The Adventures Of John Doe And The Hot Stranger
by Nel

Rating: NC-17
Category: Humor, first time
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Spoilers: Vague one for Defiant One.
Summary: On Stargate Atlantis today: intrigue, amnesia, explosions and sex.
Author's Notes: First, there are the usual suspects, Suz and D. *smooch* You guys kick so much ass, even though D forgot to mention that Kylie Lee does this for a living(!). Especially thanks to Suz for the title (see how I'm subtly shifting the blame to you?) and D for straightening my Ronon out.

Second, Kylie Lee. Thanks so much. Thanks for making me work for it and for making me stop and make it better. *smooch*

He woke up with a headache, wrapped around an unfamiliar (and very naked) body with no recollection of how he got there. He blinked and looked around the strange room, twilight shadows on the walls. The stranger groaned and twisted in his grasp, and he realized that he was holding onto the stranger pretty tight.

It was when the stranger--dark hair, pale skin, and even in the half-light kind of hot--twisted his head around and blinked at him that it hit him. He couldn't remember who he was.

Panicking, he scrabbled away from Hot Stranger, managed to untangle himself from the covers, and fell off the bed, slamming against the floor with a thud.

Hot Stranger peered down at him. "You okay?"

"No! I'm not okay! What the hell did you drug me with?" Realizing he was very naked as well, he tugged sharply at the nearest part of the covers hanging over the edge of the bed, pulling them off so he could quickly cover himself up.

Hot Stranger frowned. "I didn't drug you." He smirked. "I don't have to drug people to have sex with them." The smirk faded. "At least, I don't think so."

He frowned suspiciously. "You don't remember?"

Hot Stranger shook his head. "No. It's all...blank."

He nodded quickly, a little relieved. "Me too. I mean, not that it wouldn't be understandable that I forgot about last night, never been much of a drinker...I think...but I can't remember anything before that either."

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure I didn't slip you a mickey." Hot Stranger sounded mildly affronted.

He snorted. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult your delicate--" He broke off and frowned. "Soorry. Soooorry," he said experimentally.

Hot Stranger grinned gleefully. "You're Canadian!"

He harrumphed. "And judging by your tone of voice mentioning that fine nation, you're obviously American."

Hot Stranger smiled knowingly, nodding. "I like college football."

He nodded in agreement and pointed at himself. "Hockey."

Hot Stranger shifted until he was propped up on an elbow, and he realized that with him having stolen the covers, Hot Stranger was now completely naked. Of course, he'd known that before, back from when Hot Stranger had been completely naked and in his arms. He sternly told himself not to be distracted by the thought; with or without memory, the man could still be some kind of psycho killer.

"So, I don't suppose you know where we are?" Hot Stranger asked.

"Well," he replied confidently, "it's obvious that we're either in Canada or America."

Hot Stranger rolled his eyes. "That really narrows it down."

He shot him an annoyed glare before starting to search the floor. Aha! There, by the foot of the bed, a pair of pants. He crawled over to them, carefully keeping a tight hold on the covers, and gave the pants a thoughtful look. Then he threw them onto the bed. "Here. The last time I was this skinny, I was twelve."

"Hey!" Hot Stranger objected. "I'm not skinny! I'm...handsomely lean."

"Whatever you say, Romeo," he snorted, looking around for a second pair of pants.

"You seem to like blaming me for everything," Hot Stranger said before--judging by the rustling noises--pulling on his pants.

"Ha! I bet I wasn't even gay before you." He froze. "Oh my god. You were probably my first! You bastard!"

Hot Stranger looked skeptical. "Your first?"

"Guy--my first guy, you moron."

"Again with the blaming me! How do you know you didn't seduce me?"

He shot him a scathing look as he stood, trying to get a better view of the room. "Do I strike you as the seductive type?"

Hot Stranger was quiet for a moment. "Good point."

Feeling pleased at having won the discussion, he walked over to the window, blanket around his body, and squinted out. Twilight had turned to very dark, and he could just vaguely make out a few buildings and trees. Suddenly, everything was bathed in blue light and he looked up to see...

...two moons uncovered by fleeting clouds.

"Oh," he said faintly and suddenly Hot Stranger was by his side, looking up too.

"Oh," Hot Stranger repeated. "Oh, crap."


"Now, don't panic."

"Panic? Why would I panic?" he said. He cast around for a paper bag so that he could hyperventilate in peace, but there didn't seem to be one lying around. In fact, the room was strangely, anonymously empty, like a rustic hotel room. "I don't know my name, your name, where we are, though we seem to be on *another planet* and and and..." He looked wildly at Hot Stranger. "I can't find my pants!"

