FIC: Reserved Seating (SGA)

[ashinae]

Reserved Seating

by ashinae and linden_jay

Pairing: Sheppard/McKay, implied Teyla/Ronon/McKay
Rating/Warnings: R
Spoilers: None for any major plot points. Assumes you've watched the show.
Disclaimer: Not written for profit.
Word count: ~5200
Summary: Everyone in Atlantis is having sex except for John Sheppard. (No, seriously. Everyone.)



Reserved Seating

It was curious. Really, really curious.

Sometimes, John was absolutely certain that Ronon was going to throw Rodney out a window. Sometimes, John was absolutely certain that he'd throw Rodney out a window.

And then there were times like this--when he'd walk into the infirmary to check on Rodney, who'd suffered more than his fair share of bumps and bruises on their last mission, and it actually wasn't his own fault--to find Ronon sitting on the bed next to Rodney's. And they'd be laughing and grinning and joking with each other, and it was kind of unsettling.

But John wasn't jealous.

"John! You're just in time--I just finished eating everything Ronon brought me," Rodney said, smiling at John, then grinning at Ronon. "You brought food, right?" It was more or less a rule of visiting Rodney while in the infirmary, since the nurses always seemed to have Views on how much it was good to allow Rodney to eat.

"Yeah, I have a turkey sandwich," John said, holding it up. "We wouldn't want to see you waste away before our eyes." He handed the sandwich over, then sat down next to Ronon. "Looks like you two were having a good time."

"Yeah," Ronon said. "We were talking about you."

"Uh. You were?"

Rodney nodded firmly, his cheeks sticking out like a particularly greedy hamster's. "What he said," he said (once he could manage words), pointing at Ronon.

"Why?" John asked.

"When you had to address the princess. In that outfit," Ronon said.

John groaned. "Do we have to bring that up again?"

"It was funny. There was lace."

Rodney cackled through his next bite of sandwich. "And remember... Ronon, remember those things they put in his hair?"

"They were sparkly." Ronon grinned broadly at John. "They made your hair sparkly, Sheppard."

John remembered. Oh, he remembered. "I still don't understand why Teyla couldn't have done it."

"Because they would have had to take the outfit up about a foot and a half for it to fit her," Rodney pointed out.

"So? There was time. Plenty of time. We sat around doing nothing for almost a week before--" John took a deep breath when Ronon started chuckling at him. They'd rehashed this. A lot. John had protested vehemently having to wear that dress and those things in his hair and never, ever again. He looked horrible in drag.

"I'm so glad that we always take a camera with us when we go off world," Rodney said, sighing happily.

"You should get Chuck to make some of those pictures," Ronon said. "With the captions. Macros?"

"Over my dead body," John grumbled. He crossed his arms and was dangerously on the verge of a sulk.

"Oh, come on, you're here to console and comfort me in my time of pain and suffering. Don't go sulking, it's very unbecoming," Rodney said, finishing off the sandwich.

"Pain and suffering? You got a bump on the head," John pointed out.

"Exactly! I could have a concussion! I could have killed brain cells. Do you have any idea how serious a 'bump on the head' is for me, Colonel?"

John took a deep breath, shook his head, and then got to his feet. "I think I'm going to go do some paperwork." Maybe he'd bump into Teyla and she'd be sane. She was always so refreshingly sane.

"Okay, if you have to, but you'll come back soon, right? Maybe with pie?" Rodney suggested.

"Rodney, you're in the infirmary," John said, exasperated. "You can't have pie. Carson would pitch a fit."

"Carson's standing right behind you, Colonel." Beckett sounded only mildly exasperated. "And I'm going to have to ask you both to leave. Rodney needs to rest."

"But... I didn't get any pie yet," Rodney said, looking plaintive. "I'm sure it would make me feel much better, considering that I've got decaying brain cells, right here," he said, pointing to where there was a bruise on his forehead.

Carson cast his gaze ceiling ward.

