![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
sajinn.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
sga_flashficTitle: Conviviality
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sajinn
Rating: R
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Length: 4650 words
Challenge: Debriefing
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were and never will be.
Summary: Aliens make it way to easy for them to do it.
A/N: Many thanks totheamusedone, kyrieane and betagoddess for beta work.
“Thank you for submitting your reports on time,” Dr. Weir said by way of greeting. John and Rodney took their usual seats, flanked by Teyla and Ronon. “It was refreshing to find them all delivered promptly for once.”
“We aim to please,” John said evenly, a bland half-smile plastered on his face.
Rodney wasn’t so sanguine. “And of course none of us, and by that I mean me, have anything more important to do than write meaningless reviews of uneventful missions wherein nothing was accomplished other than a minor trade agreement for a food product that strongly resembles Yoplait,” He groused, glaring at a spot just beyond Weir’s head.
Dr. Weir ignored Rodney’s diatribe. “However...I couldn’t help but notice that these reports were somewhat...less informative than usual.”
John twitched. Yes, they’d been shorter than normal. There was a very good reason for that—and it hadn’t been included in the reports.
“Now, your reports indicate that you first encountered the Gropmi shortly after arriving on the planet. John, you said that they greeted you ‘politely’, while Rodney’s report says ‘civilly’ and Teyla mentioned ‘aplomb’. Ronon, how would you characterize this greeting?”
Ronon grunted, shifting in his chair. “It was nice.”
John saw Weir’s eyebrows rise and knew something was up. “Nice?” She echoed. “Polite, civil and nice...”
“Don’t forget aplomb,” John interjected. “Teyla used ‘aplomb’.”
“Her vocabulary is improving rapidly,” Rodney confirmed. Teyla scowled at him briefly, but then schooled her features to their normal, serene calm.
Dr. Weir’s sigh was not unexpected. “Could you please elaborate on this welcoming? Something more specific than ‘nice’, perhaps?”
Rodney huffed and rolled his eyes. “It was nice, okay? Nice, meaning no one waved any weapons at us, tried to kidnap us, or feed us lemons. It was nice.”
“Yeah,” John murmured, “Nice.”
”So, Ronon, these Gropmi...what’re they like again?” John asked as the team gathered in front of the ‘gate. The world they were on was pretty enough; lots of deciduous trees and not too many bugs. Surely Rodney wouldn’t complain incessantly. John mentally snickered; he wasn’t nearly naïve enough to think Rodney wouldn’t find a reason to gripe.
“I did not personally visit the Gropmi,” Ronon reminded John as they began down a primitive footpath. “But Sateda regularly traded with them and all of our reports indicated they were excellent hosts.”
“They’d have to be, with a name like that,” Rodney commented. “It’s practically an invitation.”
John smirked at Rodney’s observation. “Then I’d be careful what you agree to,” He warned good-naturedly. “You could end up married.”
Rodney was about to retort when a group of people appeared in front of them. “Greetings!” One called out cheerfully. “What brings you to Gropmi?”
“Trade,” Ronon announced, nodding at the brightly-clad group. “For information and for food.”
“And anything else you might want to trade,” Rodney added, ignoring John’s silent warning glare.
The locals spoke briefly amongst themselves before swarming around the team. “We welcome all traders,” The leader said as he wrapped his arms around Rodney, who stood awkwardly through the embrace. Long red feathers tickled his face as the leader laid his head on Rodney’s shoulder, hugging him warmly. Another Gropmi embraced Rodney as well and out of the corner of his eye he could see John, Ronon and Teyla receiving similar treatment. Careful hands patted and rubbed at Rodney’s shoulders and the Gropmi murmured happy, wordless sounds.
“Hey!” Rodney squawked when a hand not attached to his own body reached down and squeezed his ass. Just as quickly as it happened the gesture was aborted and the hand returned to Rodney’s shoulder. The weird, grunted sounds suddenly took an almost-apologetic tone and Rodney returned the shoulder-pats with a conciliatory one of his own. After all, it was just a quick grope and even he knew that making a big deal of it risked an interplanetary incident.
If he got them in trouble by protesting having his ass fondled, Rodney would never live it down.
The hugging went on for a long time as the Gropmi passed the team around for communal affection. Once Rodney found himself face-to-face with John, a Gropmi standing next to them with a hopeful, expectant expression. Rodney shrugged helplessly and John gave him an awkward hug, obviously intending to pull away quickly. Instead the Gropmi joined in, tying them together for several minutes. Once again, Rodney’s ass was patted and caressed but he was pretty sure the perpetrator wasn’t John. Rodney absolutely refused to be disappointed, however.
“Come, we will prepare a feast to welcome you,” The leader said as the hugging paused. It started right back up, however as they made their way towards the Gropmi town, with locals wandering around the team, giving each of them quick hugs and pats.
“Affectionate group, aren’t they?” John whispered to Rodney, using the man to partially shield himself from assertive hands.
“My ass hasn’t been groped this much since I spent a weekend on Church Street,” Rodney sniped.
“Yes, nice,” Teyla agreed firmly.
Rodney smiled tightly. “Just a warm, friendly greeting, followed by a pleasant meal. Without lemons.”
“You did mention that,” Dr. Weir said dryly. “So the meal was pleasant. Is there any chance they’ll trade for food other than this yuuki you’ve described?”
“Not likely,” John admitted. “They really like it, so it’s their primary foodstuff—but they’re very willing to trade.”
“It’s tangy,” Rodney murmured. “Like warm, unflavored yogurt.”
“Rather smooth,” Ronon added helpfully. “And plentiful.”
Dr. Weir was focused on Ronon’s description, so she didn’t see John’s eyes nearly cross.
“Stop that,” Rodney hissed, kicking John underneath the table.
“Excuse me?” Weir said, looking over at Rodney. “Did you say something?”
“No, nothing,” Rodney replied, shaking his head. “We brought samples of the yuuki.”
“Major Lorne is going to bring them from the lab,” Weir confirmed. “You can explain to me how they traditionally consume the stuff. That information wasn’t included in your reports.”
John blinked and shifted in his seat. “Well, they’re a pretty informal civilization...”
“Hands,” Teyla said, interrupting John. “They take it up with their hands.”
“From big bowls,” Ronon added quickly. “Communal.”
“Incredibly unsanitary,” Rodney declared. “I don’t recall seeing any spoons.”
