“Yes, yes, diagnostics,” Zelenka muttered, shaking his head. “Don’t you have a mission now?”

“We do, which means Dr. McKay is going to walk through the ‘gate right now,” John said firmly, urging Rodney to follow Teyla and Dex, who had just breached the event horizon.

“Alright, alright,” Rodney grumbled, taking one last backwards glance at Zelenka as he and John reached the ‘gate. “Why do we have to rush this mission? I’ve got to make sure that—

Rodney was still speaking when they began to walk through the ‘gate. Just as they started through, however, an ear-piercing explosion ripped through the ‘gate room.

•••

“Ow.”

“Yeah,” John whispered in response to Rodney’s groaning. “That hurt.” John groped around blindly until he was reassured that all his limbs were still attached. They were, but did they ever hurt.

Rodney rolled over, cradling the arm he’d landed on. “See? I told you we shouldn’t have rushed this mission.”

John picked himself up and looked around, quickly giving Rodney a once-over to make sure he wasn’t seriously injured. “Um, Rodney?” He murmured quietly as he took in the sight of a completely abandoned ‘gate room.

“Where is everybody?” Rodney asked, having gained his footing. “Dr. Weir?” He called out frantically. “Is this some kind of joke?”

John turned around slowly. “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Rodney.” Yeah, they were in the ‘gate room, but it wasn’t the same. Hadn’t Rodney demanded they remove that section of frosted-glass paneling so he could see the ‘gate more clearly?

Rodney, however, had already figured that out. “All of our equipment is gone. Everything. Where are Dex and Teyla?” When Rodney cued his radio, all he got was John—and no one else. There wasn’t even feedback from the city’s central communications system.

“What was that explosion?” John asked as he walked up to the ‘gate controls. “Right when we were walking through...”

“I know, I know,” Rodney said impatiently, joining John at the controls. “Something must have malfunctioned with the ‘gate. Power supply perhaps, a fluctuation... Huh.” Rodney checked the control monitor again, just to be sure. Unfortunately, his first conclusion was correct.

“Huh?” John echoed. “As in...”

“We’re underwater,” Rodney muttered nervously. “Oh my god.”

“How’d we get back underwater?” John asked. “The place is just like when we first got here, isn’t it?” And it made perfect sense all of a sudden: the lack of people and Earth tech, the magically reappearing paneling, their location beneath the ocean.

“Precisely like it was,” Rodney concurred. “Right down to the power left in the ZedPMs keeping the shield up.”

“Don’t turn anything on,” John warned. “Rodney, do I want to know how we ended up in an abandoned version of our city?” Or was this a matter of when and not where. Unfortunately Rodney wasn’t up to actually answering John’s question. Instead, he was pacing around, screaming and muttering about death and blood and starvation. John was wondering where this universe’s version of himself was—had he died in Afghanistan? It didn’t look like he arrived in Atlantis, but what if this was the past? What if it was their past and everyone was on Earth, not yet ready to traverse to Atlantis?

John let Rodney’s ranting flow past him, curling around his head before darting around the ‘gate room and careening off every available surface. He was simultaneously relieved and infuriated. Relief came from knowing that, in the midst of what John considered the most existentially frightening experience of his life, Rodney was solid as bedrock and still himself. Even when they had no idea what was going on, or why, or if they would ever find a way to something approaching normal, Rodney found the energy and wherewithal to rant. Infuriation came from that same source, however. John needed a quiet moment to think, to gather himself together, to regroup and figure out a way to pull their asses out of this most-current crisis. How the hell were they supposed to get back home? Were they home, and everyone else was dead? It didn’t seem likely, but still... And damn, his body hurt. Going through the ‘gate hadn’t ever hurt like this before.

Unfortunately, Rodney was yelling something about wrinkles and improbability and power fluctuations in ten thousand year old equipment and John was sure Rodney knew what he was talking about but to John it was all so much buzzing, like a hive of bees flitting around the room. One would land on him and he’d try to swat it away and regain his calm, only to have a dozen more bombard him for his efforts. Rodney needed to shut up, he really did, before John did something regrettable and physical. Something that would lead to blood spattering on the floor and Rodney staring up at him, hand wiping gore from his mouth, with that hurt expression Rodney got whenever anyone actually managed to disappoint him. John had a feeling he was the only person on Atlantis that got that look from Rodney, and he wasn’t sure what to make of that—whether it was a compliment to his importance in Rodney’s very strange existence, or an insult to his arbitrarily defined intelligence.

Rodney, not being the observant type, failed to notice that John wanted him to shut the fuck up. Glaring wasn’t helping, nor was pacing loudly. He just kept talking, waving those damned hands around but that wasn’t as annoying as his voice. John had, over the course of several months, learned the language of Rodney’s hands. Their vocabulary was limited but eloquent, mostly spitting out profanity and insults, along with the occasional hyperbolic emphasis for whatever Rodney’s mouth was saying. Maybe not as annoying as Rodney talking, but still damned irritating and why wouldn’t Rodney shut up? John really didn’t want to hurt Rodney, he didn’t. Seeing Rodney hurt would only make John’s bad day even worse; Rodney hurt was one of those things John dreaded, even more than hungry Wraith and goddamned Genii. In fact, Rodney was the only person on Atlantis John wouldn’t sacrifice for the good of the city, and he could only tell himself it was because of the man’s genius for so long.

“And you aren’t listening to me, but that won’t matter if we don’t find a way to reverse whatever’s happened!” Rodney grumbled, finally seeing the tight yet distracted look on John’s face. Once again he’d lost the man, although to John’s credit he held onto what Rodney said longer than most people. “I realize this is a bit beyond you, but to be honest—and take not that I don’t say this kind of thing very often—it’s a bit beyond me as well, which doesn’t bode well for our surviv—

John slammed his mouth against Rodney’s, a maneuver just painful enough to shock Rodney into silence. He wasn’t even trying to talk, so John deepened the kiss, easing back just a little on the pressure so Rodney didn’t bruise from it. At first, Rodney was unnaturally still, but that was before John’s tongue stroked against his and then John found himself being kissed back. Only this wasn’t a kiss, because kissing was lips and tongues and the occasional, accidental tap of teeth. What Rodney was doing was a lot more like sex, only without the sex part; John let his mouth fall farther open as Rodney fucked him with his tongue, teasing and demanding. John needed to breathe but Rodney wouldn’t let him, at least not until he had John spun around and shoved hard against the ‘gate. One deep breath and Rodney was back, mouth hot and slick as he took John apart with it. All John could do was hang on and be silently thankful that he hadn’t hit Rodney, because if he had, Rodney never, ever would’ve kissed him and this was something John didn’t want to miss. Rodney was talented at kissing, but just as importantly, even with his talent Rodney couldn’t talk and kiss at the same time. All John could hear was his heartbeat thumping in his ears and the blurry whisper of him and Rodney kissing.

Finally Rodney rocked back, blinking furiously and licking his lips. “Colonels,” He muttered, suddenly frowning. “Always Colonels. We need to run some tests on the ‘gate.”

John dragged his gaze away from Rodney’s mouth. “What kind of tests?” John asked. He wanted to ask about the Colonel comment. Actually, he wanted to kiss Rodney again—or better yet, have Rodney kiss him. Rodney was really good at kissing; distracting and wholly consuming and very, very silent. Rodney was also much calmer now, and that made John feel slightly less like his head was going to cave in. If Rodney kept kissing him, maybe John wouldn’t succumb to the lingering desire to lose his freaking mind.

“Just to see if it works, and exactly how much power the city has,” Rodney said, walking over to the control area.

“Right,” John agreed, shoving aside the desire to make sure Rodney didn’t get wound up and off on a spiel again.

“And...how did we get here?” John asked again. “Wherever we are.”

Rodney didn’t answer immediately; he’d pulled a data pad out of his vest and was working furiously. After a minute, he looked up at John. “What?” John was grinding his teeth and grimacing, which Rodney took to mean he was nervous. That worried Rodney even more than what he’d found; John didn’t get nervous unless a Wraith had him by the neck or someone was shooting people.

John bit his lip to keep from yelling at the scientist. “How did we get here?”

“I’m working on it,” Rodney huffed, relieved that John was simply impatient. “My first guess, working without sufficient data, is that we’re in another dimension.” Having made that statement, Rodney went back to his calculations.

“Another dimension?” John said dumbly. “Like how the other Elizabeth did her thing with the Ancients?”

“Not really,” Rodney replied distractedly. “Alternate reality, alternate dimension, call it what you want. She went back in time too, you see. From what I can tell, we’re at the same point in time as we were before we went through the ‘gate. We’re just...in another Atlantis.”

“Oh shit,” John cursed. “We’ve got to raise the city.” Going back in time wouldn’t have bothered John as much. Or maybe it would’ve bothered him more, he couldn’t tell. All he knew was that the city didn’t have much power left—even less if this version had been immersed all those extra months. The Atlanteans hadn’t planned on them being a year late in arriving and Elizabeth’s work throughout the millennia was based on some pretty careful predictions.

“Yes, eventually,” Rodney concurred. “There’s not enough power to keep the environmental controls running, as well as the shields.” He tapped on the controls and the city began to move swiftly upwards. “That should do it.”

“How do we get back?” John asked, feeling very slightly less frightened now that the city was on its way up. At least they wouldn’t be killed by the ocean. It wasn’t much, but it was something. And Rodney wasn’t freaking out anymore, which really was good. Rodney thought well when he was freaking out, but he thought better when he was calm.

