"No."
"I'm sorry?" Rodney blinked at Katie Brown.
"I know," she told him sadly. "Me too. But this isn't going to work. You can't expect to only spend time with me when it's convenient for you."
He blinked several times more. "What?"
"I have plans today. I'm babysitting these ferns until three and then Major Lorne and I are going to the mainland to take samples of the local flora."
"But that's work," Rodney protested. "This is our day off."
"It's called picking flowers, Rodney. I became a botanist because I like flowers."
"Oh." Crestfallen, he turned to go.
"Go fishing with Carson. The fresh air will do you a world of good," she called after him.
~*~
"Why are you so happy?" Rodney asked, looking down at his hip waders with distaste. "You haven't caught anything."
"Aye, that's because I haven't baited my hook." Carson smiled at him. "I hadn't really planned to catch any fish, Rodney. It's the act of fishing, spending time in the outdoors and relaxing, that's appealing. I've not got the stomach to hurt the wee things."
"The stomach? You perform surgery routinely and it's a lot more gruesome than sticking a hook through a worm. Or a fish."
"Ah," Carson said, nodding. "But I don't cause the injuries I repair, either, lad. First do no harm. It's too shallow here to catch much of anything anyway."
Rodney sighed miserably.
"If you're that bored, we can head back to the city," Carson told him, frowning.
"No, it's not that," Rodney shrugged. "It's-- never mind. Forget I brought it up."
"I'm not likely to do that now, am I?" Carson asked, raising an eyebrow. "Come on, then, out with it. You know I'll hound you until you say something. It's best to save us both the song and dance."
Rodney made a series of faces to illustrate his discomfort with the conversation. "Katie doesn't want to see me anymore."
"Oh, aye?" Carson had a twinkle in his eye that Rodney didn't quite understand. "Why do you think that is?"
"She said I only spend time with her when it's convenient."
"Is that so?"
"I never really thought about it," Rodney admitted. "I suppose so. I spend most of my time in the labs. When I'm not there, I'm with--" he stopped short.
"With...?" Carson prompted.
"With Sheppard." Rodney scowled. "He's just more interesting than she is. We have more in common, like watching really old, horrible sci-fi films and playing chess. Did you know he's a geek? Everyone thinks he's so cool because he's all lanky and his hair looks ridiculous, but he's a genius. I've been trying to get him to join our MENSA chapter for ages. He can even recite pi to twenty-five places."
Carson didn't say anything.
"What?"
"Nothing," Carson said, looking pleased. "It sounds to me like you've got your priorities in order, and Katie's just not one of them."
"Maybe," Rodney agreed grudgingly. "I've never had friends to do things with, let alone friends I could be myself around. Friends who, you know, like me because of who I am, not just in spite of it."
"I'm proud to be on such a prestigious list," Carson teased. "As touching as this heart-to-heart has been, don't you think perhaps you might want to explore the reasons you'd rather spend time with Colonel Sheppard than your lovely wee botanist?"
"No," Rodney said flatly. "You're going to make me, aren't you?"
"I wouldn't be a very good friend if I didn't."
"He's my friend. We have a lot in common."
"So am I and so do we," Carson pointed out. "It was still harder than pulling teeth on a cranky crocodile to get you out here today."
"He makes me feel like one of the cool kids. You might laugh at that, but I was thirteen when I graduated high school. Not only was I not one of the cool kids, I was five years younger than my classmates. I was going through puberty surrounded by breasts." Rodney kicked at a rock and cursed his waders under his breath. "I was short and skinny. All the other guys were six feet tall and looked... like Sheppard."
The corners of Carson's eyes crinkled as he tried to smother a smile. "So he's a good friend, you have a lot in common, and he makes you feel good about yourself. Is that all?"
"He touches me," Rodney said quietly. Carson could barely hear him over the tide lapping at their waders.
"Hmm?"
"I said, 'he touches me,'" Rodney repeated. "I-- nobody touches me unless I'm dying. It wouldn't kill them to give me a, a pat on the shoulder after I pull a miracle out of my ass and save everyone's lives, but it's like I've got the black plague or something," he blurted out. "He puts his arm around me, pats me on the back. Touches my arm to get my attention, wipes junk off my face. Screws up my hair so it sticks up like his does. I pretend that I hate it because I don't want him to know how pitiful I am."
