Carson didn't seem to have the same problem, happily welcoming Rodney with an eager, searching kiss. After a moment, though, he pulled back. "You're bothered," He murmured, trailing warm fingers down Rodney's neck. "Why?"

Rodney's eyes flicked to the bathroom door. "I wish we were back in my quarters," He said by way of explanation. "Somewhere more private."

"You didn't care yesterday," Carson pointed out as he leaned closer, resting his forehead on Rodney's shoulder.

Rodney shrugged, making Carson's cheek slide along his neck. "No, I didn't," He admitted. "That was once, and I think he deserved it. But if we..."

Carson huffed. "Rub it in he'll get bitter?"

Rodney nodded and pushed Carson back onto the bed. Just because he didn't want to torture John by letting him walk out of the shower to the image of them having sex didn't mean they couldn't fool around a little. Rodney liked his sex slow and intense, and sometimes silly and sloppy; at least he could indulge a few of his predilections while they were in such close quarters. "John's a very slow learner, but he might come around, given the right...guidance."

Carson wasn't exactly sure how he was supposed to take that, but Rodney's skin said he felt less anxious and more aroused so the doctor went with that, seeking out Rodney's mouth. The kiss he found waiting for him was excruciatingly slow; Rodney dragged his tongue along the roof of Carson's mouth and then nipped at his lips before delving back inside. Carson tried to take control but before he could, Rodney's mouth was gone, whispering along his jaw to rest on the shell of his ear.

"When I get you alone," Rodney hissed, thrusting his hips down against Carson's, "I'm gonna fuck you, hard and slow 'til you can't stand it anymore."

Carson suspected he was moaning, but he couldn't be sure. The sound of blood pounding in his ears drowned out everything but Rodney's voice.

Another rolling thrust and Carson thought maybe he was going to come in his pants. "Gonna wrap these legs around me and push in slow, no stopping."

"R--Rodney," Carson whimpered, fingers digging into Rodney's shoulders amidst bunches of fabric from his shirt, fabric that felt real but also felt like Rodney. "What're you--

But Rodney wasn't near done. "You'll want to beg me, to fuck you, to push my cock in faster and ride you but don't worry, nobody's gonna hear you," Rodney said, voice dripping with lust. "I'll be fucking your mouth with mine, taking you, swallowing every cry."

The shower cut off, making Carson's broken gasps sound harsh and loud in the small room. He was going to come, despite Rodney's protestations against having sex around John. All he needed was one more touch, just a little more of Rodney's body holding him down and moving like--

"And just when you think I'm about to let you come, I'm going to bring you down and send you right back up again," Rodney promised with a smirk, levering himself off Carson's quaking form. He pressed a quick, dry kiss to Carson's forehead and then resumed his place on his own cot, leaving Carson sweating and trembling on his own bed.

John walked out of the bathroom and could have sworn that nobody had moved. Carson was still slumped along the wall and Rodney's nose was buried in a book. Something niggled in his mind, though--half-smell, half-taste and John couldn't put his finger on it but it reminded him of sex.

As soon as he cleared the narrow space between his cot and the bathroom door, Carson was standing. A second later the bathroom door was shut and the sounds of running water began again.

"I would've waited, if he wanted a shower that bad," John said, curling up on his bed and reaching for his laptop.

Rodney smirked behind his book. "Don't worry about it. If he'd wanted a shower earlier, he'd have said something," Rodney replied with feigned distraction. "I think being cooped up in here is finally getting to him."

John snorted. More likely, Rodney was getting bored and had turned to Carson as entertainment. Carson hadn't looked upset, though...more like seriously turned-on.

If it had been any other two people, John would've gotten a kick out of watching the show.

•••

"Bates, did you let Stackhouse help you with this report?" John asked over his radio. It had taken two full days to convince Dr. Weir to let them have their radios back, but she'd caved after finding the three of them trying to learn Japanese by converting John's computer to only use that language.

"No, sir!" Bates said crisply. A little too crisply, in John's opinion. He looked over at Rodney, who mouthed something that looked like 'big tits'.