Rodney looked up from his data pad. “I’m working on it, John. Transdimensional travel isn’t exactly easy.” As if to prove his point, the last calculation he’d put into his data pad came back with an error. Rodney cursed silently as he began all over again. This wasn’t his specialty; hell, it wasn’t anyone’s specialty so all the research out there was strictly theoretical. He’d just eliminated one possible explanation, but that left thousands of others to try out before something made sense of the limited information he had.

“You don’t know how to get us back,” John surmised as he tamped down the panic clawing back up in his mind. Then a thought occurred to him. “So if we never made it to Atlantis in this dimension, doesn’t that mean the Wraith are still in hibernation?”

“Maybe,” Rodney agreed, “But maybe not. There’s no way of knowing without going somewhere to find out—something that’s rather low on my priorities at the moment.”

“What about Elizabeth?” John pushed. “If this city is still functional, that means there’s a version of her here.”

“Of course,” Rodney concurred, “Not that it’ll do us any good. Remember what happened when she woke up last time? That’s what’ll happen this time too. If it already hasn’t, of course; we’re at the same point in time here as they are back on our Atlantis. She should’ve already woken up in this dimension.”

“And died,” John surmised. “Since she didn’t live long last time.”

A sigh came in response to that, and the sound of Rodney’s hands sliding across the controls. “Or not; maybe she woke up, saw that no one was here, did her thing and went back into stasis. If she’s dead, we can’t do anything for her, John. And if she’s still in stasis and not dead, we still can’t do anything for her. No medical team here, remember?”

“Have you figured out what’s going on?” John asked instead of pursuing that line of thought. He’d already considered just what it meant to be stuck in an Atlantis without anything but what they had on them. No food, no water, no power, limited armaments... Except for Rodney. Having Rodney here was probably the only thing keeping John from freaking out completely. Rodney, who wasn’t freaking out about John kissing him. Or him kissing John right back.

When Rodney didn’t answer, John looked up from the spot on the floor he’d been using as a focus. Rodney was staring past him, right at the dormant stargate. The expression on Rodney’s face was a cross between horror and noncomprehension, so John looked over at the ‘gate himself.

“What the fuck?” John whispered, leaning forward. “Dex? Weir?”

Rodney pushed past him, running down to stand in front of the ‘gate. John was right behind, staring at the translucent forms of their team member and leader. They reminded John a little of the holographic stuff Atlantis had so much of, but when Dex and Weir talked, all he heard was a dim murmur.

John reached out, only to have his hand slide right through Dex’s arm. It felt like nothing—as though Dex wasn’t there at all. “Rodney...”

“I’m working on it,” Rodney snapped, tapping madly. “They obviously can’t see or hear us, and we can barely see or hear them.”

“Not at all now,” John informed him as Weir and Dex vanished. “But I think they were talking about us. I heard your name.”

Rodney nodded and began to pace. “Actually, this makes sense,” He said, starting up another series of calculations. “Not that it’s going to help us in the short-term.”

“What kind of sense?” John asked, preferring not to think about the possible futility of whatever Rodney was thinking.

It was another five minutes before Rodney bothered to answer him. When Rodney looked up, he found John seated by the ‘gate, tapping his fingers impatiently on his knees. “According to some dimensional theories, there are an infinite number of possible dimensions.”

“I’ve read Asimov,” John bit out. “You can skip the high-school stuff.”

Rodney’s huff was oddly reassuring. “Fine. Most theories are predicated on the notion that all dimensions are independent. Some are very similar, but each progresses on its own.”

John simply stared this time, hard enough that Rodney’s eyes began to twitch. “That independence is why each dimension feels like it’s the only dimension. That and a lot of other stuff is why dimensions don’t cross, or merge, or do any of the idiotic things you see in bad science fiction movies.”

“Except that what’s going on here proves that dimensions aren’t independent because this dimension isn’t independent of our own dimension?” John guessed. “If we can see them,” He continued, waving a hand at where Weir and Dex had been, “Then these two dimensions aren’t operating on their own.”

“Maybe,” Rodney corrected. “We don’t know for sure that the Weir and Dex we saw are from our own dimension. However, if I make the assumption that what we just saw was a ghost-image or flash of our own dimension, leaking through to this one, then I can rule out about 99% of the possible explanations for what happened to send us here, and why we’re here, and—

“How to get us home?” John interjected hopefully.

“Eventually,” Rodney replied. “That part will take a lot longer; for one, the calculations will take time, and for another, one thing of which I am fairly confident is that the incident that caused us to end up here took a massive surge of power. At the moment, we don’t have anything on hand to replicate that level of power, and it’s going to take something along the lines of what sent us here to get us back.”

John let his eyes slip closed. “So we might be stuck here?”

Rodney hesitated. “I’m sure I can get us back. Just...it might take longer than either of us would like.”

“And in the meantime, we have no supplies,” John reminded him. “Other than the dozen or so powerbars you’ve got in your vest.”

Rodney’s hands came up to wrap around his vest. “And they’re mine! But you bring up a good point; we’re going to have to devise a way to get some supplies. Power, food, that kind of thing. We can’t even turn on the desalinization units right now.”

“Can we even dial out?” John asked worriedly. “And how many times?”

Rodney paced back and forth a few times, muttering under his breath and waving his hands. “Dagan.”

“Dagan?” John echoed. “As in, let’s go get the ZPM on Dagan?”

“Exactly!” Rodney confirmed excitedly. “It’s perfect, John. In this dimension, they don’t know about us. You can sneak over, go get it and we’ll have power!”

John restrained the urge to throw something at Rodney. “And how, precisely, am I supposed to get past Allina? And why does it have to be me? She liked you a lot better.”

“Catburglary?” Rodney suggested. “Besides, someone has to stay here. We can’t leave the city without oversight; remember all the things that went wrong the first time we arrived here?”

“Like the—

“Dark,” Rodney finished for John. “This is going to be hell.”

“Going to Dagan for their ZPM is going to be hell,” John informed Rodney. “And I still think you should do it. Last time, they didn’t give it to you because you told them we weren’t Ancients. This time, you can go and lie about it.”

Rodney frowned and John wasn’t sure if it was because he was thinking about the plausibility of that modification to his plan, or because of some sudden burst of morality that made the idea of lying to obtain a ZPM distasteful. “I don’t know,” Rodney finally admitted, still frowning.

“Even you could pull this off,” John assured him, “The Genii won’t be around, Allina won’t know you aren’t Ancient, and you know how all the booby traps work.” John pushed aside the oddly green feeling he got when he thought about Allina. Rodney had liked her a lot, not that John cared one way or another about who Rodney liked. Rodney seemed to like Colonels, if his incoherent mutterings could be trusted. John liked physicists, or at least one of them, and he didn’t want one particular physicist to run off with a certain archeologist.

“No, I don’t know if I trust you not to destroy the city in my absence,” Rodney snapped. “The rest wouldn’t be difficult—provided this dimension is as similar to ours as we’re assuming it to be. After all, the Wraith could be awake, or Dagan could’ve...”

John stood up and walked over to Rodney, reaching out to shake the obviously-panicking man by the shoulders. “We can’t think like that, Rodney. We need a ZPM since there aren’t any naquadah generators here. Otherwise we’re stuck by ourselves and as brilliant as you are, and as tactically proficient as I am, we can’t defeat the Wraith alone.”

Rodney slumped against John’s hands, sighing softly. “I know, I know. I’m trying, for your sake, to quell my normal chicken-little tendencies.”

“Thanks,” John replied, realizing that, indeed, Rodney wasn’t being as dramatic as he had been earlier. Of course, shock was a definite possibility, and that kiss had been a shock. “Ok, so you’re going to Dagan...”

•••

“What?”

“Take it with you,” John repeated, holding out the personal shield device. “In case something goes wrong. You know how to use it.”

Rodney stared at the small device in John’s hand. It wasn’t a bad idea, really. In fact, it was a pretty good one and he was slightly miffed at himself for not thinking of it first. He took the thing from John’s hand, tucking it in his vest. “Although if I’m as good at this type of thing we both know I am...”

“You’ll need it,” John remarked dryly. Rodney was diplomatic as swine flu, and that was when he had both chocolate and coffee at his disposal. “You can pull this off, you know. Just...” He couldn’t lose Rodney, even if it had been his idea to send him out alone.

Rodney cut him off with a slashing hand gesture. “I’ve done the espionage thing before. Working with the US Government does that to you.”

“Right,” John said as they exited the lab. “So why don’t you ever display those useful talents when we need them?”

The snort he got in response was pure Rodney. “It never occurs to me. After all, I should be able to bludgeon anyone to death with my cerebellum so what’s the point in subterfuge?”

John rolled his eyes, not bothering to actually dredge up a response to Rodney’s form of logic. “Remember, no—

“I’ve got it, John,” Rodney said, not sounding nearly as nervous as he felt. In theory, this would work perfectly. He knew where the tiles went, what to press and how to charm Allina. Rodney would’ve felt a lot better about their plan if John was going too, though. After spending so many months as a team, Rodney was used to having John there. Of course, spending some time on Dagan would let Rodney think about what had happened earlier in the ‘gate room. It was, most assuredly, fear and adrenaline that drove John to kiss him. Yes, that was it. Nothing else to think about, except for how John had felt pressed up against the ‘gate, mouth warm and wet.

“It’s too bad we can’t ‘gate back to Earth,” John said to break the silence stretching between them. He wasn’t used to Atlantis being so silent, at least not the part they were in. Two pairs of footsteps echoed loudly in corridors that should’ve been filled with Marines and scientists and the humming buzz of electronics.

