Name that Tune by maverick4oz (Superpower Challenge)
Title: Name that Tune
Author: Maverick
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: S for Silly
Spoilers: A wee Season Three wardrobe spoiler.
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox or my galaxy.
Summary: “So you want me to use my powers for evil?”
John cocked an eyebrow. “Because you’ve been using them for good up until now?”
Many thanks to mboyd for her beta and suggestions.
Name that Tune
~*~*~*~*~
The first time John realized he was humming, “I’m Too Sexy,” he was just leaving the firing range. He looked around to make sure no one else had heard him and went about his day. The second time, he was sitting in his office going through supply acquisitions with Major Lorne. A cock of Lorne’s eyebrow had let him know he’d been caught. Dammit. John did his level best not to give his XO any blackmail ammunition and then his subconscious goes ahead and provides the goods free of charge.
The thing was, that song -- and dammit there it went again buzzing through his head -- wasn’t even in the collection of music he had brought with him from Earth. He had much better taste than that. In fact he couldn’t remember ever hearing the whole entire song. Okay, there was that club in Amsterdam when he was on leave back in 95, but he’d been very, very drunk and she had been very, very pretty, or at least he thought so after twelve beers. The fact that he had woken up shirtless and hung over was totally irrelevant.
He went back to his room and played his entire Johnny Cash collection in the hope that it would scrub the annoying anthem from his mind. It worked until the next time he visited Rodney’s lab. McKay and Zelenka were deep into a discussion about particle distortion and magnetic fields when John’s brain kicked in with its, “I’m too sexy for my shirt” chorus. The grimace on his face stopped both scientists cold. And man, it must have been one doozy of a look because nothing short of an imminent Wraith attack could stop the dynamic duo of geekdom when they were on such a roll.
Reaching over to an empty chair, Radek slid it in John’s direction. “Here Colonel, have seat. You do not look well.”
“I’m fine,” John said straddling the chair before sitting down. “Just a headache, nothing to worry about.”
Rodney looked across at John, his expression somewhere between concern and annoyance. “Well in case you are confused, this isn’t the medlab. And neither Radek nor I are known for our bedside manner.”
Zelenka wheeled his own chair over to his desk and pulled out the biggest bottle of Advil that John had ever seen. “Speak for yourself, McKay. I am always pleasant.” Radek extended the bottle to John. “Help yourself, Colonel. We keep several bottles around lab.”
John smiled as Zelenka cast his eyes toward Rodney.
Rodney caught it too. “Oh very funny Radek. I’m sorry if my brilliance makes your head ache.”
Zelenka said something in Czech that John was pretty sure translated into something like, ‘brilliance, my ass, more like your mouth, you mean,’ if the look on Zelenka’s face was anything to go by. He popped the top of the pill bottle and shook out two pills before handing it back to Radek. “Thanks, Doc.”
“I’ll get you something to take those with,” Radek said before walking to the other end of the lab.
Rodney glared at John who was busy tapping his fingers against the metal lab table trying to shake the song from his head.
Rodney put his hand over John’s to stop the movement. “Did you come down here to pilfer our medical supplies or was there an actual reason for your visit? Let me guess, shooting paper targets has finally lost its appeal?”
Ah silence. Well at least inside his head. Leave it to Rodney to be able to drown out the music beating up his brain. John looked over and smirked at the other man. He pulled his hand out from under Rodney’s and covered his heart. “Wow, McKay, your concern for my well being is very touching.”
“As I said, bedside manner is not my forte. What did you need?”
John stood up and leaned his hip against the table. “I wondered if we got the data back from the latest submersible jumper tests?”
“Yes, but I haven’t had a chance to look at it yet.”
Radek came back with a bottle of water that he handed to John and a mug of coffee for himself.
“Did you bring me a new cup?” Rodney asked as he watched Radek take a sip.
“Sorry, this is last one. You will have to go to cafeteria to get more.”
Rodney released a put upon sigh. “I went and got the last batch.”
Smiling, Radek took a visibly satisfying gulp of coffee. “And you will get next one as well, I think.”
Rodney huffed a “fine” before pulling up the schematics from the last jumper test.
John had to press his lips together to stop from laughing. Radek was one of a very short list of people who could get away with taunting Rodney like that.
