Rodney’s voice caught John’s attention. He’d been lying as still as he could bear to be, hoping to avoid waking anyone up. It hadn’t worked, if Rodney calling out to him was any indication.

“Yeah?” John replied quietly, since Carson seemed to be sleeping still.

“You’re shaking.”

John took stock of himself and found that, in fact, he was shaking, despite his efforts to remain motionless. “Huh. I think I need to piss.”

“Then go to the bathroom,” Rodney said, snuggling deeper under the blanket he’d procured during the night. “And then come back to bed and get some sleep. It’s too early to be awake.”

John nodded but didn’t get out of bed.

“I thought you had to go,” Rodney whispered. “You are not pissing in Carson’s bed.”

“He’s still asleep,” John pointed out. Not only was Carson asleep, but his head was propped on John’s shoulder and one of his legs was wedged between John’s thighs. Rodney was also wrapped around John, keeping him firmly pinned to the bed.

“I don’t think that’s going to make him feel any better about you soiling his bed,” Rodney retorted.

“Rodney,” John hissed, both annoyed and amused by his friend-now-lover.

“Just shift, go to the head, and come back,” Rodney explained curtly. “He won’t even know you left.”

John sighed and shifted forms, flowing quickly to the floor. As he left, Rodney caught Carson so the man didn’t land badly on the mattress. When John emerged from the bathroom, though, both Carson and Rodney were peering at him, sleepy-eyed and naked.

“Come back to bed,” Carson mumbled, his accent thicker than usual. He held out a hand towards John, beckoning.

“If you make us come get you...” Rodney warned, eyes narrowing, “You’ll be sleeping in the wet spot for the foreseeable future.”

John wasn’t sure if that was supposed to make him want to come back to bed or run away, but he decided in the end that he could ponder the dilemma just as well in bed as anywhere else. As soon as he reached the bed, Carson and Rodney dragged him down, once again anchoring him between them. John was going to remind them that he wasn’t going anywhere, until he realized they had no reason to believe him. He did have a tendency to run.

“Good boy,” Carson murmured into John’s neck.

“Cookie for you,” Rodney added, his voice equally distant and muddled.

As John drifted off to sleep, he pondered explaining to Carson and Rodney that his dog tags did not indicate any real degree of domesticity.

•••

Rodney woke up with the sunrise, wishing for a cup of something hot and caffeinated. Nothing of the sort was forthcoming, but he decided to be mollified by the pair of lovely men in his bed. Carson’s bed, in actuality, but he spent as much time in it as the owner did.

If Rodney and Carson were careful, John would start spending time there as well. He hadn’t run away so far, but they hadn’t given him much of an opportunity to do so. Short of shifting forms and sneaking out, there was no way John could leave the bed. If he had tried it, either Rodney or Carson would’ve noticed.

Quiet moments just at dawn were nice, but Rodney knew they were much nicer with a little company. With that in mind, he ran one hand down John’s side, letting his fingertips brush against Carson’s skin as he went by.

Carson opened one sleepy eye and focused on Rodney’s face. After a minute, he grinned and returned the gesture, letting the feel of John’s skin, with the faintest touch of Rodney’s, guide him to full consciousness.

John didn’t want to wake up. He was in the midst of the most perfect dream and as long as he kept his eyes closed, it wouldn’t end. The pervasive sense of contentment he felt was addictive and laced with a thickening stripe of lust and affection. It fluttered and slid along his side, soft and quick as silk. John pushed into the touch and suddenly it was everywhere.

Rodney wallowed in the feel of John writhing against him and whimpering in his sleep as he tried to get closer. It only took the slightest shift for Rodney to reach John’s chest and close his mouth around a nipple, teasing it gently. John’s fingers closed around Rodney’s arms and Rodney swore he could feel Carson’s growing arousal through John’s skin, seeping across and blending with Rodney’s own want.

It was the sensation of wet warmth on his skin that brought John out of slumber, the tide of his dreams sinking back and leaving little to discover on its empty shore. He opened his eyes, fully expecting to wake up alone in his own bed. Finding himself between Carson and Rodney, both men obviously awake and aware of what they were doing, was quite a shock.

