, Elizabeth gave him an amused look and said, "Thank you, Colonel. I wish all our missions could be this straightforward."

"Do you think if we gave Hermiod some pants he'd build us some transporter beams for the jumpers?" John asked wistfully. They were certainly handy, and then he wouldn't have to ask Caldwell for so many favors.

Elizabeth just crinkled her eyebrows at him and followed Cadman out of the room; Rodney gave him a look of hot-blooded contempt.

"Oh my god, do you even hear yourself? Why not just offer him a wig and some false eyelashes while you're at it?" Rodney snapped.

"Pardon?" John flashed on the image of Hermiod in full drag, and resigned himself to a week's worth of nightmares.

"I'm just saying why not really put your back into insulting him. Honestly. He's an alien being who has mastered intergalactic travel, one who has evolved beyond pesky genitalia, and you're still on the 'no pants' thing?"

"Pesky genitalia?" John grimaced at Rodney, who was pushing back his chair.

"Tell me, tell me you're not one of those asinine people who puts bandanas around dogs' necks. You are, aren't you?"

"No," John lied. "And anyway, what the hell does that have to do anything?"

Rodney gave him a look of smug triumph.

"You'd better not let Novak hear about your little Dress-Me-Up Hermiod idea, by the way. I mean, fine, she's competent enough, but she's a first-class suck-up, too—she'd rat you out in a heartbeat and do you really want him giving you the stink-eye every time we're on the Daedalus?"

"Was there ever a day you were not beaten up in high school?"

"What are you talking about? I don't know what kind of toughs you hung around with in school, Colonel, but at Marsden Academy I was respected by my peers."

John somehow doubted that, but shook his head and let it go.

*

Not that he'd ever given any real thought to Rodney's sex life, but John would not have pegged him as a Public Sex Guy.

The fact that he found Rodney plastered against Cadman in the hallway by the jumper bay ten minutes after the debriefing had let out seemed to dispute that assumption.

"Jesus!"

Maybe he would have just walked on past with a slow, silent headshake, but he'd actually voiced his unhappy surprise, and Rodney had jerked his head up to stare right at him, his hand still tucked between Cadman's thighs.

Straightening up, Cadman pushed Rodney off of her and bit her lip in apparent anxiety.

"Christ, you two," John said helplessly.

Rodney had been lewdly, publicly kissing one of his men—well, someone under his command, anyway, and if Cadman had been wearing one, Rodney would have had his hand right up her skirt. What the fucking hell was that?

"All right. Cadman? Adrenaline, I get it." He held a hand out to indicate Rodney. "Just—get a room, why don't you?"

Cadman nodded, a spreading flush making her ears pink.

"Sir, thank you, sir."

Rodney had apparently decided against feeling guilty at all, and held up one quelling hand.

"Oh, save it, Colonel. You've done your share of hallway necking, and with aliens, might I add, so you can keep your little PDA lecture. I mean, honestly, from the way you reacted you'd think I was mounting her on the conference table."

John grimaced, rubbing at his eyes and cursing his brain for immediately throwing up a raw, wet visual.

"Thanks for that, Rodney. Thanks so much. I'll be leaving now."

As he walked away, there was the meaty sound of someone being punched in the shoulder, and Rodney's loud, complaining, "Ow!"

*

Over the course of the next few days, John gave Rodney a wide berth. Still, he always seemed to be walking in on conversations that seemed bizarrely pornographic:

"Jesus, that coupling is hot—"

"For Christ's sake, Radek, it should just slide right in! Clearly, you're doing something wrong."

And it went downhill from there: he stopped by to remind Rodney that it was his turn to bring snacks to Team Movie Night (if you didn't ride herd on the guy, the snacks never made it out of Rodney's room), and when Rodney answered the door, he was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and Cadman was tying her hair up into a ponytail with an efficient little twist.

John couldn't do anything but stand there as Cadman nodded coolly and slipped past Rodney into the hall.

As they walked toward the screening room, John watching Rodney start in on the box of donuts he was supposed to be treating them to, John said, "I thought that tap-dancing explosives experts creeped you out?"

"Mm. Amazing what one night of passion will do to rectify a shaky first impression, isn't it?" Rodney smiled at him around his powdered donut and John wished he'd kept his question to himself.

*

The next day, all the radios in Atlantis went on the blink and John had to go door to door telling his team leaders to round up their squads and meet in the mess hall, but although Cadman was in full uniform when she opened the door, John could see Rodney hopping around behind her, trying to stuff both feet into one pant leg, and it was so weirdly distracting that he trailed off in the middle of his explanation.

Cadman waited for him to continue, and when he didn't, she prompted, "...so, we're to meet in the mess by oh-eight-hundred."

When John made no move to leave, she tilted her head and raised an eyebrow.

"Did... you want me to go inform Lorne and Hollis about this?"

Rodney had finally gotten his pants on and was tugging at his shirt zipper when he caught John's eye and blushed; a second later, his expression shifted into something smug, and as that was at least familiar, John was able to say, "I'd appreciate that, Lieutenant, but get your own team rounded up first. Then you can delegate as you see fit."

"Yes, sir. My team will be ready in ten."

"See you there," John said. "You too, Rodney," and Rodney made a "yes, well" face and flapped his hand and John made himself grin at him before heading for the nearest transporter.

*

Eventually, Rodney figured out that the green thing that looked like a giant Parcheesi piece had reset their radios to ultrasonic frequencies.

"I think it was supposed to help them communicate with the whales," Rodney said thoughtfully, flipping his laptop around to show the graph that illustrated the similarity in the frequency maps of the local alien whales and the signal the Parcheesi piece was emitting.

For no good reason, John thought about how wet and cold Rodney had been when they found him in the crashed jumper, how his lips had been almost blue.

*

Javez and Hill had clamored for the opportunity to test the communication device on the neighboring whales, and for whatever reason, the rest of the team had insisted in coming along. Rodney even brought a sack of sandwiches. Javez warily chose an egg-salad on whole wheat, Hill shook his head and went back to his laptop display and Ronon helped himself to two ham on ryes.

"Six people will mean more work for the life support system; that means we can only stay underwater for—"

"We don't need to dive, Colonel," Javez interrupted excitedly.

"She's right," Hill added. "The whales should come to us—we only need to be underwater to effectively transmit the signal."

Rodney looked up from his own jam sandwich to pause mid-chew and say, "Actually, if we don't dive too deeply, we shouldn't even need the shield. The jumpers are airtight; it was the pressure that was the problem."

Rodney seemed to have no trouble at all with the prospect of being underwater again, and John found that not a little surprising.

"You sure about this?"

"Colonel, in the interest of saving time, let me see if I can bottom line this for you: on Earth, it takes shuttles months to leave the ground, and yet I zoom through the stargate with you into the far reaches of the galaxy like I'm running to the corner store in the family sedan. I'm claustrophobic, hypoglycemic and really far too valuable to be gallivanting through space and on top of that I've survived three crashes in these things already and yet I still go. Why do you think that is?"

"Because you trust Ancient technology?" John hazarded.

Rodney cocked his head, mouth open thoughtfully.

"Well, I was going to say 'because I trust you', but that works, too. Anyway, we'll be fine"

John shrugged, trying not to feel as pleased as he did. "You're the scientist," he said, and obediently guided the jumper under the surface of the sea. He set her to hover in a fixed position and stared outside into the endless, eerie blue, trying to make out schools of fish or Nessie or giant seamonkeys.