The coffee was soon forgotten once Rodney and Zelenka started their usual tag team routine as John sat back and listened. He didn’t know if it was the Advil or the promising results from the jumper tests that kept his mind blissfully song free, but he was glad for the respite. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was the only one plagued by such things.
He got his answer later as he walked by Zelenka’s work station and he could hear the other man humming -- oh man -- “ I Touch Myself” by the Divinyls. So he wasn’t alone and he wasn’t the worse off either. He met Zelenka’s eyes and nodded in sympathy before he made his escape.
~*~*~*~*~
It was later that night while listening to Springsteen’s “Born to Run” that John had an epiphany. It was McKay. It had to be. He hadn’t started his descent into bad pop music hell until after he’d made Rodney put in extra time on the range. And he was almost certain Zelenka hadn’t started touching himself -- at least not lyrically -- until after he’d drank the last cup of coffee in the lab earlier that day.
Of course, it *had* to be McKay. And he’d figure out a way to prove it. And until that point, he would do his best not to shove something sharp into his ears to make the constant audio track of Right Said Fred, shut the fuck up.
~*~*~*~*~
Four hours later, John settled on a full frontal attack. He got up, got dressed and headed to Rodney’s quarters. When the door slid open, he walked in past Rodney, not letting the other man have the chance to even invite him in. Once the door had shut, John leaned against it, his arms folded across his chest. “So I did the math, McKay. You’re the common denominator.”
Rodney sat down on his desk chair, turning it to face John. “Are you having another incident like earlier today? Should I call Beckett?”
“Don’t pretend you’re all concerned for my well being,” John said, his voice a little more desperate than he would have liked. He pointed his finger at Rodney. “You’re the one who’s responsible for sticking this damn song in my head.”
Rodney gulped. “Song?”
“Yes, song. ‘I’m Too Sexy’ ring any bells.”
Rodney looked up, his eyes wide.
Got him. Rodney really didn’t have a poker face. At all. “What is it, some sort of Ancient device that implants suggestions?”
Rodney snorted. “Yes, because ten thousand years ago, the Ancients understood the vast untapped weapon potential that is modern day derivative pop music.”
John walked over to where Rodney was sitting and looked down at him with his best, ‘fix it now’ scowl. “McKay.”
“All right. You got me. But no device was needed,” Rodney said with a wave of his arms. “It’s just a skill of mine, I’ve had since childhood.”
“Skill?”
“Yes skill. By humming a minimum of three notes of any song near someone, I can imprint that song in their head.”
John perched himself up on the corner of Rodney’s desk. “Let me get this straight, being *really* damn annoying is your superpower?” John choked out a laugh. “Actually, that makes way too much sense.”
“Yes, laugh it up. Because it always a good policy to mock the person who saves your life on a weekly if not daily basis, not to mention one who can make that life a living hell. How’s your ‘Macarena’, Colonel?
John glared at Rodney. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Rodney hummed while crossing his arms along his torso Macarena style and glared right back.
John closed his eyes and exhaled a deep breath. “If you’ve always had this talent, why now? And why in the hell *that* song?”
Rodney shrugged. “I hadn’t done it in years until I accidentally made Elizabeth, ‘Walk Like an Egyptian,’ a couple of weeks ago. As for your song choice...”
“Yes?”
“You were wearing that damn leather jacket *everywhere*. For days. I mean the average mean temperature on Atlantis is 21.1 degrees Celsius. Seventy degrees Fahrenheit to you Americans. There’s absolutely no need to wear leather all the time.” Rodney paused for a moment and then amended, “well unless of course, you’re Ronon.”
John pulled some of Rodney’s hand gestures out of his bag and held up his index finger. “One, I’ve been able to convert Celsius and Fahrenheit since the second grade and two, I was not.”
“Yes, you were.”
John leaned down into Rodney’s space. “So what? You didn’t like my wardrobe choice, so you stuck that song in my head.”
“No, I stuck *a* song in your head because you were being an asshole on the range that day. The leather jacket just led to the song choice.”
John widened his stance and folded his arms across his chest. John knew it was an old argument, but it was a valid one. “I make you train McKay to save your life.”