“Too risky,” Rodney said for the fourth or fifth time. They’d briefly argued about ‘gating home, but Rodney knew he was right. Going back could be disastrous; after all, they had no idea why they hadn’t made it here in this dimension. Obviously Elizabeth was here, although they hadn’t yet gone to check for sure. Thinking things like that made Rodney worry that this dimension wasn’t as similar to theirs as they were hoping.

“I know, I know—

John fell silent as ghostly versions of Zelenka and Dr. Weir appeared. They were walking down the hall towards John and Rodney, arguing and waving their hands. As they approached, John slid to the side and then fell in behind them. After a moment, Rodney followed.

“What are we doing? They’re talking about us,” Rodney said, edging closer. “I can just hear them.”

John hissed at Rodney to keep him from talking; otherwise he drowned out the sound of their not-really-there counterparts. A couple of Marines appeared ahead, patrolling, and John saw that they were even more grim-faced than usual.

“They’re trying to figure out what happened to us,” Rodney concluded as everyone but he and John faded into nothingness. “Of course, they’re on the wrong track.”

“They think we’re dead,” John said flatly. “I have ears, Rodney. Zelenka thinks we got spaced, or whatever you call it when people get ‘gated into nowhere.”

“Well, they’re wrong. They have to be; we’re still alive,” Rodney stated. “Unless this is hell. As I don’t believe in hell, being an atheist, the probability of this being hell is miniscule.”

“Dagan,” John said, pointedly not continuing any conversation that included them being dead but thinking they weren’t.

“Right, Dagan,” Rodney agreed. They reached the ‘gate room a minute later and Rodney suddenly looked as nervous as John thought he should’ve been.

“You’ll do fine,” John assured Rodney once again. “Just don’t...fuck up, ok?”

“You’re very good at inspiring self-confidence, Colonel,” Rodney snapped. “Don’t touch anything, don’t turn anything on and don’t go anywhere.”

“I heard you the first ten times,” John told Rodney as he dialed Dagan. “And you, don’t do anything stupid.”

Rodney stared at John for a few seconds before reaching forward. John let himself be dragged against Rodney’s chest, his mouth opening slightly as Rodney’s lips met his. “I never do anything stupid,” Rodney murmured before turning away and walking through the ‘gate.

As soon as Rodney was through, John disengaged the ‘gate, slumping against the controls. If Atlantis had been quiet before, it was even more so now. He didn’t like knowing he was the only living thing in the entire city and he really didn’t like the idea of Rodney being off-world alone even more.

If Rodney hadn’t been so insistent that someone stay in Atlantis, he’d have gone too. John forced himself to turn away from the ‘gate controls and thought about what to do while Rodney was gone. He couldn’t tell the city to do much of anything and he couldn’t stray too far from the ‘gate for too long in case Rodney needed something, but John had to do something.

Something turned out to be finding Elizabeth. John stared at the stasis chamber, wondering if she was disappointed when she woke up and no one was here. He fleetingly thought about leaving her a note, explaining why the city was out of the water and that they’d stolen the ZPM on Dagan.

He left without doing anything; even with the ZPM, provided Rodney could get it, they might be stuck here a very long time. Rodney still wasn’t entirely sure how to reverse whatever had gotten them where they were. John walked back toward the city center, ducking into what should’ve been Rodney’s lab to have a look around. He located a few Ancient items here and there, things they could run without depleting the city’s power and that were handy anyway. Rodney would like having some of his favorite toys to play with.

When he reached what had turned into their mess hall, John found it full of shadowy people, milling around and talking animatedly. He saw that Zelenka and Kavanagh were holding court with some of their ilk and even though the table with Teyla and Dex looked more appealing, John joined the scientists.

“I know it was this circuit,” Kavanagh insisted, pointing to a data pad he held. “Look, when we ran that last diagnostic, it was fine. But if you look after the ‘gate was initialized the parameters changed.”

“Could be an effect of explosion,” Zelenka argued. “Not the cause.”

“If it was caused by the explosion, then this circuit would’ve been fried,” Kavanagh replied, moving the data on the pad around. “Since with the new configuration, they were linked directly instead of through this set of capacitors.”

“But where did the power come from?” Zelenka inquired.

“I’m still working on that,” Kavanagh admitted.

The translucent people disappeared a few minutes later, so John filed away everything he heard and resumed his walking tour. Maybe Kavanagh was wrong, but John had no way of knowing. Rodney would know, though, so John thought it best to have the stuff Kavanagh said in his memory in case Rodney could make heads or tails of it.

After another half-hour of walking around, John stepped out onto a balcony. It was warm and sunny, with a hint of ocean breeze that licked moistly across his face. It felt so much like home John was tempted to go back inside, where it didn’t feel like home at all. Instead he stayed put, leaning out over the railing to peer at the water. Rodney hadn’t been gone an hour, but it was all John could do to keep from going right back to the controls and sending himself to Dagan.

John didn’t want to think about why it felt so wrong to see Rodney leave by himself. Yeah, a little of it was the team bit, but the rest felt different and John usually didn’t plumb the depths of his emotions unless he absolutely had to. Of course, Rodney was it; there wasn’t anyone else in the galaxy he could depend on.

They couldn’t go to Proculis; Chaya had nothing for them and John wasn’t putting either himself or Rodney through another go ‘round with her. Besides, she might not take too kindly to interdimensional travelers meeting another version of herself. Or would it be the same Chaya? With the dimensional part thrown in, John wasn’t sure. In all likelihood it was a new Chaya, but still...

He didn’t like her all that much anyway. She’d pissed off Rodney something fierce. He’d done the same, though. And Rodney had been right, but Rodney was always right—especially where John was concerned.

John left the balcony intent on finding something to do that didn’t involve thinking about Rodney. That way lay madness and John wasn’t doing well keeping a tight grip on his sanity. They’d kissed. Several times and John’s body told him it wouldn’t complain if they did a whole lot more than that. It was stress, though; under normal circumstances John had an iron grip on himself, so it had to be this utterly unholy situation that made him kiss Rodney. Well, that and the long-standing desire he had to kiss the man, but his self-control had prevented him from fulfilling that desire. Until today.

Back in the ‘gate room, John paced around, estimating distances using his stride. They were probably going to be here a few days and once Rodney returned, they needed to do a few things besides figure out how to get back. Before Rodney’s departure, they’d briefly discussed issues like food, but it had mostly been limited to noting that they should take short treks to planets they remembered had abundant and easily gathered foodstuffs. Now as as good a time as any for John to hash out those plans.

There was the place with all the berries, but John wasn’t sure what season it was there. He didn’t think they’d be able to go to an inhabited world, since they had nothing to trade for food. Avoiding the Genii was a given, as well as a few other unfriendly places. And the Wraith, but that wouldn’t be a problem. If they stuck to uninhabited places they’d been to before, ones that hadn’t been hostile, they should be ok.

Not that there were many of those places; if there had been, Atlantis would’ve had an Alpha site. The berry planet had nasty cold nights, he remembered that, and a really evil species of bee. John knew he’d be making that trip; they only had two epi-pens and couldn’t risk Rodney’s health.

God, what if Rodney got sick? John stopped walking and leaned against a wall, forcing himself to take deep breaths. They had no medical equipment and all of two epi-pens. He was good at field medicine, but that wouldn’t help Rodney with anaphylactic shock. He had a brief mental image of Rodney, gasping uselessly for breath. It took a couple of minutes before John could shake the cold dread that crept up on him.

They needed quarters to stay in, so John used that excuse to leave the ‘gate room and his nerve-wracking thoughts behind. He considered their old quarters, not sure if Rodney would want familiarity or spaciousness. There were better rooms available in the city. With that in mind, John headed for them, ones he knew that no one was using due to their location.

The Wraith had damaged that part of their Atlantis, but this city was still whole. Getting into the rooms wasn’t difficult, although John was very careful not to activate any of the amenities available. It took considerable effort to confiscate extra mattresses from other rooms, but after a couple of hours John had a pair of adjacent apartments set up rather nicely. Well, nicely for rooms that didn’t have any of their personal belongings in them. But they were dusted, aired out and had the largest beds he could make without simply carpeting the rooms in mattresses.

Maybe when they got back to Atlantis he could do the same in his old room. John didn’t think it went against military philosophy to be able to stretch out on occasion and if he was going to make Atlantis home for the foreseeable future, he was definitely doing it with a bigger bed.

Not that he needed a bigger bed; one body only took up so much room. John was hopeful, though, and he didn’t think that sleeping in a bigger bed would make him feel any lonelier. He ignored the little voice that told him that if he asked nicely, Rodney might make the need for two big beds unnecessary.

John wished he could talk to the ghost-people and tell them to go track down that nude alien, Hermiod. As smart as the Asgard were, surely he could figure this whole thing out. He wasn’t as smart as Rodney, but he had the bug-eyed alien thing going for him. And, he cursed in alien languages—while standing around naked.

After taking another look around the rooms, John returned to the ‘gate room. He knew Rodney would be a long time coming back, simply for the travel time involved. Charming Allina would take a little while, and this time he didn’t have any backup to help out. John did not think about what Rodney might do this time to win Allina over.

All the trinkets he’d picked up along the way were still piled next to the controls, so John collected them and walked back to Rodney’s lab. It was barren without all the computers and food wrappers, but John did the best he could to make the place look like home. Additional trips to the infirmary and other labs produced more Ancient technology that John used to restock Rodney’s supply of toys. John refused to think about what he was doing, just like he didn’t think about Rodney being out there on his own.

Christ, he was an idiot for sending Rodney by himself.