In the reflection of the jumper's windshield, John could see Teyla's expression of fascination and concern, and that Ronon was craning his neck around to peer out, looking like an overgrown kid on a cool school trip. Rodney tweaked the Parcheesi device and monitored its output by calling up the HUD every now and again. Javez and Hill chattered at each other enthusiastically for a while, staring at each others laptop monitors and then there was a lull while they all waited for a whale to show.

"So why'd you guys decide to come down here, anyway?" John asked. There'd been a reverent hush in the jumper for about fifteen minutes now, and it was kind of getting on his nerves. Someone smelled like perfume, and he was pretty sure it wasn't Javez; Teyla was a hunter, and never wore it.

Ronon surprised him by rumbling his answer first, "I've always wanted to know what it was like under the ocean. I never saw one on Sateda." And John guessed that he hadn't had a lot of time for sight-seeing when he'd been a Runner. "There were stories of cities under the sea, and talking animals." He had a wry, pleased look on his face. "Guess they were true."

"Teyla? Now you." John prompted.

Her face was calm, but when she spoke, her voice had a tension he'd never heard before.

"My people know the rivers," she said. "I had seen oceans on other worlds, but never one as vast as this. On Athos, there are tales such as Ronon speaks of, but…The creatures of the deep were not friends of the people. They hoarded riches and shattered ships at sea. They were great and terrible, and as a small girl I was always very frightened of them." Her smile was soft and self-deprecating. "It is a foolish fear, I believe. And so I came to face it."

Ronon put a hand on her shoulder and left it there. Nodding slowly, John caught her eye and her smile grew warmer.

"How about you, McKay?"

McKay looked surprisingly dreamy, a crooked smile on his face. He leaned back, hooking his arm over the back of his chair.

"Well, this is science at its purest, of course, research for the sake of discovery," he waved a bit grandly and then smiled some more, tipping his head to look out at the sea all around them. "But I really do feel a sort of fondness for them. The whales, I mean. Indirectly, one saved my life, you know. Had a part in it, anyway," and he sort of glowed at John, eyes shining with affection.

He felt a flush heat his face and opened his mouth to say something, but a strange piercing whistle washed over them and then Ronon surged forward behind him, pointing out the windshield.

The whales had come.

For about forty minutes, Javez and Hill spoke with whales. Sang to them really, prompting Rodney to program certain pitches and patterns into the Parcheesi piece. The conversation was basic and repetitive (Hello! Hello! Friends! Friends!), but then two different species were trying to learn each a whole new language, so John guessed that was to be expected.

The whole thing was pretty surreal; the whalesong made his head ring. It was like hearing with your skin and your skull more than your ears, and after a while the whales got sidetracked by a drifting school of neon-colored things that looked like billions of tiny Koosh balls and swam off to round them up for lunch. One seemed to linger behind the others, and Rodney decided it was Lassie and directed the Parcheesi piece to broadcast Thank you! Thank you! in whalespeak until she sang something back, circled the jumper once and then sped off after her companions.

"Did you see that? I think she recognized me!"

John refrained from rolling his eyes only because Rodney looked so genuinely delighted.

"Do you think they'll be back?" Javez asked anxiously.

"We can stick around a while, wait and see," John promised. Then he checked on Teyla and saw her smile was no longer tense.

"They are very beautiful," she said. "Do you have such creatures on your world?"

"Something like that. Most of ours don't get to be the size of the Chrysler building, though," John replied. All in all, it had been pretty cool.

"That was really something," Rodney said, tucking into a new sandwich. This one looked like turkey and Swiss.

"Are you eating my sandwich?"

Rodney gave a guilty start. "Uh. Possibly?" He rummaged in the sack and brought up a roast beef on sourdough. "This is the last one," he said. He glanced at the one he'd already taken a bite out of and said, "You can have it back. I only took one bite," and he held it out toward John.

"I'll take the roast beef, I guess," he sighed. It wasn't like he didn't appreciate a good roast beef sandwich anyway. And the fact that Rodney had apparently gone out of his way to bring a picnic lunch was kind of nice on its own, so he said, "Thanks for the sandwiches, by the way."

Rodney smiled at him through his turkey and Swiss and mumbled, "You're welcome. It was Laura's idea, actually. She seems to think I don't do enough team-building."

John tried not to choke on his sandwich.

Laura, not Cadman. He put his sandwich down and got up to stretch his legs. This meant he could pace five or six steps up and down the length of the puddlejumper, with Javez and Ronon's knees brushing his legs as he took his promenade. He worked on taking slow, indrawn breaths as he walked and he noted that neither Javez, Hill or Ronon smelled like perfume. That left Rodney.

Rodney had wolfed down the rest of his sandwich and was now hunched over the Parcheesi piece's wavy console, and John found himself with his hands on the back of Rodney's chair, casually leaning forward as if angling for a really good look out the windshield, as he tried to place the scent... Huh. He wouldn't have figured Cadman for a Chanel # 5 kind of girl—motherfucker!

Another huge ripple of whalesong had sounded, catching Rodney's attention and making his head snap up—right into John's face. He reeled, stars exploding behind his eyes, and when he opened them again, he could feel the thick gush of blood already spilling down his chin.

Rodney shot out of his chair clutching the top of his head and screwing up his face to yell, but he looked at John and apparently thought better of it when John clapped a hand to his nose and snarled, "What the hell, Rodney?"

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry—God, is it broken?"

And Rodney backed him into his chair, babbling weirdly sincere apologies, one hand anchored on his shoulder and the other touching the bridge of his nose gently.

"Oh, god, does it hurt? Stupid question. Okay. I mean, did it hurt like this the last time you broke it?"

"I've never broken it before!" John snapped.

"Really? Huh. It's so crooked, I had just assumed..." He trailed off and backed away when he caught John's black look.

"Okay, kids. Field trip's over." He ignored Javez's little groan of disappointment. "Time to get back to dry land before Rodney gives me a black eye." He could feel Ronon sharing a look with Teyla and grinning wolfishly at the back of his head.

"I said I was sorry," Rodney huffed.

"We're all sorry, Rodney," John answered, and steered them out of the water toward home.

*

Carson assured him that his nose hadn't been broken, and Rodney caught up with him in the hall outside the infirmary.

"Colonel, really. I'm sorry."

"Well, it was an accident," John allowed.

"It really was."

"Then I guess I can let you off the hook, then."

"Oh, good." He looked so comically relieved that John felt a little bit bad about bitching in the first place. "Here," Rodney said, handing John the bowl of vanilla ice cream and the icepack he'd been holding. "If your head doesn't hurt too much, I've got Kill Bill on my hard drive. You up to it?"

John pretended to think about it.

"Sure. But go get your own ice cream," he warned.

*

"So you're a big Quentin Tarantino fan, huh?" They'd shoved Rodney's bed against a wall so they could have a backrest, turning it into a makeshift couch. The credits had rolled and Rodney was cueing up the next movie. The icepack had helped quell the dull throb in his face, and the ice cream had cheered him up significantly. He felt a little small talk was in order.

"Not really. I am partial to Uma Thurman, though." Blonde, John thought. "She makes that whole steely-eyed death-dealing thing almost disturbingly sexy." He gave John a long, searching look and then seemed to catch himself, coughing slightly. He glanced at his watch and coughed again, throwing John a strangely guilty look and saying, "Crap, I totally forgot—"

There was a tap at Rodney's door and Cadman poked her head in. Her hair was down and she was wearing flip-flops, sweatpants and a thin white t-shirt. John checked his own watch and realized she'd have come off shift about fifteen minutes ago.