Rodney pushed away from his desk and stood up, mimicking John’s stance, his body language showing he was prepared to fight. “I understand that. Do you really think I’d subject myself to your ridicule and Teyla’s sticks on such a consistent basis if I didn’t truly believe that. I’m not that much of a masochist, Colonel. But your little stunt that day went too far.”
“Attacks aren’t predictable. You have to be prepared for anything.” Okay, maybe he did go a bit too far.
Rodney captured John’s eyes with his own, defiance embedded deep on his face. “I think I’ve proven myself to be quite apt in dire situations. I didn’t need *that* lesson.”
“Ronon wouldn’t have hurt you.”
Rodney walked the few steps to the door and leaned back against it. “I know that, which is why I’m not mad at him.”
Turning to face Rodney, John tilted his head to the side and tried to decipher the other man’s expression. “You think *I’d* hurt you? What the hell, McKay?”
“Hurt me? Physically? No.” Rodney shook his head and met John’s eyes. “But you can’t always push me to the breaking point again and again, because sooner or later, I *am* going to break.”
“So what? You thought you’d break *me* first with that damn song.”
“Yes, Colonel because getting a song stuck in your head is *so* on the same level as making Ronon point a gun at me.”
Shit. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but the hurt look on Rodney’s face showed John just how wrong he’d been. He pulled in a deep breath and exhaled. “Okay listen. What you said is right. You are going to break and that’s what I’m trying to prepare you for. When that happens, it’s got to be automatic, it’s got to be so ingrained in you that your body reacts without thought. It’s got to be reflex.”
Rodney walked over and sat down on his bed. He scrubbed his face with his hands before looking up at John. “I am not a soldier. I will never be one. Do you *really* think it’s possible for me to do anything without thinking?”
John had to smile at that. “Sure, you’re a genius, remember. Or you know, maybe you could implant a song in your own head. I’ve got a few suggestions for you.”
Rodney smiled back. “The term is imprint and unfortunately it doesn’t work that way.”
John sighed. “No, believe me McKay, you’re the lucky one.”
Rodney stood up and walked back over to where John was standing. “You know, it doesn’t have to be just bad pop songs.”
John cocked an eyebrow. “What?”
“I can get rid of that song by replacing it with another one if you want.”
John gave his consent with his eyes. “Should I be scared?”
Rodney shook his head, leaned in and exhaled what must have been notes of a song against John’s ear. It was so quiet, no wonder John had no idea he’d done it the first time.
Rodney stepped back. “There you go.”
John’s face lit up as soon as the familiar music washed over him. He turned to smile at Rodney. “'Imperial March'. Cool.” John let the song play in his head for a few moments before meeting Rodney’s eyes. “Hey, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about the other day. I wasn’t trying to be an asshole.”
Rodney smiled. “Well *we* both come by that naturally, I suppose.”
John wanted Rodney to understand his intentions were good even if his execution sucked. “I just...I want. I don’t want something to happen to you because I left you unprepared.” John watched as Rodney’s eyes widened, obviously reading something off John’s face. He wasn’t sure what he was giving away.
Rodney grasped both of John’s shoulders and squeezed, then left his hands there. “You’ve got to know by now that you can’t exactly prepare for the Pegasus Galaxy.”
John nodded before leaning in to cover Rodney’s mouth with his own. No truer words had ever been spoken because he’d never imagined -- okay, he’d imagined -- but he never thought the evening would end this way.
But as Rodney pulled him down to the bed, he went with it. Whether it was instinct or insanity, he wasn’t sure. He just knew that nothing had ever felt so right.
~*~*~*~*~
Some time later, John woke up and turned on his side, pillowing his head on his one arm as he watched Rodney sleep beside him. When Rodney’s eyes fluttered open, the look of wonder and the indulgent smile that spread across his face sparked a chain reaction on John’s. He reached over and ran his thumb across Rodney’s bottom lip. “So I was thinking.”
The smile left Rodney’s face. “Sentences that start like that scare me almost as much as the Wraith. This *isn’t* where you tell me this was some elaborate payback scheme or something, is it?”
“Yes, Rodney because in my world, mutually satisfying sex is my idea of retribution.”
Rodney pouted. “It could happen.”
Raising an eyebrow, John waited.