“I don’t recall you complaining,” John hissed.
”Something wrong?” John asked when Rodney took a seat right next to him. They were pressed tightly against each other, sharing one of the thickly padded cushions that were scattered in the Gropmi ceremonial hall. The Gropmi themselves took seats all around, stripping off their clothes as soon as they sat.
“Um, Colonel...” Rodney began hesitantly. “Nakedness. Are we—
The head Gropmi answered Rodney’s unspoken question. “Please, make yourselves ready for the meal,” He said, staring pointedly at their clothing.
“Oh, we’re comfortable just like this,” John assured him. Ronon and Teyla nodded along with Rodney, none of them particularly wanting to remove their clothing.
The leader frowned. “You have to; it is not proper to eat while clothed.”
Several Gropmi glared at the team, pointing at their garments. “Ronon?” John queried. “Is this going to be a problem?”
Ronon thought for a moment before shrugging. “My people probably went along with it,” He admitted, reaching for the ties on his vest.
Rodney was planning on protesting, right up until he saw some very unhappy-looking, very naked Gropmi carrying large knives. They were edging along the wall, obviously aiming for the team. “Nudity or death, nudity or death...”
John caught his eye and nodded. “Alright,” He conceded, slipping his vest off. At least the Gropmi didn’t expect them to actually surrender their clothing; it was left in a neatly folded pile next to their seats.
Rodney squirmed and twisted until all his clothes were off. It wasn’t easy, particularly given his proximity to John, but Rodney managed nevertheless. Once naked, Rodney crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap, wishing he’d woken up with a stomach virus. Then he’d be in Atlantis, getting cooed over by the medical staff instead of stuck naked next to John, who was also naked, in some big ceremonial hall waiting for dinner to be served. Naked dinner, with a naked John who looked really good naked.
Over to the side, Ronon and Teyla were naked as well. They didn’t look nearly as uncomfortable as Rodney felt and he suspected it was a Pegasus Galaxy quirk. So far their missions hadn’t included any real nudity, but they hadn’t been here all that long, not compared to the years the SGC had been traversing their own galaxy. Rodney made a mental note to do some research about trade missions and nudity when they returned to Atlantis. He couldn’t recall all that many SG-1 missions focusing on trade; that had to have been the province of one or more of the other teams.
“Oh, look,” John said, drawing Rodney’s attention. “Food.”
“Where?” Rodney asked, even as he saw several very naked Gropmi carrying out large bowls. The dishes were scattered about; most contained a pale, creamy substance, while others held what looked like sliced-up fruit. A few smaller containers appeared, filled with what John guessed were sauces.
“I think I understand now,” John told Rodney, looking over at a pair of Gropmi. They were eating—with their hands. One hand scooped up the yogurt-like stuff, while the other held a piece of fruit. In the food went, bite after bite. Once in a while the eater would stick a finger in one of the sauce containers and smear it in the fruit, or the yogurt, or just on their skin.
Rodney stared at the bowl of fruit in front of himself and John. “Probably has citrus in it,” He muttered, scowling. “And this is barbaric.”
John reached for the fruit, pointedly ignoring Rodney’s grumbling. He tried several pieces, not finding anything remotely resembling citrus. “I think it’s safe,” He announced, pushing the bowl towards Rodney. “Tastes like pears and strawberries, mostly.”
Rodney gingerly tried one of the fruits, pleasantly surprised to find it did taste somewhat peachlike. After a few tentative bites, he gave up pretending to be neat and, like John, dug into the meal.
The yogurt was a bit sour for his tastes, but between the fruit and the sweet sauces it wasn’t all that bad. “Pretty good,” John said around a bite of something red and juicy. Rodney watched the liquid flow down John’s chin, mixing with all the other liquids that had dripped here and there. The yogurt stuff was pretty runny and it was impossible not to make a huge mess.
“Yeah,” Rodney agreed, turning away from the unexpectedly appealing sight of John quickly becoming covered in imminently lickable substances. He himself wasn’t escaping the meal unscathed; his arms, chest and legs were liberally speckled with dollops of creamy white, deep red and bright purple juices.
Looking at the Gropmi wasn’t any better, though, Rodney quickly discovered. Apparently they were a very friendly people. A few minutes ago they’d been merrily—but separately—consuming their finger foods. Now, however, they were writhing in pairs and small groups, smearing food all over each other and then licking it off. “Interactive eating,” Rodney commented with false calm. “I shouldn’t be surprised, should I?”
“Nope,” John said as he chewed on a piece of fruit. The nature of their meal hadn’t escaped him either. “I guess it fosters...”
“Friendship?” Rodney offered when John’s voice trailed off. “Communicable diseases?”
“Something like that, yeah,” John agreed. “That leader is staring at us again,” He noted.
“But not at Ronon and Teyla,” Rodney mumbled around a messy mouthful of yogurt. Indeed, John and Rodney were the only ones drawing any attention. Then again, they were the only ones not eating their meals off their dining companions. Teyla had gotten into the spirit of the feast and was merrily consuming something pink and green out of Ronon’s hand, her tongue darting out to catch stray bits of sauce as it dripped down his arm. Ronon didn’t look like he was in any pain, not at all.
“Think we’ll get in trouble if we don’t...participate?” John asked Rodney.
Rodney considered the situation. The knife-wielding men were still hanging around, although most of them were now distracted by their own foodplay. The leader too was busy, although he kept shooting them stern glares. The food wasn’t bad; far better than most of what they’d encountered in the galaxy so far. “They might decide we’re offending their tender sensibilities,” He told John, figuring if he was going to suffer, he was going to do it in style. Getting his hands on a naked John Sheppard was something Rodney thought would only happen in his dreams. Being practically ordered to lick the man from head to foot, well...Rodney wasn’t going to argue too strenuously.
Even if it was in public.
“Good,” John replied, just before a small handful of yogurt landed on Rodney’s chest with a wet slap. Rodney opened his mouth to protest, only to find himself flat on his back. John loomed over him, a small bowl of something green in one hand.
Rodney took in John’s predatory grin and felt a moment of concern. “What, precisely, do you plan to do with that?” He asked, eyes darting nervously between John’s face and the bowl.