Rodney had only been gone five hours, but John was a hairsbreadth from ‘gating to Dagan and dragging his scientist back to Atlantis. John was far too alone in Atlantis by himself and his skin crawled with the utter solitude of it.

Instead, John located some bins and sat down in the ‘gate room to make a list of food-likely planets. He could shoot some of those deer-like animals they found on one world; with the ZPM they could store the meat in an Ancient freezer and eat well for months. Then there were those peppers and onions Teyla knew about on the world with lots of earthquakes.

Unfortunately the world with the really good potato-things was inhabited by some very curious humans who hadn’t been overly fond of him—or Rodney—the last time they’d stopped by.

The list only took forty-five minutes and that was after John forced himself to recount every single mission they’d been on. He had a list of likely planets, and another one of sparsely populated ones he might be able to sneak onto.

John wanted Rodney back, even if Rodney never kissed him again.

The sun was starting to set, so John went back out on a balcony to watch it sink into the ocean. Once it was dark, only moonlight illuminated the city. He’d have gone for a run on one of the city’s piers, but they were too far away. The ‘gate room wasn’t exactly an ideal place for it, but John stripped down to his boxers, leaving on his socks and replacing his boots, and started to run. After an hour of that, he did some sit-ups, push-ups and pull-ups using a section of railing.

Then he started practicing stickfighting, before wiping down with a handkerchief and getting dressed again. Rodney was taking forever. They’d agreed that if he wasn’t back by midnight, John was supposed to go get him. That left two more hours.

John found a somewhat-brightly lit spot on the floor and field-stripped his P90, and then his sidearm. He found a bit of gummy residue on one shoe and used his knife to clean it off. After that he walked over to a support column and used the tip of his knife to carve into it. He thought about leaving his and Rodney’s names and his serial number, but thought better of it. If this dimension’s versions of themselves showed up here, they’d get all freaked out.

Oddly enough, that made John want to do it even more. He could almost see Rodney’s mouth, gaping silently, when someone discovered the carvings. With a heart around their names, no less. Instead of doing that, John carved a simple tick mark into the metal. Day one of the weirdest stretch of time in his life, and wasn’t that saying something? Almost blowing himself up with a nuclear weapon might’ve been the grimmest, and fighting the Genii during the storm was the tensest, but this definitely was the weirdest. By far. Hands down.

Where the fuck was Rodney?

John had already geared up and was at the ‘gate controls and fuck midnight he was going to get his physicist, when the control panel blinked. He deactivated the shield immediately. Before he could reach the ‘gate itself, Rodney walked through.

“You’re back,” John said, not caring about how dumb he sounded. Rodney was back and John’s brain did a very dorky happy dance that John’s body was not going to interpret for his audience of one.

“Well, yes,” Rodney said lightly, “I wasn’t planning on staying, even though Allina is quite beautiful.”

“Did you get it?” John asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. Rodney looked a little sun burnt and a bit tired, but otherwise just fine.

“You mean this?” Rodney replied, withdrawing the ZPM from a bag slung over his shoulder. “I think I did, yes. Yes, I definitely got it. And food. They fed me. A lot.”

“Rodney,” John warned, “The ZPM.”

Rodney held his smirk for another moment before breaking into a huge grin. “Indeed, the ZedPM,” He echoed, taking the two steps needed to reach John. To John’s surprise, he held it out. John took it, marveling at how such a small thing could be so powerful. With Rodney so close, he could practically smell the perfume of fields and the mustiness of caverns sticking to his skin.

“Air conditioning, water, lights and a trip home, yet still smaller than a breadbox,” John murmured. “Install it and I’ll show you what I did while you were gone.”

“Besides sweat a lot?” Rodney asked, leading the way to the ZPM interface. “What did you do, run laps around the ‘gate room?”

John didn’t say a word, but his expression was proof enough. “You did not run laps around the ‘gate room!” Rodney exclaimed. “I was gone for how long, and that’s all you found to do?”

“Keep it up and I won’t show you your spacious new quarters with their nice, big bed,” John muttered. “And I definitely won’t go on any food runs for stuff you like.”

“What’s wrong with our old quarters?” Rodney asked, ignoring the food jibe. “All my stuff’s...

“These are ones the Wraith damaged in our city,” John said, not commenting on Rodney’s realization that their stuff wasn’t in their rooms here. “Big, with great balconies, and still pretty close to your lab.”

“My lab?” Rodney repeated.

“I figured you could work ok in the same space, but...”

“Yeah,” Rodney agreed quietly. They reached the interface and Rodney immediately slid the ZPM into place.

“Nothing happened,” John said nervously.

“Because we haven’t done anything yet,” Rodney retorted. He began tapping on a nearby display and a moment later, light flooded the darkened room. “You can turn your flashlight off now, John.”

John looked around the brightly lit area. “What about the environmental controls?”

“I’d rather do it from the ‘gate room,” Rodney said, checking the ZPM one last time. Then he turned away and began walking back to the central controls. “You know,” He continued as John joined him, “I almost feel bad taking their ZedPM.”

“Almost?” John murmured.

Rodney shrugged. “Well, if our selves in this dimension ever come over here, they’re not going to be able to take it, because it’s already taken.”

“I thought we discussed this,” John groaned. “Yeah, we’re not going to Earth so we don’t get arrested or something, but this isn’t the past, it’s the present.”

“Still, what if they needed that ZedPM? Then again, my self in this dimension would’ve screwed up and Allina wouldn’t have let me have it, so it’s all pointless. Maybe we can take it back with us,” Rodney rambled as they reached the ‘gate room.

“What about the city?” John asked while Rodney initialized the city’s systems. John realized that he could do most of what Rodney was doing, so he mentally jumped in and let his interface with the city do most of the work.

“You’re doing that, right? Because if you aren’t, there’s someone else around here turning things on,” Rodney muttered. “And what about the city?”

“When we go back...we can’t just leave it up here. The Wraith are gonna wake up eventually, and they’ll be able to find it,” John said, trying hard not to say something about people turning things on. Rodney hadn’t done anything since getting back, hadn’t said a word.

Rodney looked over at him. “So? Unless ‘we’ reach Atlantis, they won’t know about Earth.”

“Rodney,” John warned, “There happen to be a lot of humans in this galaxy too.”

Rodney sighed deeply. “I’ll think of something, but we’re taking the ZedPM with us. It’s fully charged, John; we can’t pass up that resource. I’ll find a way to sink the city again without destroying it, ok? Just... enjoy our newfound hot water and air conditioning for one night before going all knight-in-shining-armor on me.”

John pulled a powerbar out of his vest and realized he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink all day. “Tomorrow is for food,” He stated around a bite of protein bar. “You might’ve gotten food today, but all we’ve got for tomorrow is a few powerbars and all the water we can drink.”

“I’ve got some ideas about food,” Rodney said as he stepped back from the controls, yawning widely.

“I’ve made lists,” John countered. “You stay here and figure out how to get us home; I’ll go play the mighty hunter.”

“You mentioned quarters,” Rodney murmured. “With a big bed.”

John grinned and wondered what Rodney looked like sprawled out in bed. “Come on.”

All the effort he put into the beds was worth the look on Rodney’s face when he saw his room. “We are such idiots,” Rodney muttered as he kicked his shoes off. “We’ve been there how long and we’re all still sleeping on those miniscule little things?”

John’s hands twitched with the desire to help Rodney, who was stripping off his vest and shirt. “Subconscious influence of the commander,” He suggested. “I don’t think she wanted to think about the implications of all of us having comfortable beds.”

“Yeah, like all of us getting restful sleep,” Rodney muttered. He was down to his boxers before he realized John was still standing there. Rodney might’ve been exhausted, but even he could see the somewhat strange expression on John’s face. It was the same one he’d had right after they’d kissed in the ‘gate room—both times.

Rodney had done a lot of thinking on Dagan, which hadn’t hurt his ability to get the ZedPM because he already knew how to do that. What he didn’t know how to do was handle John. Rodney was well-used to being attracted to people but not doing anything about it; most of them were just pretty faces but weren’t worth the effort. It was always Colonels that did it for him. The first one he’d met sent him to Siberia for his efforts.

This one kissed him within an inch of his life.

“So,” Rodney said when John kept standing there and not doing what most people would’ve done—say, leaving when it became obvious Rodney was about to go to bed. “Tomorrow’s for food and figuring out how to get home.”

“Right,” John replied, jerking himself back into the present. Rodney’s skin was pale, but not unnaturally so, his forearms and face were darker from the recent sun exposure. “Don’t sleep in; I plan on leaving early.”

Rodney watched John leave, suspicious that he’d missed something. With a shrug, he flopped down on his bed, figuring that if what he’d missed had to do with John, kissing and the like, he had plenty of time to get it parsed out. They weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. Rodney was a genius, not a god.

•••

John was already in the ‘gate room when Rodney walked in the next morning.

“Showers aren’t nearly as refreshing without soap,” Rodney commented. John looked over at him, noting absently that Rodney had a fair amount of beard stubble. Razors weren’t exactly typical mission gear when they weren’t planning on being gone for more than a day. John didn’t like growing a beard; they itched too much. Then again, he had his knife, and it was currently razor-sharp.

“Yeah, I know,” John murmured, wondering if Rodney had issues with beard-burn. Shoving aside that question, he returned to matters at hand. “I’m going here first,” He said, pointing to the first item on the list he’d made. “If that works out, I’ll find one of those deer-things on this planet,” He continued, moving to the next row of symbols.

Rodney nodded approvingly. “Get the purple ones if they’re ripe.”