Ronon got to his feet, patted Rodney's leg, and told him that they'd see him later as he draped his arm around John's shoulders. "Let's go find Teyla," he suggested.

"Good idea," John agreed. "See you later, McKay."

"Thanks for the sandwich--and Ronon, thanks for... well, we won't tell Doctor Frets-a-lot what you brought me," he called after Ronon, even though he knew it would make Carson get all "Scottish" at him.

They found Teyla leaving the gym, and wandered with her through the hallways. "Rodney's doing better," John told her. "Got his appetite back. Ronon and I snuck him some non-Carson-approved food."

"Any time Rodney has his appetite back is always a good sign. I'm sure he'll recover fully, even if Dr. Beckett is looking a little worse for wear by the time Rodney is released," Teyla said with a smile.

"And then he'll be running around driving us all crazy again," John said. "Just like normal." He watched, curiously, as Ronon leaned down to whisper something in Teyla's ear, watched them both closely, but neither seemed at all willing to divulge what Ronon had just shared.

Which wasn't fair.

And John wasn't jealous.

"Hey," he said, "I've got... stuff. So I'll just..." He pointed down the hall towards his own room. "That way."

"Of course," Teyla said, nodding and smiling at John. "Enjoy your day, John. I'll go see Rodney in a couple of hours, once Doctor Beckett has forced him to rest."

"Yeah. I'll meet you two for dinner?"

"Got it," Ronon said.

John gave them a half-hearted sort of smile, pushed his hands in his pockets, and headed off down the hall. He passed by two scientists, deep in conversation, sitting really, really close together. A botanist almost walked into a wall when a marine passed her by.

What was it, mating season in Atlantis or something?

*

John decided that it was just his imagination that Ronon and Teyla were sitting really close together on the other side of the table. When they invited him down to the pier, he declined, saying he was going to smuggle some of the cherry pie to Rodney.

"Your loss," Ronon said, watching him stand up. "We'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night, John. And good luck. Hopefully you'll get it past Carson," Teyla said, staying put next to Ronon and smiling warmly at him.

"Yeah, I hope so, or we'll be dealing with a really cranky Rodney." He heard Ronon mutter "That would be different how?" as he wandered back through the corridors.

Through a window, he spotted Chuck and a scientist--Weatherby?--standing together out on a balcony. He passed that botanist and her marine, who sounded like they were making hushed, urgent plans. He thought he spotted Teyla and Ronon, just for a moment, out of the corner of his eye.

When he arrived at the infirmary, he found Rodney gone already.

Why wouldn't he say anything about that? Why didn't he show up for dinner? John was more than a little confused. "Hey, doc?" he called out, looking for Carson and trying to hide the pie behind his back. "Carson?" He peered around a corner, and spotted Carson and Lorne together by Carson's desk.

He watched, wide-eyed, as Carson reached out and lightly touched the back of Lorne's hand.

Woah.

He backed away and fled the infirmary at full-speed.

He wasn't entirely certain where he was going, but he saw Zelenka and shoved the pie at him and kept on going. Elizabeth. He should see Elizabeth. Maybe she'd be awake right now. He could talk to her and she'd make everything better. She was very good at that.

When he turned a corner, he saw a rather dishevelled-looking Colonel Caldwell leaving her quarters. He ducked around the corner again, and fortunately, Caldwell didn't see him. He approached Elizabeth's door, and then stood there, staring at it.

Well. Obviously this wasn't working in the slightest.

He walked away again, quickly, found his way to the showers. Cold. Cold water was fantastic, really. Nothing better. Why, he was even entirely certain that there wasn't anything untoward going on a few stalls away.

This time, in his wanderings, he somehow found his way to Rodney's door. This time, he managed the chime.

And there were Ronon and Teyla.

"Hey!" Rodney said, peering out from behind them, stretched out on his bed. "They said you had pie, but I don't see pie."

