sga_flashfic | Opposable Thumbs by sgamadison

sgamadison.livejournal.com posting in

Story Title: Opposable Thumbs
Author: sgamadison
Prompt: Animal, vegetable, mineral
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: PG-13
spoilers: none
word count: ~6,000

Summary: John really thought they needed to rethink the whole 'no pets' policy

My delighted thanks to

the_cephalopod for the quick and dirty beta job--you're an angel!

A/N: My first posting to this community. I *really* am trying to write shorter stories. Really. Truly. *hangs head in shame*

Oddly enough, it was Ronon who first noticed the problem.

“What’s up with McKay?” he asked, stabbing a stack of syrup-soaked pancakes with his fork and managing to fold three of them into his mouth without choking. Sometimes, John thought, Ronon was his hero. Ronon took a big swig of milk and swallowed. “He’s been pretty quiet lately, for McKay.”

John stopped watching with admiration as Ronon polished his plate and frowned. He was right; Rodney had been unusually reticent lately. Both he and Ronon turned to look at Teyla.

Teyla looked up under the weight of their stares. John raised a ‘well?’ eyebrow at her and watched her sigh as she went back to spooning some cantaloupe out of its rind. The pungent, sweet odor of the melon wafted across the table to John and he found himself thinking maybe he should go back through the line and get some before it was all gone.

Teyla ate her mouthful of melon delicately and then tipped her spoon in John’s direction. “You could ask him yourself.” She sounded faintly reproving, but then she often did when speaking to John of more personal matters, like he hadn’t been paying attention to his lessons again.

John grinned and leaned back, sliding one elbow behind him to brace himself against the top of the chair. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that? I would just get the ‘nothing, nothing, everything’s fine, why do you ask’ answer.” The hand resting on the back of the chair lazily mimed the motion of Rodney’s hands during speech. Ronon snorted.

John could tell that Teyla really wanted to thump her head repeatedly on the table, but instead she laid down her spoon. She seemed to come to some sort of internal decision. “Rodney received word from Earth that his cat is very sick.” The look Teyla shot him was ‘be nice, or else’. John was a little hurt that she thought she had to warn him how to behave.

“Oh.” He reached out to toy with his fork, even though he had finished eating. “That’s too bad.” He recalled with laser sharp clarity the summer he’d been sent to camp only to return home to the absence of old Buddy. His father had put the dog down while John was gone without a word, without letting him know or letting him say goodbye. It was the last dog John ever had.

“I don’t get it,” Ronon frowned, wiping up the last of the syrup with some bread and then licking his fingers. “Pets are for kids. Why would a grown man have a pet?”

Teyla gave John a look that plainly said this was why she didn’t want to bring up the subject in the first place and went back to eating. John shrugged, looking for an answer that would satisfy Ronon.

“Well, it’s different on Earth. We don’t live in the same village our whole lives.” John paused, struggling for the right words. “We don’t stay with our extended families. More of us live alone. Some people just like having animals around.” He shrugged again.

“Do you have a pet back on Earth?” Ronon’s eyebrow suggested he would be surprised if John said ‘yes’.

John shook his head. “I’ve been in the service for nearly 20 years now. I never knew where I’d be posted next or how long I’d be gone. It wasn’t fair to an animal, not to mention I’d have had to arrange for someone to take care of it.” He started to add that it had hardly been fair to his wife, but he didn’t want to open that can of worms.

“Did you have a pet when you were growing up, Ronon?” Teyla looked suddenly mischievous and young.

Ronon’s expression softened. “Yeah. I had a weeble.”

“A weeble!” Teyla nearly shrieked, causing heads in the mess to turn in their direction. She let out a peal of laughter. “Ronon, they have vicious tempers, they smell bad and they have poisonous spines along their backs!”

“Yeah,” Ronon gave a sheepish grin. “I loved that sucker.” He glanced over at John, suddenly scowling, daring him to make a comment.

“Anyway, Rodney is not the only one here who left a pet back on Earth,” Teyla continued, still smiling broadly. “Elizabeth, for example, has a dog.”

John knew that, remembered the photo on the corner of Elizabeth’s desk of a large white dog with a laughing expression as it looked into the camera. He hadn’t realized that the photo was of a current pet.

“So how come you guys didn’t bring your pets with you?” Ronon asked, pushing his empty tray to one side and leaning back in his chair.

“We couldn’t. Not allowed.” John hadn’t given it much thought before, but he remembered hearing Rodney complain about it once; he just hadn’t been paying much attention at the time. “There was something about rabbits in Australia and not wanting to introduce animals from Earth into Pegasus. Something about not leaving a big ecological footprint.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s not like you people from Earth haven’t already made big enough footprints here as it is.”