“The blueberry-raspberry ones? Oh yeah,” John agreed happily. “Don’t blow the place up, ok?”

Rodney rolled his eyes with a familiar, welcome look of contempt. “I’m not the one with the tendency to destroy things, you know.”

“Except for that time—

Rodney shut John up with his mouth, shoving his tongue along John’s until both of them were leaning against each other and groping blindly. “Food,” Rodney panted as he drew away. “Go get food. I’m hungry and I’ve only got three power bars left.”

“Right, food,” John mumbled, running the fingers of one hand across his now-swollen lips. “Um...about this...thing...” He stuttered, looking everywhere but at Rodney’s face.

“What thing?” Rodney asked. “Oh...can we not talk about it?” He said a little desperately. “You know, like never?”

“Food,” John repeated, entering his ‘jumper. Rodney dialed up the berry planet and forced himself not to look away from the ‘gate until John was gone.

•••

It was cold and dark when John arrived, making him wish he had better gear as he cursed planets with below-freezing nighttime temperatures even in the midst of summer. The only good side of the weather, he thought, was that the planet’s extremely healthy insect population was dormant at night.

Shrugging off the chill, John went directly to the nearest thicket of fruit-bearing shrubs. From the looks of things he’d gotten there just in time; it was the last fruit of the season. Though dark, the moon was nearly full so John quickly began harvesting, already considering how to best hunt down food on his next stop.

With any luck, it wouldn’t be winter there. If they had any of their Atlantis’s records, he’d know for sure.

By the time dawn broke, John had filled all of the bins he’d brought and his hands were numb. He lined the bins up in the ‘jumper and dialed in. As soon as his ID registered, he guided the ‘jumper back through the ‘gate.

“Excellent,” Rodney stated as he hauled one of the bins out of the ‘jumper. “This should last us for weeks!”

“If we don’t get sick of berries,” John grumbled. “And since you asked, it was dark and cold and I can’t feel my fingers.”

Rodney, however, was already heading towards Atlantis’s equivalent of a deep-freezer. “Take a hot shower,” He suggested as he disappeared down the hallway. John followed behind, wondering if Rodney ever showed proper gratitude for anyone’s sacrifices other than his own.

“Seriously, we can’t live on raspberries,” John said as he and Rodney stashed the last of the berries. “I’m no nutritionist and I know that much.”

“Yes, yes,” Rodney mumbled around a mouthful of the admittedly delectable fruits. “But they’re better than starvation.”

John smirked. “You’re a long way from starving, Rodney.”

“Shut up,” Rodney hissed. “Weren’t you going to go play the mighty hunter?”

“Frozen hands,” John replied, holding up his obviously chapped fingers. “Hunting takes more concentration and effort than harvesting, Rodney. I can’t just go out there right now; I won’t bring anything back.”

Rodney sighed, but it wasn’t the sigh that said ‘you’re an idiot.’ Rather, this sigh said Rodney understood and was frustrated at their situation. “Why don’t you take that shower, grab a nap or something? I’m still working on some calculations.”

John opened his mouth to reply, but Rodney was already gone, walking quickly back to his makeshift lab. Shrugging to himself, John ambled toward his new quarters, wishing he had a bar of soap.

Halfway back, a pair of scientists appeared in the hallway—Dr. Beckett and one of his associates. John followed them back to the infirmary, listening in as they discussed some new interstellar virus and what they were going to do without John and Rodney to keep the city functional.

“You could figure out we’re not dead,” John said, even though they couldn’t hear him. “We’re not, you know. Dead. We’re here and maybe if you could get Zelenka to work on the situation, he’d realize that and get us back!”

“The worst part is that Earth doesn’t want to send replacements,” The female doctor griped. “Landry said Zelenka and Caldwell could take over.”

“If all they’re interested in is holding their own,” John commented. “Caldwell’s fine, but he can’t work Atlantis like I can.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with either man,” Beckett replied. “It just won’t be the same without Rodney and John.”

“Quieter, maybe,” She muttered. “I know, I know, Rodney’s the smartest slimeball in two galaxies...”

John would’ve defended Rodney, or at least buffered the insult with a reminder of how many times Rodney had saved their collective asses, but the two doctors faded away, leaving John standing dumbly in front of a place that was most certainly not Beckett’s infirmary.

“I thought you were going to take a shower.”

John nearly jumped out of his skin. “I thought you were going back to your lab,” He said, spinning around.

Rodney rolled his eyes. “I wanted to run a scan of the city, now that there are two of us here. And there are just two of us, by the way. And yes, Atlantis still likes you more. Why are you here?”

“Beckett showed up,” John explained. “They still think we’re dead.”

“I’m not shocked,” Rodney said dryly. “Anything else?”

John briefly weighed telling Rodney the rest. “Earth isn’t going to replace us; Zelenka and Caldwell are taking our places.”

Much to John’s surprise, Rodney’s reaction wasn’t particularly colorful. “It makes sense; Zelenka’s the next best choice. Caldwell isn’t so bad; Hermiod seems to like him.”

“Right,” John murmured. “I’m going to take that shower now.” He turned to leave, but Rodney stopped him.

“We are going to get back,” Rodney said firmly. “I’m not going to stay stuck here forever.”

“That’ll probably sound more reassuring when I’m not frostbitten and exhausted,” John said tiredly. He just wanted his hot shower and a few hours of rest, a little time where he didn’t have to think about what it meant that he was stuck in an alien Atlantis with only Rodney as company.

Not that Rodney was bad company.

“Come on,” Rodney ordered, wrapping one hand around John’s forearm and steering him away from the infirmary. John went along silently, letting himself like the warmth of Rodney’s hand as it seeped through his clothing. The pressure of blunt fingers was reassuring and grounding, so John allowed himself to wonder why Rodney was such a good anchor.

He shouldn’t have been good at things like that; Rodney was hyper and unrestrained so by all rights Rodney should be driving John insane. Most of the time, he did make John a little crazy. But right before John reached the breaking point, he’d get pulled into the eye of the storm and everything would calm down. Just him and Rodney, watching the universe flail madly around them.

Right now, John was calm. Rodney was in charge, which was good. Last night’s rest had recharged John’s body, but his mind was still edgy, remembering how long Rodney had been gone, alone on Dagan.

“We’re here,” Rodney announced as the door to John’s quarters slid open. “Take that shower, Colonel. You look like hell.”

Rodney’s hand disappeared and John hated the way warmth fled with it. He was going to get some sleep and Rodney was going to go save their asses again. “Okay,” John said, the door shutting between them.

•••

When John woke, it was to find Rodney standing over him. “What?” He asked groggily. “Something blow up?”

“You’ve been asleep for ten hours,” Rodney said by way of a reply. “We need more food.”

“Do you ever think about anything else?” John asked as he rolled out of bed.

While John stretched, Rodney tossed clothes at him—most of which missed and landed on the bed. “While you’ve been happily slumbering away, I’ve been trying to get us home,” He snipped at John. “Not that I’ve gotten anywhere.”

John didn’t say anything, so Rodney stomped out of John’s quarters. A few minutes later, John found him in his lab, bent over his data pad. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” John murmured softly. He knew Rodney was doing the best he could, given the circumstances. Actually, he was still impressed by Rodney’s poise—he’d fully expected Rodney to have gone off the deep end several times more than he had since their accident.

Rodney’s head snapped up. “Be careful; that place doesn’t have killer bees, but I seem to recall—

“I will,” John interrupted, stepping closer. “I’m not planning on getting shot, Rodney.”

Rodney fidgeted with his stylus. “You rarely plan on getting shot, John, but it seems to happen fairly regularly.”

John sighed briefly and closed his eyes, only to open them when Rodney took the step necessary to close the space between them. The kiss was brief and close-mouthed, but still managed to convey what John knew Rodney had been saying. John was not to die and leave Rodney alone in a city that wasn’t theirs.

“I still think we should talk about this,” John said when Rodney stepped back.

“And I think we should avoid talking about crisis-induced behavior that falls far outside our normal personal parameters,” Rodney retorted. “I’m busy; go kill something.”

•••

After the fourth hour sitting in a tree sparsely populated with small black flies, John knew for sure why he would never enjoy hunting. Nature was pretty and he liked spending time outside. Animals tasted good and hamburgers were a thing of beauty. Sitting far too still in a tree waiting for lunch to walk by was dead boring.

John wished Rodney was here. The man’s voice would most assuredly alert any possible prey to their location, but from what John had seen, there wasn’t much to be found anyway. They could have the conversation John wanted them to have and he could, for a few minutes, be distracted from the damned flies circling his head. Rodney had a nice mouth, John thought, mobile and slick but in no way feminine. He liked that and he liked even more the rough skin that scraped along his when Rodney kissed him.

He rarely got the chance to indulge in that side of his sexuality...or in any side of it, for that matter. Most missions didn’t last as long as this one, not without some form of vacation and despite Rodney’s muttered accusations, John was not getting ‘entertained’ by half the galaxy. The closest he’d come lately was a Wraith that had gotten up close and personal with his P90 and John steadfastly refused to consider killing something that was trying to suck his life away any form of sexual interaction.

What Rodney had said before John left, though, bothered him a little. What if Rodney was simply reacting to stress and isolation? It wouldn’t be the first time John was Mr. Right Now, but all the other times his partners, male and female, weren’t people he had to live and work with. To John’s way of thinking, attachment-free sex was best done in anonymity. If Rodney was only responding to him out of desperation, John didn’t think they’d be able to live with each other if—when—they got home.