Hot Stranger gripped his shoulder and looked at him steadily. "Deep breaths." He gulped in air. "Good, that's it. Your pants are over there, by the bed."

He looked over and yes, there they were, on the other side. He glanced hopefully at Hot Stranger. "And the two moons?"

Hot Stranger hesitated. "Still working on that one."

He walked over and picked up his pants. When the other man had his back turned, he dropped the covers and hastily pulled them on. "How can you be so calm?"

Hot Stranger looked at him, a bemused expression on his face. "I don't know. I just can't shake the feeling that things could be a lot worse."

His eyebrows rose. "Worse?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "We're warm, we have clothes, we're in one piece," he looked over at the bed and smirked, "we've gotten laid recently..."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. So what do we do now?"

"Well, we get dressed, try and find if we're wearing some sort of ID..."

"Of course!" Hastily, he starting patting his pockets, spotted a jacket across the room, and went through that as well. Disappointingly enough, he didn't find anything, and he turned back to see Hot Stranger turning the last pocket of another jacket inside out.

He looked at the clothes. "These look kind of military, don't they?"

Hot Stranger frowned. "Yeah, but shouldn't we be wearing dog tags if that were the case?"

"Hmm," he replied, hand absently going to his throat and finding nothing there.

"What should we call each other?" Hot Stranger asked.

"I don't know. Dibs on John Doe!" he exclaimed in triumph.

Hot Stranger frowned at him. "I don't know. You don't really look like a John."

"Oh, please, you're just bitter I snagged the best name," John said, trying the name out in his head. There, it worked just fine.

"Fine, you can be John, geez. I just don't see your name starting with a J."

"What do you think I should be called, then?"

"I don't know," Hot Stranger said thoughtfully, "something else. Something like...Marvin."

John stared at him. "Yeah, so sticking to John Doe."

"So, what about me then?"

John stared at him thoughtfully. "Yeah, I can't keep thinking of you as--" he broke off and felt his face grow warm.

Hot St--the other guy looked intrigued. "Thinking of me as what?"

"Nothing, never mind, um, I don't know, something beginning with a C, I think. Calvin?"

The other guy snorted. "Please." He shot John a look but seemed to let the issue drop. "Chris," he said decisively.

"Chris it is," John said, spotting a T-shirt that looked about his size and pulling it on.

Chris was pulling on his clothes too, and John felt a brief pang of regret that he was covering up before noticing the tightness of the black thing Chris was pulling on. Chris shrugged on his jacket, which did look fairly military in style, but had no other marks to indicate his rank or what kind of military branch he was part of. He gave John a small smile. "Let's go."

"Right." John nodded and followed closely as Chris quietly opened the door.


John found sneaking around a strange place on an alien planet with a man he didn't know...oddly fun. His heartbeat had to be over 200 and he was probably going to have an aneurysm, but there was definitely something exhilarating about this--in a terrifying kind of way.

"Do you have any idea where you're going?" he whispered loudly to Chris, who shot him an annoyed look.

"Not really, but feel free to take the lead."

"No, no, I feel certain that you're fully capable of getting us lost on your own."

"We're on another planet. I don't think you can get more lost than that."

John thought about that for a moment before grudgingly saying, "Fine."

Chris shook his head and sighed, and suddenly John staggered. The short corridor they were walking through had given way to a far more urgent image: Chris, underneath him, sighing and writhing.

"Whoa, you okay there, John?"

John blinked and looked down at Chris's hand, which was gripping his arm tightly. He licked his dry lips, trying to ignore the way Chris's hand burned through the fabric of his jacket. "I...yes, yes, I'm fine. Let's keep moving."

Chris gave him a concerned look. "You sure? I mean, we're bound to be this way for a reason. Maybe we *were* drugged."

John shot him a panicked look. "Oh great, we're probably slowly dying."

"I didn't say that," Chris said in exasperation. "You're very...pessimistic, aren't you?"

John snorted. "I have to do something to balance up your disgusting optimism."

"Yes, I see how not assuming we're totally screwed is--" He broke off and frowned.

"What? What is it?"

Chris seemed to shake himself before smiling easily. "Nothing. We should keep moving." But he shot John a funny look before turning to walk again.

Ha. John was so not the only one having porno flashbacks. He just hoped Chris's were more useful.


They'd made it through the house or the hotel, which seemed to be completely empty – not to mention strangely low-tech, without bathrooms or even closets – and had gotten outside when the ambush happened. One second, they were taking a nice little stroll under the two (and John could almost think it without his eye twitching) moons when...okay, so maybe they were just two people, but one of them was a giant! With dreds!