John flashed a look up sharply at Ronon but he didn’t find censure in the other man’s expression, only a wry acknowledgement of the truth of his statement.

“Yeah,” John drawled, “but think what it would have been like if we’d brought cats.”

****

John had pretty much put the conversation out of his head until he ran into Rodney in the hallway later that day. “Hey,” he said awkwardly, stopping Rodney when he would have bustled back off to the lab. “Teyla told us about your cat. I’m sorry, buddy.”

Rodney’s mouth dropped open, as though in shock that Teyla would betray a confidence, and then closed with a snap that would make an alligator proud. He stood glaring at John, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Well, go on, say it.”

John felt his eyebrows twist in confusion. “Say what?”

“Tell me that he’s hardly my cat anymore, I mean, seriously, I haven’t seen him in nearly three years. Tell me that he’s close to eighteen and has lived a good long life and that I should just have him put down. Tell me that he’s just a stupid cat for god’s sake.” Rodney folded his arms across his chest and lifted his chin towards John.

John’s head jerked backwards as though he’d been slapped. “Jeez, Rodney. Why the hell would you think I’d say something like that?” John narrowed his own eyes in response. “Hey.” He leaned forward, close enough so he could poke Rodney in the chest. “Has someone been saying that crap to you? Because whoever it is, don’t listen to that asshole, Rodney.”

Rodney’s arms fell to his sides and he dropped his head. When he looked up again, his expression was slightly watery, his smile tight. “Yes, as a matter of fact, someone has. Only the asshole is me.”

John gave a sigh. Where was Teyla when you needed her? “Come with me,” he said, turning on his heel and moving down the hallway. He glanced back over his shoulder to where Rodney continued to stand, transfixed in the hallway. “McKay,” he snapped, jerking his head towards the corridor. He didn’t look back this time as he headed for the nearest balcony.

The doors opened at his approach and he took a deep breath of the salt air as he stepped out onto the sunny decking, a balmy breeze lifting the forelock of his hair. God, he loved it here. He went over to the rail and gripped it with both hands, leaning into it and propping one boot against the lower railing.

“I can’t stay out here long,” Rodney said as he joined John at the rail. “I’m not wearing the really strong sunscreen today.”

John folded his lips over his teeth in an effort not to laugh and ended up sticking his tongue out between them before pulling it back into his mouth with a little sucking smack of sound. Rodney glared at him, but had a smile pulling at his lips as he reached out and pushed at John’s shoulder.

“I’m glad you find me so amusing,” Rodney said dryly.

“Me too,” John agreed simply. “So what’s wrong with your cat, aside from being really, really old.”

“He’s in kidney failure. But he has been for a while. Cats deal with that sort of thing pretty well, they can dink around on bad kidneys for a long time.” The smile faded and Rodney turned to look out over the sea.

“But not this time?” John suggested.

“He’s bounced back so many times before that it seems silly not to give him the chance, but Amy, that’s my neighbor, says his kidney values are sky high and he’s not eating.” Rodney pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know I should just have him put to sleep.”

“Do you need to go back to Earth and deal with this personally?”

“God, no.” Rodney flashed a look at John, eyes wide with either horror or surprise, John wasn’t sure which. “No. No, I don’t. But um, thank you just the same. No, I just need to make a decision and tell Amy what to do.”

“Well,” John began uneasily, “if there is anything I can do, you know, to help in anyway…” He trailed off helplessly.

Rodney cleared his throat. “No, really. I appreciate your concern, Colonel, but there is really nothing anyone can do. I, um, need to be heading back to the lab now.” Rodney made vague, over-the-shoulder motions at the door and John waved him off. He stood at the rail for several long moments after Rodney left before he sighed and re-entered the building himself.

****

Over the next few days, John found himself asking people about their pets, past and present. He learned that Elizabeth’s dog was named Sedgewick and that her face became both happy and sad when she described some of the silly things the dog had done over the years. He found out that Radek Zelenka kept racing pigeons that he was very fond of when he was a boy. Lt. Cadman had a Labrador staying with her parents that she missed very much. “Good running partner,” she’d said with a little shrug, when asked. Dr. Biro had left behind a salt water aquarium, which she began describing in great detail to John until he’d faked a call over the radio and pled an emergency in the control room. Miko Kusanagi showed him pictures of her cats and one of the biologists unexpectedly pulled a lab rat out of a pocket. “They make terrific pets,” she’d crooned over the fuzzy white head.