The events of the preceding evening came rushing back all at once and John fought the constraints keeping him down, the urge to flee taking hold.

Rodney sensed the shift in John’s emotions as the man woke up and moved quickly to prevent the panic attack that was forming. He rolled on top of John, splaying out on top of the man until John had no way to escape in his current form. Carson was right there as well, hands steady and stable on John’s body.

Having a strong, blatantly male body subdued under his was a definite turn-on for Rodney and he didn’t try to hide his excitement, letting it fall on John wherever they touched.

John couldn’t withstand the onslaught; Rodney’s body distracted him to the point that he couldn’t keep focused on his own anxiety. Every time Rodney moved, their cocks brushed together and John felt another jolt of his excitement as well as a wave of Rodney’s. Carson was there as well, the sensation of his arousal growing stronger with each passing second. John reached for him, wanting to bring Carson closer. John tried to hold onto the last vestiges of why he wasn’t supposed to want this, to want them and why they didn’t want him where he was. Then Rodney leaned his weight onto one arm and dipped his head to John’s neck, dragging his teeth along the skin there before latching on and sucking right at the hollow.

Carson mirrored Rodney’s maneuver, their lips so close John couldn’t tell if they were kissing each other or him, or maybe some of both. He gripped Carson with one arm and Rodney with the other, thrusting upwards against Rodney’s heavy weight while rubbing along Carson at his side. John knew he was close, but he couldn’t do anything to stop the onrush of orgasm, not when Rodney and Carson were right there, almost as close as he was and still straining for more.

Rodney was holding out well, pushing back his climax as he focused on driving John out of his mind. It was working, too, right up until John came. The sensations that flowed between them were stronger than the night before and with Carson right there, it was more than Rodney could handle. He fell in, swept along as John’s orgasm subsided and Carson’s crested over top of him.

John absently ran one hand down Rodney’s back, pleasantly surprised to find that despite Rodney’s weight, he didn’t feel crushed at all. He was overly warm, however, and sticky with drying sweat and semen smeared all over his skin. His skin, which had a mind of its own, allowing Rodney and Carson to trespass and leave their emotions scattered all around.

“Good morning,” Carson muttered as he rolled onto his back. “I think I want to sleep now.”

“Can’t,” Rodney reminded him as he edged off John and fell into the space separating John and Carson. “Staff meetings today, remember?”

John grimaced at the thought of more meetings. At least his would be short and he could spend the day training. The clock on Carson’s bedside table told him that he only had an hour before that one short meeting, though, so John tried to get out of bed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Rodney grumbled, hand darting out to catch John’s arm and pull him back. “You didn’t schedule a meeting this early; we’d have heard about it from the grunts.”

“No,” John said, tugging against Rodney’s grip, “But I have to get cleaned up.”

Carson snorted. “Which takes what, five seconds? Lie down, John. If you keep trying to bolt, we’re going to start thinking we smell bad.”

John gave up and sat back down on the bed. “You do smell bad,” He said, sniffing. “The whole room smells bad.”

“It smells like sex,” Rodney corrected. “And we’ve got fifty-five minutes before we have to be anywhere, so relax.”

“I am relaxed,” John countered, reclining against the headboard. “See? Utterly relaxed.”

“Are you going to stay here tonight?” Rodney asked John, not bothering to attempt nonchalance.

That would be the operant question, John thought to himself. He didn’t think either Rodney or Carson could make themselves any clearer, although John still wasn’t sure why they wanted him to stay, although they plainly did. “It depends,” He murmured, his mouth twisting into a thoughtful pout.

Carson looked askance at John. “Depends on what?”

The pout spread into a smirk. “Where you are. If you’re going to be at Rodney’s...”

“You’d better be there too,” Rodney growled, reaching up to slide John down the bed. “Or we’ll hunt you down.”