Chris pushed him backward and placed himself in front of John, a pointless act of chivalry, but touching nonetheless. John peered over Chris's shoulder. The woman, who was very pretty, moved with the sort of fluid grace that made John think of either exotic dancers, or exotic dancers who could kill you really, really quickly. The man, well. Giant! John didn't really feel like getting to know him better--he looked like the kind of guy who would rip you to shreds first and ask questions later.

"Dr. McKay, Colonel Sheppard--are you all right?" Hot Female Stranger (or Killer Exotic Dancer) looked both relieved and concerned. "We tried to contact you, but there was no answer."

Chris looked at her with narrowed eyes, voice tight, and god, he was hot. "Did you do this to us?"

Hot Female Stranger frowned slightly and glanced at the giant, who looked impassive, yet ready to start ripping them to pieces. "I'm not sure I understand what you are talking about."

"She's probably forgotten," John said with disdain.

Hot Female Stranger frowned even more. "Are you all right?"

"Get ready to run," Chris said quietly to John.

"Run? Are you insane? She looks really fast, and that giant has to take, like, one step to catch up with us!" He thought he managed to keep pretty quiet for being so outraged.

"Size doesn't matter," Chris mumbled, an expression on his face that John just knew meant he was planning on doing something stupid.

"That's a myth," John hissed just as Chris moved his hand sharply and threw something behind Hot Female Stranger and the giant. John had time to see their shocked expressions as they threw themselves to the ground before he and Chris started running.

The explosion made his ears ring, his pulse was up to at least 300, and this was a really lousy time to realize he didn't like running. "Why didn't you tell me you had a grenade?" He was already panting, but it actually felt more like nerves than actual fatigue.

"I didn't know! These pants are really baggy!" Chris, of course, didn't sound winded in the least. "I just felt it when I pressed up against you."

"Ah, and you figured I wasn't just happy to see you?"

He saw a flash of Chris's teeth in the dark as he grinned before they ran into the forest.

"You sure this is a good idea?" John asked after they'd been running for a while, trying not to breathe too hard, his arms sore from all the branches that had whapped against him. "What if we get eaten by a bear or something?"

Chris, of course, probably had the branches magically bow out of his way. He was the kind of guy who ran through a forest looking handsomely ruffled, not scratched or bruised. "Would you rather stay behind with those two?"

"Hey, I'm not the one who missed from the incredible range of, oh, four feet."

"I didn't want to hurt them," Chris said firmly.

"Great," John muttered. "I'll remember that when they track us down and the giant starts ripping us to shreds."

Chris slowed to a walk and looked over his shoulder. "Do you think those are our names?"

"Maybe. Or they're just playing with our heads. But if those were our names, I'm clearly the doctor."

"Oh yeah?" Chris looked amused.

"Yes, I'm clearly the brain and you're clearly the brawn," he said superiorly, trying not to be too obvious as he looked at Chris's brawn.

"Marvin McKay," Chris mused out loud.

"Oh, will you give that up already!" In the moonlight, John could see the amusement on Chris's face. "Oh, very mature."

"I thought so," Chris grinned, and John realized suddenly that despite everything that was happening, Chris was having fun too.

"You know," John said slowly, "we probably do this a lot."

Chris's eyebrow rose. "Lose our memories and run around alien planets?"

"Well, not the first part, but the second part?" John nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

"Are you remembering something?"

"No, not really. Just a feeling, I guess."

Chris was looking over his shoulder again. "We should keep moving. We--" John grabbed his arm roughly. "What? What is it?"

John stared at Chris's concerned face--watched as it and the dark forest around them bled away to Chris smiling at him and leaning up to kiss him.

Kissing Chris is really really nice. His lips are soft and wet, and his tongue does things inside John's mouth that shouldn't possibly feel that good. He pulls back, panting, licking his lips. Chris touches his thumb to John's lower lip, rubbing it, stopping just before pushing his thumb inside. Then he licks his own lips and pushes at John's shoulders until he's on his knees.

He stares up at Chris, who doesn't make another move but stares at his mouth in fascination. Then John's clumsy fingers are fumbling with the buttons of Chris's pants, and the next few seconds are rushed and heated. Then Chris is rubbing the tip of his cock against John's lips in much the same way his thumb had moments before. Obediently, John opens his mouth wide, and Chris groans as his dick slides into John's mouth.

"John? John, are you okay?"

He was sitting down, back against a hard and bumpy surface, Chris hunched down in front of him, disappointingly enough still wearing his pants. "Hey," John murmured.

"Hey," Chris replied. "You had me a little worried there for a while. You fainted."

"Passed out," John said indignantly, then froze.

Chris was staring at him with a stricken expression on his face. "We know each other."