John smirked. The bowl tilted and green stuff fell in a thin line on Rodney’s skin, drizzling down in swirling, abstract patterns. John discarded the bowl and dragged the container of fruit closer, settling down on his haunches. Rodney was trapped, his legs underneath John, so he couldn’t do anything but watch as a piece of fruit appeared in John’s hand. It landed high on his chest and John chased it, scooping up some of the yogurt-and-green-sauce mixture.
“Tasty,” John said as the fruit squished between his teeth. “Want some?”
Rodney swallowed hard. “I can take care of myself,” He replied sharply, his hand reaching blindly for the yogurt. John’s look of surprise as it flew onto his skin was gratifying, so Rodney added another handful. It dripped off John and onto him, bits of slightly-cool liquid feeling better than it should have on his heated skin. The fruit was close enough to grab so Rodney fumbled for a piece, scraping it along John’s torso.
He hadn’t expected the stuff to taste better having been in contact with someone else’s skin, but it did. Slightly warmer, a touch sweeter and a whole lot kinkier than simply eating it out of the bowl. “Good?” John asked softly, sliding a piece of fruit dangerously low on Rodney’s stomach.
“Needs some of the red stuff,” Rodney replied hoarsely, turning his head to find that particular container. He wondered if the food contained hallucinogens, or maybe some other psychotropic chemical. He was eating his supper off John Sheppard, who was happily doing the same off Rodney. Over to one side, Ronon had Teyla laid out like a buffet and Rodney was not watching.
“I hope this doesn’t stain,” Rodney told John, only half-meaning it, as he placed a bright red handprint on John’s shoulder. John grinned and shook his head, leaning down close enough that Rodney could feel his breath along one cheek.
“Doesn’t matter,” John whispered, holding himself steady as Rodney leaned up to taste the red juice. It was almost too sweet, needing the yogurt to cut its strength. Rodney ducked down, running his tongue up from a splotch of white and back into the red, humming happily as the flavors combined on his tongue.
After that things got a little blurry; John tumbled to one side and Rodney followed, skin slapping together and smearing food everywhere. John’s laughter was addictive and Rodney found himself fixated on a spot about four centimeters left of his navel, one so ticklish John quickly started begging him for mercy. When Rodney didn’t relent, John retaliated by pouring yogurt all down Rodney’s back and then tracing his fingers through it, licking them suggestively.
“Ahem,” Dr. Weir said, clearing her throat. “After the meal, you all reported that you were shown guest quarters.”
Teyla nodded affirmatively. “The Gropmi insisted that negotiations occur only in the morning, before midday. Accepting their hospitality overnight assured them of our good intentions.”
“Rodney and John, you didn’t mention much of anything else—their accommodations were ‘adequate’ and ‘primitive but functional’, their hospitality ‘friendly’ and ‘without obvious guile’,” Dr. Weir continued. “None of this is particularly enlightening.”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “We’ve been going on missions for how long now? After you’ve been through enough of these banquets and meet-and-greets, they all start to look the same.”
“What he said,” John mumbled, nodding at Rodney. “The bed was comfortable, the people were nice and not overly nosy, and nobody tried to kill us in our sleep.”
Dr. Weir’s expression didn’t relax any. “Still, you’re not being informative enough, Rodney. Usually your reports, while concise, also contain mentions of every foible your hosts express. Would the Gropmi be amenable to additional off world missions? We really do need new locations to send our people; they need time away from Atlantis.”
Rodney winced and tried desperately to think up a way to say ‘fuck no’ without raising her suspicions. Fortunately, Ronon stepped in to help.
“That probably won’t work,” Ronon told Dr. Weir. “From what I remember, the Gropmi are more open to active traders than anyone else.”
“They have an expectation of commerce and fruitful outcome,” Rodney said, picking up the argument, “Casual visits would be frowned upon as an abuse of their generosity. Unless we were constantly visiting to open additional, relevant and profitable trade negotiations, they would grow irate.”
Dr. Weir’s disappointment was palpable. “And they seem so pleasant in your reports.”
“Oh, they’re pleasant enough,” John promised her.
By the time the feast ended, Rodney was about to scream in frustration. He was unbearably turned on from all the touching, licking and sucking. Being practically forced to share space with an equally aroused John was just another layer of temptation Rodney had to endure without giving in, because they’d noticed during their meal that while the Gropmi were all for eating food off each other, nothing more intimate occurred.
“I hope the feast was to your liking,” The leader said as he stood over John and Rodney, still naked and sticky in places. Rodney refused to notice that the leader was not unaffected by the meal. It was one thing to be confronted with a sticky, fruity man brandishing an erection—and another thing entirely to take note of it.
“It was great,” John said, reaching for his clothes. “Really hit the spot.”
“Tomorrow we shall open negotiations. Until then, you will be given use of our finest guest quarters.” With that statement made, the leader retreated, leaving a pair of not particularly menacing guards to show them to their rooms.
Rodney wanted to get dressed, but a number of serving staff were already in the hall, making quick work of the cleanup process. John shoved Rodney’s clothes at him, using his own as a crude shield while they were herded out of the room.
“Is this how these things always go?” Rodney asked Ronon as they walked.
Ronon shrugged. “Probably.”
“Rodney, come on,” John ordered, standing by a doorway. They’d reached the guest quarters, where Ronon and Teyla were pointed in one direction, with John and Rodney nearby. “We get to share.”
Of course they got to share; Rodney expected nothing else. The Gropmi were very fond of fraternization. The concept of personal space probably had no linguistic equivalent in their native language. “There had better be a shower in here,” Rodney groused to the attendant. “I’m not going to sleep all sticky.”
The guard-attendant merely nudged John and Rodney into a small chamber. Inside they found a single, deep-looking bath, already filled with steaming water. One bench was submerged in the tub and a selection of toiletries sat nearby.
“I’ll go first,” Rodney declared, silently urging John to take his leave. “And I’ll be sure to leave a little hot water for you.”
“Gee, you’re all heart, Rodney,” John said, smirking. The guard wasn’t leaving, however, despite Rodney’s open glare.
“You should bathe together,” The man suggested. “It fosters companionship.”
“Ah,” Rodney muttered. “Companionship.”
“It is customary to bathe with the one who dined with you,” The guard explained.
Rodney glanced at John and then slid into the admittedly perfect bath. He knew his objection was mostly out of form; if he’d really had a problem with being naked around John, he wouldn’t have spent the last couple of hours eating his supper off the man. Rodney couldn’t help having lingering doubts, however. They’d gone on a lot of strange missions, but they’d never been encouraged to fool around before. It would be nice to be able to look John in the eye when they returned to Atlantis.