"That was quite some time ago, Rodney. I'm sure he hasn't been carrying it around all this time," Teyla said.

"Ronon, where's your shirt?" John asked, staring dumbly.

Ronon pointed vaguely. "Over there."

And Rodney and Teyla didn't look at all like that was an odd question for John to have asked, or a strange thing for Ronon to be without his shirt. "Did you need something, John?" Teyla asked. He'd come by, after all.

"Rodney wasn't in the infirmary," John said, somewhat accusingly.

"I escaped," Rodney explained. "I was making Carson crazy, so he said I could leave."

"Oh." John fidgeted. Teyla was leaning very comfortably against Rodney. Rodney looked like he was really, really comfy. So did Ronon. "I gave your pie to Zelenka."

"Oh, great. Zelenka gets my pie," Rodney grumbled. "I'll just make him go get me some when I go back to work tomorrow."

"Oh, no. You know that Doctor Beckett said that you had to stay in bed tomorrow if you left the infirmary," Teyla told him.

"I'll bring you pie," John said, quickly.

"I have work to do, Teyla, I can't just stay in here all day," Rodney insisted, then peered over at John again. "Really?"

"Uh, yeah, really," John said. "I'll... bring you all the pie you want. 'Cause I probably owe you. After what happened."

"John, it wasn't your fault," Teyla insisted, still leaning back against Rodney.

"I miscalculated," John said. He fidgeted.

"It wasn't your fault," Ronon said, firmly.

"But..."

"John, please." It was Rodney's turn to interrupt. "It really wasn't your fault, as much as I would dearly love to be able to blame someone."

"There. See?" Teyla said.

John didn't like that they were all being so calm and logical. Somebody got hurt, and it should have been him. He crossed his arms.

"Is he pouting?" Ronon asked, sounding deeply, deeply amused. He sat up and leaned against Rodney's bed. "He is, isn't he?"

"Definitely pouting," Rodney said, a wide smirk spreading across his face. "John, really, it's only cute when I do it."

"I'm not sure that's true, Rodney."

"Come on, Teyla, you've got to admit--I'm cute when I pout. Ronon?"

Ronon tilted his head back to look at Rodney. "Keep dreaming."

"Um." John coughed. "You three look comfy, so I think I'll just... go to bed now."

"You look tired," Rodney said, looking at John and tilting his head to the side. "Must have been all that worrying about my well being."

"Right," John said. "Worrying. That must be it. So I'll... just go now." He backed toward the door.

"Are you sure you're all right, John?" Teyla looked concerned.

"Yeah," John said, hoarsely. "Just fine. Good night."

As the door was closing, he was pretty sure he saw Ronon climbing up onto Rodney's bed.

*

Everyone was naked. And sweaty.

Everyone except John, who, for some ungodly reason, was dressed up in a parka and snowshoes. There was a team of huskies and a sled nearby.

But everyone else? Naked. In front of a big, roaring fireplace.

John stood in the snow.

Ronon lifted one hand, crooked his finger. "C'mere."

"I'm cold," John said.

"Which is why you need to come over here," Rodney said, slowly and deliberately, as though speaking to a very unintelligent child. "Fire. Warm."

"I have to look after the dogs," John said, pointing. "Radek hurt his paw."

"They'll be fine without you for a while," Ronon said. "C'mon."

"John, please... we've saved you a place," Teyla said, patting a spot on the fur rug she was on.

John watched, wide-eyed, as Ronon turned to her and started nuzzling her neck.

"I can't," John said. "It's cold."

"Of course it's cold. Look at yourself. You've got layer upon layer keeping you from warmth. Honestly, Dr. Heightmeier would have a field day with you," Rodney muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

John fidgeted where he stood. He tried to move, but his feet got all tangled up in his own snowshoes and he fell.

The floor hurt.

*

"So how's your head, McKay?"

"Somehow I think I've managed to escape permanent damage this time. We're all very lucky, and the next time the entire galaxy needs to be saved, I should be up to the task as always."