"Hey," she said, giving Rodney a questioning look before grinning at John. "Talked to the animals today, huh?"

"That we did," John said, scudding forward to sit on the edge of the bed as Cadman wrangled her way onto the mattress to sit between him and Rodney. He dusted his hands on his knees and nodded pleasantly at her. "Well, I'm gonna—"

"Nah, stick around." Settling back against the wall, she held up a packet wrapped in plastic. "I brought popcorn. What are we watching?"

"Kill Bill II," Rodney said, unwrapping the popcorn and crossing the room to tuck it into his microwave.

"Excellent."

John found that he was edging back into position on the bed, all the while telling himself that it was a very bad idea.

Having Cadman on the bed made it hard not to remember that she and Rodney spent time sharing the bed, and John now realized that the bed had been neatly made when he'd come in, the sheets suspiciously clean.

When Rodney came back, Cadman appropriated the popcorn bowl and John's hand brushed someone else's every time he reached for a handful. When they were down to nothing but the rattle of unpopped kernels and John was poking at the hulls in his teeth with his tongue, Cadman rested her head on Rodney's shoulder and dragged his arm around her shoulders. This brought Rodney's arm pressing into his shoulder; Cadman's bare feet were folded against his knee. Rodney jostled them both intermittently, resettling his arm, but otherwise appeared wholly absorbed in the film. John could feel his heart beating, could feel it in the returning ache in his face, and in the back of his clenched hands. The room smelled like popcorn and clean laundry and all John could think about was the time he'd seen them together—the way she'd curled her toes, the way Rodney had spread his hand on her belly, the way they'd both been really, really naked, and he figured it was way past time for him to leave.

"All right, I'm bushed and I've got an early day tomorrow. Thanks for the movie, Rodney. You two kids have fun." He climbed off the bed and ducked out the door into the hall. Before the door closed, he heard Rodney apologizing for forgetting their date and Cadman saying, "You'll just have to think of some way to make it up to me."

*

IK9 had six candy-pink moons and grasses that got to be ten feet tall. Sure, it was picturesque, but it made John feel uncomfortably small and vulnerable. It was like waking up in a six-year-old's body and needing a step stool to reach the bathroom sink.

Still, John had cloaked the jumper and set it down so the team could explore energy readings that Rodney had described as "promising—enticing, even" and John was a bit reassured to see Ronon glaring up at the waving grasses with intermittent suspicion. It was nice to know he wasn't the only one unnerved by tall grass.

Rodney tracked the readings to the base of a steep hill and hunched over his PDA, the point of his nose almost touching the screen. John made a mental note to send him to Higby for an eye exam when they got back. He suspected that a pair of glasses might go a long way to improving Rodney's aim.

"Huh. Colonel?"

John made his way toward the wall, peering over Rodney's shoulder to see a faint, hand-shaped indentation pressed into the rough rockface; it glimmered as if reflecting the light of the six moons, a slippery little flash of iridescence that made John blink.

"As I suspected," Rodney said smugly. "Ancient."

John reached out to touch it and Rodney slapped his hand away.

"What are you doing? Did I tell you you could touch that?" Rodney looked faintly scandalized.

John squinted at him.

"You said it was Ancient."

"And of course, that means it won't hurt you," Rodney said, rolling his eyes. "Does the careful application of styling product affect your short term memory? Hmm? Might I remind you of your six month vacation in a time dilation field?"

"That was... different." John replied, unconsciously knotting his hands. Since the Cloister and his time with Teer, they still ached sometimes, for no good reason. "Come on, Rodney. Risk is part of the job."

Scowling at him, Rodney focused his attention back on his PDA.

"Give me an hour," he muttered. "Then you can touch it. Maybe."

John nodded and took Teyla with him to establish a perimeter. By the time they got back, Ronon was sharpening one of his knives and Rodney was stamping a finger against the PDA screen with peevish intensity.

"Well?"

"The energy readings are solid, and this hill is definitely hollow. This is the only external hotspot, as far as I can tell, and I'm pretty sure this thing just opens the door."

"Pretty sure?"

"Absolutely confident," Rodney said, looking annoyed. John took that to be a good sign, so he stepped closer to the panel.

It glowed more brightly now, producing a wavy light that hovered over the indentation like a pinkish oil-sheened puddle.

"So. Can I touch it now?"

"Actually," Rodney said. "I was thinking, uh, that I'd touch it. After all, there's really no reason that it shouldn't respond to me. I've got the gene, too."

John could see Teyla and Ronon swapping a look off to his right.

"Okay then," he said easily. "If that's what you want to do."

"What?" Rodney looked suspicious. "Of course I want to."

"I'm just saying, if you get sucked into an alternate dimension or something, I'm gonna have to get Zelenka out here to fix you up."

"Well, as he's one of the only competent scientists we brought along on this expedition, I have every confidence that he'd be more than equal to the task."

The funny thing was that could tell that Rodney even mostly meant it.

"If you say so." John gestured at the panel with his chin. "Go on, Rodney."

"Fine, you touch it, then," Rodney snapped, dragging John's hand over the indentation and pressing his palm against the back of John's hand.

There was a (by now) almost standard flash of light, and when John blinked again, he and Rodney were standing in a domed room featuring a faint pink glow that emanated from the sloping walls surrounding them. The room itself was high-ceilinged but narrow, sort of like being inside half of a giant, hollowed out M&M. The walls were coated in some kind of metal that was so smooth it almost felt liquid under John's fingertips, but the floor was earthen and smelled damp and moldy.

"That wasn't supposed to happen," Rodney said, staring at the ceiling with his mouth open.

Son of a bitch, John thought.

"Good job, Rodney," he said. "I haven't been trapped in a cave in a while. I was getting to almost miss it."

Rodney's expression hinted at guilt, but he stuck out his chin and started ranting instead.

"First of all, this wasn't my fault," he said, counting off on his fingers, "And secondly, you were the one who wanted to touch it, and thirdly, obviously there's a way out of here. We just have to find it."

"And if we don't?" John didn't bother to fight his sudden rising anger, but Rodney didn't seem to notice it anyway.

"Then the Daedalus can beam us out," Rodney said dismissively. "They're, what, seven hours away?" He paused then, nervously surveying the room. "There should be plenty of air for that."

"How do you know we're even still on IK9?"

Rodney's mouth clamped into a grim slant.

"Colonel?" Teyla's voice sounded clear and strong on his earpiece.

"There you go, see?" Rodney said hurriedly. "Close enough for radio contact. We'll be out of here in no time."

"Teyla. We're fine for the moment. We seem to be trapped inside the hill. Give us a few minutes; if we're not out in twenty, have Atlantis contact Colonel Caldwell and have him start out to meet us."

"I will do so, Colonel."

"All right, Rodney. Let's see if you can get us out of here before Caldwell shows up."

John dropped his pack and slid down the nearest wall to sit on the ground. A moment later, Rodney crossed the room, stooped over and began to rummage through John's pack.

"What's the big idea, McKay?"

Already peeling the wrapper off a powerbar, Rodney answered, "I left my pack outside."

He sat down beside John and crammed bits of cranberry nut bar into his mouth, and John just rolled his eyes and stared at the blank far wall.

"Hey. You're bleeding," Rodney said.

Looking down, John saw faint red marks on his palm. He clenched his hand, but he didn't feel any pain. Tracing them with his fingertip, he could feel that they were slightly raised against the skin.

"No, it's just a mark. It must be from the door thing," he said.

Rodney stopped mid-chew, his eyes going round.