If that was the case, John would rather stop touching Rodney altogether. He’d managed quite nicely up to this point; Rodney had been just someone he wouldn’t mind bedding. If it never happened, he’d be okay with that, just like he’d been okay with thinking his freshman roommate was hot but never getting within spitting distance of his very shapely ass. Eric was terminally straight and cluelessly so, to the point it made John laugh.

Rodney, not so much. John knew he liked women, even if he had abominable style and no hope of convincing most of the ones they’d met to do more than grimace at him. Maybe that was it; Rodney was straight and wasn’t comfortable with guys. No one on the mission was homophobic; he’d read about the personality profiling that went into being recruited by the SGC. With all the human and alien civilizations they encountered, Stargate personnel had to be pretty open-minded.

Really open-minded, if some of the reports he’d been allowed to read were accurate. At least once ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ had been set aside for some rather exotic scenarios, ones John sort of wished they had video records of. General O’Neill must not have been in charge of putting together the information John had received; there was no way O’Neill would’ve approved of John reading about the time he’d been unexpectedly married to four male priests on some backwater planet. That mission lasted three weeks, but the marriage ceremony had been the first day. Three weeks was a long time to hold off four husbands, even with Dr. Jackson there to defend O’Neill’s honor. Then again, O’Neill seemed like a pretty easygoing guy, and the mission in question resulted in a decent amount of usable information about the Go’auld. If he’d pissed off the locals by insulting his husbands, that kind of information wouldn’t have been shared.

Thinking about whether or not General O’Neill put out for his temporary spouses wasn’t getting anything shot for dinner, so John climbed down out of his tree and moved farther into the forest. He wasn’t used to tracking animals, but the basics were the same as for humans. It did occur to John that since he had no idea what the life cycle of this planet’s fauna was, he might be on a wild goose chase. If the deer had migrated, he wasn’t going to find anything other than a few songbirds and some rat-like things scurrying here and there. John doubted Rodney would be impressed by them; he could almost imagine the look of utter disdain on Rodney’s face at the sight of roasted rat.

Of course, anything they ate now was going to be pretty plain; all they had was berries and powerbars, neither of which was going to flavor venison particularly well. Maybe a raspberry compote...

John stopped that thought dead. He was not going to think about making complicated sauces for alien venison just so Rodney wouldn’t bitch about the taste of his dinner. It was about time Rodney got grateful for having anything to eat. If John didn’t find something soon, he was going to have to make do with what they had, even if it gave him a massive sugar rush.

A noise to John’s left caught his attention and he paused, turning slowly to face the sound. It was a deer, or at least the ghost of one, just like the half-images of people on Atlantis. He watched, fascinated, as a trio of does walked past him as though he wasn’t even there. A few yards ahead, they faded away but by that point, John wasn’t watching.

Instead, John was slowly creeping back the way they came, a harebrained idea leaping around in his brain. On Atlantis, people appeared and then disappeared into nowhere, but nothing remained because in this dimension they were somewhere else completely—on Earth, he hoped. But on this planet, maybe—just maybe—things were lined up a little more closely with his own dimension. Even if he didn’t find the same deer, he might possibly locate a salt lick or a pond, or some other gathering place.

The path he was on became clearer the longer he walked it, making John surer of his suspicions. Clearly the deer had been using it for some time. Indeed, about half an hour after he’d seen the ghost-deer, John came upon a small pond, fed by the tiniest of springs. There weren’t any animals around, so John found a sturdy-looking tree and climbed up a few branches to wait. Good water sources were usually where animals gathered.

Including, as it turned out, tree rats. A couple of minutes after settling in, John watched as one clambered up his branch and perched on his boots, sniffing curiously at their soles. He debated kicking it off when the thing tried gnawing on the boot leather, but before he’d made up his mind, the animal went back the way he came. Smart move, Mickey.

It took another solid hour of waiting but just as John was about to nod off, four deer exited the thick underbrush and began to drink. He sighted them with his P90, weighing whether to take a sure shot at one or attempt to take out two or more.

Something startled the animals, making John’s decision for him. He fired on the group and three of the animals stumbled as they were hit. None of them fell completely down, however, and John cursed as he climbed down out of the tree. One must’ve been a good hit, because he located it just a few feet away, clawing its way into the brush. He put it out of its misery before trying to spot the others.

In the end he had two deer, both healthy-looking and extremely heavy. Success brought around the other thing he hated about hunting: field dressing game.

•••

Rodney was waiting for him when John returned. “I told you not to get shot!” Rodney yelped when he caught sight of a bloodied John dragging two deer carcasses out of the ‘jumper. “Where? How bad?”

John dropped the carcasses and flopped down next to the ‘jumper. “It’s not mine, Rodney,” He said tiredly. “Hunting is nasty work.”

“I’ll say,” Rodney agreed as he came up to the deer. “You left their heads on.”

“I removed their musk glands,” John retorted. “Which means that when you get over seeing your dinner’s cute little deer-eyes, the meat won’t taste like shit.”

“For which I am quite grateful,” Rodney admitted. “Well?”

John opened one very tired eye. “Well what?”

“You can’t just leave them here! They’ll spoil!”

John glared at Rodney, who looked just a little too petulant. “They’re heavy and I had to carry them both—at the same time—over a mile to the ‘jumper. The forest was too dense to fly in.”

Rodney looked down at the carcasses, noting the ropes binding their hind legs together. “Can you truss up their forelegs?”

John bit back a groan as he heaved himself upright and reached for the webbing strap of his P90. Rodney actually grabbed the other binding rope and helped haul the deer out of the ‘gate room, taking most of the weight as they moved slowly to the freezers. “Hold up a sec,” Rodney said as they turned a corner, so John dropped his end and leaned against the wall. After a minute, Rodney resumed walking, dragging the deer behind him.

“Rodney,” John began as the man slowly inched away from him. “Wait up.”

“I can get them the rest of the way, but you are doing the butchering,” Rodney shot back. “Go take another shower; you’re entirely too bloody for my peace of mind.”

John looked down at his fatigues. Yeah, he was pretty gross.

After his shower, John was still pretty gross. They were going to have to fly to the mainland and get some sand, or go somewhere and trade for soap, or something because the smell was not coming out of his skin. The Ancient tech did a better job on his clothes, though, which was a minor victory.

“You still reek,” Rodney said when John found him in his lab. “But not as bad.”

“Soap,” John grunted. “Isn’t there any soap in this city?”

Rodney’s mouth twisted to one side. “Not really. When we got to our Atlantis we found a few bars of something resembling soap, but it hadn’t been in stasis. Ten thousand year old soap more closely resembles granite than cleansing product.”

“Then I’m going to reek for the foreseeable future,” John replied.

“We could render deer fat and mix it with lye,” Rodney offered.

“You know how to make soap?” John asked, surprised. He shouldn’t have been; Rodney seemed to know the oddest things.

“In theory, yes. You use ashes and water to get lye, and then mix it with rendered fat. The end result is lye soap.”

“And you’ve done this before?” John pressed. “Or should we bite the bullet and go trading?”

Rodney’s smirk softened into a slightly guilty grin. “Once, but the soap was a bit strong.”

“I like having skin.”

“So do I,” Rodney agreed. “There was that one settlement—with the funky triangular houses, I think, that had an inordinate fondness for bitter herbs. We traded them some stuff from the Atlantean mainland.”

“They had soap?” John mused. “I thought they had cloth and grain.”

“Which we have an abundance of,” Rodney remarked. “But yes, they had soap. At least, they had decent hygiene, so I assume that means they had some kind of soap.”

“Why do I get the impression I’m going to be the one to gather the herbs and go trading?” John asked with only the tiniest bit of a whine in his voice.

Rodney’s smirk returned. “Because you know which plants are the herbs and if I go trading...”

“Don’t even try,” John warned. “You did fine on Dagan.”

“I knew what I was doing on Dagan,” Rodney countered. “If you get the herbs, I’ll do the trading.”

John nodded in agreement, pushing away from the bench he’d been using as support. What he really wanted right now was another nap, or maybe even a full night’s sleep. He had a sinking feeling he wouldn’t be able to sleep with himself, though, not with the way he smelled. “Alright,” He mumbled, not bothering to hide how little he wanted to do this.

Rodney wasn’t oblivious, though. He stepped out from behind the bench, between John and the door. “You don’t have to go today,” He said softly, eyeing John’s tired expression. “You’ve been doing most of the work for the last two days.”

“I thought you were trying to get us home,” John replied, glancing around the lab. “Or have you just been playing around?”

Rodney snorted sarcastically. “Yes, John, I’ve been piddling aimlessly for two days. I was trying to be considerate. Yes, you smell, and yes we need soap. You don’t smell that bad, however, and if you go in the morning I should have time to trade in the evening. As I recall, the settlement is dark when we’re light.”

“I thought I reeked,” John said lightly. “But not so bad, apparently.” He sniffed his hand and grimaced. “You were right the first time, see?” Rodney didn’t have time to move away before John had his hand right up in his face.

John could feel Rodney’s mouth moving against his palm, lips tickling silkily. Whatever Rodney was trying to say was lost, muffled down into mere vibrations that ran up John’s arm. After a few seconds Rodney took hold of John’s wrist and pushed his hand away, stepping closer as he shoved John’s arm to the side. “That wasn’t very nice,” Rodney warned, close enough that his berry-scented breath brushed John’s cheek.