John joined him in the bath, sighing as the warm water began dissolving layers of dried food. Being used as a living plate wasn’t so bad when it was actually going on, but dried yogurt-stuff itched like crazy and the fruit juices were unpleasantly sticky to boot.
After a couple of minutes, the guard was satisfied that Rodney and John were going to continue to be appropriately cozy together, so he slipped out the door. “I suppose there’s an upside to all this...sharing,” John murmured, reaching for some soap.
“And what would that be?” Rodney asked, his knees bumping into John as he went after what looked like shampoo. John had gotten a bright orange sauce in Rodney’s hair and it felt really weird, all plastered to his scalp and drying into a leathery shell.
“Little risk of violence,” John replied, dunking his head underwater.
“Maybe,” Rodney conceded, handing John the shampoo. “You’ve got yuuki in your hair.”
“So do you,” John pointed out. “Although you have to wonder if there’s a problem with jealousy. What if you have dinner on the wrong person? Could you get in some kind of trouble?”
“I’d rather not find out,” Rodney told him, rinsing away the last of the sticky stuff on his head. “Hand me the soap.”
Rodney had his hand out, waiting for the bar of soap, but instead of receiving it he got John’s hands on his skin. Rich, thick lather spread slickly up his arm and across his shoulder as John swiped at the remnants of their meal, fingers hitting the ticklish spots he’d located earlier. When Rodney opened his mouth, John intercepted the complaint with a comment of his own.
“Interactive dining, interactive bathing,” He murmured, locating and cleaning away a daub of red on Rodney’s throat. “I think the point is to do this together.”
“Right,” Rodney choked out, wondering if this was the moment at which a team of trained assassins was supposed to burst into the bathing room. John was shifting closer, legs twining in Rodney’s as he tried to maneuver in the bath. It was a close space, barely enough for two adults of their size. The closeness necessitated skin contact and that had to be why John was now sitting in Rodney’s lap, arms wrapped around Rodney’s chest to lather up his back.
John couldn’t have possibly reached that spot on his own body, so Rodney lent a helping hand. Altruism had to have been the motivation when Rodney ran his hands up John’s thighs and around to his ass, making sure to leave behind no trace of sticky, slimy supper. Surely it was only friendly helpfulness that had John tightening his legs around Rodney’s waist, pushing their achingly hard cocks together.
By the time John leaned in and tentatively kissed him, Rodney was sure the Gropmi were the best people in the entire galaxy.
“So nothing happened during the course of the evening to suggest any ulterior motive on the part of the Gropmi,” Dr. Weir asked, eyeing each of them in turn. “Remember the Utcomians; they seemed nice—until they offered to roast Dr. McKay on a spit.”
“No one suggested spitting McKay,” John told her. “They just gave us big, comfy beds and told us to have a nice evening.”
“The lack of excitement was a pleasant surprise,” Teyla admitted. Dr. Weir didn’t see Ronon smirk, since she was focused on Teyla’s response. “Once we were shown our quarters, they left us alone until morning.”
“Yep,” John agreed, “Just a nice, quiet night. Almost boring, really. Not an intrigue or a death threat to be found.”
“Damn it, don’t stop.”
John lifted his head from Rodney’s stomach. “Don’t stop what?” He asked, his expression just a little too innocent.
“Sucking me, Colonel,” Rodney growled, trying to thrust against John’s weight. “Tease.”
“Okay,” John said, pressing his open mouth to Rodney’s hip. He sucked lightly, then scraped his teeth along the sensitized skin. “That better?”
Rodney groaned. “I’m going to kill you,” He swore. Well, if John didn’t kill him first. “My cock, Colonel. Suck my cock.”
John looked up at Rodney again. “Say my name,” He ordered, edging up Rodney’s body. “My name, Rodney. Say it.”
Rodney’s eyes had slid shut when he started demanding-begging for John to finish him off. Now they snapped open, catching John’s gaze. “John,” He began, licking his lip. “Please.”
John nodded once and then moved back down, swallowing Rodney’s cock to the root.
Rodney screamed, not thinking once about whether the walls were soundproof. John sucked harder, sliding up until only the head remained on his tongue. Then he sank back down, reveling in the sound of Rodney pleading, calling his name, begging for relief.
Then he stopped again. “Hey!” Rodney protested as John rocked back on his heels. “Nonono, you don’t get to stop again; that’s just cruel!” He was so close and John was a sadist. This wasn’t fair, not when Rodney was about to go cross-eyed from wanting to come.
John narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, hovering over Rodney’s trembling body. “Fuck me,” He hissed, nudging Rodney’s cock with his own.
Rodney stopped complaining.
“So basically...” Dr. Weir began, obviously wrapping up the meeting.
Rodney finished for her. “The Gropmi are friendly, easygoing and have deplorable eating habits. They’re amenable to trade and nice to their trade partners but wouldn’t make a good Club Med. As I stated in my report, I think we should trade them for fresh fruits and selected dairy products, though it would be in our best interests to set up some sort of pasteurization system.”
“Yeah,” John concurred, nodding. “They seem very nice.”
Ronon and Teyla also nodded their agreement. “Well then, I suppose we’re finished,” Dr. Weir conceded. “Teyla, you may want to discuss a possible trade agreement between the Gropmi and the Athosians.”
Teyla’s eyes widened briefly. “My people may be interested,” She replied quickly.
“If we’re done here,” Rodney groused, “I’ve got more important things to do.” He stood to leave, barely missing running into John’s chair as he stood.
Dr. Weir sighed. “Yes, but Rodney? Next time, please write a more thorough report. Usually you include far more information than you did in this one. As you well know, it is very difficult to make informed decisions without adequate data.” When John smirked at the reprimand, she spoke again. “The same goes for all of you.”
The team, duly chastised, fled Elizabeth’s office. Ronon left in a near-run, obviously going to the sparring room. Teyla wasn’t far behind. “They’re in an awfully big hurry,” John said as he watched them go. “Wonder what that’s about?”
“Dunno,” Rodney said, shrugging. He looked over at the ‘gate and the team that was gathering nearby. “You know...”
“Hmm?” John hummed, tapping his fingers on the rail.
“I’ve got some of those yuuki samples in my lab.”