Carson suddenly felt horrible. He hadn't realized how starved for touch Rodney was. "I'd no idea, Rodney."
"I know," Rodney told him, looking at the city in the distance. "Nobody does."
Just then Dr. Biro radioed them, recalling Carson to the city. There was an emergency, an explosion somewhere, and there were casualties, enough that all hands were needed in the infirmary.
"Teyla?" Carson asked, schooling his expression into one of doctorly concern, which intrigued Rodney.
"She's among the injured," Biro confirmed.
"Sheppard?" Rodney asked.
"Haven't seen him. I've got to get Teyla into surgery immediately. Hurry back." With that, Biro signed off.
On the way back, Carson looked shaken. "There's something going on with you and Teyla," Rodney accused.
"She's a good friend," Carson said softly. "We have a lot in common. She makes me feel good about myself."
Rodney swallowed. "Does she touch you?"
"Aye, when we get half a chance. Which isn't often, between missions and crises."
Nodding, Rodney promised, "I won't tell anyone."
Carson smiled and patted Rodney's hand. "Neither will I."
~*~
"You're pretty open minded."
John looked up from his beer. "I try to be."
"Is it 'cause of you and McKay?" Ronon asked, peering at him.
"Me and McKay?" John repeated, nearly swallowing his tongue in the process. "What about me and McKay?"
"You're bonded," Ronon said simply. "Aren't you? That's why he gets so pissed when women hit on you offworld."
"Bonded? Like married?"
"Sort of. He calls 'em space bimbos. I take it that's not an endearment."
"No, it's not." John took a thoughtful sip before following it up by guzzling down the rest of the can. "We're not bonded. Or married. He gets pissed? How pissed?"
"Really pissed." Ronon watched with amusement while John cracked open another beer. "Jealous."
"Jealous of me?"
"Jealous of them. Are you being a dumbass on purpose?"
"You pretty much just say everything you think, don't you?"
"Yup," Ronon agreed, taking a long draw from his beer can. "Kind of like McKay, only I don't think as hard as he does."
"Yeah, he's pretty stream-of-consciousness," John smiled, almost wistfully. "It's when his tongue gets ahead of him that you actually get to know him. Says things he doesn't mean to before he can stop himself. Especially after a few of these," he added, gesturing with his half-empty can.
"Most people don't want to get to know McKay," Ronon pointed out. "You, me, Teyla, Beckett. Maybe Weir."
"Most people can't handle his honesty," John said defensively. "You always know where you stand with Rodney."
"You don't," Ronon countered. "Obviously."
John looked puzzled. "I know Rodney better than anyone."
"Maybe," Ronon allowed, crushing his now-empty can against his forehead. "But it sounds like there's something pretty big he's not telling you."
John chugged down the rest of that beer, too, and reached for another.
~*~
"The surgery was a complete success. Dr. Biro was able to remove the impacted debris without incident. Dr. Keller assures me they and the other doctors can handle the rest of the patients on their own. She actually shooed me, bless her. Sweet girl. Teyla's coming out of anaesthesia and resting comfortably," Carson announced, relief taking ten years off his features. He sat down beside Rodney at the lab table.
Rodney frowned and looked up. "She won't be for long. They're evacuating the infirmary. One of my scientists is literally a walking time bomb. I don't know what the Ancients were thinking, building a device that causes anyone in proximity to develop exploding tumors when activated."
"Exploding tumors?" Carson furrowed his brow. "I've never heard of such a thing in all my life. I should get back there. If I can locate and remove the tumors in time--" He stood up and made for the door.
"Oh, no you don't," Rodney said, catching him by the arm and turning him around. "Sit down. He could go at any moment, and I'd rather not have him go off in your face, thanks so much. I'll resort to physical restraint if I have to, but I should warn you, I've been training with Ronon."
"I should at least help with the evacuation," Carson said, attempting to pull away from Rodney's grasp.
"Sheppard's marines are very efficient," Rodney sniffed. "You'd only be in their way."
"My patients need me, Rodney. I should--"
"Right now I need you," Rodney scowled. "There's nobody else I can talk to about this. What the hell am I going to do about Sheppard?"