"Are you sure?" John inquired calmly.

"Yes, sir," Bates assured him.

"Right," John muttered. "Good to hear. Look, you enjoyed overseeing the pier's levigation so much I think you should help Dr. Zelenka repair the 'jumper that the Wraith damaged. Dr. McKay says they've figured out how to run one of the resurfacers and now all they need is someone with restoration experience."

Over on his own bed, Rodney clamped a hand over his mouth as he giggled insanely. It was no secret that Bates only barely tolerated most of the science staff; other than a couple of well-endowed female linguists, he avoided them entirely.

"What are you letting him make Bates do?" Carson asked Rodney. "And is it going to put more people in the infirmary?"

"Only from boredom," Rodney assured him. "It serves Bates right; he should have 'fessed up to getting that linguist to help write his reports."

"How did you know?" Carson asked John after the Major had turned off his radio.

John smirked. "Bates is one of my best men, but unless he started reading a dictionary in his spare time, there's no way he'd think of using 'somnambulant' in a report."

"Oh," Cason murmured. "That does make sense, I suppose."

"Aren't you supposed to be practicing your shapeshifting?" John asked Carson, who was instead comparing his notes to Rodney's regarding their change.

"Later," Carson mumbled, distracted by what he was reading. "Tired of trying to get wool to feel like wool. Boring."

"Why you want wool to feel like wool, I have no idea," Rodney griped. "It's itchy."

"It's practice," John countered. "Which, if Carson's not going to be doing, you should."

Rodney rolled his eyes and set his book aside, simultaneously shifting into a glimmering liquid mass. He slid down onto the floor and flowed across it, underneath the corner of John's bed and toward the bathroom.

The last few days of quarantine had been spent trying to get a basic grasp of their new selves, enough that they could trust themselves not to fall apart at the first sign of trouble. They'd started small, building from their trials at forming clothes and branching into maneuvering the room in their liquid form. None of them were willing to try the powdery one yet; being dispersed into so many pieces wasn't something they were comfortable attempting at the moment.

Rodney stretched himself along the base of the back wall, following it right up to the bathroom door. He angled upwards, using his own surface tension and the wall's matte surface to pull him toward the ceiling.

It wasn't defying gravity, but Rodney was still happy with the results. When he finished, he was completely off the floor and partly on the ceiling, stretched thin in most places but securely adhered to the wall itself. He observed the room, fascinated by the way it looked with this form's senses.

As a human, Rodney was naturally accustomed to an image of the world produced by fusing input from two eyes. He didn't have eyes at the moment, so he guessed that he was using a less centralized set of receptor cells. He could see nearly the entire room, and from a broad perspective due to how far he was spread out. Every breath Carson or John took stirred the air just enough for Rodney to feel it and that made the room seem like it was alive, pulsing with their presence.

"Try something else now," John told Rodney. He picked up Rodney's radio. "Catch this." He threw the thing at the wall where Rodney was and waited to see what happened.

Rodney saw the radio coming and felt it impact. He let his form catch it, flowing around the object until it was within him. He could exert the force necessary to activate the radio, but there was no way he could shift enough to speak into the thing without coming off the wall. He could listen, though, so he flipped it on.

Dr. Weir was asking Zelenka why Sergeant Bates was in the 'jumper bay. Listening was a lot like it was in any other situation, although he could feel the sound vibrations more acutely. Rodney flicked the radio back off and began to coalesce into human form, sliding down the wall at the same time. His feet hit the floor just as he finished shifting, his radio safely tucked its rightful place around his ear.

"Satisfied?" Rodney asked John.

John shrugged. "It's not me you're doing it for."

•••

"What time is it?"

Carson threw a pillow at Rodney's head. "Five minutes after you last asked. Wanker."

Rodney smirked and tucked the pillow under his arm. "I can't help being bored. This has got to be the longest day I've ever lived through." John opened his mouth to object when Rodney continued. "Well, third longest."