“Yeah, except for that whole bubonic plague thing.” John looked askance at the small creature twitching its whiskers at him from its perch on the biologist’s shoulder. “Um, don’t take it out of the lab, okay?” Maybe the guys at the SGC had a point about ecological footprints, but it did seem to John if you were going to bring your own mice and rats with you to another galaxy, it was only prudent to bring a couple of cats as well. But then again, these were the same guys that had sent the expedition to Atlantis without any zats. Nada. Zippo. Not a single one. What were they thinking?

The morning of their mission to Seldar (“M3K-613” Rodney persisted in calling it, even when no one else did) Rodney was late to the Gateroom. When he arrived, his eyes were suspiciously red and his mouth tighter than usual. Deciding that saying nothing would be probably be worse than behaving as usual, John drawled, “So good of you to join us, McKay,” as Chuck dialed the gate.

Rodney merely curled his lip with a ‘bite me,’ expression, but remained silent.

The mission itself would seem to have been a rousing success, judging by the jocularity of the town leaders as the trade negotiations wound down for the evening. The planet boasted a mineral that had properties similar enough to naquadah to make it a profitable resource—Rodney was sure that with some refinement, he and Zelenka could make it work in the naquadah-based equipment they’d brought with them from Earth, provided they could solve the whole unstable-and-potentially-volatile compound problem. John thought even if they couldn’t, there might be the potential for some bomb-making material here.

The only sticky point had come when the Seldarians unexpectedly declined the offer of medical supplies and equipment in trade. “We are given to understand that you have a source of tormack,” the Seldarian leader, Rygan, said hopefully.

They almost blew the deal there. Ronon had stiffened like a Rottweiler on seeing someone reach for his bone and Rodney was obviously torn between the lure of new resources verses the power of tormack over his stomach. Even Teyla had looked moderately unhappy, though perhaps that was just because she knew how Rodney and Ronon felt about the odd, purple tuber that had become a staple of diet on Atlantis.

“We do not actually grow tormack ourselves,” Teyla had interjected at last, when John hadn’t really known what to say. “But perhaps an introduction to our suppliers can be part of our trade agreement.”

Rygan had beamed happily and John now felt like he was a drug dealer. He’d been relieved when they’d received the ‘hour is late and you should stay the night and enjoy our local customs’ speech. Too much negotiation made his head hurt. Rodney had gone off on a tour of the power plant—his guide promising to bring him back in time for dinner. Ronon had acknowledged John’s silent order and joined Rodney’s party while John and Teyla had been escorted to the guest suites.

John’s room was sumptuous, as fitting his role as leader, he’d been informed. The quarters were light and airy, with ceiling fans turning lazily overhead. Sunlight slanted in the room from shuttered windows; the wooden floors gleamed and smelled of some sort of rich wax. Outside, a balcony overlooked a busy city street, the sights and sounds of which reminded John of the open air markets of Cairo. Mosquito netting surrounded the large bed, but the electricity generated by the planet’s mineral deposits also supplied the power needed to run a small fridge in the corner of the room. John opened it to find ice-cold drinks within. Just like a mini-bar. Sweet. Now all he needed was a television and some football.

“The rest of your team will be housed in the soldiers barracks,” Rygan’s assistant, Kelgin, stated as John tossed down his pack.

“No,” he said with a sigh, hoisting his pack back up again, “I don’t think so.”

“Colonel,” Teyla began, but John interrupted, as Kelgin looked worriedly at them both.

“No, Teyla.” He turned to Kelgin. “We’ll all stay together.” To Teyla he said, “We’ll never hear the end of it, otherwise.”

“Are you saying you do not trust us?” Kelgin’s voice rose in anxious pitch, reminding John of Rodney in a similar state. “It is customary for the leader to stay in our finest accommodations. Are you saying that these rooms are not good enough?”

Teyla, bless her heart, intervened. “We neither intend insult nor are insulted by your offerings,” she said smoothly. “The Colonel prefers not to be given special privileges, that is all.”

“To be housed with your companions is unacceptable,” Kelgin frowned. “Either we will seem to be slighting you or you will be viewed as an unfit leader.”

“Great,” John grumbled.

“Kelgin,” Teyla said thoughtfully. “Our customs would require that some equal measure of respect be shown to Dr. McKay, as befitting his status within our community. Would it be possible for Dr. McKay to share quarters here with the Colonel while Ronon and I take rooms in the soldiers barracks?” She quelled any objections John might have raised with a single glance in his direction.

Kelgin thought about this a moment and then his expression lightened. “I believe that would be perfectly acceptable. I will make the necessary arrangements.” He made a little bow and left the room.

“Teyla…” John began.

She merely smiled at him. “This way, you are not completely isolated from the rest of us. Ronon and I will not mind being housed with the soldiers, whereas Rodney, I believe, would. It is an acceptable compromise.”

