giddygeek | (no subject)

New fic, Pt 2! Go here for Part 1

Day Break Pt 2, by

giddygeek.

~~~~~

"Stop sulking," Sheppard said as he followed Rodney from the conference room after the briefing.

"I'm not."

"You are too. You haven't said three words at me since--"

"Yes, well, why should I? You--I could've taken him!" Rodney stomped into the transporter. "And if you had to hold me back, could you have picked something other than my belt to do it with? Kavanagh's leash joke wasn't funny."

"None of Kavanagh's jokes are funny."

"He has this one about three Marines, a hooker and a drunken lla--but that's not the point. The point is, don't do that." He stomped out of the transporter and into the labs. The techs got one look at him and silently fled, which was good; Zelenka took one look at him, raised an eyebrow, then pointed at the coffee pot and went back to work, which was better.

Sheppard poked around in the pile of stuff that was to be sorted into other, more meaningful piles. They'd had him do that a few times before, when he'd come too close to the labs and gotten dragged in. He had a real ability to sense which devices were dead, and which might still work. He couldn't tell the dangerous ones from the others, which would have been truly helpful, but he made part of the cataloguing go faster, at least. Rodney set up his laptops, got coffee, said, "And don't touch anything that'll kill us all," before sitting down at his table to work.

For a while, he managed to get lost in the ever fascinating world of reports backlog, and forget all about the frustration of punish the idiots day--Sheppard had ruined that! The highlight of his week! He had nothing to look forward to now but the same old things; saving the universe, saving the city, saving all their asses and turning right around to save them all again.

"Major, Major," Zelenka said, sounding vaguely panicked. "You should not touch so--no, you cannot take that one, it has not been catalogued!"

Rodney looked up, and Sheppard was sliding a small, silver rectangle into his pocket and looking at Zelenka innocently, like it wasn't blatant thievery.

"Is that the thing you want to make sure I don't touch?" he asked Sheppard, who nodded without looking at him, still smiling at Zelenka. "Will it blow up, fry your brain, make you see things that aren't there, call the Wraith to us, or turn our shampoo into hair dye?"

"I don't know about the dye thing," Sheppard said. "But the rest of it, no."

"Then let him take it," Rodney said, and Zelenka turned to stare at him, wide-eyed. "It's not obviously dangerous, and I know for a fact that he doesn't plan to use it for anything, so indulge him." He leaned forward and said in a stage whisper, "Major Sheppard has gone insane today."

"Ah," Zelenka says. "Yes. Understandable. Who has not? For example, I was just to ask for a screwdriver and some peanut butter, please."

Rodney tossed a screw driver and Sheppard fished the peanut butter out of the not-so-secret snack drawer.

"Thanks," Sheppard said when he passed Rodney's table top on his way. "I'm glad you stopped sulking."

"Who says I did?" Rodney said, and then he sniffed and went back to work.

~~~~~

Much to Rodney's surprise, Major Sheppard stayed in the labs until long after Zelenka had gotten hungry--the peanut butter hadn't been for eating--and gone to the mess for dinner. It wasn't until he'd sorted through the entire pile of devices, two days work for anyone else, that he pushed back his stool and stood, stretching with a sigh.

"You can't fool me into thinking you're just going to work straight through with no dinner," he said, leaning on Rodney's work table. "And if that's what you were actually going to do, seriously, are you crazy?"

"I have snacks," Rodney muttered, typing more quickly. About half the keys he hit were wrong, but he could go back and fix them later. The point was to make Sheppard think he was busy busy, very busy, so busy that he should be left alone to work in peace.

"It's chipped mystery meat," Sheppard said. "On toast. With real potatoes."

Rodney hesitated. If there were real potatoes, and he waited too long, guaranteed they'd be gone before he got there. "Fine," he said reluctantly, saving his work and shutting down. "But I'm coming back to work after dinner, and you're going to go do something. Else. Away from here."

"I promise I won't come back here after dinner," Sheppard said, and it was the innocent smile again, the one that made Rodney nervous, made the native women of other planets crazy, and made the protective fathers of native women on other planets reach for their weapons. He was up to something, and it wasn't going to be good.