"Yes," John said faintly.

"I still don't remember you, though," Chris said apologetically.

"That's okay. This way you'll believe me when I say I'm great in bed."

He had a full second to admire Chris's quirky smile before his tongue was in Chris's mouth and good god, why hadn't he done this before? Actually, come to think of it, he had. That is, he probably had. Chris moaned and pushed John back against the tree, clearly trying to eat John alive. They really shouldn't have bothered getting dressed. His hand was sliding down Chris's chest, toward the buttons of his pants. Chris made encouraging noises into his mouth while sliding his hand between John's legs, and wow--seriously, wow.

He'd just popped the first button of Chris's pants open when something heavy and coarse dropped on top of them. Chris's mouth separated from John's with a wet sound. "What the--" he spluttered as they went down.

Then the scary giant was there, giving them a feral grin and dragging them away from the tree inside a huge net, John and Chris scrabbling vainly at the thick rope.

"Do not be alarmed"--and of course, Hot Female Stranger was there as well, apparently trying to smooth things over. Fat chance; John had been *that* close to getting some in...well, in as far as he could remember. Ha. "We mean you no harm. We are your friends."

"When you say friends, do you mean the kind you meet in prison showers?" John said, glaring as hard as he dared.

"I think now would be a good time to shut up, McKay," Chris muttered. His elbow slammed into John's side as the giant tugged some more at the net.

"I am--" John broke up and stared at Chris. "What did you call me?"

Chris gave him a bemused look, but before he could respond, Hot Female Stranger crouched down next to them. "We do not know what has happened to you, but please believe me when I say we mean you no harm. Something has been done to your memories."

"No, really?" John's voice was sarcastic, but not the worst he could manage. She was very hot, after all.

"Let us out and we can talk it out," Chris requested sensibly.

"So you can throw grenades at us again?" The giant's voice wasn't as deep as John had expected. He'd expected something more along the lines of Darth Vader, and how sad was it that he could remember popular culture but not his own name?

Chris smiled self-deprecatingly. "I'm fresh out."

"We will take you to Dr. Weir and let her decide."

John had just enough time to be concerned about being taken to a doctor of some sort when the giant again started dragging the net, with them still in it, across the bumpy and rough ground. "Hey, ow! We can walk, you know!"

"Yeah, so you say," the giant grunted, but he stopped. He kind of looked like he was smirking, though. Bastard.

Hot Female Stranger gave the giant a knowing look. "You are enjoying this too much."


"I know you don't remember me," Second Hot Female Stranger said, "but I'm a friend. My name is Elizabeth Weir. We work together."

"What kind of workplace keeps you tied up?" John asked grouchily. Both he and Chris were strapped to a hospital bed each while nurses and an annoying (yet hot--and what was up with all these hot people?) doctor with an intriguing accent drew more blood than John was ready to part with.

"If we could be sure that you wouldn't try anything if we untied you..." she said pointedly.

"The marine was an accident!" Chris sounded so sincere and innocent--John had to admire that in a man who kneed marines in the groin.

Hot Doctor entered the room and smiled. "Well, I've got good news." He looked at Elizabeth. "The drug in their systems is fading quickly. I'm confident they'll be back to their charming selves within twenty-four hours."

John glared. "How reassuring."

Hot Doctor shot him an annoyed look that, strangely enough, almost seemed fond. "Although some seem to be themselves already."

Elizabeth visibly relaxed, her shoulders lowering a fraction. She looked at them with a small smile on her face. She seemed so sincere...But then, so did Chris, and John knew he wasn't sorry about the marine. "I hope you understand why I'm keeping you in restraints for now. We'll keep you as comfortable as possible until you're back."

"I feel pretty present." Chris looked at John. "You?"

"Yes, yes, very present."

Her smile widened. "And you do seem remarkably like yourselves." John gave her his best smile. "Which is why I know better than to leave you two to your own devices." He turned his smile into a glare.

She gave him a look that, like the doctor's, seemed fond. She nodded at Chris before turning and leaving.


"Remembering anything?" John asked Chris intently.

Chris sighed. "No, not this time either. Even though it has to have been at least two whole minutes since the last time you asked," he added.

John wanted to wave his hand impatiently, but he couldn't because they were strapped to the bed. He frowned. "Well, forgive me for thinking it might be slightly important."

"I promise that you'll be the first person I tell if I remember anything, anything at all." John envied the fact that despite being strapped to a bed as well, Chris managed to seem relaxed and infinitely comfortable. He looked more like a gigolo involved in some kinky doctor fantasy than--heeeeeeeeeey.

"You're a gigolo!" John blurted out, both horrified and pleased at his discovery.