"Well, good." John sat down on the edge of his bed. "I brought you pie."

"It is so refreshing to be around someone who is a man of their word," Rodney said, rubbing his hands together, then reaching for the plate, picking up the fork immediately. "I'm starving. Something about those very dangerous head wounds always makes me so hungry."

"Always, huh?" John shook his head.

"Well it's happened a few times now," Rodney said, in his very best 'Colonel, you are a stupid person' voice. "It's not like my life is exactly safe and full of soft fluffy pillow covered surfaces."

"If only we could child-proof the Pegasus galaxy for you." John looked down at his hands, grinning.

"Ha ha. Hilarious," Rodney said through a mouthful of pie. "Did you not sleep or something?" he added, looking at John. "Your hair is kind of..." he gestured with the fork, "Kind of extra high today."

John looked at him again, ran a hand over his head, then shrugged. "I had a bad dream, I guess."

Rodney looked wary. "A regular bad dream, or the sort of bad dream that ends with whales and evil twins?"

"Just a regular bad dream. Don't worry."

"Well you never know out here. There are thinks waiting, just lurking, out to kill us behind every corner." Rodney offered John a cherry "Pie?"

"Uh, thanks." John plucked the cherry from Rodney's fork, then popped it into his mouth.

Rodney grinned, going back to his pie. "I really don't think I need to stay here all day though," he said, finishing with it and setting the plate down. "I've worked with a head injury before, much worse than this one, and I managed just fine."

"The last time you had a head injury, you ended up falling down a flight of stairs and Ronon had to carry you to the infirmary," John pointed out.

"Hey--that was not my fault," Rodney protested. "And the two events were much closer together. And sometimes Ronon just ... picked people up because it was more expedient that way."

"You couldn't walk."

"Well, I had fallen down a flight of stairs. You're all lucky I'm still as brilliant as I am, the number of times I've been hit in the head," Rodney huffed.

"Yep," said John, "we're very lucky. Happy, too."

"You'd be an idiot if you weren't, and although there are many areas in which I'm sure you could use some measure of improvement, I have to reluctantly admit that you aren't an idiot."

"Why, Rodney, was that a compliment? I may fall down from the shock."

"Isn't one concussion at a time enough for our merry little band?"

"Probably, so I'm not sure I could take having you compliment me again."

"Well, I'll make sure to avoid making any flattering comments about your ass then," Rodney deadpanned.

John would have fallen down if he hadn't already been sitting. "Uh... right?"

Rodney was just looking around the room. "My clothes are around here somewhere, right? Or did Ronon hide them. He probably did... that won't stop me from going to work though," he muttered.

"Rodney!" John grabbed at his arm. "No, Carson's got you on bed rest. So rest. In your bed. I'll even bring you your laptop, but you're going to stay right here. Head injury, remember?"

He sighed so long and hard it was a surprise that the oxygen level in the room wasn't depleted. "Oh, fine, be that way. But you have to either bring me my laptop or stay here, because I'm going to get bored."

"Well, what if I do both?" John suggested with a quirk of a grin. "That way, there's no way you could get bored." He got to his feet, fetched Rodney's computer, and returned to sit on the edge of his bed. "I'm excellent company, after all."

"I'm reminding you of this conversation the next time you accuse me of having an ego Colonel."

"No idea what you could mean by that." John grinned even more. This? This was easy. Nothing untoward going on, no reason to think about Ronon and Teyla and Rodney, all curled up and naked around each other, hands touching, lips kissing, Teyla's soft laughter and Ronon's rough voice and Rodney's bright eyes...

Dammit.

"Hey," John said, getting up. And then he stood there, stared at Rodney, and had no idea what the hell else to say.

"Hey," Rodney repeated, tilting his head and looking up from his computer at John. "John? You're standing up."

"I am? I am. I'm standing."

"Yes, you are. Are you... more comfortable standing? Because, me? I'd be more comfortable sitting. It's a prescription mattress you know."