They went down to the mess together and Rodney dropped off the laptops while Sheppard grabbed them a place in line. There was a method to the madness of dinner time. You could trust that people on different schedules would be pouring in regularly, and anything with flavor would be gone if you sat with your stuff till someone from your group or team or department had gone through the line and could guard it. Not that they had a big problem with theft on Atlantis, but scientists tended to be paranoid about their work, and the military members of the mission tended to just be paranoid. It had taken a couple weeks to sort it out, but eventually everyone had come to rely on the fact that you could leave your stuff at a table and it'd be there when you got back, but if you lost your place in line, forget it.

When he got into line, Sheppard handed him a tray, then proceeded to load it up for him. Kavanagh would've eaten and gone already, but Rodney imagined that there had been gossip, and that he could feel eyes on his back, watching the two of them speculatively. "Stop it," he hissed, and Sheppard looked up from the sort-of gravy he was pouring over Rodney's potatoes.

"What?" he said, raising an eyebrow, and Rodney jerked a shoulder. Sheppard looked behind him and nodded, presumably at someone who was watching, the source of the tight, itchy feeling between Rodney's shoulder blades--and then smiled at Rodney. "Don't worry about it. I'm not."

"I'm not worrying about it, I'm worried that you're not worried, but that's just because you have clearly been involved in some freak blowdryer accident that cost you all your spare brain cells," Rodney said. "I am done with that today. You want to make sure people believe whatever crap it is that Kavanagh spreads? Fine. Hand me dessert."

Sheppard handed him dessert. It was a bread thing, sweet, with a little frosting, and he got the biggest piece available. He raised an eyebrow at Sheppard, who shrugged and got his own piece, and followed him back to the table. Rodney ate fast, eyes on the wall, and fortunately Sheppard didn't try to talk to him. But he followed again when Rodney went to dump his tray, and he grabbed one of the laptops before Rodney could get it.

"I'm holding it ransom," he said, strolling along calmly. Rodney stalked after him and tried, tried so hard, not to make a scene in the mess. Not making scenes was not his forte, and people clearly noticed that something was up, but everyone who chanced to meet his gaze looked away and most of them weren't smirking. That was all he could really ask for.

Sheppard headed down the long hall to his room, ignoring the transporter by the mess, ignoring Rodney's outraged and mumbled insults, which wasn't a surprise. He'd had it planned all along--that damned innocent smile--and he had probably been expecting Rodney to be cranky. He probably hadn't cared. He was like that.

"After you," he said when they'd reached his room, and Rodney stalked in, dropped the laptop on Sheppard's painfully neat desk, and turned around, ready to give Sheppard a real talking to for A) being crazy, B) worrying him, C) being a jerk, D) being a liar, of all things, E) being a thief, and worst of all, F) being an idiot.

"I wish you weren't so mad," Sheppard said before he even had a chance to start his litany of complaints, giving him the stupid fake puppy dog look, chin tipped down, mouth pouty, eyes wide. "Really, I had your best interests at heart."

"Give it up," Rodney said. He threw his hands up. "What do I have to do to convince you that I'm not mad, make a little set of best friends forever bracelets after school?"

Sheppard crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head. "You're mad because I stopped you from punching Kavanagh when you wanted to punch me."

Rodney snorted. "You started our little contretemps in there, but I didn't want--"

"You thought I made a joke about something you were keeping secret, right?" Sheppard said and he was suddenly all intensity, all watchful eyes and quiet voice, three feet closer to Rodney without seeming to have moved at all. "You're not good at secrets, but you were really working on that one, huh?"

"I'm exceptionally good at keeping secrets, Major," Rodney lied. "I know things your President doesn't even have the clearance to know, let alone your average--"

Sheppard shook his head. "Not about you. You tell two math stories and a physics joke and complain about a bruise you don't remember getting, and it's like you just opened everything right up. I feel like I know more about you than the people I've worked with for years. But I didn't know--the last today, Kavanagh asked you why you'd brought me to the meeting, and you said because I was pretty. And it was just something you said to get to him, but it was like a math joke too--it opened you up. You slipped, and I learned something, and the more I watched you yesterday, the more I got what you'd been hiding."

"Good for you," Rodney said. "Congratulations, really. I'll throw you a party--a Major Sheppard Went and Figured Something Out Party. Cake and funny hats for everyone else, cake and humiliation for me. Sounds marvelous!"

Sheppard shook his head again, took a step closer. "I'd rather have this instead," he said, and Rodney just barely had time to blink before the Major was on him, a hand on his cheek, kissing him, changing Rodney's world.