“And tie you up, although it wouldn’t do any good,” Carson grumbled. “Fifty-three minutes and breakfast would be good, don’t you think?”

At the mention of food, Rodney shifted forms and flowed across Carson to reform next to the bed. He appeared dressed, clean and completely presentable. “No shower?” John asked, taking in Rodney’s instant transformation.

“Not when I don’t have time to enjoy it,” Rodney remarked. “Breakfast awaits, unless you two aren’t hungry.”

Carson and John shared a glance before getting out of bed themselves and shifting into something presentable. “I still like showers better,” John complained as they walked out the door. “They feel good.”

“Yes,” Rodney agreed, “But we need a bigger one, now that there are three of us.”

John tripped over his feet when he heard Rodney and he truly hoped the hallway was as empty as it looked.

•••

Rodney walked around the municipal building in which their meetings were being held, searching for something besides a flat concrete bench to use as a seat. Normally he’d be complaining vociferously about the lack of ergonomically-correct chairs but at the moment no one was around to listen to him. As Rodney believed in conservation, he held in his griping until one or more of his team members was present.

It did occur to Rodney that he’d spent a great many missions complaining about the terrible quality of life on most of the primitive planets they visited and that he shouldn’t be so critical of a place more advanced than usual. The thought passed, though, after his searching turned up nothing but more slabs of pale concrete, balanced on stubby chunks of the same concrete.

He wondered if the Hwesi were that fond of recycling, or if they thought concrete furniture was de rigueur for bureaucratic edifices. Rodney only had an hour or so to wait before being taken to the local chemical plant, where he was going to test their products and let Teyla and Sheppard know what was worth buying. Meanwhile, Rodney was stuck trying to find a comfortable place to sit and the rest of the team was doing something with the Hwesi.

Rodney was not going to offer to trade places with anyone; he had no desire to look at artwork, or glad-hand the mayoral equivalent of this annoying burg, or play catch-up with the other crew who’d come through the gate once Sheppard told Weir it was safeish.

After all, Rodney had done his part for the team; he’d shaken hands with every one of the Hwesi who’d met them at the ‘gate, using his newfound abilities to suss out any negative feelings towards him. If the Hwesi didn’t like him before he opened his mouth and insulted them, then it was a good bet they had something bad planned for the Atlantis team. Feeling the emotions of others who weren’t sekoy’e felt odd, though; human skin just wasn’t as appealing as it used to be. Rodney found himself surreptitiously wiping his hands off on his uniform trousers, trying to get rid of the oily-sticky afterfeel.

John noticed and quietly commiserated with Rodney; he’d done the same thing shortly after shaking hands with their hosts. Rodney spared a thought for Carson, who put his hands on people as a matter of course. At least Rodney and John could reasonably avoid casual physical contact—on Atlantis.

Rodney really hoped the chemical plant turned out to be a pleasant surprise, instead of the disappointment he was expecting.

John was going cross-eyed, but he wasn’t about to tell the Hwesi council member to stop talking. He’d been the one to ask if they had records of previous Wraith cullings, so it was up to him to listen to story after story covering millennia of death and destruction. The Hwesi had exceptionally good records, dating back nearly to the time of the Ancients. Unfortunately their skills in record-keeping never branched out to areas that might keep them safe from the Wraith. Still, the information could prove useful. If John could stay awake, of course. Teyla had promised to procure a usable copy of the Hwesi’s information, but politeness and cultural mores dictated that John listen, so listen he did.

By the end of the day, Dr. Weir had recalled John’s team and left others in their place. Trading was going well; Rodney’s tests indicated the Hwesi manufacturing processes were up to minimal Earth standards. Ford and Teyla were particularly proud of the plants they’d found, as the seed of one tasted a little like cocoa. Rodney was dragging his feet as he crossed the ‘gate room, tired and achy from a long day of bad seating, malodorous chemicals and formal speech. Since the Hwesi, like most Pegasus galaxy humans, were averse to any sentient species besides their own, Rodney hadn’t even attempted to shift himself. Doing so would’ve alleviated the pain in his back and feet, but the risks were too great. They needed more supplies, to make C-4, organic matrix and drugs for Carson and the other doctors and for Rodney’s own experiments. The city couldn’t function without restocking so Rodney endured the pain. He’d bitch about it later, once Carson had poured them all cups of hot tea-like-beverage and they’d settled down for the evening.