"A prescription mattress?" God help him, John was grinning again. It shouldn't be adorable. It wasn't adorable! But there was Rodney, in his pyjamas and plaid flannel robe, on his prescription mattress.

"Yes," Rodney sniffed, lifting his head and giving John a bit of a glare. "I need it for my back. Haven't you seen how stiff and uncomfortable I get when we have to sleep somewhere else, or god forbid on the ground?"

"Yes, Rodney, because you won't shut up about it."

"It's a legitimate medical problem!" Rodney huffed. "And you're still standing."

"Right. Standing." John perched almost cautiously on the edge of Rodney's bed again.

Rodney looked at John and raised an eyebrow. "I don't bite, Colonel."

"Remember that time, when you were really drunk...?"

"Okay--if you're gonna bring up every time I was slightly under the influence...."

"All I was doing was trying to get one of those really tasty pastries, and you almost took my hand off."

"It was the last one!" Rodney said, actually pouting.

"And it was calling my name."

"Then don't leave me near the pastry table when I've had Athosian wine."

"I'll remember that next time," John said with a grin.

Rodney nodded firmly, and went back to his laptop, tapping away madly before he looked up at John again. "Aren't you going to get bored?"

"D'you still have that deck of cards?" John asked. "Or I could sit here and watch genius at work."

"Well, I know that watching me work is always fascinating." And of course, Rodney wasn't being the slightest bit sarcastic. "There's cards and a cribbage board in the drawer there," he said, gesturing. "I can work and play that at the same time."

"Didn't know you played crib," John said, crawling over the bed and reaching out to open a drawer. Cribbage board. Cards. Condoms. Lube. Dear god! He quickly shut the door and busied himself with the board, pegs, shuffling the cards, not once looking at Rodney.

"Of course I do. I'm very good at it too. I imagine that I'll probably beat you easily, even if I'm working, but that's all right. It'll keep you entertained and out of trouble."

"Because I'm always getting into trouble?"

"Because you're a hyperactive child who always needs something shiny to keep his attention."

"I am, am I?" John asked.

"Mmmhmm," Rodney said, in the middle of something clearly complicated on his computer screen. "Definitely."

"Your go," John prompted, quietly, a moment or two later.

"Oh--yes," Rodney said, checking his cards for a moment or two before playing one. "You don't have things to do today? Beating people up with sticks... walking around and harassing marines... things like that?"

"You got hurt," John said, quietly, playing a card, and collecting a couple of points. "And since it was my fault, I thought I should make sure you're still okay."

"Oh for... it wasn't your fault, John," Rodney sighed. "Fifteen for two. Don't you think I'd be blaming you for getting me hurt if you had?"

John played a double on Rodney's last card again, collected the two points, then shrugged a shoulder uncomfortably. "Doesn't change anything."

"You worry too much." Which was an ironic statement, coming from Doctor Rodney McKay.

"Well. I... go."

"You do. You're a professional worrier, and that's coming from a professional worrier. You just conceal it better than I do," Rodney says, playing a nine.

John followed the nine with a six. "Fifteen for two." Dodging the bullet there. Best plan.

Rodney paired John's six, and took the two points. "You didn't get me hurt." Rodney didn't do dodging.

"They were out for me."

"They had bad aim. That isn't your fault."

"It still shouldn't have happened. It shouldn't ever have happened, Rodney."

He sighed and actually set his laptop aside. "I'm on your team. That means, as little as I like it, that I'm at risk. You can't protect me from everything John, and you can't leave me behind. You need me out there," he said, lifting his chin and actually looking brave.

"Well, I can try," John said, snippily. "To protect you."

"You do try. But you're one person."

"It still shouldn't happen." John got to his feet and started pacing the length of Rodney's room.

"You're standing again." Rodney sighed. "John... get over here."

"I need to stretch my legs."