Sheppard wasn't smooth. It was like being back in high school again, making out with people who weren't quite sure they were supposed to be doing what they were doing, and thrilled by how good it felt. But he wasn't bad, either. He had long, fine hands that made Rodney shiver, bewildered by the intensity of his own reaction, and he made little noises in the back of his throat when Rodney mapped out his arms and chest and stomach with his mouth, and between them they did all right at driving each other crazy.

"You said I was pretty," Sheppard muttered against Rodney's neck at one point, and then he was snickering, pinching Rodney's nipples and laughing at the same time.

Rodney waved his hands, but that made them feel so empty. He put them back on Sheppard's body, filling them up, and said, "I lied, I lied, you're not--" but there weren't words for what Sheppard was, so Rodney just kissed him.

"You're going to stay here tonight," Sheppard said after that, his hands on the zipper of Rodney's pants, his mouth hot against Rodney's collarbone, the hollow of his throat.

Rodney tipped his head back even as he said, "What, you think you can kiss me and then just take over? No. I'm going back to my own room after this, and we're both going to sleep, and we'll wake up in the morning and--"

Sheppard was grinning, Rodney could feel it, and his hand did something evil and wanton to Rodney's aching dick, and Rodney said, "Yeah, okay, I'll stay."

~~~~~

Rodney McKay woke up. The alarm wasn't going off, but it was very bright in his room, which could only mean trouble. He didn't even want to turn his head to look at the clock. If he'd slept through the alarm and no one had come to wake him, it could only mean a limited number of things, the most likely of which was that everyone else was dead and he was all alone in the city and would either be killed or slowly go insane.

Then his door opened and Major Sheppard stumbled into the room.

"I cancelled your meeting and the briefing and told Zelenka you wouldn't be in the labs today," he said while Rodney was still fighting his covers so he could sit up, and he took a small silver device out of his pocket. He waved it in Rodney's face before dropping it on the desk. "You're not touching that, you're not leaving the room, you're not doing anything until it stops being today."

Rodney stared at him, then slumped back against his pillows. "I thought everyone was dead," he said, staring at the ceiling. His heart was racing. "I overslept and no one came to get me!"

"When I woke up and you weren't--well, when I woke up, I figured you'd need the sleep," Sheppard said. Then he sat on the edge of Rodney's bed, rubbed his face, and fell over backwards, pinning Rodney's legs to the mattress. "Let me break it down for you. We're living Groundhog's Day, the movie, and it has something to do with you touching that device. I've touched it myself and nothing happens, but you touch it and we--it's like you're resetting the day, and we keep having the same damn morning. Except yesterday, I made sure you didn't touch, and yet here we are. Today again."

Rodney fought both Sheppard's weight and the covers, and managed to shove himself up on his elbows. Sheppard turned his head, saw Rodney looking at him, and said, "I'm really tired. We keep going back to about the same time. I'd been up for an hour by then and started the inventory, and that's how it keeps happening, I'm back doing inventory." He snorted. "The definition of Hell, huh? Eternal inventory."

He did look tired, and worn down, and there was something not right in the way he was looking at Rodney. Also, there were the pinned legs. Rodney cleared his throat and said, "Well, if you let me get up, I can walk you to the infirmary, and they can find out what kind of psychotic episode you've had, and--"

Sheppard closed his eyes, and didn't move. "I'm not crazy," he said quietly. "I've told you that a couple todays in a row. It's starting to get to me that you don't believe it."

Rodney hesitated. On the one hand, Groundhog's Day? On the other hand, it was Sheppard, who didn't really lie, wasn't normally insane, and wasn't prone to collapsing on Rodney's bed for no good reason.

Plus, it was Atlantis.

"Okay," he said. "Bring me the thing."

Sheppard stared at him, then narrowed his eyes. "You believe me? Or are you just humoring the crazy--you know what, don't answer that. Also, no."

"Don't look at me like that. What's the worst that can happen, we start today over from, what, a half hour ago?"

"Forty-five minutes," Sheppard said. "Give or take a couple days."

Rodney rolled his eyes and struggled to knee the Major in the back, barely managing to nudge him forcefully. Who knew the man was so heavy? He looked underfed all the time. Maybe it was just the slimming effects of the black shirts. Rodney nudged again and said, "Come on, I haven't got all day--ha. Well. Anyway, bring me the thing!"

"Don't make me regret this, Rodney," Sheppard said after a moment's hesitation, and then he got to his feet and snatched the thing off the desk. Not graceful, Rodney noted. Tired.

"And my laptop. No, not that one, my other--no! The other one--yes, finally, thank you. Toolkit's under the--good." Sheppard dumped the laptop, the tools and the device in Rodney's lap, then sat down next to him. Rodney had to move over. "There's not enough room in my lap for you too," he said irritably, and Sheppard grinned at him. Even the grin was tired, but there was a gleam in Sheppard's eyes that made it clear the man still had some energy. "What," Rodney said, wary, and Sheppard shook his head. "What!"