“That went well,” John commented as he and Rodney walked through the hallways towards the residential area. Several Marines acknowledged John as they passed, a few of them looking twice at his companion. John knew that people in the city were talking about the three of them, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It was normal for people who shared traumatic experiences to want each others’ company. Or never want to see each other again, depending on what had happened. Regardless, John wasn’t going to make a big deal about it unless someone else did first.

“Yes,” Rodney agreed, “And Dr. Weir is sending Athosians tomorrow, correct?”

John nodded, opening Rodney’s door as they reached his quarters. “Yeah, the Hwesi get along pretty well with the Athosians. There’s no reason not to turn over some of the work.”

“If it keeps me out of that courthouse place, I’m all for it,” Rodney muttered, shifting forms briefly and reforming in more casual garb. “Tell me we have food here; the mess hall sounds like hell right now.”

“It’s your room,” John reminded him, “I’m almost never here. I don’t even know where you keep your stash.”

“That’ll change,” Rodney murmured as he opened a drawer in his nightstand. “Power bar?”

“Sure,” John said, accepting the chewy foodstuff. “I forgot how tiring missions are, even when we’re not getting shot at.”

“I know what you mean,” Rodney admitted. “All I want to do right now is eat and then crawl into bed.” Even though his body no longer ached, Rodney was tired and hungry, his energy low. He no longer suffered from hypoglycemia but that didn’t mean he could run without ever eating something and the Hwesi hadn’t been all that forthcoming with snacks.

“Yeah, you look beat,” John commented. “We have a meeting in the morning,” He said as he stood to leave. “Weir will do something nasty to you if you miss it, so don’t sleep in.”

“You’re leaving?” Rodney asked, surprised. “You can’t have work to do; I distinctly heard Weir dismiss us until tomorrow.”

“Well, yeah,” John mumbled, “I thought you needed your sleep.”

“I do,” Rodney replied, “And so do you. Carson shouldn’t be much longer and when he gets here, he’ll need sleep also. Thus, we’re all going to go to bed. Here,” He added, in case John hadn’t figured it out yet.

John was still standing in the middle of the room, so Rodney levered himself off the bed and went to fetch him. It wasn’t all that difficult as John wasn’t actively resisting, so Rodney led him to the bed and pushed on his shoulders until John sat down. “Now, empty your pockets and put on something more comfortable. Or go naked, whichever works for you,” Rodney commanded softly. “And leave Carson some room on that side of the bed or he’ll bitch incessantly about us hogging all the space.”

John was used to following orders, at least when they didn’t involve leaving people behind, so he quickly put his radio and other such stuff on the nightstand and let his clothes fade away. It wasn’t cold enough for anything else, so John slid underneath the blankets naked, finding himself immediately surrounded by Rodney’s arms. Rodney was tired but content and John found himself comforted by the tactile whisper of Rodney’s presence.

When Carson slipped into the room an hour later, it was to the sight of Rodney cradling a sleeping John. “I didn’t think the mission went that badly,” He whispered as he joined them in bed. As soon as he was settled, Rodney turned on his side, facing Carson.

“Not bad, just too long,” Rodney explained sleepily. “Lots of hands to shake.”

Carson grumbled something foul-sounding and patted Rodney’s shoulder. “Makes me appreciate my latex gloves,” He said before dimming the lights.

“Now there’s an idea,” Rodney said to himself as sleep beckoned him.

•••

“So, Ancient site,” John murmured, standing alongside Rodney as they surveyed what looked like a small bunker. “Heads we send Ford in, tails we go in ourselves?”

Rodney elbowed John in the ribs. “You and your addiction to chance. We’re going to go in ourselves, of course. Ford isn’t yet skilled enough to determine if there’s anything useful in there.”