Chris's head snapped around, eyes wide. "What?" His voice broke a little, a higher pitch than its normal drawl.

Another thought hit John. "No, wait, I went down on you, so probably not."

Chris's eyes went even wider. "What?"

"Oh, please, like you haven't been having porno flashbacks too."

Chris gathered up the tattered edges of his cool. "No, I haven't."

John's mouth opened and closed. "Oh."

"I've been remembering you, sure, but I'm pretty sure there was no sex involved at the time."

John's face was so not heating up, damn it. "Oh."

"But it's nice to know you went down on me," Chris said encouragingly.

John's face was so warm it wasn't even funny. "Yeah, okay, shut up."

"Look," Chris said, "don't worry about it. It's hardly worse than waking up naked together, right?"

"So, what was your flashback about, then?" The sooner this subject was closed, the better.

Chris looked away, thoughtful. "I'm not sure--it's a little fuzzy. But hey," his eyes returned back to John and he grinned. "You can fire a gun!"

"Really?" John said, pleased.

"Yeah!" Chris said, nodding, and they both grinned like dorks at each other for a moment. Then Chris's smile faded. "But I'm not sure if you were shooting at me and missing, or shooting at someone else."

"Wow, that would be a letdown." John's mouth turned downward at the thought. "If we were actually mortal enemies or something."

Chris gave him that strange, quirky smile he'd given John right before John had kissed him. "Well, just so you know, I like you now."

"Ah, well," John said, face hot for a more pleasant reason, "ditto."

Chris's smile froze, and John frowned. "Chris?"

Chris drew in a sharp breath, eyes wide and shocky, before gasping, "Rodney," his back arching and his body seizing, and John screamed for help.


Remembering who he was, Rodney decided, was more of a letdown than he’d expected. Sure, somehow he’d known that he was what you might call (and he often had) an intellectual giant, but there were a lot of things in his life in Atlantis that weren’t as exciting as they should have been.

For one, it would have been nice to find out that the reason he and the colonel had lost their memories was due to some nefarious scheme by the Occams, focusing on the both of them because they were, obviously, the most important people on Atlantis. Well, maybe save for Elizabeth.

But of course, it couldn’t be anything like that.

“They wished to make sure that our morals were high even stripped of that most known to us,” Teyla had explained during the debriefing, sounding unimpressed. Rodney figured that if their food supplies hadn’t been low, she would most likely have told the Occams to go screw themselves, only using nicer words and possibly sticks.

Rodney had been disappointed when Elizabeth had declined his offer to devise some tests of his own for the potential future visits of the Occams. It wasn’t like what he had in mind was harmful. Much.

He wasn’t even revered for his genius, though it had made something in his chest tighten a little when Zelenka gave his arm a hard squeeze and told him that it was good to have him back.

Most importantly, he couldn’t rub Colonel Sheppard’s face in the fact that he too had “fainted” while having a flashback, because the colonel was avoiding him. True, Rodney wasn’t expecting the colonel to join him in his vital work to keep Atlantis running, but Rodney usually caught sight of him in the corridors from time to time, or in the mess hall.

It was possible that the colonel was simply catching up on sleep, but Rodney wasn’t a genius for nothing. He’d calculated that the possibility of the colonel taking it easy was less than 4.39211%, following the possibility of the colonel not flirting with every alien native they met (4.39456%). This made the possibility that the colonel was avoiding him depressingly high.

Rodney didn’t see what the big deal was. What was a little oral sex between friends? Sure, there was the whole gay thing, and the whole military thing, and the whole Rodney-wanting-more-than-just-sex thing, but really. Between Rodney’s brains and the colonel’s many fine qualities (though the colonel’s unfortunate tendency to try and blow himself up occasionally did withdraw from the total) it was nothing they couldn’t handle.

This avoidance thing had to be dealt with, with as little fuss as possible.


The thing was that even though Rodney was a genius, Colonel Sheppard was (a) supernaturally sneaky, (b) most likely Atlantis’ love child, and (c) really annoying in the way he kept not being outsmarted by Rodney. When he couldn’t find the colonel via Atlantis’s systems, he started asking around. How was it possible for the man to manage to stay one step ahead of Rodney at all time? Didn’t he have to, oh, maybe eat?

Rodney decided, after spending an entire day in the mess hall, that the colonel must have an inside man who brought him food. Unfortunately, a lot of people took their food with them and Rodney couldn’t possibly follow them all. Morosely, he stirred his chocolate pudding. How was he supposed to convince the colonel that they should have more sex when he couldn’t even speak to him face to face?

A shadow fell over the table and Rodney looked up to see Ronon, his tray overloaded as usual before he sat down opposite Rodney.