"Wait, you mean it marked you?"

"It doesn't hurt," John explained. Rodney looked unconvinced. "I'm fine, Rodney," John added.

"How do you know?"

"I'm fine," John insisted. Then he realized he had a headache building like a storm cloud behind his eyes. "Except for this headache," he allowed.

"Teyla, get Lorne to fly Carson out here. The Colonel may have been exposed to—I don't know, an alien toxin? Who knows."

John snorted, and said, "Look, instead of babysitting, why don't you look around and find something to tweak so we can get out of here?"

Rodney showed no sign of having heard him, finishing his power bar with a final gulp and bringing out his PDA again. He held it out in front of John and studied it thoughtfully. John peered over the top of it to catch sight of the screen and several blinking words.

"What are you doing?"

"Radek and I found a program on the database apparently written to be used in portable diagnostic tools. So I souped this baby up, and—huh."

"Huh what?"

"Well, I'm comparing your status to the one I scanned of you as a baseline last week—"

"You scanned me?" John felt his lip curl in distaste.

"I was testing it," Rodney said absently.

His headache throbbed suddenly and John decided he was willing to forgive and forget if it could tell them if there really was something wrong with him.

"Well?"

"What? Oh. Uh, this says you're chock full of dopamine. In fact, it says your dopamine levels are climbing through the roof."

"What does that mean?"

"As I'm not a practitioner of this particular voodoo, I really have no idea."

"Colonel Sheppard, have you been injured?" Carson's voice sounded tinny on the ear piece. John tapped his headset.

"Sort of," he admitted.

"Teyla tells me that you've been trapped in an Ancient device?"

"Yes," Rodney interrupted, "But that's not our main problem right now. Colonel Sheppard seems to be experiencing sharp hormonal increases."

"You're already field testing the med scanner?" Carson sounded interested, but Rodney sounded tense.

"Look, his base levels of dopamine were in the low teens last week, percentage wise, and now they're redlining. That's bad, right?"

"It could be," Carson said. "What sort of readings are you getting?"

Rodney told him, and John wondered just how high high was when Carson exhaled sharply.

"I thought dopamine made you feel good?" Rodney sounded oddly betrayed.

"Not in doses like this." Carson sounded worried, but John told himself that Carson always sounded worried. "How are you feeling, Colonel?"

"Well, I've got a headache, the hair on my arms is standing up... and I've gotta say, I'm starting to feel a little freaked out."

"Headache, piloerection and anxiety are common side effects of a dopamine overdose, I'm afraid. There may be nausea, as well. Ordinarily, we could counteract it with phentolamine—"

"But you're on the outside," John finished for him.

"How bad can this get, anyway," Rodney asked, looking up into the air as if he could see Carson's face. "I mean, theoretically—he couldn't die from this, could he?"

The pause on Carson's side was answer enough. Eventually, Carson said, "I've never heard of anyone experiencing concentrations at such a level, but even lower doses can cause ventricular arrhythmia, tachycardia or even fibrillation."

"God, you're saying—what, a heart attack? Christ," Rodney gaped at John as if he expected him to drop to the floor clutching his chest any second.

"Thanks, Rodney, I got that," John snapped.

"Is there anything I can do? Maybe if we elevate his legs or something?" There was something weirdly desperate in Rodney's tone, and it made John's heart start to hammer in his chest.

That would be the anxiety and the increased heart rate, John told himself calmly. Nothing to worry about. He heard Carson snap his fingers.

"Prolactin! Dopamine is counteracted naturally in the body by prolactin!"

"So?" Rodney sounded slightly hopeful. "Does that mean he'll just get better on his own?"

"After a fashion, I suppose," Carson sighed. "Prolactin is released in the bloodstream after orgasm," Carson added delicately.

John had no doubt that his own expression was disgusted, but Rodney looked plainly horrified.

"Is that a joke?" Rodney appealed to John, who shook his head.

"So, basically," John said slowly, "You're telling me that I have to jerk-off so that my heart won't explode?"

"Ah. Well. Really, it would be better if... Well. If you had a partner."

"Carson," John said evenly. "I really don't think I have the time to check out the singles scene right now—"

"That's what I'm saying, son, you don't have time. At that level of concentration, your heart could stop! Colonel Sheppard, it's just a simple fact. Sexual intercourse releases 400 percent more prolactin in the bloodstream than masturbation alone. Time is of the essence, and the more prolactin your body produces, the faster your body will stabilize." Another awkward silence, and then, "Rodney, I know it's a lot to ask—"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Rodney's eyes were wide and panicked.

"Rodney, relax." John rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, trying to follow his own advice. When he spread his hands on his thighs, he could see the fine tremor that had already started.

Rodney ignored him in favor of ranting. "No, seriously, that's total crap. And heterosexist crap at that! It's probably just a line labcoats like you use to get nurses into bed!"

"Heterosexist?" John choked.

Rodney rounded on him, eyes blazing. "Penetration isn't the end-all, be-all of sex, Colonel." John just stared at him. "Oh, like you've never had a particularly satisfying hand-job," he said acidly.

"I don't think penetration will be particularly required, Rodney," Carson soothed. "But I do think it would be in Colonel Sheppard's best interest if you—lent him a hand, so to speak."

"Jesus," Rodney murmured.

He locked eyes with John, and then swallowed hard and set his mouth. John could only stare as Rodney crawled the short distance between them (he's getting his knees dirty, John thought stupidly) and started unbuckling John's tac vest.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing, McKay?" His heart was banging against his ribs now, and he'd been hard pretty much since he'd noticed the headache. The flutter in his stomach that he'd been attributing to nausea turned out to be arousal, and just the brush of Rodney's hands against his t-shirt was making him shudder.

"Yes, please, let's use your last moments to bicker pointlessly." He plucked John's headset out of his ear and then reached for John's pants.

"Hey!" John grabbed at Rodney's thick wrists, and Rodney glowered and pulled his hands away.

"You could die," Rodney pointed out, leaning back to rest his hands on his own thighs.

"Yeah, of humiliation."

"Oh, shut up. I'm doing you a favor!" Rodney's cheeks were blazing, and John felt dimly sorry about the implied insult.

"That's not what I meant," he said, sounding petulant to his own ears. "It's not because... I mean, I'm sure you're a sex god among astrophysicists, Rodney, but I like women."

"Unfortunately, there's a shortage of them at present, so you'll just have to make do." Rodney looked eerily composed as he unzipped his own pants.

"Rodney—" and his voice was unsteady.

"Look, you can close your eyes and pretend I'm a supermodel, I don't care. I just—I don't want you to die, okay?" Rodney's hand was warm on his shoulder, and John nodded and shrugged out of his tac vest, letting Rodney undo his belt.

Eventually, he wrangled out of his shirt and kicked out of his boots and pants, and when he looked up Rodney was shirtless and unhappy looking.

"What?" John was still hard, but he could feel panic rising in his throat as his heart kept kicking up in his chest.

"I'm really sorry about this," Rodney said softly, and then he leaned forward and kissed John lightly on the throat. Rodney smelled like clean sweat and powerbars and nothing like Chanel #5. He cupped John's face with one hand and bit the place he'd just kissed.

John made a little surprised groan, and Rodney's cheek dragged against the stubble rising on his jaw. God, his face was so warm. Then Rodney's mostly smooth chest was heavy against his and he had the saddle of Rodney's hips to push up against and he rocked into him once, experimentally, with Rodney's breath hot on his ear—and then Rodney was chewing on the spot where his neck met his shoulder and he was driving mindlessly up against Rodney's thigh.