“Oh is this where I’m supposed to ask, “What were you thinking?”
John nodded. “Yep. You say you can do this trick with anyone right?”
“It’s not a trick exactly, and yes with the exception of Teyla and Ronon, I can do it with most everyone else on base.”
John ran his stubbled cheek across Rodney’s shoulder. “Afraid they’d beat you up, huh?”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “Um, no. They don’t have the required knowledge of our music for it to work.” Rodney caught John’s smile. “You knew that didn’t you?”
“I did. But I do so enjoy messing with you.”
Rodney swatted John’s head. “Glad to see some things never change. Now please continue with your deep thoughts.”
“Well Lorne has been giving me a lot of grief about the whole, ‘I’m Too Sexy’ thing.”
Rodney sat upright and his eyes got big. “You *told* Lorne?”
“Hell no. I accidentally started humming it when he was in the room. So I was thinking, you could imprint a song in his head and then we’d be even. Something good. And by good, of course, I mean bad and more awful than what you sicced on me.”
“So you want me to use my powers for evil?”
John cocked an eyebrow. “Because you’ve been using them for good up until now?”
Rodney shrugged. “Point. Okay, I’ll do it, but you’re gonna owe me.”
“Cool.” John pushed Rodney back down on the bed and rolled on top of him. He was always a firm believer of paying in advance.
~*~*~*~*~
Three days later, John bit his lip to stop from laughing as the entire table turned and gaped openmouthed when Lorne sat down and started humming the refrain from, “My Heart Will Go On.” Lorne went deathly pale and then flaming red faster than the speed of light.
John couldn’t stop the smirk from spreading across his face. Oh man, Celine Dion. Rodney *really* was evil. And payback sure could be one satisfying bitch.
Rodney raised his mug of coffee to him from across the table. John raised his back and smiled. He finished his coffee and watched Lorne squirm in his seat. Oh yeah, there’d be no more mocking from that corner.
~*~*~*~*~
And if during a briefing a month later, Colonel Caldwell began humming “Gangster’s Paradise”, John took it for what it was -- a love song from Rodney.
*fin*
Author’s Note: Um, I’m really, really, really sorry if any of these songs get stuck in your head.
Author: Maverick
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: S for Silly
Spoilers: A wee Season Three wardrobe spoiler.
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox or my galaxy.
Summary: “So you want me to use my powers for evil?”
John cocked an eyebrow. “Because you’ve been using them for good up until now?”
Many thanks to mboyd for her beta and suggestions.
Name that Tune
~*~*~*~*~
The first time John realized he was humming, “I’m Too Sexy,” he was just leaving the firing range. He looked around to make sure no one else had heard him and went about his day. The second time, he was sitting in his office going through supply acquisitions with Major Lorne. A cock of Lorne’s eyebrow had let him know he’d been caught. Dammit. John did his level best not to give his XO any blackmail ammunition and then his subconscious goes ahead and provides the goods free of charge.
The thing was, that song -- and dammit there it went again buzzing through his head -- wasn’t even in the collection of music he had brought with him from Earth. He had much better taste than that. In fact he couldn’t remember ever hearing the whole entire song. Okay, there was that club in Amsterdam when he was on leave back in 95, but he’d been very, very drunk and she had been very, very pretty, or at least he thought so after twelve beers. The fact that he had woken up shirtless and hung over was totally irrelevant.
He went back to his room and played his entire Johnny Cash collection in the hope that it would scrub the annoying anthem from his mind. It worked until the next time he visited Rodney’s lab. McKay and Zelenka were deep into a discussion about particle distortion and magnetic fields when John’s brain kicked in with its, “I’m too sexy for my shirt” chorus. The grimace on his face stopped both scientists cold. And man, it must have been one doozy of a look because nothing short of an imminent Wraith attack could stop the dynamic duo of geekdom when they were on such a roll.
Reaching over to an empty chair, Radek slid it in John’s direction. “Here Colonel, have seat. You do not look well.”
“I’m fine,” John said straddling the chair before sitting down. “Just a headache, nothing to worry about.”
Rodney looked across at John, his expression somewhere between concern and annoyance. “Well in case you are confused, this isn’t the medlab. And neither Radek nor I are known for our bedside manner.”