“By all means, why don’t you sit down,” Rodney said sarcastically, and got a blank look from Ronon as he started eating. Rodney was, as always, fascinated that there was someone who seemed to relish food even more than Rodney did. Ronon didn’t eat food--he inhaled it.

“You going to eat that?” Ronon pointed at Rodney’s pudding.

Rodney thought about protesting that he, who had a much more delicate digestive system, needed the food more than Ronon, whose body – quite apparently – worked fine. Instead he sighed and pushed the pudding towards Ronon.

Ronon gave him a look before dragging the bowl toward him. “What’s wrong with you?”

Rodney frowned a little at him. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve got my memories, my quarters, my clothes, and most importantly my lab back, so there’s no reason for me to be anything but. Fine, that is.”

Ronon started eating the chocolate pudding, not taking his eyes off Rodney. “Okay.”

“Yes, it is,” Rodney agreed, wondering what was going on.

Ronon scooped up an enormous spoonful of pudding, and how was it even possible to fit all that mass onto that small spoon? “So, what’s wrong with you?” Ronon repeated, slurping up the pudding that defied gravity.

“By saying I’m fine, I think that means I’m fine.” Something began niggling in the back of Rodney’s mind. “You’re awfully curious.”

Ronon shrugged, looking down at the pudding. “Just checking. You’re part of my team.”

“Yes, but we’ve been on the same team for a while now and you’ve never checked up on me before.”

If this was anyone other than Ronon, Rodney would say that he was squirming. Rodney just hadn’t thought that a giant who could kill people with his pinkie could squirm. His eyes narrowed. “Teyla put you up to this, didn’t she?”

Ronon blinked, looking a little sulky. “Yeah.”

“Well, that’s very sweet,” Rodney said with minimal sharpness in his voice, because it really was kind of nice.

“She said the two of you would be all weird now that you’ve had sex,” and Ronon’s voice sounded about ten times louder than it normally did.

“Will you keep it down?” Rodney said shrilly, looking around. Fortunately, the mess hall was pretty much deserted this late in the day, and all he got was a bored stare from one of the kitchen personnel. He leaned toward Ronon so he could whisper. “What makes you so sure we had sex, anyway?”

Ronon rolled his eyes. “You mean besides the fact that you two had your tongues down each others’ throats when we found you?”

Rodney lifted his chin. “That doesn’t mean anything else happened.”

“No, but the way you two won’t look at each other does.”

Rodney narrowed his eyes at Ronon. “Since when did you become Dr. Phil?”

Ronon looked a little confused, but he pushed on. “Look, Teyla and I won’t say anything to anybody.”

Things were *clickclickclicking* into place in Rodney’s head. “Teyla’s talking with Colonel Sheppard, isn’t she?”

Ronon scooped up the last of the pudding. “Yeah.”

“And she sent you to me.”

“Must be my outgoing personality,” Ronon said, deadpan.

“Yes, must be,” Rodney said absently, wondering if at some point he’d stepped into an alternate universe where he got to have sex with Colonel Sheppard and…bond with Ronon?

“Would it make you feel better to shoot something? You could borrow my gun.”

Rodney stared at Ronon, eyes feeling a little itchy. “Sure, why not?”


Rodney’s newfound camaraderie with Ronon was dampened a little when they arrived at the shooting range and the colonel was there, firing at a target with single-minded intensity, not even noticing their entrance. Rodney was sure it was an amazing coincidence for all of a microsecond.

“I, uh, just …” Ronon looked at Rodney. Rodney raised his eyebrows in encouragement. “I…forgot something?” Ronon said finally.

Rodney gave him a beaming smile. Yes, this bonding thing kicked ass.

“Fix this,” Ronon rumbled quietly. “Sheppard is hopeless to spar with when he’s like this.”

Rodney nodded; Ronon was doing this for Sheppard too. Fair enough. If something led to sex, Rodney was pretty agreeable.

As Ronon left, Rodney looked over at Sheppard, whose arm was hanging down his side, gun still in a tight grip, regarding Rodney with a slightly panicked expression.

“I, uh, just,” he said, and Rodney got a strong feeling of déjà vu.

He frowned in annoyance as he took a couple of steps closer. “What, you forgot something?”

The colonel nodded, relieved. “Yes.”

“Pressing business, I’m sure.”

Sheppard smiled nervously at him as he started walking backward, circling Rodney awkwardly. “Exactly. I’m glad you understand.”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” Rodney snapped, but before he had a chance to stop the colonel with a scathing remark about how he was the saddest excuse for a hero *ever*, Sheppard spun around, slammed his hand against the control panel next to the exit and walked--

--right into the door.