That statement confused both Carson and John. "Third? Second I can see, after the mission--which wasn't one day, by the way," John said. "What's the other day?"

"Weather delay in Chicago," Rodney replied. "On my way to Antarctica. Command flew me civilian and there was a layover at O'Hare, right before a blizzard hit at eight in the morning."

"How long were you stuck?" Carson inquired.

"Four days," Rodney said. "The first day was the worst; after that they got some of us into hotels. Pay-per-view made up for the lack of scenery."

"And this is better than pay-per-view?" John asked disbelievingly. "We've seen every movie in the city, most of them more than once."

Rodney shrugged. "I have company this time," He explained. "I don't see why they won't just let us go; it's another three hours. If nothing's happened in six days, twenty hours and forty-eight minutes, it's not going to happen now."

"It's the principle of the thing," Dr. Weir said as she opened the door.

"Do you ever knock?" Rodney asked her. "I think I've asked you to knock before walking in here."

"Rodney, if anyone but you were commenting on manners, I might take it seriously," She snapped. "And it is only three hours; surely you can make it that long."

"I'm sure we will," Carson replied quickly. He didn't want to do or say anything to get their quarantine extended and he wasn't willing to test out Dr. Weir's patience by being insulting. Carson wanted his own bed, even if it was the same as the one he had now, in his own room with his own belongings and his private balcony. The fact that when he got back to his room Rodney would be with him only made Carson even more desirous of finishing quarantine without delay.

"Actually, I wanted to ask you to review a proposal to reorganize the residential areas of the city," Dr. Weir said to Rodney. She handed over a copy of the file, which he took with a grimace.

"You know that I'm the worst person in the city to ask to do this, right?" He muttered, staring at the file like it had teeth. "I hate boring administrative bullshit."

"John and Carson can help you," Elizabeth replied as she slipped through the doorway. "Part of your job here, Rodney, is to assist in the 'boring administrative bullshit' that keeps the city running."

"If I wanted to be in charge of seating arrangements, I'd have become a kindergarten teacher," Rodney said to no one in particular. "Who cares if people live in different apartments?"

"Me, the next time the Wraith or Genii stop by," John stated as he booted up his computer. "Gimme the file."

Rodney gladly handed it over, then took a seat next to John on his cot. Carson joined them on John's other side. "She's pretty confident in our ability to keep upgrading our power supplies," Rodney murmured. "This is way over our current production capacities."

"Not to mention nearly indefensible," John added. "We don't have enough trained soldiers to protect the city center and this many remote living areas."

"That one is what, half a mile from the control room?" Carson asked, pointing to a highlighted branch of the city. "Who thought this up?"

"Kavanagh," Rodney guessed. "Based on the fact that the area set aside for scientists is as far from the military barracks area as possible--but right next to the proposed new mess hall as well as the Athosian section."

They got so immersed in both berating the idiot who'd designed the plan and trying to fix it that none of the men realized three hours had passed--until Dr. Salas walked in.

"You do realize that you're free to go," She said with a smirk. "Of course, you're also welcome to stay. We've gotten quite use to having you as our captive guests."

The last part of her statement was made whilst jumping out of the way as Rodney practically ran out of the room, Carson and John not far behind. Carson stopped at the infirmary door and turned back to her. "Thank you," He said gratefully before disappearing into the hall.

•••

Rodney's first stop was his lab. He'd been gone three weeks, which was more than enough time for his less-than-loyal underlings to take over and destroy months of careful work. Being back hadn't helped because he'd been in quarantine and couldn't really exert any authority--especially where it counted.

"Ah, Radek!" Rodney said as he walked in. "Kavanagh isn't using my desk, is he?"

Dr. Kavanagh slowly stood up from behind Rodney's desk. "You weren't using it; waste not, want not."

Rodney glared daggers at Kavanagh's forehead. "You do realize that you're going to be calibrating scanners at your new desk next to the desalinization tanks."

Kavanagh backed away from the desk. "You don't scare me," He said defiantly, even as he moved as far from Rodney as he could get.