"Uh huh." Rodney didn't just give John's long (long, long) legs a good up and down look just then. John must have imagined it.

"Where are Ronon and Teyla?" John asked.

"They'll be back later."

"Where did they go?"

"They had things to do," Rodney shrugged. "They were tired too. Probably taking it easy."

"Things to do. Right. I should let you work." John ran his hand over his hair.

"Don't go. You said you weren't going to go," Rodney frowned. "If you go, I'm going to work," he said, starting to shove the blankets back.

"No, you have to stay in bed!" John pushed at Rodney's shoulder to get him to lie back against the pillows again.

Rodney grabbed at John's arm when he touched him and tugged him down as well. "Then you have to stay," he said stubbornly.

John sat down next to Rodney. "Then I'll stay," he said.

"Good." Rodney didn't let go of John's arm, even though they'd knocked the crib board about. "If I have to stay in bed, you have to stay in bed."

"I didn't suffer a blow to the head, Rodney," John pointed out.

"No, but you're saying it's your fault, even though it isn't, so you might as well take the consequences and climb right into bed with me." Ah, Rodney logic.

"Into bed with you?" John echoed.

"Yes. Because I'm not going up to the infirmary again so Carson can put you into bed up there. So go on then," Rodney flapped his hand at John.

"Go on with what?" John blinked at him.

"Well I'm not letting you under the covers with your uniform and boots on. God knows the last time you washed those pants, and these are good sheets."

"Under the covers?" John's voice sounded horrifyingly high-pitched all of a sudden.

Rodney moved the crib game and cards aside. "Where else?"

"I'm not sleepy."

"Neither am I, but you won't let me go to work."

"I'm not getting naked."

"I'm assuming that you're not going commando underneath your standard issue," Rodney said, sarcasm reigning.

"Well... well no..."

"Well good then. Do you want me to close my eyes?" More sarcasm.

"Maybe you should," John said, stiffly, leaning down to unlace his boots.

Rodney rolled his eyes to the point where it was hard to believe he hadn't sprained something, then he closed his eyes, and covered them with his hands. "Better?"

"Yes," John muttered. He squirmed his way out of his clothes without getting off the bed. And then he tugged the blankets up to his chin.

He wondered if he was being Punk'd.

"Am I allowed to uncover my eyes now?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah, I guess."

"Good." Rodney tugged the covers down before they strangled him--John was taller than him both in the legs, and in the torso. He turned and looked at him, head tilted curiously. "I forget how fuzzy you are," he observed.

"Fuzzy?" John protested.

"Yeah," Rodney said, poking at John's chest hair. "Fuzzy."

John swatted at Rodney's hand. "I'm not a puppy."

Rodney laughed, avoided John's hand and poked at John's chest again.

"Stoppit." John swatted again.

He held up his hands defensively. "Okay, okay," he said. Then did it again.

"Rodney!"

Rodney looked innocent.

"What are you doing?"

"Poking the bear?"

"Why? Why am I in your bed? Why are you poking the... me?"

Rodney shrugged. "Works with Ronon."

"What?"

He shrugged again, and grinned.

"Rodney, what's going on?"

"Colonel, honestly, you know that you could have a lot more interesting things up your ass than the stick that's currently lodged there, right?"

John gaped at him.

"It's true."

"I... I... you... but..."

Rodney raised an eyebrow and waited.

"Rodney."

"You want me." He tried not to look smug.

John stared at him.

"Don't think I haven't noticed you staring."

"I... I... I didn't..."

"At me. At Ronon. At Teyla. At all of us. You want to know, and you won't ask. So ask."

"Are you sleeping with each other?" John blurted out. "All three of you?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes. Really. On a very frequent basis."

"Why didn't you ever invite me?" John sounded downright petulant. That was embarrassing.

"We didn't know you were interested. You didn't really show any interest in anyone that wasn't an ancient, or a frightening pirate-like-woman, or my married baby sister."

"I wasn't flirting with your sister, Rodney!"