"I'll tell you later. For now, just. Fix time, or something, would you?"

"Fix time, he says, like it's something I'm used to doing before I've had my coffee." Rodney scanned the device, then the list of catalogued artifacts. "Huh. No record of an Ancient remote control, more's the pity. No reports of a time machine either."

"They had one, in the jumper," John said. "The one the other Elizabeth escaped in."

Rodney nodded. "We could be looking at a prototype, or perhaps mark two of the same device." The idea was certainly plausible, and he could feel his brain struggling through the lack of coffee to reach excitement. "Tell me, what did I do before that made you think I triggered it?"

"You touched the buttons."

Rodney turned his head to stare. The Major was closer than he was used to--well, maybe not for running/shooting/falling over each other/hiding types of situations, but certainly for home and cozy in Atlantis situations. He tried to scoot a little farther away, but almost fell off the other side of the bed. "All I did was touch the--you could take the chair," he said. "I know you know how to use one. Sort of."

Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "I'm feeling pretty comfy, Rodney, but thanks for the offer," he said. "You touched the blue button, then you touched the green one, and then the world went reboot."

"And when you touched it?"

Sheppard shrugged. "Did the same thing as you, and nothing happened."

"Did the same thing as me?" Rodney threw up his hands and Sheppard jerked back to avoid getting punched in the nose. "I give you credit for having half a brain half the time," he ranted, "and you go and do something stupid like exactly what I--well, exactly what you know caused the problem in the first place?"

"I thought maybe it was a full gene thing," Sheppard said defensively. "Like maybe when you touched it, it misfired!"

Rodney groaned. "A full gene thing. Right. Yes. Very clever and clearly erroneous deduction, Major Sheppard. Congratulations, you're ready to come be part of the science team."

"Thanks, I think I'll pass on that," Sheppard said dryly. "So can you fix this or what?"

"I think it's safe to assume that there's a way to fix it."

"And by that you mean, yes?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, of course yes. But how do I. Okay." He leaned over and grabbed a notebook off the low table he was using as a night stand, pulled the pen clipped to the binder free of its cover. He flipped through to an empty page and began to write. "Dear Self, Major Sheppard has handed you this note and an Ancient device with two buttons. You pressed the blue, then the green, and started Groundhog's Day. You pressed the green, then the blue to stop it. If you're reading this note, that failed. Please press the blue button only. Sincerely, You. (Dr. R. McKay)." Then he tore out the page and handed it to Major Sheppard.

"The remote stayed in my pocket after the restart, so okay, but how will you know it's really from you?" Sheppard asked. "Maybe you should leave some kind of code."

"Like what, the monkeys run at midnight? What good is a code going to do when I don't remember making it?"

"Okay, so not a code." Sheppard stole his pen and uncapped it with his teeth. "There's a birthmark on your right inner thigh," he mumbled around the cap, writing the words underneath Rodney's own note. His handwriting wasn't as dark or as neat as Rodney's, both spikier and loopier. "And this might be overkill but who knows: you also have a scar on your left ass cheek, from a tragic childhood cannonball incident. Signed, John." He studied his handiwork, was apparently satisfied, then folded the note in precise quarters and tucked it in his pocket.

Rodney gaped at him. "How--you'd have to be looking pretty close to see either of those, Major, and I certainly don't remember telling you anything about The Incident--"

Sheppard was smiling at him again, all satisfied gleam.

"We did not," Rodney said, and Sheppard nodded, then leaned over and kissed him hard, knowingly, not at all a first time kiss. At first, Rodney didn't respond, had no idea what to do, and the Major slid an arm around him, hand settling with firm, hot pressure against the small of his back, and he gasped and opened his mouth. A quick, slick slide of the Major's tongue against his own, and then the kiss was over.

"A couple times last night," Sheppard said smugly. "I think that's part of why I'm so tired today. I hardly got any sleep before I was back to inventory."

"A couple times." Rodney gaped at him. "I take it it was--good?"

"The blow job you gave me immediately went into the top three of all time."

"Only the top three?" Rodney said, insulted.

Sheppard patted his leg. "Well, you know what they say about first times, Rodney."

"Yeah--that they're not supposed to happen twice."

Sheppard grinned at him. "So if this doesn't work, we'll do something else for the next first time. Hey, I'm just trying to look on the bright side. If I get to have a couple first times with you before I die of exhaustion, the universe will seem like a slightly less unjust place. Could you press the buttons, please, before we get distracted?"

"A couple times." Rodney took a deep breath. "You're so giving me details later," he said, and pressed the green button.