Rodney smirked and decided it was time to give his staff a glimpse of things to come. Dr. Weir had agreed that he, John and Carson shouldn't bother to hide what they were; given Atlantis's close quarters it simply wasn't a viable option. Thus, Rodney thought it best for everyone to get used to the sight of him in a different form.

He also appreciated the astonished squawk Kavanagh gave out when Rodney morphed into his liquid form and literally slid across the floor. Rodney re-formed about two inches from Kavanagh's nose, smirking madly. "Don't make that mistake again, Kavanagh; you should be bright enough to do that."

Kavanagh simply nodded. Dr. Weir had spoken to everyone in the city about their returned crew, but hearing about it was different from seeing it up close and personal. Rodney backed off and went to his desk, carefully checking to see what had been taken.

His main laptop was, of course, in storage; he could retrieve it later. A few artifacts were missing--some he'd worked with in quarantine and some that others must've taken while he was gone. He checked one drawer in particular and wasn't surprised to find his stash of coffee grounds missing. "The coffee missing from my desk will find its way back home before tomorrow's staff meeting," Rodney announced to the entire lab in a tone that brooked no argument.

"We have staff meeting tomorrow?" Dr. Zelenka asked.

"Oh-nine-hundred hours," Rodney stated. "Everyone is required to attend. Bring reports of all of your work for the past four weeks."

"But you've already seen those," Kavanagh protested. "We sent them to you in quarantine!"

"Do them again," Rodney retorted as he walked to the door. "And this time, put in everything you've done, or you'll be getting a lecture in work ethic. It is unacceptable to let the level and speed of your work fall to the appalling lows to which it sank during my absence."

Rodney directed himself toward the current residential area, pondering the possibility of getting a place closer to Carson's when it came time to rearrange the city's living arrangements. It was inevitable that shifts would be made; several people wanted to cohabitate and others were simply dissatisfied with their current locations. The process was going to be a nightmare, though.

The door to Carson's room was closed and Rodney stopped in front of it, studying its smooth surface. He couldn't explain his sudden reticence, other than it being a byproduct of anticipation. Before Rodney could try to open the door, it slid back on its own, revealing Carson about to step outside.

"I was about to come looking for you," Carson said with a smile. "Or are you planning to stay out there?"

Rodney walked through the door, nudging Carson back. He closed and locked the door before actually looking at the other man. "I had to go by the lab," He said by way of an apology, "Or someone would've hunted me down."

Carson's smile twisted into a smirk. "Can't be having that now, can we?" He murmured. Rodney shook his head and then stepped forward, putting himself right in front of Carson.

"So..." Rodney hummed, studying Carson's face, "I seem to recall promising you something."

Carson blushed under the scrutiny as well as the words. "That you did," He admitted roughly. "I haven't forgotten."

"Good," Rodney said even as he reached for Carson.

Carson was expecting hard and fast; he knew his own needs so quick and dirty would suffice, at least this time. What he got, however, when Rodney reeled him in, was almost tentative. Rodney kissed him thoroughly yet with great care and disarming gentleness. Familiar hands slowly stroked his shoulders, pulling him closer until they were pressed together.

Rodney walked backwards, taking Carson with him until he realized he wasn't familiar enough with the location of the other man's bed. He spun them around, never breaking their kiss, and pushed Carson the final few feet they had left, sending him sprawling back on the mattress.

Carson twisted on the bed until he was fully upon it and beckoned Rodney with an outstretched hand. Rodney eased himself down next to Carson, only to find himself pulled over until he was atop the man. A strange, sliding sensation not unlike walking on dry sand swept over Rodney's body, slithering into him through the illusory barrier of his clothes. He let the sensual presence distract him as it carried ever closer the newly-familiar feel of Carson, aroused. It wasn't until Rodney brushed his lips down Carson's neck that he realized that Carson's clothes were gone. Carson ran his hands down Rodney's back, tugging on his shirt in an obvious request.