Zelenka wheeled his own chair over to his desk and pulled out the biggest bottle of Advil that John had ever seen. “Speak for yourself, McKay. I am always pleasant.” Radek extended the bottle to John. “Help yourself, Colonel. We keep several bottles around lab.”
John smiled as Zelenka cast his eyes toward Rodney.
Rodney caught it too. “Oh very funny Radek. I’m sorry if my brilliance makes your head ache.”
Zelenka said something in Czech that John was pretty sure translated into something like, ‘brilliance, my ass, more like your mouth, you mean,’ if the look on Zelenka’s face was anything to go by. He popped the top of the pill bottle and shook out two pills before handing it back to Radek. “Thanks, Doc.”
“I’ll get you something to take those with,” Radek said before walking to the other end of the lab.
Rodney glared at John who was busy tapping his fingers against the metal lab table trying to shake the song from his head.
Rodney put his hand over John’s to stop the movement. “Did you come down here to pilfer our medical supplies or was there an actual reason for your visit? Let me guess, shooting paper targets has finally lost its appeal?”
Ah silence. Well at least inside his head. Leave it to Rodney to be able to drown out the music beating up his brain. John looked over and smirked at the other man. He pulled his hand out from under Rodney’s and covered his heart. “Wow, McKay, your concern for my well being is very touching.”
“As I said, bedside manner is not my forte. What did you need?”
John stood up and leaned his hip against the table. “I wondered if we got the data back from the latest submersible jumper tests?”
“Yes, but I haven’t had a chance to look at it yet.”
Radek came back with a bottle of water that he handed to John and a mug of coffee for himself.
“Did you bring me a new cup?” Rodney asked as he watched Radek take a sip.
“Sorry, this is last one. You will have to go to cafeteria to get more.”
Rodney released a put upon sigh. “I went and got the last batch.”
Smiling, Radek took a visibly satisfying gulp of coffee. “And you will get next one as well, I think.”
Rodney huffed a “fine” before pulling up the schematics from the last jumper test.
John had to press his lips together to stop from laughing. Radek was one of a very short list of people who could get away with taunting Rodney like that.
The coffee was soon forgotten once Rodney and Zelenka started their usual tag team routine as John sat back and listened. He didn’t know if it was the Advil or the promising results from the jumper tests that kept his mind blissfully song free, but he was glad for the respite. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was the only one plagued by such things.
He got his answer later as he walked by Zelenka’s work station and he could hear the other man humming -- oh man -- “ I Touch Myself” by the Divinyls. So he wasn’t alone and he wasn’t the worse off either. He met Zelenka’s eyes and nodded in sympathy before he made his escape.
~*~*~*~*~
It was later that night while listening to Springsteen’s “Born to Run” that John had an epiphany. It was McKay. It had to be. He hadn’t started his descent into bad pop music hell until after he’d made Rodney put in extra time on the range. And he was almost certain Zelenka hadn’t started touching himself -- at least not lyrically -- until after he’d drank the last cup of coffee in the lab earlier that day.
Of course, it *had* to be McKay. And he’d figure out a way to prove it. And until that point, he would do his best not to shove something sharp into his ears to make the constant audio track of Right Said Fred, shut the fuck up.
~*~*~*~*~
Four hours later, John settled on a full frontal attack. He got up, got dressed and headed to Rodney’s quarters. When the door slid open, he walked in past Rodney, not letting the other man have the chance to even invite him in. Once the door had shut, John leaned against it, his arms folded across his chest. “So I did the math, McKay. You’re the common denominator.”
Rodney sat down on his desk chair, turning it to face John. “Are you having another incident like earlier today? Should I call Beckett?”
“Don’t pretend you’re all concerned for my well being,” John said, his voice a little more desperate than he would have liked. He pointed his finger at Rodney. “You’re the one who’s responsible for sticking this damn song in my head.”
Rodney gulped. “Song?”
“Yes, song. ‘I’m Too Sexy’ ring any bells.”
Rodney looked up, his eyes wide.
Got him. Rodney really didn’t have a poker face. At all. “What is it, some sort of Ancient device that implants suggestions?”
Rodney snorted. “Yes, because ten thousand years ago, the Ancients understood the vast untapped weapon potential that is modern day derivative pop music.”