“In other words, you don’t want to listen to boring stories of how well the crops do in years when the Wraith don’t visit?” John said casually. “Not that I blame you. And what’s with the...” John waved his hand around his midsection and then towards the city behind them.

“Girdles?” Rodney suggested. “They certainly are eye-catching.” The local population wore long, flowing robes—which Rodney mocked whenever he and John were alone—held in at the waist by wide, ornately decorated girdles. They really were quite fancy, even if they didn’t appeal to the team’s aesthetic.

“What was it you said about people in this galaxy?” John asked. “They either wear dresses or uniforms?”

“I don’t think you get to comment,” Rodney stated, obviously eyeing John’s clothing. “Or me, for that matter. We’re definitely in the ‘uniform’ camp.”

“Not if we don’t start buying fabric and finding tailors,” John grumbled. “You, me and Carson are gonna be the only decently dressed people on the mission.”

“I had noticed a certain tiredness in some of my peoples’ clothing,” Rodney said as he started walking towards the Ancient site. “Although with the lack of bleach in our laundry procedures, things are holding up better.”

“Do we have permission to go in there?” John asked Rodney. “Getting arrested is really not my idea of a good time.”

Rodney grinned. “You just don’t want to be strip-searched.”

John stopped walking. “Would you?”

“You get used to it,” Rodney replied, shrugging slightly. “Come on, let’s make sure we’re allowed to go in there. Something tells me these people take themselves pretty seriously. Really, who wears hand-beaded, glow-in-the-dark girdles?”

John was still staring at Rodney due to the strip-search comment and thus got left behind. He ran to catch up, bumping into Rodney’s side as he slowed down. “You get used to it? When did you have time to get used to strip searches?”

“Siberia,” Rodney said evenly. “Russians like to be very, very sure of their security.”

“How sure?” John inquired, morbidly curious.

Rodney sighed and reached for a power bar. “Think of it this way: When I first went to Siberia, I’d have rather licked road clay than be strip searched. By the time O’Neill recalled me, I had to remind myself not to strip down every time I saw someone wearing a Military Police insignia. If you go through it enough, it stops bothering you.”

“Huh,” John murmured, glad he’d never gone through that kind of thing. “Did they use rubber—

“No,” Rodney said forcefully. “It was your standard-issue strip to look for recording devices. No cavity searches.”

John felt oddly relieved. At least Rodney hadn’t been violated, in addition to being humiliated so often he got used to it. “So I’m guessing prison scenes don’t figure into your fantasy life.”

Rodney glared daggers at John. “You would be correct. Of course...”

“What?” John asked as they approached the small group of leaders gathered near the ‘gate.

“Nothing,” Rodney murmured, turning to greet a well-girdled councilman.

Gaining access to the Ancient site wasn’t overly difficult, but John felt very awkward in the formal robes that were required for entrance into the Most Holy and Revered Shrine of the Ancestors.

“Nice dress,” Lieutenant Ford said as John walked out of the small dressing chamber he’d been using.

“Shut up, Ford,” John muttered, yanking on his sparkly purple girdle. It was tight and seriously curtailed his mobility. He wasn’t accustomed to wearing actual clothes, ones he couldn’t adjust with a thought. The emerald green robe was itchy and hot, and John wondered if clothes had always been this way and he’d been tuning out the discomfort all his life.

“And hey! The girdle really brings out the color in your eyes,” Ford continued, as though John weren’t about to throttle him.

Fortunately for the Lieutenant’s continued good health, Rodney stepped out of his own dressing room. The Rivjimarians had given Rodney a peacock-blue robe with a dull yellow girdle, covered in golden beads. “Not one word,” Rodney spat, stumbling briefly before figuring out how to balance on the high wooden platform shoes he’d been told to wear. “There had better be something good in this site.”

Teyla motioned for Ford to return to their trade negotiations while John and Rodney were escorted to the temple. Once they arrived, it was only a matter of enduring some ceremonial incense, a few muttered prayers and a hand gesture or two before John and Rodney were left by themselves for a period of contemplation.