He found himself pushing at Rodney's pants, trying to shove them down so his dick could get to skin—he wanted to feel the wiry scrape of hair against his own legs, he wanted someone's hand, someone's mouth, but he shifted up instead, so he could rub off against the weirdly alluring softness of Rodney's belly.

"Okay, okay, okay," Rodney was chanting, and then he got to his hands and knees and John wrenched his eyes open, perversely annoyed that Rodney had pulled away. His heart was pounding so fast that he could feel it in his throat, in the palms of his hands. He gritted his teeth and reached for his cock, but Rodney wrapped his hand over John's and popped the head of John's dick in his mouth.

John arched up off the floor, panting, as Rodney sucked him, petting him with his tongue, moaning a little—

"Jesus," John said, and he tried grabbing at Rodney's shoulders, because he needed to come, yes, but he was skin hungry, too, and he craved Rodney's heat and weight, and he wondered now if he'd always known how sweetly Rodney would fit against him, if he'd never touched Rodney this way because he'd always been a little afraid of how much he might like it.

He could feel Rodney's dick trail up along his leg as Rodney climbed up to stretch out beside him, his hands busy and roaming along John's arms and chest. John dragged him up, and when Rodney lifted his head, his hair mussed and his mouth red and his eyes soft and unfocused, John kissed him, wet and dirty, with slow, nasty tongue, feeling Rodney judder and melt against him. Then he tensed in John's arms and came against John's thigh.

John rolled Rodney onto his back and knelt over him, straddling his hips and jacking himself with one hand, messy and fast, with Rodney's hands on his ass, stroking down the backs of his thighs.

Before he could come, Rodney sat up, mouthing John's chest and cupping his balls in one hand, his other hand spread against the small of John's back. His hair was getting longer, and it stood out at all angles, mangled and baby-fine. John combed through it with the fingers of his free hand and Rodney closed a hand over his other one, squeezing John's own fingers around his cock, making him swallow a groan and shoot all over their joined hands.

Slumping down, he found himself stretched out with his head pillowed on Rodney's shoulder, Rodney's hand curled around the back of his neck, his thumb brushing the side of his throat, then pressing for a pulse.

"Rodney—" John said.

"Not now, okay? Just—we should get dressed. And before I took my radio off, Carson said I should sedate you, uh, after, just in case."

John nodded and sat up, feeling woozy and headrushed and high. They gathered their clothes and dressed in awkward silence, John scrubbing his spattered palm against the damp earth, and Rodney retrieved the first aid kit from John's bag and uncapped the needle, taking John's arm and pushing up his sleeve. Rodney tapped for a vein for what felt like a really long time.

"Um," Rodney said, instead of injecting the sedative. "Not that you would. Say anything, I mean, but. If we could just keep this... between you and me. And Carson and Lorne. It's just that... You know, obviously, that Cadman and I are sort of—"

John took Rodney's hand and pressed the needle Rodney held into the crook of his own elbow, ignoring the sting.

"Mum's the word, Rodney," he muttered between gritted teeth, depressing the plunger and falling into blotting darkness.

*

John woke up in the infirmary, with Carson prodding at him.

"Ah, the patient wakes. After... your little difficulty," he said diplomatically, "Rodney found the toggle in no time and we got you back here to set you to rights." He patted John's shoulder. "No harm done. I think the, ah, swift action prevented any lasting damage, and we'll just keep you overnight for observation and set you back on your feet first thing."

"Glad to hear it," John said glumly.

"Now, don't you fret. It's awkward, to be sure, but you'll both get over it in no time. You'll see."

The fact that Carson was referring to recovering from a medically prescribed pity fuck just made him want to break things.

The fact that Rodney wasn't lurking around in the infirmary waiting for him to wake up only made him want to go back to sleep for a very long time.

But then he and Teyla and Ronon strode in bearing gifts.

"Hey, you're awake already," Rodney said. He flashed John a strangely shy grin and held out a plate. "They had Rice Krispies treats in the mess today. They're good," he explained, as if John had never seen one.

"He's right," Ronon said, poking an entire square into his mouth.

"My mother used to make those, only with peanut butter and pink marshmallows," Carson sighed fondly. "Eat up, Colonel. It'll help settle your stomach."

Teyla took the plate from Rodney and set it by John's bedside within easy reach.

"We are glad to find you well, Colonel," she said, resting a hand on his pillow.

"I'm glad to be well. So I guess we're even." They shared a smile.

He'd have shared the Rice Krispies treats, too, only Cadman came in to pay her respects.

"Heard you got trapped in another cave, sir," she said in her sly way. John could see Carson giving her a longing look before turning away and pretending to be busy with some test tubes.

"You heard right, Lieutenant. But this time it was Rodney's fault."

Rodney flinched before pasting a brittle smile on his face.

"Yes, yes, that wacky Ancient technology, oh the hilarity. Well, glad you're not dead," he said brightly. "I'll be going now." Cadman saluted and followed Rodney out of the room.

*

Once he'd been cleared for active duty, there was the inevitable debriefing.

Elizabeth's face didn't have that too-careful cast that said she knew something he wished she didn't, so when she asked them why they thought the Ancients had built a hollow hill that seemed designed to poison its visitors, he just put on an expectant look and tipped his head toward Rodney.

"It could be that it was a rite of passage, or their version of the gas chamber. Maybe their chemistry was so different from ours that it was just their way of having a good time. Basically—I have no idea," he finished lamely.

"So you don't feel it's worth following up on?" Rodney's lack of enthusiasm seemed to be raising Elizabeth's suspicions. Her eyebrow, anyway.

"Frankly, from a technological standpoint, it was strangely boring. Nothing that looked like a weapons console, no monitors or displays or anything that would balance out the fact that it was also both unpleasantly and inexplicably dangerous. Not the Ancient's best work, I'd say."

"Noted. We'll put that address on the backburner for now. John," she said, laying a hand on his arm. "How are you feeling?"

"Just peachy," he said, and saw Rodney's mouth settle into a worried frown. "Carson says there's no permanent damage."

He hoped he sounded like he believed it.

*

That night, Rodney showed up at his room looking keyed up, pushing past John as soon as he'd opened his door.

John had expected a variation on a bad apology theme, or even an anxious inquiry after his health, but what Rodney actually said was:

"I told Cadman that I had to sleep with you."

John blinked, wondering if Rodney was asking him permission to bunk on his floor for the night. Then he realized what Rodney had just said.

"Jesus, Rodney! I'm her commanding officer—"

"I know, I know," Rodney said helplessly, hands flailing. "Believe me, I know that, but she does this thing with her eyebrow and—I had to tell her. I'm completely incapable of lying to someone I'm sleeping with. It's a character flaw. And then I had to tell you that I'd told her. So. I'm telling you."

Taking stock a moment, John heard himself ask, "Was she mad?"

Rodney looked annoyed.

"Why would she be mad? I was saving your life! On her stupid ex-boyfriend's advice, I might add."

"I just thought... the uh. Gay thing. Some people have trouble with that." Apparently, Rodney was not one of them. But then the blow-job had pretty much given that away. "Or the whole slept-with-someone-else thing."

"Yes, well some people have trouble with basic mathematical principles; I ignore them, too. And Laura's not the jealous type. Anyway. I just wanted to say—that I was. Sorry. For." He gestured vaguely. "You know. That you got hurt. And that I told Laura that I—that I told Laura."

"Okay," John said.