Author:
sajinnRating: R
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Length: 4650 words
Challenge: Debriefing
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were and never will be.
Summary: Aliens make it way to easy for them to do it.
A/N: Many thanks to
theamusedone, kyrieane and betagoddess for beta work.“Thank you for submitting your reports on time,” Dr. Weir said by way of greeting. John and Rodney took their usual seats, flanked by Teyla and Ronon. “It was refreshing to find them all delivered promptly for once.”
“We aim to please,” John said evenly, a bland half-smile plastered on his face.
Rodney wasn’t so sanguine. “And of course none of us, and by that I mean me, have anything more important to do than write meaningless reviews of uneventful missions wherein nothing was accomplished other than a minor trade agreement for a food product that strongly resembles Yoplait,” He groused, glaring at a spot just beyond Weir’s head.
Dr. Weir ignored Rodney’s diatribe. “However...I couldn’t help but notice that these reports were somewhat...less informative than usual.”
John twitched. Yes, they’d been shorter than normal. There was a very good reason for that—and it hadn’t been included in the reports.
“Now, your reports indicate that you first encountered the Gropmi shortly after arriving on the planet. John, you said that they greeted you ‘politely’, while Rodney’s report says ‘civilly’ and Teyla mentioned ‘aplomb’. Ronon, how would you characterize this greeting?”
Ronon grunted, shifting in his chair. “It was nice.”
John saw Weir’s eyebrows rise and knew something was up. “Nice?” She echoed. “Polite, civil and nice...”
“Don’t forget aplomb,” John interjected. “Teyla used ‘aplomb’.”
“Her vocabulary is improving rapidly,” Rodney confirmed. Teyla scowled at him briefly, but then schooled her features to their normal, serene calm.
Dr. Weir’s sigh was not unexpected. “Could you please elaborate on this welcoming? Something more specific than ‘nice’, perhaps?”
Rodney huffed and rolled his eyes. “It was nice, okay? Nice, meaning no one waved any weapons at us, tried to kidnap us, or feed us lemons. It was nice.”
“Yeah,” John murmured, “Nice.”
”So, Ronon, these Gropmi...what’re they like again?” John asked as the team gathered in front of the ‘gate. The world they were on was pretty enough; lots of deciduous trees and not too many bugs. Surely Rodney wouldn’t complain incessantly. John mentally snickered; he wasn’t nearly naïve enough to think Rodney wouldn’t find a reason to gripe.
“I did not personally visit the Gropmi,” Ronon reminded John as they began down a primitive footpath. “But Sateda regularly traded with them and all of our reports indicated they were excellent hosts.”
“They’d have to be, with a name like that,” Rodney commented. “It’s practically an invitation.”
John smirked at Rodney’s observation. “Then I’d be careful what you agree to,” He warned good-naturedly. “You could end up married.”
Rodney was about to retort when a group of people appeared in front of them. “Greetings!” One called out cheerfully. “What brings you to Gropmi?”
“Trade,” Ronon announced, nodding at the brightly-clad group. “For information and for food.”
“And anything else you might want to trade,” Rodney added, ignoring John’s silent warning glare.
The locals spoke briefly amongst themselves before swarming around the team. “We welcome all traders,” The leader said as he wrapped his arms around Rodney, who stood awkwardly through the embrace. Long red feathers tickled his face as the leader laid his head on Rodney’s shoulder, hugging him warmly. Another Gropmi embraced Rodney as well and out of the corner of his eye he could see John, Ronon and Teyla receiving similar treatment. Careful hands patted and rubbed at Rodney’s shoulders and the Gropmi murmured happy, wordless sounds.
“Hey!” Rodney squawked when a hand not attached to his own body reached down and squeezed his ass. Just as quickly as it happened the gesture was aborted and the hand returned to Rodney’s shoulder. The weird, grunted sounds suddenly took an almost-apologetic tone and Rodney returned the shoulder-pats with a conciliatory one of his own. After all, it was just a quick grope and even he knew that making a big deal of it risked an interplanetary incident.
If he got them in trouble by protesting having his ass fondled, Rodney would never live it down.
The hugging went on for a long time as the Gropmi passed the team around for communal affection. Once Rodney found himself face-to-face with John, a Gropmi standing next to them with a hopeful, expectant expression. Rodney shrugged helplessly and John gave him an awkward hug, obviously intending to pull away quickly. Instead the Gropmi joined in, tying them together for several minutes. Once again, Rodney’s ass was patted and caressed but he was pretty sure the perpetrator wasn’t John. Rodney absolutely refused to be disappointed, however.
“Come, we will prepare a feast to welcome you,” The leader said as the hugging paused. It started right back up, however as they made their way towards the Gropmi town, with locals wandering around the team, giving each of them quick hugs and pats.
“Affectionate group, aren’t they?” John whispered to Rodney, using the man to partially shield himself from assertive hands.
“My ass hasn’t been groped this much since I spent a weekend on Church Street,” Rodney sniped.
“Yes, nice,” Teyla agreed firmly.
Rodney smiled tightly. “Just a warm, friendly greeting, followed by a pleasant meal. Without lemons.”
“You did mention that,” Dr. Weir said dryly. “So the meal was pleasant. Is there any chance they’ll trade for food other than this yuuki you’ve described?”
“Not likely,” John admitted. “They really like it, so it’s their primary foodstuff—but they’re very willing to trade.”
“It’s tangy,” Rodney murmured. “Like warm, unflavored yogurt.”
“Rather smooth,” Ronon added helpfully. “And plentiful.”
Dr. Weir was focused on Ronon’s description, so she didn’t see John’s eyes nearly cross.
“Stop that,” Rodney hissed, kicking John underneath the table.
“Excuse me?” Weir said, looking over at Rodney. “Did you say something?”
“No, nothing,” Rodney replied, shaking his head. “We brought samples of the yuuki.”
“Major Lorne is going to bring them from the lab,” Weir confirmed. “You can explain to me how they traditionally consume the stuff. That information wasn’t included in your reports.”
John blinked and shifted in his seat. “Well, they’re a pretty informal civilization...”
“Hands,” Teyla said, interrupting John. “They take it up with their hands.”
“From big bowls,” Ronon added quickly. “Communal.”
“Incredibly unsanitary,” Rodney declared. “I don’t recall seeing any spoons.”
“I don’t recall you complaining,” John hissed.