Rodney complied as he leaned in for another kiss, sliding his lips along Carson's as their skin met. Desire skittered along the connection that contact brought and the relief both men felt at finding nothing but arousal sent them higher. Rodney pushed his legs between Carson's, splaying them apart and brushing his cock against Carson's groin. Carson's hands found Rodney's chest, exploring briefly before finding a nipple and tweaking it. Rodney groaned and broke the kiss, his head falling to Carson's shoulder.

"Should I do that again?" Carson inquired lightly, as though Rodney weren't shuddering and thrusting against him. "Or--

Rodney shut Carson up with a kiss, deep and hard and exactly what it took to make Carson whimper helplessly. When Rodney finally let up, it was Carson who was shaky and cross-eyed.

"Again," Rodney insisted, rolling his hips against Carson's. One of Carson's hands reached between them, finding a nipple and squeezing it with increasing force. Rodney groaned and rocked back on his knees, staring down at Carson. He was a sight; pale skin blushing, breath ragged, hard and so turned on Rodney was surprised he hadn't taken charge of things. The faint sensation of arousal that was transmitted between them kept drawing Rodney in and he paused to revel in it, loving the way he could feel Carson's responsiveness.

"Rodney," Carson whispered, not-quite-begging. He wanted Rodney but the infuriating man was just staring at him and if he didn't do something soon Carson was going to bloody well scream. He'd been wanting this for more than a year and waiting for it ever since Rodney promised it to him and now the man was stopping? "Damn it, Rodney," He continued, eyes narrowing. "Don't stop, man; you're killing me."

Rodney snapped out of his reverie and refocused on the man below him. He pressed a finger against Carson's hole, wrapping his free hand around Carson's erection. Rodney watched Carson flinch as he started pushing into him, lightly stroking and stretching simultaneously. After a moment, Carson's expression flowed from discomfort to pleasure and he arched into the caress, arms pushing into the bed as his legs crooked around Rodney's.

Two more fingers joined the first, sliding easily despite the absence of lubricant and Rodney moved faster, letting go of Carson's cock in favor of grasping his hip and pulling him closer. He drew his hand back, and then began to thrust into Carson, pushing steadily past the initial tightness. Carson was tight, hot and Rodney could feel their arousal, tinted with anxiety and what might have been the anticipation of pain. The sensations receded as Rodney focused on moving gently, not wanting to hurt Carson, but when the man beneath him pulled him down those feelings slammed into him again. Rodney reeled with their intensity before finding his mind. Still, they grew stronger every time he thrust into Carson, blurring and blending until Rodney couldn't discern his feelings from Carson's.

Carson reached for Rodney, wanting him close enough to kiss. True to his word, Rodney was fucking him slowly, not splitting him open but also not stopping at all and Carson couldn't get a handle on his body's response. The penetration was a shock as he hadn't done this in ages, but it was also a delicious ache that made him want more. Now, and Carson thought he might've moaned the word into Rodney's mouth. He tightened his legs around Rodney, urging him forward but it did no good; Rodney braced his arms on the bed and continued his inexorable progress, not stopping until he could go no further.

The wait that followed nearly drove Carson insane. Rodney kissed him lazily, fucking his mouth with a wicked tongue. Carson could feel how turned on Rodney was but that blasted self-control was still in charge and no matter how Carson begged with his hands or clenched himself around Rodney's cock they stayed locked the way they were. Unmoving but pulsing and twisting for want of any other stimulation.

When Rodney finally withdrew and thrust back in, Carson sighed in relief, the sound caught and swallowed as Rodney kissed him deeper, tongue mimicking the rhythm he used to fuck Carson's body. Long, measured thrusts that were hard but slow, grinding against his prostate. Rodney was thick, stretching Carson deliciously but it would be better if he would go faster, just a little faster.

Carson felt Rodney take hold of one of his hands and bring it between them, wrapping Carson's fingers around his own cock. Carson stroked himself roughly, faster than Rodney's more leisurely pace. He was getting close, pleasure beginning to prickle in his spine. Carson turned his head to the side, gasping for air and lightheaded from the lack of it. Just then, Rodney sped up, fairly slamming into Carson's body while sucking on the man's neck, low near the shoulder.