"Yeah." He peered into John's face anxiously a moment before he stepped back and said, "I'm gonna go now."

And he did.

*

He made himself sit next to Rodney in the mess the next morning as if nothing had happened, and after a few days, Rodney eventually stopped giving him guilty looks.

He trained with Ronon and Teyla and got some spectacular bruises and if Teyla's gaze seemed especially solemn and speculative lately, he pretended not to notice.

There was a lot he pretended not to notice. Like how Ronon seemed to be sleeping with half of John's marines and at least six members of the science team. How Lorne's eyes were always especially direct and steady when he saluted these days. How Carson was clearly nowhere near over Cadman, hovering at doorways in the mess while she bused her tray.

How Cadman and Rodney were... dating.

The hell of it was, Cadman was good for Rodney. They hadn't been together a month and the guy was practically glowing with health. Since Cadman was immune to his bullshit excuses, she dragged him out of the labs at decent hours, so he was getting regular sleep in addition to regular sex. John had seen her in the mess hall piling greens on Rodney's plate, and smacking his (firming) belly with the back of her hand. He'd even seen them jogging together, her steps quick and light as she ran backwards, cheerfully catcalling a gasping, scarlet-faced Rodney who was nevertheless somehow keeping up.

It shouldn't have been as depressing as it was.

*

There was a sort of Athosian field day, where every able bodied person took part in elaborate scavenger-hunt types of races that involved obstacle courses and swinging across a gully on long ropes. Jinto had made John and Ronon promise to be show up to support the men; Ronon had proven to be especially good at the rope-climbing stuff. John had maybe pulled something during the hurdles, and was now resting on a dead log to watch the final proceedings.

Cadman had joined the women's team, and had helped uphold the women's six-year winning streak by finding the hidden "treasure"—in this case a bird's nest filled with small dark polished stones—first. As she held up the bird's nest with a whoop, Teyla smiled at John from across the field with the well-earned contentment borne of total domination. John grinned back and shook his head.

Ronon showed up to help Cadman down from the tricky part of the rocky ledge she'd scaled to reach the nest, hoisting her onto his shoulder for a victory lap while the kids cheered her, before setting her on her feet. His hands may have lingered longer than they'd really needed to, but hey, John could admit that Cadman had nice hips. He probably couldn't admit that Ronon had nice hands, but he could think it as much as he liked.

Rodney, who probably knew plenty about Cadman's hips, apparently didn't appreciate Ronon's solicitude. John could hear Rodney sniping as he folded his arms across his chest. "Why don't I just leave the two of you to your Him-Tarzan You-Jane rustic love-making, then." He stormed over to John's fallen log and Cadman rolled her eyes in his wake.

"Take it easy," John said, amused. "It's just a little harmless flirting."

"Just because you flirt with anything even vaguely bi-pedal without conscious intent doesn't mean that Cadman isn't perfectly willing to climb Ronon like a tree."

Ronon lifted his head at that and then gave Cadman a look of renewed interest.

"He can hear you," John reminded wearily.

Slapping John's arm with the back of his hand, Rodney demanded, "Would you look at that?" Ronon had tipped his head to one side, smiling raffishly and just touching his tattoo with his curved fingers. Cadman smacked Ronon on the shoulder, laughing. "It's like something out of a nature show. All we need is a zebra carcass and a cameraman."

"You need to lighten up, Rodney."

"Ah, yes, because I'm so well known for my light-hearted easygoing ways. If she's going to run around on me, does she really have to do it in the middle of the Athosian Olympics?"

"Maybe you should go see Heightmeyer about these trust issues of yours," John advised, munching on a piece of tall yellow grass.

"Good idea, because those never come up," Rodney said darkly.

Ronon got swarmed by kids and talked into a tug-of-war, leaving Teyla and Cadman to chat together and share out the little polished stones as keepsakes of their victory to the younger girls. Zelenka appeared with a tray of drinks, saying something that made Cadman giggle. John didn't think he'd ever seen him in shorts before. He had shapely calves for such a little guy.

"You see? Even Zelenka's making a play for her." Rodney sniffed. "He's got the morals of an alley cat."

"Is there anyone you don't think has designs on your girlfriend?"

Rodney glanced at him, looking him up and down. "Well. You."

Of course, John thought tiredly. Of course not.

*

Some days Rodney and Cadman seemed to go at it like a 40's comedy team. Rodney'd set himself up by saying something particularly awful, sometimes even stopping wide-eyed mid-sentence when he realized just what he'd said, and Cadman would knock him down, saying something tart with a rakish little grin. Sometimes she let Rodney apologize and sometimes she made him, but Rodney was clearly trying and she seemed content to let him continue to make mistakes.

But then the snap of their repartee seemed to turn into bite, and they were having little squalls in hallways and in Rodney's lab, until the day it all came to a head in the mess, with Cadman dropping her tray on the table hard enough to spatter a glaring Rodney with bright pink creamed eska.

"Fine," she gritted.

"Fine!"

"You pompous ass—this is so over! It is over, do you understand?"

"No, really?" Rodney sneered. But as Rodney watched her storm out, John could see something in his face buckle before he tugged Cadman's abandoned tray over to his side of the table, stabbing at the food with hunched shoulders.

"Hey," John said softly.

Rodney looked up, his expression mournful. There was a dab of eska on his cheek.

When he failed to say anything especially bitchy, or anything at all, John felt his own throat tighten.

"Do you want me to go talk to her for you?"

Jesus, what the hell had he just said?

Clearly, he'd really said it, because Rodney's eyes were hopeful.

"Seriously? You'd do that?"

"I could... give it a try," John said gamely, and Rodney nodded anxiously, waving John out of the room.

"Go, go! Try the gym; she's probably punching something!"

John wouldn't have minded punching something himself, so he heeded the advice and found Cadman already stripped to her tank top and shorts, landing roundhouse kicks on the heavy bag.

She ignored him for a while, or else was so invested in kicking an Imaginary Rodney's face in that she honestly didn't notice him until he pointedly cleared his throat.

"Colonel. Hi."

"Hey."

"Did you need something, sir?"

"Well," he began cautiously. "Not in an official capacity."

She grinned at him.

"You're not seriously here to talk me into taking Rodney back, are you?" She kicked the bag again; she was flushed and pretty and her freckles were standing out all along her arms. He had an uncomfortably vivid memory of her bare breasts, and he swallowed hard. She bounced back and kicked the bag again with her other leg. "I mean, we only broke up fifteen minutes ago. Maybe I just need to cool down or something. I might conceivably take him back on my own." Another kick. "It could happen," she allowed.

"Okay then," John said, feeling weirdly frustrated by his own apparent success. "I'll just leave you to your workout."

She sighed noisily.

"Wait."

He did.

"Look. Rodney wasn't a terrible boyfriend. But we argued about stupid stuff and it was starting to make me feel stupid, and that made me angry and so I was kind of pissy with him. And the thing is—I miss Carson," she admitted, shamefaced. "I mean, I like Rodney, I really do, he's a great guy, but… We're just not right for each other. You know?"

John had his doubts that a mama's boy like Carson was a better match for her, but it was her private life, especially since Rodney seemed to be out of it.

"I guess I'll let him know you won't be getting back together," he said, trying to settle the warring satisfaction of knowing they were broken up for good with his sympathy for Rodney.

"Nah," she said, aiming another kick and swiping her hair back from her face. "Just tell him I wouldn't talk to you about it. That way he can mope a bit and try to figure out what went wrong and then decide it was all my fault. He'll be happier that way."