”Something wrong?” John asked when Rodney took a seat right next to him. They were pressed tightly against each other, sharing one of the thickly padded cushions that were scattered in the Gropmi ceremonial hall. The Gropmi themselves took seats all around, stripping off their clothes as soon as they sat.
“Um, Colonel...” Rodney began hesitantly. “Nakedness. Are we—
The head Gropmi answered Rodney’s unspoken question. “Please, make yourselves ready for the meal,” He said, staring pointedly at their clothing.
“Oh, we’re comfortable just like this,” John assured him. Ronon and Teyla nodded along with Rodney, none of them particularly wanting to remove their clothing.
The leader frowned. “You have to; it is not proper to eat while clothed.”
Several Gropmi glared at the team, pointing at their garments. “Ronon?” John queried. “Is this going to be a problem?”
Ronon thought for a moment before shrugging. “My people probably went along with it,” He admitted, reaching for the ties on his vest.
Rodney was planning on protesting, right up until he saw some very unhappy-looking, very naked Gropmi carrying large knives. They were edging along the wall, obviously aiming for the team. “Nudity or death, nudity or death...”
John caught his eye and nodded. “Alright,” He conceded, slipping his vest off. At least the Gropmi didn’t expect them to actually surrender their clothing; it was left in a neatly folded pile next to their seats.
Rodney squirmed and twisted until all his clothes were off. It wasn’t easy, particularly given his proximity to John, but Rodney managed nevertheless. Once naked, Rodney crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap, wishing he’d woken up with a stomach virus. Then he’d be in Atlantis, getting cooed over by the medical staff instead of stuck naked next to John, who was also naked, in some big ceremonial hall waiting for dinner to be served. Naked dinner, with a naked John who looked really good naked.
Over to the side, Ronon and Teyla were naked as well. They didn’t look nearly as uncomfortable as Rodney felt and he suspected it was a Pegasus Galaxy quirk. So far their missions hadn’t included any real nudity, but they hadn’t been here all that long, not compared to the years the SGC had been traversing their own galaxy. Rodney made a mental note to do some research about trade missions and nudity when they returned to Atlantis. He couldn’t recall all that many SG-1 missions focusing on trade; that had to have been the province of one or more of the other teams.
“Oh, look,” John said, drawing Rodney’s attention. “Food.”
“Where?” Rodney asked, even as he saw several very naked Gropmi carrying out large bowls. The dishes were scattered about; most contained a pale, creamy substance, while others held what looked like sliced-up fruit. A few smaller containers appeared, filled with what John guessed were sauces.
“I think I understand now,” John told Rodney, looking over at a pair of Gropmi. They were eating—with their hands. One hand scooped up the yogurt-like stuff, while the other held a piece of fruit. In the food went, bite after bite. Once in a while the eater would stick a finger in one of the sauce containers and smear it in the fruit, or the yogurt, or just on their skin.
Rodney stared at the bowl of fruit in front of himself and John. “Probably has citrus in it,” He muttered, scowling. “And this is barbaric.”
John reached for the fruit, pointedly ignoring Rodney’s grumbling. He tried several pieces, not finding anything remotely resembling citrus. “I think it’s safe,” He announced, pushing the bowl towards Rodney. “Tastes like pears and strawberries, mostly.”
Rodney gingerly tried one of the fruits, pleasantly surprised to find it did taste somewhat peachlike. After a few tentative bites, he gave up pretending to be neat and, like John, dug into the meal.
The yogurt was a bit sour for his tastes, but between the fruit and the sweet sauces it wasn’t all that bad. “Pretty good,” John said around a bite of something red and juicy. Rodney watched the liquid flow down John’s chin, mixing with all the other liquids that had dripped here and there. The yogurt stuff was pretty runny and it was impossible not to make a huge mess.
“Yeah,” Rodney agreed, turning away from the unexpectedly appealing sight of John quickly becoming covered in imminently lickable substances. He himself wasn’t escaping the meal unscathed; his arms, chest and legs were liberally speckled with dollops of creamy white, deep red and bright purple juices.
Looking at the Gropmi wasn’t any better, though, Rodney quickly discovered. Apparently they were a very friendly people. A few minutes ago they’d been merrily—but separately—consuming their finger foods. Now, however, they were writhing in pairs and small groups, smearing food all over each other and then licking it off. “Interactive eating,” Rodney commented with false calm. “I shouldn’t be surprised, should I?”
“Nope,” John said as he chewed on a piece of fruit. The nature of their meal hadn’t escaped him either. “I guess it fosters...”
“Friendship?” Rodney offered when John’s voice trailed off. “Communicable diseases?”
“Something like that, yeah,” John agreed. “That leader is staring at us again,” He noted.
“But not at Ronon and Teyla,” Rodney mumbled around a messy mouthful of yogurt. Indeed, John and Rodney were the only ones drawing any attention. Then again, they were the only ones not eating their meals off their dining companions. Teyla had gotten into the spirit of the feast and was merrily consuming something pink and green out of Ronon’s hand, her tongue darting out to catch stray bits of sauce as it dripped down his arm. Ronon didn’t look like he was in any pain, not at all.
“Think we’ll get in trouble if we don’t...participate?” John asked Rodney.
Rodney considered the situation. The knife-wielding men were still hanging around, although most of them were now distracted by their own foodplay. The leader too was busy, although he kept shooting them stern glares. The food wasn’t bad; far better than most of what they’d encountered in the galaxy so far. “They might decide we’re offending their tender sensibilities,” He told John, figuring if he was going to suffer, he was going to do it in style. Getting his hands on a naked John Sheppard was something Rodney thought would only happen in his dreams. Being practically ordered to lick the man from head to foot, well...Rodney wasn’t going to argue too strenuously.
Even if it was in public.
“Good,” John replied, just before a small handful of yogurt landed on Rodney’s chest with a wet slap. Rodney opened his mouth to protest, only to find himself flat on his back. John loomed over him, a small bowl of something green in one hand.
Rodney took in John’s predatory grin and felt a moment of concern. “What, precisely, do you plan to do with that?” He asked, eyes darting nervously between John’s face and the bowl.
John smirked. The bowl tilted and green stuff fell in a thin line on Rodney’s skin, drizzling down in swirling, abstract patterns. John discarded the bowl and dragged the container of fruit closer, settling down on his haunches. Rodney was trapped, his legs underneath John, so he couldn’t do anything but watch as a piece of fruit appeared in John’s hand. It landed high on his chest and John chased it, scooping up some of the yogurt-and-green-sauce mixture.