"Yeah right, Kirk. I know what I saw," Rodney huffed.

"But--but you and Ronon and Teyla... without me."

"It didn't start that way, exactly. It was in pairs, I suppose. And then we realized that it was all three of us, and it became all three of us. And then we thought," Rodney shifted a bit so he could see John, "that all three of us at once might be a bit intimidating."

John tugged the blanket up higher again. "Well... yeah, I suppose..."

"John. You want me. Don't you?" Rodney pulled the blanket down again.

John stared, wide-eyed, and then nodded. He tugged the blanket up to his chin.

"For the Kirk of Atlantis, you're surprisingly demure, you know that?"

"Bite me," John muttered in reply.

"Are you actually asking?"

"No, your teeth are sharp."

"Ronon likes it."

John was quiet for a moment. "Really?"

Rodney smiled, slow and deliberate. "You have no idea."

"Oh." John squirmed.

"You like that, don't you? You like imagining Ronon getting bitten all over by me."

"Rodney!" John covered his face. "God. This isn't real. This just isn't real."

Rodney took advantage of John covering his face to wriggle lower and give him a very gentle bite to the side, licking over it moments later to soothe it away.

John yelped, and there was no way to pretend it hadn't happened. "Rodney, you have a head injury!" And he was down to his underwear--and socks, why did he leave his fucking socks on, to protect his toes' modesty?--in Rodney's bed and oh dear god, he was crazy.

"Yes I do. But I still wanted to do that." Rodney looked up at him with that same crooked grin. Maybe a little bit of evil in it this time.

"You're evil," John accused. "And someone's hiding somewhere with a video camera and I should really, really not be here. Ever." He scrambled from the bed, tripped over his own boot, and found himself sprawled on the floor.

Dammit all to hell. Really.

"No video cameras, John," Rodney said, peering over the bed at him. "Not without permission, anyway. You fell on the floor."

"My ass hurts."

Oh, Rodney could make any number of jokes, most of them involving Ronon, or Teyla with a particularly large--well. Another time, perhaps. "At least you didn't hit your head. Back to bed now." He held out his hand.

John looked at Rodney's hand as though he was holding out a clown doll or something.

"I'm not going to hurt you, just come on back up here."

John swallowed hard and crawled up onto Rodney's bed. He felt silly.

"I came back to find Ronon just... hanging out naked on my bed. I tripped and fell and ended up with a black eye from banging against the wall. Remember?"

"You... that's how you got the black eye?"

"Yes, actually. I banged against the .... you know, the thing, over there," Rodney gestured. "Ronon felt badly about that, once he stopped laughing."

John thought about that for a long, long moment, looking down at Rodney's bedspread. And then he looked up again, accusation in his expression. "The three of you are getting it on without me and that's not fair!"

Rodney sighed. "Why do you think you're here?"

"To make an ass of myself?"

He sighed. "John... no," he murmured. "That's not it at all."

"Then what?"

"You're here because I want you. We all want you. With us... together."

"And I've just been too stupid to notice?"

"It's not that. You're stubborn." Amusing words coming from Rodney. "We wanted you to want us, before we came at you. If it was up to Ronon, he'd have put you into a wall and kissed you stupid awhile ago. Teyla's had to practically tie him to a chair."

John suddenly grinned a bit at that. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Rodney nodded, smiling as well. "We've been waiting for you to show some interest. You're a hell of a poker player, Sheppard. Your tells aren't easy to find, and believe me, we've been watching."

"Huh." John sat back on his heels. "This is all... weird."

"Weird? Come on, John, we live in the Pegasus galaxy. Shouldn't we be grading on a curve?"

"I suppose so." John sighed, then crawled back up the bed to lean against Rodney's pillows. "The three of you will be gentle with me, right?"

"Oh, definitely," Rodney said, that slightly evil grin coming back onto his face again as he shifts onto his side (and sneaks the covers lower). "Very gentle."