John walked over to where Rodney was sitting and looked down at him with his best, ‘fix it now’ scowl. “McKay.”
“All right. You got me. But no device was needed,” Rodney said with a wave of his arms. “It’s just a skill of mine, I’ve had since childhood.”
“Skill?”
“Yes skill. By humming a minimum of three notes of any song near someone, I can imprint that song in their head.”
John perched himself up on the corner of Rodney’s desk. “Let me get this straight, being *really* damn annoying is your superpower?” John choked out a laugh. “Actually, that makes way too much sense.”
“Yes, laugh it up. Because it always a good policy to mock the person who saves your life on a weekly if not daily basis, not to mention one who can make that life a living hell. How’s your ‘Macarena’, Colonel?
John glared at Rodney. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Rodney hummed while crossing his arms along his torso Macarena style and glared right back.
John closed his eyes and exhaled a deep breath. “If you’ve always had this talent, why now? And why in the hell *that* song?”
Rodney shrugged. “I hadn’t done it in years until I accidentally made Elizabeth, ‘Walk Like an Egyptian,’ a couple of weeks ago. As for your song choice...”
“Yes?”
“You were wearing that damn leather jacket *everywhere*. For days. I mean the average mean temperature on Atlantis is 21.1 degrees Celsius. Seventy degrees Fahrenheit to you Americans. There’s absolutely no need to wear leather all the time.” Rodney paused for a moment and then amended, “well unless of course, you’re Ronon.”
John pulled some of Rodney’s hand gestures out of his bag and held up his index finger. “One, I’ve been able to convert Celsius and Fahrenheit since the second grade and two, I was not.”
“Yes, you were.”
John leaned down into Rodney’s space. “So what? You didn’t like my wardrobe choice, so you stuck that song in my head.”
“No, I stuck *a* song in your head because you were being an asshole on the range that day. The leather jacket just led to the song choice.”
John widened his stance and folded his arms across his chest. John knew it was an old argument, but it was a valid one. “I make you train McKay to save your life.”
Rodney pushed away from his desk and stood up, mimicking John’s stance, his body language showing he was prepared to fight. “I understand that. Do you really think I’d subject myself to your ridicule and Teyla’s sticks on such a consistent basis if I didn’t truly believe that. I’m not that much of a masochist, Colonel. But your little stunt that day went too far.”
“Attacks aren’t predictable. You have to be prepared for anything.” Okay, maybe he did go a bit too far.
Rodney captured John’s eyes with his own, defiance embedded deep on his face. “I think I’ve proven myself to be quite apt in dire situations. I didn’t need *that* lesson.”
“Ronon wouldn’t have hurt you.”
Rodney walked the few steps to the door and leaned back against it. “I know that, which is why I’m not mad at him.”
Turning to face Rodney, John tilted his head to the side and tried to decipher the other man’s expression. “You think *I’d* hurt you? What the hell, McKay?”
“Hurt me? Physically? No.” Rodney shook his head and met John’s eyes. “But you can’t always push me to the breaking point again and again, because sooner or later, I *am* going to break.”
“So what? You thought you’d break *me* first with that damn song.”
“Yes, Colonel because getting a song stuck in your head is *so* on the same level as making Ronon point a gun at me.”
Shit. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but the hurt look on Rodney’s face showed John just how wrong he’d been. He pulled in a deep breath and exhaled. “Okay listen. What you said is right. You are going to break and that’s what I’m trying to prepare you for. When that happens, it’s got to be automatic, it’s got to be so ingrained in you that your body reacts without thought. It’s got to be reflex.”
Rodney walked over and sat down on his bed. He scrubbed his face with his hands before looking up at John. “I am not a soldier. I will never be one. Do you *really* think it’s possible for me to do anything without thinking?”
John had to smile at that. “Sure, you’re a genius, remember. Or you know, maybe you could implant a song in your own head. I’ve got a few suggestions for you.”
Rodney smiled back. “The term is imprint and unfortunately it doesn’t work that way.”
John sighed. “No, believe me McKay, you’re the lucky one.”
Rodney stood up and walked back over to where John was standing. “You know, it doesn’t have to be just bad pop songs.”
John cocked an eyebrow. “What?”