~~~~~

Rodney McKay woke up, and Major Sheppard was sitting beside him on the bed. He blinked and Sheppard said, "All our meetings for today are cancelled. Sit up," then held out a coffee, waiting until Rodney had managed to push himself up before handing it to him.

Rodney eyed him suspiciously, then took a sip and sighed happily. Perfection. Just the right amount of cream and sugar and even knowing both were fake wouldn't have dulled the caffeine buzz. Too bad Sheppard's slightly grim, tired face had already taken the edge off it. He took another sip and braced himself for the worst. "What happened?"

"I told Elizabeth what's going on, and unlike you, she doesn't think I'm insane. Everyone is taking the day off, until further notice," Sheppard said, and then handed him a scanner, his laptop, his tools, a small Ancient device, and a folded piece of paper.

"Wow, it's just like Christmas, only with work," Rodney said. "What do you expect me to do with this mess?"

"Drink the coffee, read the note, play with your toys, save my life," Sheppard said. "I'm getting damn tired of inventory, you know. There's only so many times you can abruptly find yourself counting the same case of bullets before it gets a little old."

"Inventory," Rodney said. "Crap! That means it's punish--"

"Cancelled," Sheppard said, and for a moment his face went past grim to ferocious. He took a deep breath, shook his head. "It's a long story. Just, trust me, you've already had your thrill for the week, a couple times over."

Rodney stared at him. "Why don't I just read the note," he said, and leaned over to put the coffee cup on his bedside table. He picked up the neatly folded piece of paper and read it.

He refolded it. He put it back down in his lap. He picked the coffee cup up again, and took a long, steady gulp. "You'd have to be looking pretty close to--"

"See the Cannonball Scar. Yes. You would be, and I was." Sheppard shook his head. "It's a note from us regarding our current problem of being trapped in time, and all you can think about is the Cannonball--actually, never mind. I'm trapped in this too, and I can't stop thinking about it either. Could you press the blue button, please?"

"You wouldn't have handed me my stuff if you'd thought I would just press the blue button on. Uh, on my own say so," Rodney said, picking up the scanner. "Which is the only reason why I'm not saying lalala, elaborate prank, very good MIT class of Pegasus. Now shut up while I do this. Also, go sit somewhere else. You're creeping me out."

"I don't have the energy." Sheppard slid down until he was lying flat on his back on Rodney's bed, his hands crossed over his stomach. Rodney stared at him for a moment, then, feeling brave, reached out to brush his hair back off his forehead. After all, Sheppard wasn't real big on lying to him, and if he wasn't lying then he'd seen the scar, the birthmark, had maybe touched them. That gave Rodney some kind of right to touch too, didn't it? Maybe even a responsibility. And Sheppard turned into the touch, though he didn't open his eyes. After a moment, he sighed. "I'm so ready for tomorrow," he said, and Rodney went back to work.

"No mention of it," he said, after skimming through his list of catalogued devices. "Or of anything that even looks like it. Are you sure--"

"Yes," Sheppard said. "And you said yourself last today, it might be a prototype or something. The other Elizabeth, time-travel, no DeLorean jokes."

"The DeLorean was, itself, a joke," Rodney said, and took a deep breath. He leaned over and grabbed his notebook and his pen, then scribbled, 'PS, if touching just the blue button fails, press them at the same time. Other than that, I'm out of ideas. PPS, find out why ~~Maj~~ John remembers and you don't, but he can't work the device and you can. Device imprints? You 1st to use. JS strongest gene. Ancients to start day over knowing what happened, genetic drift and art. gene cause mild misfire? Discuss w/CB. PPPS, get revenge for JS experiencing a first time that you don't remember. Sincerely, You.' He folded the note up and handed it to John, then said, "Well, here goes nothing," and pressed the blue button.