Rodney stared at the door. Then he stared at Sheppard who was staring at it while holding his nose, a betrayed expression on his face. “Ow.” Rodney didn’t even try to quell the sniggering.

The colonel glared at him. “This isn’t funny.”

“Oh, it is,” Rodney assured him, grinning.

“Will you get the door open?”

“Hmm,” Rodney said slowly, his face going thoughtful, “let me think about that for a moment.”

The colonel sighed and dropped his hand from his face. “No?”

Rodney smiled smugly. “No.”

“Hello?” the colonel said loudly, banging on the door. “Can anyone hear me?”

“The corridors were pretty much deserted when we came here, Colonel. You know,” he added absently, “now that I think about it that was pretty strange.”

Sheppard’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “This is all your doing. First Teyla talking to me about the birds and the bees,” he broke off, swallowing, before continuing, “and now this.”

“Yes. You got me. With one of my many superpowers, I brain-washed Teyla, emptied the corridors, hypnotized Ronon and locked the doors.”

The colonel looked unconvinced, which Rodney found both flattering and insulting. “The door just happened to lock itself as I was trying to--“

“Run away?”

Sheppard’s mouth tightened. “Running isn’t the word I would use.”


“Making a tactical retreat.”

Rodney nodded. “Slinking.”

The colonel let out an annoyed burst of air. “Look, we were both kind of drunk, the aliens probably made us do it, there were drugs…I say we just,” he waved his gun around a bit, making Rodney nervous, “move on and forget about it.”

Rodney shot him a scathing look, to cover up how much the colonel’s words…well, hurt. “Forgetting, how appropriate.”

Sheppard opened his mouth to reply, then froze. He tilted his head a little and turned towards the door. “Hello? Is there someone there?”

There was no answer. Rodney was just about to say something disdainful about the colonel’s hearing when someone on the other side of the door cleared his throat awkwardly. “I, uh, was just on my way to…the control room.” Ronon. Wow. Rodney hadn’t actually known there were people who were worse liars than him. It wasn’t so much the fact that the control room was in an entirely different section of the city as much as the obvious guilt in Ronon’s voice. He and Ronon had more in common than Rodney could ever have imagined. “I’ll catch you guys later,” Ronon said more loudly, interrupting Rodney’s thoughts.

“No, wait!” Sheppard yelled, but it was too late, even Rodney could hear Ronon’s quickly retreating steps. The colonel frowned and pointed at Rodney. “I’m still convinced you’re behind all this. I just don’t know how. Or why.”

Rodney stared at him. How could Sheppard be so, so…clueless? Did he actually have no idea that Rodney dreamed about doing...things to Sheppard’s body? That Rodney wanted more than nice amnesiac memories?

“You know what, forget this,” Rodney said. He'd had enough.

He stalked forward, grabbed Sheppard’s face and kissed him hard. The colonel froze for a moment and Rodney did too, because this was it--this was the thing that would make John shove him away and look at Rodney with repulsion, because they *had* been kind of drunk, there had been drugs, the aliens were 99.9% involved in making them have sex because they were aliens, and making their would-be allies have sex would be a relatively normal thing to do compared to the other alien nutcases in Pegasus. Plus, there was the fact that Sheppard kept trying to run away from Rodney, which might be an indication that sex wasn’t actually something he was interested in having again, at least not with Rodney, and--

Sheppard grabbed Rodney face roughly. Rodney met him halfway and then he pushed Sheppard against the door, eagerly helping out as John shoved his tongue down Rodney’s throat.

This wasn’t exactly how he’d pictured his confrontation with John. In his mind, there’d been arguing, lots of it, followed by Sheppard admitting that Rodney was right and that he’d been incredibly stupid not to see that at once. This would be followed by them hurrying to whichever quarters were closer, and John would then give Rodney a blowjob to apologize for being a moron. Ideally, he’d also shyly confess that he had a huge crush on Rodney and the heterosexual freak-out had been sprinkled with some insecurity on his worthiness to be Rodney’s lover.

He hadn’t imagined John’s hand on his belly, burning hot through the fabric of his shirt before fumbling Rodney’s pants open, kissing him almost desperately, tasting of coffee and need. He hadn’t thought that John’s hand working his cock hard and frantically would feel so fantastic; he shivered as the calluses on John’s hand dragged hard across that sensitive spot just underneath the head of his dick, over and over and god yes as John squeezed him. Moaning into John’s mouth, he started unbuckling his belt, trying not to interrupt John’s rhythmic pulls. He was breathing quickly through his nose, because no way was he going to stop sucking on John’s tongue long enough to draw a breath.