A moment later Rodney found Carson's mouth again and threw them into another kiss, this one harsh and rough, raw with need as both men raced closer to orgasm. Carson felt it begin and then Rodney yanked his hand away, holding his wrist down on the bed as he slowed down, resuming his long, slow thrusting. The kiss was still overwhelming, though, and Carson's body hummed at the brink of climax, protesting at being dragged back from it.

Carson heard himself screaming into Rodney's mouth but couldn't stop himself; he desperately clung to Rodney with his free hand, legs clasping Rodney harder as he strained for release. Still Rodney brought them back, calming them both down until release was no longer immanent.

He knew what was coming next but still Carson wasn't prepared for the way Rodney pulled out and slammed back into him, setting immediately upon a rhythm that had both men crying out. Carson tried to get free to touch himself but Rodney simply caught his free hand, effectively pinning Carson to the mattress. At the same time, Rodney's tongue teased Carson's, promising the fulfillment he'd been denied.

When Carson felt himself get close again, he half-expected Rodney to stop, to keep up his maddening torture. That wasn't what happened, though; Rodney kept pounding into him, pushing Carson relentlessly until he couldn't take it anymore. Carson froze, climax breaking over and around him with devastating intensity.

Once Carson's body finally relaxed, Rodney began to move, himself very close to orgasm. He was almost there when Carson resumed their kiss. It was soft, almost sleepy yet incredibly affectionate and Rodney was undone by the emotion carried in the gesture. He let himself go, pushing deep once more before finding release.

•••

John leaned against Atlantis's outer wall and stared out into the shielded night, silently mocking himself for ever hating the secure confines of the city. It wasn't all that long ago that he'd been out here, wallowing in self-pity and hating the way Atlantis buffered its inhabitants from the vagaries of terrestrial living.

Somewhere in the city, Rodney and Carson were together. John knew it, just like he knew he'd spent a night on this very balcony condemning himself for wanting what they wanted and for taking what they were sharing. He refused to let himself dwell on such things this night, however. John figured he'd wasted enough time hating himself for things he couldn't take back. Still, that moment had soured his love for the balcony attached to his quarters and he was angry because of it, that he was so weak he couldn't overcome such a memory.

But this was his first free night in what felt like forever and John wasn't going to let anything ruin it. He'd escaped Ford's enthusiastic efforts to make him feel welcome and had retreated here, where he could listen to water lap at the city and watch moonlight glint off the ocean.

A thought occurred to John and he pushed away from the wall, walking to the center of the balcony. He shifted form, dropping down to the floor briefly before sliding a few feet to the left. Behind him lay a small pile of equipment--his radio, a watch and the like. For a couple of minutes, he simply lay puddled on the balcony, letting his form pool and slide around as pulled together the information he needed.

When John reformed, it was in the shape of a large raptor, not unlike one he'd seen in a vision during their temple journey. It also vaguely resembled a half-dozen or so Earth raptors; he wasn't sure exactly what it was, if it was any particular type of bird at all. All he'd wanted was to end up as a bird, and he'd gotten that far.

The flying part would be more difficult, but he remembered some things from before and he'd long possessed the basic information regarding how birds flew. The real test would be getting airborne and not killing himself in the process.

With that in mind, John stretched his wings and flapped a couple of times, hopping up onto the railing at the end of the balcony. He turned around and launched, gliding across the balcony to land on the far rail opposite his starting place. It was almost absurdly easy, so he launched again, this time aiming for another balcony entirely.

The knowledge that there was nothing below to catch him was thrilling and John forgot all about gliding, tilting his body and throwing himself into flight. The wind that he'd missed was back as he dipped and soared high into the air, curving around a tower and setting off across the city. He kept in mind the parameters of the shield, but there was still so much airspace to explore and the city was very different from this perspective. His avian eyes perceived differently and he was smaller, the city larger and more fascinating.

It was many hours later, once he was back in his room and safely tucked in bed, that John realized he no longer feared dreaming.