“I can get rid of that song by replacing it with another one if you want.”
John gave his consent with his eyes. “Should I be scared?”
Rodney shook his head, leaned in and exhaled what must have been notes of a song against John’s ear. It was so quiet, no wonder John had no idea he’d done it the first time.
Rodney stepped back. “There you go.”
John’s face lit up as soon as the familiar music washed over him. He turned to smile at Rodney. “'Imperial March'. Cool.” John let the song play in his head for a few moments before meeting Rodney’s eyes. “Hey, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about the other day. I wasn’t trying to be an asshole.”
Rodney smiled. “Well *we* both come by that naturally, I suppose.”
John wanted Rodney to understand his intentions were good even if his execution sucked. “I just...I want. I don’t want something to happen to you because I left you unprepared.” John watched as Rodney’s eyes widened, obviously reading something off John’s face. He wasn’t sure what he was giving away.
Rodney grasped both of John’s shoulders and squeezed, then left his hands there. “You’ve got to know by now that you can’t exactly prepare for the Pegasus Galaxy.”
John nodded before leaning in to cover Rodney’s mouth with his own. No truer words had ever been spoken because he’d never imagined -- okay, he’d imagined -- but he never thought the evening would end this way.
But as Rodney pulled him down to the bed, he went with it. Whether it was instinct or insanity, he wasn’t sure. He just knew that nothing had ever felt so right.
~*~*~*~*~
Some time later, John woke up and turned on his side, pillowing his head on his one arm as he watched Rodney sleep beside him. When Rodney’s eyes fluttered open, the look of wonder and the indulgent smile that spread across his face sparked a chain reaction on John’s. He reached over and ran his thumb across Rodney’s bottom lip. “So I was thinking.”
The smile left Rodney’s face. “Sentences that start like that scare me almost as much as the Wraith. This *isn’t* where you tell me this was some elaborate payback scheme or something, is it?”
“Yes, Rodney because in my world, mutually satisfying sex is my idea of retribution.”
Rodney pouted. “It could happen.”
Raising an eyebrow, John waited.
“Oh is this where I’m supposed to ask, “What were you thinking?”
John nodded. “Yep. You say you can do this trick with anyone right?”
“It’s not a trick exactly, and yes with the exception of Teyla and Ronon, I can do it with most everyone else on base.”
John ran his stubbled cheek across Rodney’s shoulder. “Afraid they’d beat you up, huh?”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “Um, no. They don’t have the required knowledge of our music for it to work.” Rodney caught John’s smile. “You knew that didn’t you?”
“I did. But I do so enjoy messing with you.”
Rodney swatted John’s head. “Glad to see some things never change. Now please continue with your deep thoughts.”
“Well Lorne has been giving me a lot of grief about the whole, ‘I’m Too Sexy’ thing.”
Rodney sat upright and his eyes got big. “You *told* Lorne?”
“Hell no. I accidentally started humming it when he was in the room. So I was thinking, you could imprint a song in his head and then we’d be even. Something good. And by good, of course, I mean bad and more awful than what you sicced on me.”
“So you want me to use my powers for evil?”
John cocked an eyebrow. “Because you’ve been using them for good up until now?”
Rodney shrugged. “Point. Okay, I’ll do it, but you’re gonna owe me.”
“Cool.” John pushed Rodney back down on the bed and rolled on top of him. He was always a firm believer of paying in advance.
~*~*~*~*~
Three days later, John bit his lip to stop from laughing as the entire table turned and gaped openmouthed when Lorne sat down and started humming the refrain from, “My Heart Will Go On.” Lorne went deathly pale and then flaming red faster than the speed of light.
John couldn’t stop the smirk from spreading across his face. Oh man, Celine Dion. Rodney *really* was evil. And payback sure could be one satisfying bitch.
Rodney raised his mug of coffee to him from across the table. John raised his back and smiled. He finished his coffee and watched Lorne squirm in his seat. Oh yeah, there’d be no more mocking from that corner.
~*~*~*~*~
And if during a briefing a month later, Colonel Caldwell began humming “Gangster’s Paradise”, John took it for what it was -- a love song from Rodney.
*fin*
Author’s Note: Um, I’m really, really, really sorry if any of these songs get stuck in your head.