It was amazing and hot and mind blowing and wrong wrong wrong; he wanted this, he wanted John, but even this, with the touching and the kissing, wasn't enough. He wanted John to gasp out Rodney’s name, to look at Rodney as he came, to know who he was with. He kissed John sloppy, hard, biting at his lips, making John groan, and Rodney finally managed to push his hand down John’s boxers. John’s dick was scorching hot, smooth and a little wet in his hand.
John’s hips twitched helplessly as Rodney slowly squeezed him, pulling him out of his pants.

Rodney was about ten seconds away from coming, probably less considering the way John was pumping him, but he wouldn’t, couldn’t, rush. He squeezed John hard and slow, and John pulled back from Rodney’s mouth, head falling back, eyes closing, mouth open as his grip on Rodney faltered.

“Look at me,” Rodney whispered, his voice almost pleading.

John licked his slick lips, his eyes opening slowly, pupils huge as he drew in a sharp breath at the same time as his dick twitched in Rodney’s grip. Their eyes met and Rodney felt a rush of heat that had nothing to do with touch. Then John started shooting over Rodney’s pants, on their hands, all over Rodney’s dick. Rodney stared down, panting, and grabbed John’s hand, guiding him, making him squeeze Rodney harder. John made a whimpering noise and pulled a few times at Rodney’s dick, hard and sloppy, and that was it, Rodney’s entire world was centered under John’s clasp, where John was touching him, where John was touching *him*.

They stood pressed together, leaning against each other and the wall. Rodney’s heart was pounding too hard, too fast. It seemed fitting that John could do that to him--that he was one of the things that made Rodney’s heart pound faster than ever. John panted in Rodney’s ear, but his breath was easing up a lot faster than Rodney’s. Rodney didn’t want to stop panting, because that would mean stepping away--stepping away, stepping back, stepping out into the real world again.

“See?” he said without heat. “The world doesn’t actually end if you kiss someone without a vagina.”

John’s head fell back against the door again. “I’m so fucked.”

Rodney looked down at their sticky hands. “Well, yes.”

John shook his head. “I like my job. If you don’t count the Wraith, I really like my job. I enjoy flying and bossing people around and the rank kind of rocks.”

Rodney nodded in understanding. “I sympathize with at least thirty-three point three percent of that.”

John swallowed. “But I like you,” he said quietly.

Rodney frowned. “Does it say somewhere that the two are mutually exclusive?” John’s eyebrows rose and Rodney waved a sticky hand. “Okay, sorry, my brain is a bit slower after mind-blowing orgasms. I’m not asking and all that.” John’s lips quirked up in a smile. “I can do discreet,” Rodney continued. “I really can. I can keep my mouth shut, I can ogle women, I can avoid groping you in public.”

John let out a short laugh, surprised. “Rodney…”

“No no no, I really can,” Rodney said sincerely, because he could, he so could, if it got him John.

“I believe you,” John said, smile fading. “I’m still fucked.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Rodney said cautiously, because he understood that it could be a really bad thing. John looked at him and Rodney realized that he was used to that look: fond, exasperated, a little scared. “You’re not fucked,” he said quietly.

John’s eyebrows rose. “How do you figure?”

Rodney let out an annoyed breath. “I don’t, okay. You’re fucked, I’m fucked, we’re all fucked. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” John said dryly, but he touched Rodney’s face and smiled and Rodney realized that that was the key right there. Give John some really bad odds and he’d go straight for them. Call it stupid or call it brave, but it had worked out pretty well for him so far, Rodney had to admit.

"I just don't have sex with my best friends on alien planets that often." John gave Rodney a focused look. "I don't wanna screw this up."

"Oh," Rodney said. He was struck by a thought. "Wait--when you say 'not that often,' does that mean you and Teyla--"

John snorted out a soft laugh and ducked his head briefly before he pushed at Rodney’s shoulders and turned them around, pressing Rodney against the door. "Okay, don’t be stupid, Rodney."

Rodney lifted his chin, but it was hard to look haughty when you’d just had amazing sex--and it was looking more likely by the second that he would have a lot more amazing sex in the future.

John grinned. "Teyla and I have sex all the time." Rodney's eyes widened. John gave him a second before he kissed him, sweetly and unhurriedly, slow licks into his mouth, his teeth gently tugging at Rodney's lower lip. "Seriously," John whispered against his mouth, "she just can't keep her hands off me. We do it everywhere, the gym, my office, the briefing room..."

Rodney slid his hand into John's hair, licked a stripe of wet at John's jaw before nuzzling his neck, and John shut up. "You're so full of it," he told John's ear.

"Mmm," John said and Rodney smiled helplessly against his skin, thinking that this might be a day worth remembering.


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