John had to agree, and he was reminded of why he'd liked Cadman in the first place.

*

When he got back to the mess, Rodney widened his eyes, waiting for the news. John shook his head and slung himself on to the bench across from Rodney.

"Sorry, Rodney. She wouldn't even talk to me about it."

Rodney's face fell, and he poked at some limp kale with his fork. The eska had dried on his cheek, whitish and flaky. John had to keep himself from reaching over to scrape at it with his thumbnail.

"I knew it couldn't last. She didn't know Planck's Constant from a hole in the wall."

"That's... a deal breaker," John agreed.

"It really is," Rodney sighed, disconsolate. Then, "What was she wearing? Did she look good? She wasn't pining for me, do you think?"

"Rodney, it was half an hour ago," John pointed out.

"Was she wearing her little Commando Barbie beret? At a jaunty angle?"

Half. An. Hour, John didn't say. He'd just broken up with his girlfriend; why not humor the guy?

"She was working out. There was no beret in evidence. Sorry to disappoint you."

"You don't have one, do you? No, you probably have one of those little peaked caps that make you look like a soda jerk."

"Thanks," John said dryly.

"Well. At least you tried." He patted John's arm absently before setting down his fork and pushing away from the table. "Thanks, anyway."

Nodding, John said, "Any time," and Rodney gave him a brief answering nod and wandered away.

*

Rodney was dull-eyed and listless for the next four days. John was beginning to wonder just how much Cadman had meant to the guy when Rodney stormed in to John's office, railing against deceitful womankind.

"That—that—strumpet! Do you know she's back with Carson?"

John had suspected as much, having seen her giving Carson a bouquet of hela lilies earlier that morning, but he shook his head.

"She was sitting right there in the mess, holding hands with that... that..."

"Rodney," John said. "Carson's a good guy."

Rodney abruptly dropped his hands and sighed.

"I know. But honestly. The corpse isn't even cold! We broke up four days ago!"

John gave him a helpless little shrug.

"She must have missed him," he said.

"Do you think so?" Rodney said fretfully. "You don't think that—I mean, she wasn't thinking of him the whole time she was with me, do you think?"

John felt his face crease into a smile.

"I think I can pretty much guarantee that when she was with you, she was with you."

"Hmm." Rodney dropped into a chair in front of John's desk and glanced around idly. "You know, I had to ask Teyla where you were. I knew you had an office, but I don't think I've ever actually been here."

"I'm barely here myself," John admitted. "And I kinda like it that way."

Rodney slid down in his chair with a glowering, inward look.

"You're still pretty broken up about her, huh?"

Glancing up, Rodney opened his mouth and then closed it again. Eventually he said, "I liked her. I still do. She was... a lot of fun. And I don't mean just in bed, although..." He paused meaningfully, closing his eyes gently on vivid memories of torrid pleasure, apparently. "Mm. Anyway. I miss her, I guess. But I'll survive." He lifted his chin, the picture of noble fortitude.

"I'm sure you will," John offered, grinning.

When Rodney showed no signs of leaving, John surreptitiously glanced at his watch and decided he could be done for the day.

"What do you say we go get some sandwiches and watch Pulp Fiction?"

Rodney considered it.

"Misery. Company. Uma Thurman. Yeah, okay." He paused a moment, heaving a sigh. "You know, I'd have to say that dating her was not unlike what I thought it might be like to date... uh. You, actually. The sex was incredibly good, there was running involved, you both look hot holding a P-90..." He trailed off, looking a little pale. "Um. We can. Let's pretend I never said that."

Rodney all but scrambled out of the chair and bolted from the room.

It took John a few seconds to get himself to go after him; a few running steps caught him up.

Before he could say anything, Rodney turned and kind of lunged at him, backing him into the hallway wall and then cupping one hand around the back of John's neck. John could only stare at him, at Rodney's unhappy expression, the one he usually wore when he was convinced that the future held only certain doom, feeling the heat of Rodney's hand and the way Rodney's thumb was stroking the tendon in his neck, carefully. He wasn't surprised when Rodney kissed him, but the kiss itself was a strange, lush, suave 40's movie kind of kiss, with soft lips but no tongue, just a gentle sort of pressing-open and warm shared breath.

When the kiss broke, Rodney blurted, "Look, I just wanted to—it wasn't like I'd never thought about you, but you're, you know, you and then I was seeing Cadman and it seemed to be going well—she was my first honest-to-god girlfriend in six years—and it was nice, and I liked her and the sex was really, really good, I mean—good, but I never really stopped thinking about you, and then there was IK9 and jesus, every time I touched her after that I felt guilty, about you, about her, about enjoying it while you could have died at pretty much any moment—and. That's all I've got to say, actually. Huh. I thought there was more."

John was pretty much gobsmacked, so he said the first flippant thing that came into his head.

"So, would you say that sex with me was 400% more satisfying than sex with her?"

He knew it was a pretty horrible thing to say, and it sounded worse out loud. Rodney's eyes looked huge and hurt, and he dropped his hands and backed away.

"I—" Rodney halted, apparently unable to think of anything to say to that and just shook his head, looking honestly confused.

John scrubbed his face with one hand and apologized.

"Wait. I'm sorry. I mean it, Rodney. That was a shitty thing to say."

"Yeah, well." Rodney shifted uneasily. "It's kind of refreshing to see someone else make an ass of themselves for a change. And I did, after all, just kiss you in a public hall. So. Let's call it even, shall we? And—and never speak of this again," he added quickly. He stuck his hand out and put on a horrible, hopeful smile. "Deal?"

"I don't know about that," John said slowly.

Rodney looked dismayed.

"But—"

"What if you weren't the only one. Thinking about it?"

"You were thinking. About sex. With me?"

"Uh. Yeah?" John clapped a hand on the back of his neck, trying to duplicate the sensation of having Rodney's hand there. He met Rodney's eyes; they'd narrowed in suspicion, but then wary hope flickered into a crooked little smirk.

"Well, I am a handsome man."

John snorted a laugh and Rodney looked offended.

"Raw animal magnetism aside, Rodney—the hall probably isn't the best place to have this conversation," John said in a low voice.

"Do we have to have one?" Rodney looked anguished at the thought. "I mean, can't we do the manful non-verbal thing? With the—with the, uh, physical communication?" He leaned in suggestively.

"You're such a sex hound," John smiled.

"Well look at you! And you didn't punch me when I kissed you, and I take that as a very good sign"

"I might punch you the next time you try it if you don't shut up," John promised.

There was something unaccountably certain in Rodney's tone when he said, "Oh, I don't think so," and moved in for the kill.

John bunched his hands in Rodney's jacket to hold him off.

"Easy, there, tiger."

"I thought you liked me," Rodney complained.

"I'll like you a lot less if you get me pulled from this mission for fraternization."

"I'm not military!"

"I am," John insisted, wondering why Rodney seemed weirdly incapable of accepting the fact that John had rules to follow, responsibilities.

"Right. Right. You're so smart that I manage to forget that sometimes."

And there was John's answer. There was also the pleasant rush of a heady compliment. Rodney thought he was hot and smart. Cool.

Rodney straightened his jacket and glanced at John from under his lashes.

"So. I've got those movies. Back in my room."

"You don't say?"

"You could maybe come by later?"

"Maybe."

Rodney glowered at him.

"Now you're playing hard to get?"

John tucked his hands in his pockets and shrugged, trying not to smile.

"Unbelievable. Don't think I'm going to be waiting around for you," Rodney warned. "I'm a very busy man."

"So I've heard."