“Rodney, just so you know... if this turns out to be a waste of time, I’m kicking your ass just for the robe and girdle,” John hissed, looking out for nosy Rivjimarians before shifting his form enough to deaden the touch receptors in his skin. He couldn’t stay that way for long; unlike taste buds, the receptors in his skin were necessary for him to function well.

“I’ll kick my own ass for you if we don’t find squat,” Rodney replied, twitching as the itchy robes bothered his sensitive skin. “If I didn’t think I’d accidentally stab myself I’d change.”

“Do it for a few minutes,” John suggested, “And then switch back. Just keep pointy things away from yourself.”

“Right,” Rodney murmured, shutting down the receptors in his skin. The relief was immediate and he sighed happily.

The Ancient site was small and Rodney’s initial scan showed no energy source. “There’s no ZedPM here,” He announced sadly as he checked out a wall of paneling. “But this looks like something different.”

John went over to join him. “What?”

Rodney glanced over his shoulder before popping off a wall panel. “I think this used to be a weapons installation,” He said. “Not that there are any actual weapons here anymore.”

“Damn,” John murmured. “What’s so interesting, then?”

Rodney began making recordings of the rows of crystal plates situated in the wall. “Grodin’s been working on theories about why Atlantis’s weapons satellite isn’t working. There’s no equivalent weapon in the city proper, and we only have a couple of cursory readings from the satellite from when we first arrived. But this setup is similar to what we do know about the satellite, so maybe it’ll help us figure out what’s wrong with our weapon.”

“You’re not planning to take anything, are you?” John asked cautiously. “I don’t think a couple of robes and beaded belts are going to get us permission to walk off with their most holy stuff.”

Rodney snorted. “No, we don’t need this kind of thing that badly. I’m just interested in the setup.” He looked over at John, who was leaning against the wall beside the panel. “Do you think you could do something about Ford?”

John almost asked why, but he already knew. Ford was trying very hard to adjust after the temple incident, but it was obvious that the young man wasn’t quite over it yet. Between that and his usual youthful enthusiasm, Rodney had to be going insane from trying to put up with the man. “He’s not all that bad,” John chided. “No worse than Kavanagh.”

“Right, and I suppose we all have our crosses to bear; you just bring yours on missions,” Rodney griped. “Maybe if he got laid more...”

“If he got laid more, he wouldn’t be able to walk,” John said. “I’ll talk to him, okay?”

Rodney nodded and put the paneling back up on the wall before leaning into John and pressing a quick, dry kiss to the side of his face. Then he stepped back and looked around the room. “I don’t think there’s anything else for us here. The linguists might want to make a visit later on, though.”

“Let’s go,” John said, urging Rodney out of the temple. The faster they got out of here, the faster they were back in their usual attire and out of these gaudy, itchy garments.

•••

“It’s obvious that he’s not the best choice for these missions,” Kavanagh remarked spitefully. “All he’s doing now is keeping the rest of us from gaining enough field experience to get spots on our own teams.”

Rodney walked into his lab just in time to hear Kavanagh in the midst of yet another rant about how underappreciated he was, and how over-hyped Rodney was. It was futile to hope the man would ever just shut up, but Rodney silently wished it would happen.

“As considerable as your talents may be,” Dr. Zelenka countered, “You do not have history, knowledge or skills Dr. McKay has regarding exploration and Ancient technology.”

“That’s bullshit and we both know it,” Kavanagh spat, unaware of McKay’s presence in the room. “The only reason he’s here is that Carter didn’t want him on Earth. He’s certainly not the most qualified person for the job.”

Zelenka rolled his eyes at the accusation. “Oh, yes! General O’Neill likes to use intergalactic missions as way to get rid of people his pets don’t like. Using your logic, please explain how rest of us got here, and who we offended.”