Carson sat down, defeated. "You could tell him how you feel."
"And risk humiliation and losing what we already have?"
"You could try to find out how he feels first."
"He's American," Rodney said miserably. "Even if he does feel... whatever the hell it is I'm feeling, it's not like he can act on it, because his president is a die-hard Conservative who thinks he's on a holy mission to cleanse the country of homosexuality and premarital sex by banning gay marriage and proper sex education in schools. Even the best their most liberal president to date has come up with was 'Don't ask, don't tell, don't pursue,' which doesn't apply if someone else finds out and tells for him. He'd be dishonorably discharged and sent back to Earth."
"I've never met a woman who makes me feel the way that Teyla does," Carson said after a moment. "Every time she walks through the event horizon, I know it could be the last time I see her alive. I nearly lost her for good when we were forced to surrender the city to the Ancients, and I nearly lost her again today, but I wouldn't go back to being just her doctor for anything under any sun, Rodney. Sometimes it's worth the risk."
"I couldn't ask him to give up the city for me."
"Maybe you won't have to." Carson looked up pointedly and Rodney's eyes followed. John was standing in the doorway. "I'll just go see where they've moved Teyla to, then, shall I?" Carson offered, patting Rodney on the shoulder.
"There was another explosion," John said, looking straight at Rodney. "In the infirmary. I was worried that you two--"
"No," Rodney said, watching as Carson gave John's arm a quick squeeze for strength on his way out the door. "I couldn't find you after the first one. I thought you might have been--"
"No," John breathed, giving a wry smile. "Me and Ronon headed to the infirmary to check on Teyla. Had a nice chat with the doc while we waited for them to move her to recovery. First aid training comes in handy at times like this. Don't need a medical degree or a nursing certificate to clean a cut, administer aspirin or slap on a few band-aids."
Rodney felt his stomach do a flip. "Carson promised not to say anything."
"About what?" John crossed the room and took up the chair that Carson had evacuated.
"Nothing," Rodney shrugged. "It's not important."
John let it pass. "I asked his opinion on a few things. He gives good advice."
"That's open for debate," Rodney returned. "I'm not sure how to feel about the most recent advice he's given me."
"There's this person," John started, leaning to bump his shoulder lightly against Rodney's. "A pretty great person. Funny, smart, genuine. With me, at least. Kinda got under my skin, so slow and easy I didn't even notice it until the first explosion today. I realized I was terrified something happened to him. Sick to my stomach terrified."
"Him?" Rodney turned to look at John and realized he'd been holding his breath through most of John's spiel.
John nodded. "The doc says I ought to tell him how I feel. I was worried, at first. There's this whole... thing, about gays in the military. For the leader of the free world, my president's kind of retarded."
"I know. When-- when you told him," Rodney asked tentatively, "what did he say?"
"Haven't told him yet," John replied. "I'm working on it, but it's not easy. That's why the doc told me exactly what to say."
"He did?"
"Uh huh. He told me to say, 'You're a good friend, Rodney. We've got a lot in common, and you make me feel good about myself. I want you to touch me.' Sharp guy, Beckett. I can see what Teyla sees in him."
"He told you?"
"Poor guy was shaking so bad he could barely hold a suture until he heard she was okay, and I knew she was seeing someone on the down low. He didn't have to." John fidgeted like a little kid. "You're not saying anything. I just laid it out there, and I'm not as secure as I like people to think, okay? So you're gonna have to throw me a bone here."
Rodney took a deep breath. "You're a good friend, John," Rodney paused when he heard the catch in John's breathing at Rodney's rare use of his given name, but managed to continue. "We have a lot in common. You make me feel good about myself." Gulping, he continued, "And I would very much like to touch you." He reached out a tentative hand and placed it on top of John's. John spread his fingers to lace them with Rodney's.
John reached out and touched Rodney's face gently with his free hand, and then Rodney was surprised to find he, not John, was the one to initiate the kiss. It both was and wasn't different from kissing a woman. John's face was rough with stubble, but his lips were as soft as any woman Rodney had ever kissed, his mouth as hot and pliant. John's hair was as soft and thick as it looked when Rodney slid his fingers into it. When they parted, John squeezed Rodney's hand and looked him in the eyes. "You're worth the risk."