“Neither are—

John didn’t get to finish telling Rodney that he wasn’t nice either because Rodney was kissing him. It wasn’t as soft as the last time, nor as forceful as that first kiss in the ‘gate room. This one was in-between; Rodney nipped at his lips until John let him in and then proceeded to get very familiar with John’s tongue. By the time Rodney pulled away, John was panting and hard, swaying on rubbery legs and worried his eyes were going to cross.

Rodney looked a little bit smug.

John searched for something to say, something that might get Rodney to do that again. “Prison sex.”

•••

“Excuse me?”

There were voices inside John’s head, all of them yelling very unflattering things about timing and smooth moves. “Um...”

Rodney’s expression was a mixture of ire and curiosity. “Did you just say, ‘prison sex?’”

“That’s not what I meant,” John managed to say. “Er, or how I meant it. Maybe.”

“So I shouldn’t be worried that you’re spontaneously sharing kinks?” Rodney was a little amused, which both irritated and relieved John.

“More like, are you coming onto me because I’m the only person here so you don’t have a lot of options other than your right hand,” John grated out, eyes narrowing. “I.e. prison sex.”

Rodney’s mouth pursed and his stance stiffened. “Left hand, and as I recall, you’re the one who started the kissing thing. Was it this ‘prison sex’ for you? That was what, ten minutes after we got here. You got so desperate to get laid that you decided to make do with me ten minutes after finding yourself stranded in another dimension?”

Oh, this was going very bad places. “No,” John said slowly, flipping through all the things he could say to possibly keep Rodney from ripping him a new asshole.

“No,” Rodney echoed, by now well into angry and as far from amused and aroused as he could possibly get.

John sighed. “No, I didn’t kiss you because you were the only person available. You’ve never shown an interest in me, or in men, before now.”

One eyebrow arched. Rodney was obviously unimpressed. “Nor have you,” He pointed out. “Unless you’re far more discreet than anyone gives you credit for.”

“Military,” John said defensively. “Atlantis is a closed society.”

“So I am the only available—man, that is,” Rodney surmised. “Since you didn’t show any interest in me prior to us arriving here.”

John wondered if anyone in this dimension would care if he just killed himself now and got it over with. “Because it didn’t seem like a good idea!”

“What didn’t seem like a good idea?” Rodney asked sharply.

Rodney wasn’t that stupid. “Don’t even try,” John warned. “You know what I’m talking about. I never saw you trying anything with me.”

“I don’t try anything with almost anyone,” Rodney retorted. “Most people aren’t worth the effort.”

“Including me?” John sniped. “You never did answer my question.”

“What, I’m supposed to pour my pitiful little heart out because you’re afraid I’m just going with the situation?” Rodney asked him, hands on his hips. “I told you I didn’t want to have this conversation. Ever.”

“Well, we’re having it,” John growled.

“Because this is such a good time to argue about sex!” Rodney yelled. “We’re stuck in a dimension piggybacking our own and you want to chit-chat about sex?”

“Yes!” John shouted. “We’re stuck here with each other and I can’t get home without you, so I can’t kill you!”

“And the only alternative is to have sex with me?” Rodney snarked. “What kind of television do you watch in your spare time, Colonel?”

“Right now I’m wondering why I ever wanted to have sex with you in the first place,” John replied harshly. “If anyone can make attraction seem like a really bad idea, it’s you.”

“You’re the one who brought up prison sex,” Rodney reminded him. “And as fascinating as an academic discussion of transient bisexuality would be, this really isn’t the venue for it.”

“I brought it up because I’m not interested in it,” John explained.

“Well, yes, we’ve established—I think—that you don’t have a prison sex kink,” Rodney said dryly, “And yes, I’ve gathered that you were making a truly disastrous attempt to discern whether my apparent bisexuality is transient or not.”

“Is it?” John spat.

“Is yours?” Rodney returned.

John sighed again. “No.”

“Neither is mine,” Rodney admitted. “I rarely express it. Not worth the possible humiliation most days.”

“Military,” John muttered. “Not worth the dishonorable discharge.”

“Not even when it’s really good?” Rodney had to ask.

John rolled his eyes. “You would have an outsized ego in bed, wouldn’t you?”

That comment earned him another sharp glare. “It was a global question, you jackass, not to mention a rhetorical one.”

“Right,” John sighed. “It’s just...look, we’re stuck here for who knows how long. The two of us. We’re going to get back eventually because you’re too fucking smart to leave us stranded forever. Still, it could be a while and I’d rather us not get into something that’s going to leave us at each other’s throats—or leave us needing therapy when we get back.”

Rodney thought about that for a minute. “You don’t want to get back home and find out I was using you for comfort,” He translated. “You thought I’d do that?”

John didn’t say anything. Rodney continued to study him, though. “Maybe I thought the same thing,” He murmured, much to John’s surprise.

“You did?” John asked shakily.

Rodney shrugged. “Why not? I even less information than you did, John. I didn’t even know why you kissed me in the ‘gate room.”

“Ah.”

“Speaking of which...why did you kiss me?” Rodney inquired.

This wasn’t going to go over well. “The truth?” Rodney nodded. “I was freaking out and you wouldn’t shut up.”

Indeed, Rodney looked pissed—again. “You kissed me to shut me up?”

John nodded guiltily. “Yeah, but then you kissed me back.”

“And that made it alright to keep kissing me?” Rodney’s voice was dangerously close to screeching.

“I wanted to anyway,” John admitted. “And at the time, I thought it was better than slugging you.”

“You were going to hit me?” Now Rodney really was shouting, which made John wince in pain.

“I was, as I said, freaking out!”

“Do you frequently debate between hitting someone and kissing them when you’re nervous?” Rodney said, lashing out viciously. “Kiss or kill? Do they teach you that in basic training?”

John had had enough. This conversation wasn’t going anywhere good; every time he thought they’d yanked it out of the fire it dove right back in. He lunged at Rodney, pinning him to the workbench. “What part of ‘I wanted to anyway’ did you not understand?” He hissed, getting right up in Rodney’s face.

“Er...” Rodney grunted, pushing back against John’s hands. “This really is uncalled-for.”

“Well?” John asked harshly. “I’ve wanted you for months, McKay.”

“Oh.” Rodney’s voice was very small.

John’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Oh?”

Rodney swallowed. “Ah...”

Huh. So there was another way to shut Rodney McKay up. Interesting, but not as much fun as kissing. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“Actually, I’m somewhat disappointed you didn’t say something earlier,” Rodney admitted. “And I’d very much appreciate it if you’d let me go.”

“Are you going to keep arguing with me?” John asked him. “Because if you are, I’m definitely not letting you budge, not even an inch.”

“I didn’t think you swung that way,” Rodney said suddenly, “And even if you did, I couldn’t imagine you’d give me a second glance, genius aside.”

“Why not?” John inquired, fascinated by the way Rodney’s eyes were focusing on anything but him.

“I’m not your type?” Rodney offered questioningly. “I’ve seen the women you chase.”

“But not the men,” John pointed out. “And I’ve seen Colonel Carter; I’m no blue-eyed blonde.”

“That look only works for women,” Rodney commented. “On men it makes them look like dimwitted beach bums.”

John couldn’t argue with that fact. “So...”

“So...” Rodney mimicked. “So what is your type?”

John leaned in until his mouth brushed Rodney’s ear. “Guess,” He whispered, tracing the sensitive shell as he spoke.

“Prison sex!” Rodney yelped, making John jump back.

“What?” John barked. “The hell?”

“I still can’t believe you said that,” Rodney said, shaking his head. “Prison sex?”

“Rodney,” John hissed, stalking over to where Rodney had retreated. “Stop running away.”

Rodney kept backing up, however. “I need time. You made me talk about it when I didn’t want to, so now I need time.”

John stopped walking. Rodney’s expression was open and honest, and more than a little lost. “Alright,” He murmured, taking a step back. “I understand.”

“Probably not,” Rodney said, “But thanks.”

“Yeah,” John whispered, running one hand through his hair. “I’d better get some sleep if I’m going to go harvesting tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, and I still have calculations to finish tonight,” Rodney added. “By the way, you smell gamey.”

John sighed and retreated to his quarters. At least he was tired enough he’d pass out from exhaustion.

•••

Rodney was holed up in his lab when John went to look for him the next morning and it looked like he hadn’t left all night. Instead of making a probably disastrous attempt to make casual conversation, John got right to the point. “I’m going to the mainland,” He said before leaving the lab, and Rodney, behind.

It was summer on Atlantis, which meant John got to enjoy bright sunshine and a pleasant breeze as he picked through the various plant life on the mainland. He recognized maybe four of the herbs the Athosians had identified as usable, so he stuck to them instead of guessing about the others. Accidentally poisoning their trading partners wasn’t a good idea in any dimension and John was taking no chances. Despite Rodney’s offer, John knew he’d be the one doing the trading. Rodney’s work on getting them home was more important; all John could do by himself in the city was worry about Rodney’s well-being.

Without anyone else on the planet competing for plant life, John’s work was quickly done. He loaded ten bins full of herbs into the ‘jumper, thinking of ways to hook them up so he could get them all through the ‘gate. One of the Ancient dust covers might work as a sled, he figured, since Rodney needed to stay behind and thus couldn’t really help him carry things through. He could take the ‘jumper through, but with only himself to do the work, the locals might get suspicious and he wasn’t going to reveal their technology.

Flying back to Atlantis was just as uneventful as the trip out and John mused for a minute about how this ‘jumper felt exactly like the ones in his city. It made sense that it did, but he caught himself thinking it should feel different. This wasn’t his city and this wasn’t his ‘jumper. His favorite one had been destroyed during the siege, but he’d since claimed another. Still, this ‘jumper felt like that one, and like all the others. John wished it didn’t, though. He wanted this city to feel alien, strange and uncomfortable. That way he wouldn’t ever get used to it.