“You know what I mean,” Kavanagh grumbled. “He’s—

“Your boss,” McKay said by way of announcing his presence. “And Kavanagh, if you want to show the powers that be how ready you are to undertake off-world missions, try taking the initiative on some of the hundred or so projects lying around here waiting to be completed.”

Kavanagh whipped around, glaring at Rodney’s smirking face. “Right, like you won’t take them away as soon as I make the important discoveries.”

Rodney rolled his eyes at Kavanagh’s accusation. “Do you really think I care if you do your job well? The only time I take notice of your work is when it’s either finished or about to blow up the city. It might surprise you to find out that I only make suggestions about which science staff go on missions; the final decision is up to Dr. Weir and Major Sheppard, as they are the ones who will deal with any fallout from team member mistakes and deaths.”

Kavanagh gritted his teeth, but said nothing in reply. Rodney continued on, however. “You ignore all the smaller projects around here in favor of the ones I don’t assign you, in some vain attempt to gain status in this lab. Did it ever occur to you that you don’t get those jobs because they aren’t in your area of expertise?”

“I can do them!” Kavanagh insisted angrily. “These other ones are rote; they don’t matter.”

Rodney laughed humorlessly. “Oh? Then your next assignment is to explain to the Athosians why finding a way to convert that low-current soldering iron we found not to require the ATA gene isn’t important. Right now we have to send one of our few ATA people down to the greenhouses every time something breaks. It costs both us and them manpower and time.”

“And I, for one, enjoy things to eat that do not come in little plastic pouches,” Dr. Zelenka commented. “Try to contribute, Kavanagh, and you might set foot off planet more often.”

Kavanagh was obviously not happy with his public admonishment and he stomped off to his work space, muttering something about ‘shapeshifting alien traitors’ under his breath.

Rodney’s eyes narrowed when he overheard the comment, but Dr. Zelenka waved him off, approaching Kavanagh himself. “Listen,” The Czech hissed as he sidled up next to Kavanagh, “McKay is only person in lab who can say he has saved everybody in city—multiple times. You may not like man, but that does not give you right to undermine his authority. He is in charge here for reason, and I suggest you open your eyes and figure out why that is.”

“He’s not even human anymore!” Kavanagh protested. “He’s—

“A victim,” Zelenka whispered harshly. “We’ve all heard about what happened, so you know he did not choose it. Do you really think he would have? Ever since he got back all McKay has done is try to keep city working and everyone in it alive. He does not even complain about what happened to him and you know McKay as well as any of us—he complains if his power bars are not stacked alphabetically by flavor.”

Kavanagh sighed and leaned on his desk. “I just…”

“All you see is someone in position you want,” Dr. Zelenka observed. “You fail to see amount of work he put into getting there. Maybe is because you do not like his ego, which is rather substantial. Perhaps it is you resent his genius, or his confidence, or whatever. This is no place for petty insubordination and childishness, Kavanagh. We do not have luxury of it now, not with Wraith trying to find opening and attack us again, and Genii spies wanting to invade city.”

“He treats me like I’m an idiot,” Kavanagh whined, turning on his computer and shuffling about some work assignments.

“You act like idiot,” Zelenka pointed out. “He treats everyone in manner equal to how they behave, if you have not noticed.”

“He insults you,” Kavanagh said. “What did you do to deserve that?”

“He likes me,” Zelenka explained. “If you note, I do not mind it when McKay insults me. Is his way.”

“Maybe I don’t like being called a drooling imbecile,” Kavanagh groused. “It’s humiliating.”

“When he says it to you, he is not kidding around,” Zelenka murmured. “But he only says it after you have broken something.”

“Give it up,” McKay said from his desk. “Kavanagh’s going to hate me no matter what you say.”

Dr. Zelenka sighed and returned to his own work. “Yes, but he could try doing so in more quiet manner.”

Rodney smirked. “What was it my grandfather said? It’s in the nature of the ass to bray loudly.”

Kavanagh pivoted his chair around to glare at McKay. “Like it couldn’t be said of you.”

“I’m not the one insulted by the truth,” Rodney replied with a shrug. “That would be you.”