Visibly frustrated, Rodney turned away, muttering to himself.

"Hey, Rodney?"

"Yes, what?"

"Wait up."

*

The second the door to Rodney's quarters slid shut, Rodney yanked his own shirt over his head, rucking up his soft hair. Then he grabbed John's belt and unbuckled it like lives were at stake.

"I'm not gonna change my mind half-way through," John pointed out, and Rodney threw him an annoyed look.

"This isn't a self-esteem issue; it's simple sexual expedience," and John felt his belt slither through his belt-loops, heard it hit the floor with a dull jingle. Then Rodney backed John into the wall again, slid a hand into his hair and angled in for a kiss.

This one was less 40s movie and more 70s porn. Rodney's hands were everywhere, groping his ass, sliding up under the back of his shirt, and John returned the favor, licking at the line of Rodney's jaw, slipping a hand down the front of Rodney's pants.

Rodney liked everything, every touch made him quake and gasp against John's ear, and when John closed a hand around Rodney's cock, Rodney pressed his face into the crook of John's neck and muttered damp nonsense into John's t-shirt, one hand fisting in the pocket of John's pants. Slow, firm strokes made Rodney whimper, "christ, please, oh—" until he shot all over John's stomach, where his shirt had been pushed up by Rodney's roving hands.

Particularly satisfying hand-job, John thought dimly, as Rodney unzippered his pants and wrapped a come-slicked hand around John's erection.

*

Rodney's bed smelled like Rodney and John figured now he did, too. They were both hard again, with Rodney's eyelashes flickering against his neck while he made tiny groaning noises as he rolled his hips into John's. John closed his eyes and nosed at Rodney's sideburn before sticking his tongue in his ear. Rodney gave a low, shuddering moan and John grinned.

"Like that, huh?"

Rodney cupped his face and kissed him, lewdly, urgently, and John let him. When Rodney let him go, he lazily kissed his way down Rodney's throat and chest, licking at a nipple. When Rodney made an approving sound, John bit down—and got shoved away.

"Ow! Jesus, what, did you skip lunch?"

"No, but if I'd known you were such a delicate flower, I'd have bought you dinner first."

"Oh, shut up," Rodney said, crossing his arms. "Bed is no place for pain, Colonel, and if you've got some kind of whips and chains fetish going on, I don't want to know about it."

"We're naked," John pointed out. Or close enough. His pants were on the other side of the room and Rodney only had his boxers on. "You can call me John."

"Take off your shirt and I'll see what I can do."

John did.

"You are really astonishingly—" John narrowed his eyes and Rodney plainly revised his sentiment at the last moment, saying, "Virile." He stroked a hand appraisingly over John's chest. "Mm." He dropped his head to kiss John's breastbone. "Very nice." He ran his hand down along John's belly to cup his hard-on through his shorts and said, "Very nice, actually."

He shifted the fabric of John's boxers so that his dick was poking up through the fly, and lipped at it gently. Raising his head, he gave John a strange, soft look.

"God, what if I hadn't come in with you?" His mouth was slack and drooping.

"You only just thought of that?" John felt nearly offended.

"Well, at the time, I was thinking more about how you were dying and how I couldn't get my hands to stop shaking."

John reached up and stroked a thumb along Rodney's cheekbone.

"Well, then I guess I should do something nice for you. Since you saved my life and all." And he stripped out of his boxers and skinned Rodney out of his so he could lick the crease where Rodney's hip met his thigh and breathe hotly on the thin skin of Rodney's shaft. He chafed his cheek against it once, feeling the muscles in Rodney's thighs jump, and then he opened his mouth and let the slick head graze his tongue.

"Oh, that. That is something," Rodney said softly, sounding dazed.

Which was when Cadman walked in.

"Rodney, I know you're in—Hey!"

He and Rodney sprang apart, Rodney looking trapped and wild-eyed.

"No! Nononononono," Rodney muttered frantically, rolling out of bed and scrabbling for his pants, in the end giving up on sliding into them in favor of just holding them in front of his legs. "No, this is—this is not—you can't say anything!"

She'd been standing there, huge-eyed and blushing, but now she put her hands on her hips and glared at Rodney.

"Come on, like I'm going to report you. Give me a some credit."

"What are you even doing here? And—and don't you knock?"

John was wondering if he could try for some judicious pillow placement or if he should just stay still when he caught Cadman giving him a frank and assessing once over. When she gave him a knowing little smirk, John toyed with the idea of posing a little. Fair was fair, after all.

"Hello?" Snapping his fingers to get her attention, Rodney gave Cadman a bright, false smile. "Hi. I'm Rodney McKay. You used to sleep with me, remember? If you've finished ogling my—my Colonel, maybe you can—"

"Button up, will you? I came to apologize. Katie said you'd seen me with Carson in the mess hall and I just came by to make sure you weren't, you know, throwing yourself off a balcony or something."

"Oh, fine, abandon me for a medical doctor and then come to gloat over my corpse. Very civic minded of you."

"If I wasn't so civic minded," she said hotly, "I'd throw you off the balcony myself."

"You two," John snapped, coming up on genuine irritation. "Do you really have to have this fight now?"

Both of them tossed him snitty looks before returning to their fight as if he hadn't said anything.

"I knew you had a thing for him," Cadman accused, thumping him in the chest with a forefinger. Rodney looked unimpressed.

"You're a woman. Isn't it your job to be terrifyingly perceptive about things like that?"

Her eyes went wide for a moment and then she sighed.

"Oh, Rodney. You can be such a dink sometimes."

"Well, isn't that why you broke up with me in the first place?" Laughing, she shook her head and he blinked at her, confused. "What? No, really, I'm asking."

"I broke up with you because you're an arrogant blowhard about 90% of the time."

"And the other ten?"

"The other ten, you're kind of sweet. Which is why I put up with you for so long." She tipped her head and smiled at him. "Anyway. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings by getting back with Carson so soon." She tugged his ear affectionately. "You take care, Rodney."

"Wait." Rodney caught her hand. "I just. Thank you. I mean. I had a really nice time. With you. Mostly," he amended. Then he leaned over to kiss her lightly on the lips. "You, um. Say hello to Carson for us. For me, I mean. Since..."

"My lips are sealed," she promised. She sketched a little wave at John on her way out, and Rodney watched her go.

John counted to ten before clearing his throat.

Rodney gave a guilty start, hands tensing in his empty pants.

"So," John said.

"I'll really try to watch the arrogant blowhard stuff, but I can't promise anything," Rodney blurted, looking fraught.

I kind of like the arrogant blowhard stuff, John didn't say, because he had some sense of self-preservation, no matter what Rodney thought.

"Okay."

Rodney took a step closer.

"Luckily, I'm very good with birthdays. I send Jeannie a card every year."

"I'll be sure and check my mailbox, then."

Risking another step, Rodney continued, "And Cadman had mentioned that she found my, uh, jealousy, particularly unattractive, so I'll work on that, too."

John gave that a cautious nod, but didn't plan to hold his breath.

Rodney frowned.

"Feel free to bolster my character against my flaws any time now. Or offer to fix up something on your side, at least. You're not exactly Mr. Communication yourself, you know."

"I think I do okay. With physical communication, anyway," John offered.

"You're kind of a dick," Rodney said, sounding relieved. Then he added, "You know that, right?"

When John let out a slow laugh, Rodney dropped his pants and crawled onto the bed, flopping down on John to kiss him enthusiastically and inadvertently elbowing him in the side.

Which was when Zelenka walked in.

END