“Tasty,” John said as the fruit squished between his teeth. “Want some?”
Rodney swallowed hard. “I can take care of myself,” He replied sharply, his hand reaching blindly for the yogurt. John’s look of surprise as it flew onto his skin was gratifying, so Rodney added another handful. It dripped off John and onto him, bits of slightly-cool liquid feeling better than it should have on his heated skin. The fruit was close enough to grab so Rodney fumbled for a piece, scraping it along John’s torso.
He hadn’t expected the stuff to taste better having been in contact with someone else’s skin, but it did. Slightly warmer, a touch sweeter and a whole lot kinkier than simply eating it out of the bowl. “Good?” John asked softly, sliding a piece of fruit dangerously low on Rodney’s stomach.
“Needs some of the red stuff,” Rodney replied hoarsely, turning his head to find that particular container. He wondered if the food contained hallucinogens, or maybe some other psychotropic chemical. He was eating his supper off John Sheppard, who was happily doing the same off Rodney. Over to one side, Ronon had Teyla laid out like a buffet and Rodney was not watching.
“I hope this doesn’t stain,” Rodney told John, only half-meaning it, as he placed a bright red handprint on John’s shoulder. John grinned and shook his head, leaning down close enough that Rodney could feel his breath along one cheek.
“Doesn’t matter,” John whispered, holding himself steady as Rodney leaned up to taste the red juice. It was almost too sweet, needing the yogurt to cut its strength. Rodney ducked down, running his tongue up from a splotch of white and back into the red, humming happily as the flavors combined on his tongue.
After that things got a little blurry; John tumbled to one side and Rodney followed, skin slapping together and smearing food everywhere. John’s laughter was addictive and Rodney found himself fixated on a spot about four centimeters left of his navel, one so ticklish John quickly started begging him for mercy. When Rodney didn’t relent, John retaliated by pouring yogurt all down Rodney’s back and then tracing his fingers through it, licking them suggestively.
“Ahem,” Dr. Weir said, clearing her throat. “After the meal, you all reported that you were shown guest quarters.”
Teyla nodded affirmatively. “The Gropmi insisted that negotiations occur only in the morning, before midday. Accepting their hospitality overnight assured them of our good intentions.”
“Rodney and John, you didn’t mention much of anything else—their accommodations were ‘adequate’ and ‘primitive but functional’, their hospitality ‘friendly’ and ‘without obvious guile’,” Dr. Weir continued. “None of this is particularly enlightening.”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “We’ve been going on missions for how long now? After you’ve been through enough of these banquets and meet-and-greets, they all start to look the same.”
“What he said,” John mumbled, nodding at Rodney. “The bed was comfortable, the people were nice and not overly nosy, and nobody tried to kill us in our sleep.”
Dr. Weir’s expression didn’t relax any. “Still, you’re not being informative enough, Rodney. Usually your reports, while concise, also contain mentions of every foible your hosts express. Would the Gropmi be amenable to additional off world missions? We really do need new locations to send our people; they need time away from Atlantis.”
Rodney winced and tried desperately to think up a way to say ‘fuck no’ without raising her suspicions. Fortunately, Ronon stepped in to help.
“That probably won’t work,” Ronon told Dr. Weir. “From what I remember, the Gropmi are more open to active traders than anyone else.”
“They have an expectation of commerce and fruitful outcome,” Rodney said, picking up the argument, “Casual visits would be frowned upon as an abuse of their generosity. Unless we were constantly visiting to open additional, relevant and profitable trade negotiations, they would grow irate.”
Dr. Weir’s disappointment was palpable. “And they seem so pleasant in your reports.”
“Oh, they’re pleasant enough,” John promised her.
By the time the feast ended, Rodney was about to scream in frustration. He was unbearably turned on from all the touching, licking and sucking. Being practically forced to share space with an equally aroused John was just another layer of temptation Rodney had to endure without giving in, because they’d noticed during their meal that while the Gropmi were all for eating food off each other, nothing more intimate occurred.
“I hope the feast was to your liking,” The leader said as he stood over John and Rodney, still naked and sticky in places. Rodney refused to notice that the leader was not unaffected by the meal. It was one thing to be confronted with a sticky, fruity man brandishing an erection—and another thing entirely to take note of it.
“It was great,” John said, reaching for his clothes. “Really hit the spot.”
“Tomorrow we shall open negotiations. Until then, you will be given use of our finest guest quarters.” With that statement made, the leader retreated, leaving a pair of not particularly menacing guards to show them to their rooms.
Rodney wanted to get dressed, but a number of serving staff were already in the hall, making quick work of the cleanup process. John shoved Rodney’s clothes at him, using his own as a crude shield while they were herded out of the room.
“Is this how these things always go?” Rodney asked Ronon as they walked.
Ronon shrugged. “Probably.”
“Rodney, come on,” John ordered, standing by a doorway. They’d reached the guest quarters, where Ronon and Teyla were pointed in one direction, with John and Rodney nearby. “We get to share.”
Of course they got to share; Rodney expected nothing else. The Gropmi were very fond of fraternization. The concept of personal space probably had no linguistic equivalent in their native language. “There had better be a shower in here,” Rodney groused to the attendant. “I’m not going to sleep all sticky.”
The guard-attendant merely nudged John and Rodney into a small chamber. Inside they found a single, deep-looking bath, already filled with steaming water. One bench was submerged in the tub and a selection of toiletries sat nearby.
“I’ll go first,” Rodney declared, silently urging John to take his leave. “And I’ll be sure to leave a little hot water for you.”
“Gee, you’re all heart, Rodney,” John said, smirking. The guard wasn’t leaving, however, despite Rodney’s open glare.
“You should bathe together,” The man suggested. “It fosters companionship.”
“Ah,” Rodney muttered. “Companionship.”
“It is customary to bathe with the one who dined with you,” The guard explained.
Rodney glanced at John and then slid into the admittedly perfect bath. He knew his objection was mostly out of form; if he’d really had a problem with being naked around John, he wouldn’t have spent the last couple of hours eating his supper off the man. Rodney couldn’t help having lingering doubts, however. They’d gone on a lot of strange missions, but they’d never been encouraged to fool around before. It would be nice to be able to look John in the eye when they returned to Atlantis.