And waited.

And waited.

"How will we know it wor--oh," he said. John was asleep, the note gripped in his hand, his mouth open and slack. He would be a drooler, Rodney thought. Two droolers in one bed was always a delight.

Well, there were certainly worse ways to pass the time before finding out if it had worked, particularly considering that nothing he did was going to stay done if they'd failed. He put the device down, then moved the laptop, tools, and scanner on to the floor. His room was full of light, but it was kind of nice. He hadn't taken a nap in the sunshine since, jeez, well before he left for Pegasus. He laid back down, careful not to knock John off the bed, then closed his eyes, and almost instantly fell back to sleep.

~~~~~

Rodney McKay woke and slept and woke again, deep sleep but restless. Sometimes he ate something from his stash of Powerbars and Athosian cookie things, and he woke John up to make sure he ate too. A couple times, he headed blindly for the bathroom, feeling limp and weak and hot, like he'd slept too much but needed more. And in the afternoon, he stumbled out to the control room to make sure everything was running okay, but the small skeleton staff that Elizabeth had apparently left in place waved him off. For once, he only double-checked their work, then hurried back to his room. As soon as he laid down again, he was asleep; his body trying to make up for all the years it had gone without, in one fell swoop.

Every time he woke, he was pressed as tightly to John's side as he could get, or had an arm across him, or was tangled with him in the sheets. He'd always slept on his back and he'd never been one to snuggle up to another person in bed. He wasn't even the kind of guy who particularly wished there was someone to snuggle up with. It was weird, like he'd been ignoring something else he'd needed for too long and his body was making up for the years of that too.

At dusk, John untangled long enough to do a quick sweep of Atlantis' security with Ford and the rest of the security personnel, but he was back before dark, crawling back onto the bed and murmurming, "Shh, shh," when Rodney started to ask. "It's all fine, it's still today but I wasn't expecting tomorrow yet," and wrapping himself around Rodney with his mouth pressed to the back of his neck.

And once, well after midnight, he woke with John's mouth on his skin, tasting him, John's hand wrapped around his dick, squeezing but not moving. "Did it work?" he asked, and felt the light graze of teeth over his skin. "Yes," he gasped, tipping his head back, spreading his legs, but John only kissed him.

"Too early to tell. We made it to midnight before," he whispered. "But I woke up and read your note." Rodney could feel him smiling. "Revenge for two first times you don't remember? No. We'll wait and see if it worked. I just," and they were kissing again, breathing deep and hard, and Rodney soaked up every second because he'd been starving for it.

It had been, oh, almost a year since he'd gotten laid, which was bad but not the kind of desperation bad that would normally have had him whining when John's other hand slid down his back and rested in the small of it, pressing them together. A year of abstinence was nothing compared to the desire in him; it had to be something else.

It was a long time until John's hands slowed, longer still till the burn faded to more manageable levels. "Wait," John whispered, and his eyes closed. It took Rodney a little longer to fall asleep again, but he did; he closed his eyes again, and slept much more peacefully after that.

~~~~~

Then Rodney McKay woke up an hour before his alarm was supposed to go off, and it wasn't quite light in his room, and his stomach grumbled. "Breakfast," he said. "Coffee. Eggs." Beside him, John laughed, and Rodney's head whipped around so fast that he almost knocked himself out of the bed.

Fortunately, John had a good grip on him.

"You're here," he said. "It worked! It worked!"

"I don't know why you're so excited," John said. "I was the one in inventory Hell!"

"And I'm the one who gets the first time now," Rodney said, and he had a hand on either side of John's face, stubble rasping against his palms. "Although, it's not fair--it's kind of creepy--because you remember the other first time and I'll never get that back."

John rolled his eyes. "I seduced you fair and square. You called me pretty, I didn't know if I was ever going to get out of that day, it might have been my only chance! But if you want, we can go find those goggles, the ones that cause the week of amnesia, and then you can have the creepy first time."

"Hmph," Rodney said, considering it. "Elizabeth is going to have enough questions when we turn the remote over to her, so, no. But don't think I'm not going to hold it over your head for years!"

"That sounds fine to me," John said, grinning, and he pulled Rodney down.

~~~~~