“That was fast,” Rodney said as John exited the ‘jumper. He helped John unload the bins, sniffing disdainfully at the bitter plants. “At least someone likes them.”

“We should keep some back,” John suggested, picking through a few of the bins. “This one’s not bad if it’s cooked, and it’s not like we’ve got salt and pepper for that venison.”

“Don’t remind me,” Rodney grumbled. “Speaking of which, did you get that meat carved up before it froze?”

“Yes,” John replied shortly. He knew better than to let a whole carcass freeze intact. It would take days to thaw. “Grab a dust cover, would you? I need it to get all of these through the ‘gate.”

“I thought I was doing the trading,” Rodney said, frowning.

John shrugged. “What you’re doing here is a lot more important. Me? I’m a grunt, remember. It’s not like I’ll be able to finish up any of your work while you’re gone.”

“Point. Why don’t you just take the ‘jumper? The settlement isn’t right next to the ‘gate, so you can leave it cloaked. Much easier than carrying everything around by yourself,” Rodney replied. “Just tell them your help is shy around strangers.”

John nodded thoughtfully. “It could work,” He admitted, “Although they might get suspicious if I can do all the work by myself.”

“Make something up,” Rodney suggested. “I wish I’d taken a ‘jumper to Dagan, although I probably would’ve gotten caught with it.”

“It never occurred to me at all to have you take one,” John admitted. “Which was dangerously stupid.”

Rodney shrugged. “Understandable, though. I went two days without clean clothes because I forgot Atlantis had those automatic cleaners.”

John snickered briefly, since he’d remembered them. “Lucky me; I was gone while you stank.”

“Too bad about the soap,” Rodney retorted. “I had to put up with you.”

“Think they’ll mind that I smell?” John asked as he finished putting the bins back in the ‘jumper.

“Not enough to refuse to trade with you,” Rodney assured him. “They really like this stuff.”

Rodney ended up being right about the ‘jumper; with it cloaked and John’s brief excuse of his cohorts being shy the settlement didn’t question his solitary status. During the brief walk to the settlement proper, John rehearsed everything he remembered from their real first trading mission here. Teyla had been especially deferential to a couple of old women who seemed to hold particular sway over the population.

“Greetings,” The village elder intoned as John arrived. John bowed his head briefly, hoping they wouldn’t question his odd attire. “You, we have not encountered before.”

John winced internally. Taking a chance, he decided to mention the Athosians. “A mutual trading partner, the Athosians, mentioned that you sometimes have items to trade,” He murmured obsequiously. “My people grow a variety of plants and herbs. Perhaps they will suit your desires.”

“Perhaps,” The elder agreed.

Trading itself wasn’t all that difficult; John vaguely remembered what they got for the herbs the last time he’d been on a trading mission to the settlement. The two older ladies made their appearances and John gifted them with a full bin of their favorite herb, an act that immediately endeared him to everyone present. After that, it was only a matter of showing interest in one product or another for him to receive an offer.

When he was finally out of herbs, John had five bins full of fresh vegetables, four of bread products, and one of various things he thought they needed—such as the much desired soap. A group of young men helped him carry the bins back to the ‘gate, although they were reticent to leave him alone until he thoroughly explained that he did, in fact, have help that was simply too shy to come out of the woods.

“They’re young and this is their first time through,” John explained with a wink. “They’ll loosen up eventually.”

Once his helpers were well out of sight, John loaded up the ‘jumper and returned to Atlantis.

As he expected, Rodney was waiting for him. When he got to the ‘jumper bay, John opened the door and went back to hand the bins to Rodney. “Well?” Rodney asked excitedly as he accepted the first bin.

“We could go back every day for a month and not run out of takers,” John said as he handed off bin after bin. “I think they like me.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Rodney asked irritatedly. “They certainly did in our dimension.”

“Yeah, I know,” John admitted. “But this time? I knew what to say and who to say it to. Much, much easier than standing around like an idiot while Teyla excused our lack of manners.”

“I can imagine,” Rodney commented. “Hey, you got bread!”

John peered over the edge of the jumper. “I don’t know how to make bread.”

“Neither do I,” Rodney concurred. “And we can freeze all of this.”

John kept the tenth bin to haul himself. It was heavy but not unmanageable, so he carted it to his quarters before going back to the bay to help Rodney store their food.

“I thought you were going to get soap,” Rodney muttered when John reappeared. “I see a nice selection of seasonable vegetables and a plethora of flatbread, but no soap.”

“You also see nine bins; the tenth one had the soap in it. I took it to the quarters,” John explained

Rodney insisted on washing all the vegetables before storing them, much like he had the berries. “That should do us for a few weeks,” He said as the last bin went in the freezer. “And we’ve got enough meat for a good six months.”

“If we’re going to trade for more fresh food, we’ll need to do it soon,” John reminded him. “Once autumn hits, we’re not going to have anything from the mainland to trade for.”

“No,” Rodney agreed, “But we can go back to that planet where I spent three days fixing radios.”

“They had really shitty food,” John said, “And they were a little bit paranoid about our technology. It took Teyla four hours to calm them down.”

“I’ll help you get more herbs,” Rodney said by away of agreement. “Now, soap. I want a real shower.”

John led the way back to his quarters. Once there, he sorted through the contents of the last bin. “Clothes?” Rodney queried. “You bought clothes?”

“I do occasionally like changing them,” John told him. “Even if these have a certain farmer boy thing going on.”

Rodney sniffed at the plain, homespun fabric. “At least it’s not animal hair.”

“I’m not that dumb,” John grumbled. “Wool itches.”

“Except angora,” Rodney said, “And I’m not sure we’ll find anyone to trade us for fuzzy sweaters.”

John laughed at the mental image of Rodney in a pink fuzzy sweater. “Your precious soap,” He continued, splitting the bars of soap evenly between his and Rodney’s growing piles of things. “I went for the least flowery scent they made.”

“Thank you,” Rodney said earnestly. “Knowing our luck, I’d be allergic to it.”

“I did keep that in mind,” John said. He then pulled out a couple of jars. “Emollient. Looks like some type of vegetable butter.”

“Feeling chapped?” Rodney snarked, opening one jar to examine its contents. “Although not a bad choice. Smells like grass.”

“Could smell like something a lot worse,” John retorted, thinking of nasty horse liniment. “Oh, I could only afford one of these,” He said, withdrawing a strop and straight razor.

Rodney stared at the items in John’s hands like they were trying to bite him. “Why did we need one of them?”

“Do you want to grow a beard?” John asked. “You’re getting pretty scruffy there, McKay.”

“I notice you aren’t,” Rodney replied. “And I’ve never in my life used a straight razor and certainly not one crafted by an iron-age tribe.”

John smirked. “I’ve got a good field knife, but this will work better. I’ll even show you how.”

“You’re all heart,” Rodney muttered. “Anything else?”

There was only one thing left in the bin, so John took that out and placed the small, fabric-wrapped parcel on Rodney’s stack of things. “I didn’t buy that; it was a gift from one of the elders. It’s more your thing than mine, though.”

Rodney’s eyes darted to the parcel. “I don’t trust you.”

John rolled his eyes in a near-perfect imitation of Rodney’s usual moves. “Just take it, Rodney. I’m in no position to torture you; I’ve got no other way home. Just...you’ll like it, I think.”

Rodney considered it a moment before taking up his stack of belongings, parcel and all. “I think I’ll go take that shower now,” He said pointedly, exiting John’s room without a backward glance.

John shook his head at Rodney’s antics and began to strip down. Rodney might’ve wanted a shower, but John needed one. Even the traders had noticed his aroma.

The old ladies had laughed at him, even after he’d explained his predicament. Then they’d shared a few tips for getting rid of the smell when he didn’t have any soap around. Who knew urine was that useful?

John took his sweet time in the shower, luxuriating in finally feeling clean. The soap wasn’t the highly refined stuff they had back at home, nor was it unduly harsh; the makers had worked some type of oil into it to buffer the lye. He didn’t smell like a rose garden either, although he probably wouldn’t have minded if he had—roses were better than deer guts any day.

After he was clean and dry, John pulled on a pair of plain brown trousers. He figured Rodney would be nearly done—the man took longer to bathe than anyone John had ever met, male or female—so John picked up the razor and went to Rodney’s quarters.

He considered simply going in, but figured Rodney might not like being surprised by a guy with a knife. Instead, he knocked. “I’d ask who’s out there,” Rodney shouted, “But it’s not worth the effort, so just come in.”

Rodney was sitting on his bed, dressed in his usual uniform. In front of him was spread the contents of the parcel John had given him—an array of candy the elderly ladies had given him in return for his generous gift of herbs. “Like it?” John asked, nodding at the candy.

“Yes,” Rodney said around one piece. John expected him to stuff himself full of the sweetmeats, but instead Rodney selected one more before rolling the parcel back up. “But you like candy too; I’ve seen you steal cinnamon disks out of Carson’s office.”

“You like them more,” John pointed out. He sat down next to Rodney, holding the razor in his lap.

“Oh, that,” Rodney said, grimacing. He ran one hand along his rough cheek. “I hate, truly and utterly hate, the idea of a bare blade on my neck. I hate growing a beard even more, though.”

“It won’t hurt,” John promised, “So stop whining.” He stood up, looking pointedly at the bathroom. Once inside, he handed Rodney the dust cover he’d been using as a towel. “Take your shirt off and drape this on your shoulders.”

Rodney did as asked, all the