John joined him in the bath, sighing as the warm water began dissolving layers of dried food. Being used as a living plate wasn’t so bad when it was actually going on, but dried yogurt-stuff itched like crazy and the fruit juices were unpleasantly sticky to boot.
After a couple of minutes, the guard was satisfied that Rodney and John were going to continue to be appropriately cozy together, so he slipped out the door. “I suppose there’s an upside to all this...sharing,” John murmured, reaching for some soap.
“And what would that be?” Rodney asked, his knees bumping into John as he went after what looked like shampoo. John had gotten a bright orange sauce in Rodney’s hair and it felt really weird, all plastered to his scalp and drying into a leathery shell.
“Little risk of violence,” John replied, dunking his head underwater.
“Maybe,” Rodney conceded, handing John the shampoo. “You’ve got yuuki in your hair.”
“So do you,” John pointed out. “Although you have to wonder if there’s a problem with jealousy. What if you have dinner on the wrong person? Could you get in some kind of trouble?”
“I’d rather not find out,” Rodney told him, rinsing away the last of the sticky stuff on his head. “Hand me the soap.”
Rodney had his hand out, waiting for the bar of soap, but instead of receiving it he got John’s hands on his skin. Rich, thick lather spread slickly up his arm and across his shoulder as John swiped at the remnants of their meal, fingers hitting the ticklish spots he’d located earlier. When Rodney opened his mouth, John intercepted the complaint with a comment of his own.
“Interactive dining, interactive bathing,” He murmured, locating and cleaning away a daub of red on Rodney’s throat. “I think the point is to do this together.”
“Right,” Rodney choked out, wondering if this was the moment at which a team of trained assassins was supposed to burst into the bathing room. John was shifting closer, legs twining in Rodney’s as he tried to maneuver in the bath. It was a close space, barely enough for two adults of their size. The closeness necessitated skin contact and that had to be why John was now sitting in Rodney’s lap, arms wrapped around Rodney’s chest to lather up his back.
John couldn’t have possibly reached that spot on his own body, so Rodney lent a helping hand. Altruism had to have been the motivation when Rodney ran his hands up John’s thighs and around to his ass, making sure to leave behind no trace of sticky, slimy supper. Surely it was only friendly helpfulness that had John tightening his legs around Rodney’s waist, pushing their achingly hard cocks together.
By the time John leaned in and tentatively kissed him, Rodney was sure the Gropmi were the best people in the entire galaxy.
“So nothing happened during the course of the evening to suggest any ulterior motive on the part of the Gropmi,” Dr. Weir asked, eyeing each of them in turn. “Remember the Utcomians; they seemed nice—until they offered to roast Dr. McKay on a spit.”
“No one suggested spitting McKay,” John told her. “They just gave us big, comfy beds and told us to have a nice evening.”
“The lack of excitement was a pleasant surprise,” Teyla admitted. Dr. Weir didn’t see Ronon smirk, since she was focused on Teyla’s response. “Once we were shown our quarters, they left us alone until morning.”
“Yep,” John agreed, “Just a nice, quiet night. Almost boring, really. Not an intrigue or a death threat to be found.”
“Damn it, don’t stop.”
John lifted his head from Rodney’s stomach. “Don’t stop what?” He asked, his expression just a little too innocent.
“Sucking me, Colonel,” Rodney growled, trying to thrust against John’s weight. “Tease.”
“Okay,” John said, pressing his open mouth to Rodney’s hip. He sucked lightly, then scraped his teeth along the sensitized skin. “That better?”
Rodney groaned. “I’m going to kill you,” He swore. Well, if John didn’t kill him first. “My cock, Colonel. Suck my cock.”
John looked up at Rodney again. “Say my name,” He ordered, edging up Rodney’s body. “My name, Rodney. Say it.”
Rodney’s eyes had slid shut when he started demanding-begging for John to finish him off. Now they snapped open, catching John’s gaze. “John,” He began, licking his lip. “Please.”
John nodded once and then moved back down, swallowing Rodney’s cock to the root.
Rodney screamed, not thinking once about whether the walls were soundproof. John sucked harder, sliding up until only the head remained on his tongue. Then he sank back down, reveling in the sound of Rodney pleading, calling his name, begging for relief.
Then he stopped again. “Hey!” Rodney protested as John rocked back on his heels. “Nonono, you don’t get to stop again; that’s just cruel!” He was so close and John was a sadist. This wasn’t fair, not when Rodney was about to go cross-eyed from wanting to come.
John narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, hovering over Rodney’s trembling body. “Fuck me,” He hissed, nudging Rodney’s cock with his own.
Rodney stopped complaining.
“So basically...” Dr. Weir began, obviously wrapping up the meeting.
Rodney finished for her. “The Gropmi are friendly, easygoing and have deplorable eating habits. They’re amenable to trade and nice to their trade partners but wouldn’t make a good Club Med. As I stated in my report, I think we should trade them for fresh fruits and selected dairy products, though it would be in our best interests to set up some sort of pasteurization system.”
“Yeah,” John concurred, nodding. “They seem very nice.”
Ronon and Teyla also nodded their agreement. “Well then, I suppose we’re finished,” Dr. Weir conceded. “Teyla, you may want to discuss a possible trade agreement between the Gropmi and the Athosians.”
Teyla’s eyes widened briefly. “My people may be interested,” She replied quickly.
“If we’re done here,” Rodney groused, “I’ve got more important things to do.” He stood to leave, barely missing running into John’s chair as he stood.
Dr. Weir sighed. “Yes, but Rodney? Next time, please write a more thorough report. Usually you include far more information than you did in this one. As you well know, it is very difficult to make informed decisions without adequate data.” When John smirked at the reprimand, she spoke again. “The same goes for all of you.”
The team, duly chastised, fled Elizabeth’s office. Ronon left in a near-run, obviously going to the sparring room. Teyla wasn’t far behind. “They’re in an awfully big hurry,” John said as he watched them go. “Wonder what that’s about?”
“Dunno,” Rodney said, shrugging. He looked over at the ‘gate and the team that was gathering nearby. “You know...”
“Hmm?” John hummed, tapping his fingers on the rail.
“I’ve got some of those yuuki samples in my lab.”
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-28 02:21 pm (UTC)Is it a bad thing that I now actually think of the team in the form of two couples instead of four individuals?
lds