John had to agree with her logic. He dropped his pack near the door and headed over to the balcony, opening the slatted, wooden doors wide enough to step outside. Below the streets thronged with people, moving in a colorful swirl of noise as sellers cried out the value of their wares and herdsmen shepherded their livestock down the narrow streets, the bleating of the animals competing with the shouts of the vendors. The odor of meat pies and fresh bread drifted up from below, making his stomach growl. He turned back to look at Teyla.

“We’ve got some time to kill before dinner,” he said with a grin. “How about we hit the market?”

****

Dinner would appear to have been a rousing success as well. Ronon and Rodney met back up with them at the banquet hall, passing their gear off to Kelgin’s people and joining everyone else in the feast laid out before them. Rodney spoke enthusiastically of the power plant and some of the interesting adaptations the Seldarians had made—of a centralized ‘panic button’ that would cut power to the lights of the city but nothing else, while at the same time sending out a siren in warning of an impending Wraith attack. “Just like an air raid in London. They even hold drills,” Rodney had beamed in approval and Rygan had beamed back.

The food was delicious with a wide variety of curries and dishes that seemed both Indian and Ethiopian in flavor; including some little crunchy batter-fried things that John could swear were calamari. John explained the citrus thing of Rodney’s and Rygan’s people could not have been more accommodating. The Seldarians were pleasant people. It had been a pleasant day. John let himself relax just a little, watching his team enjoy themselves, becoming expansive under the warm glow of good food and wine.

Rodney became more than expansive, he became astonishingly drunk. The Seldarians made a potent wine out of a white berry that grew wild on the surrounding mountain side. Rodney had a glass of the golden beverage in his hand almost the entire evening, the liquid glowing in the lamplight as he swung the glass around with his speech, threatening to slosh the contents over the brim more than once.

Who knew that Rodney had such a nice voice? Or that he would unabashedly lead the people of Seldar in a stirring rendition of Queen’s “We Will Rock You”, complete with the foot stomp-stomp-handclap thing. Or that Ronon had a powerful baritone that blended well with Rodney’s tenor as they segued into “We Are the Champions”? The Seldarians cheered and clapped and joined in on the chorus.

“Although,” John said to Teyla in an aside as the two of them assisted Rodney and Ronon out the door at the end of the evening, “if he breaks into ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, I might have to hurt him.”

“Pink Floyd,” Teyla said in a clipped voice. “Dark Side of the Moon. We were on Tarnak and you sang every verse of…”

“That was different,” John began, until he remembered he’d been slightly stoned at the time. Which, of course, was why Pink Floyd had come to his mind. Hey, it wasn’t his fault that the incense used by the people of Tarnak had hallucinatory effects on people with the ATA gene.

“You know some good songs, McKay.” Ronon clapped Rodney on the back as Teyla led him away into the barracks, the force of his blow almost knocking Rodney to his knees.

“Ow,” Rodney complained owlishly, crawling his way up John’s body in order to stand upright again. “What’d I do to piss him off?”

“That’s just Ronon’s way of being friendly, buddy.” John stifled a laugh.

He wasn’t laughing when they got to the VIP suite and discovered Kelgin hadn’t merely moved Rodney’s things to the same building, he’d moved Rodney into John’s room. Rodney had already been sick twice on the walk back to the room and was now perilously close to passing out. It was late; John didn’t have the energy to go hunting down Kelgin now and get the mix-up straightened out, so he hauled Rodney up the stairs and into their room.

Rodney broke free of his support and staggered into the small bathroom, turning on the light and retching again. John opened the balcony doors to let in some fresh air and untied the mosquito netting so that it came down on three sides. The light of the moons outside filled the room with a glowing, greenish light, so much so that John didn’t bother with turning on a lamp. In the bathroom, he could hear the sound of running water. Rodney came out of the bathroom and stumbled towards the bed, weaving a little as he shed clothes in the process. He got one arm stuck as he attempted to pull it out of the sleeve and over his head at the same time, causing him to tug on his clothing and follow his arm around in circle until John stopped him.

“Here, let me help.” John caught him by the shoulder and peeled the shirt the rest of the way off, ruffling up Rodney’s hair as he did so. Rodney grinned at him, looking ridiculously young. John assisted Rodney out of his boots and pants as well.

“Thanks. You’re an officer and a gentleman,” Rodney enunciated his words with great care and then blinked at John. “Oh hey. Hey, John. Colonel. You really are. An officer and a gentleman.” He leaned in to pat John on the shoulders with both hands, grinning like a loon. The odor of mouthwash assailed his nostrils. Rodney turned away and crawled into the bed, sprawling sideways across it, collapsing facedown.

“You better not have used my toothbrush,” John said sourly. Rodney didn’t move. With a sigh, John made use of the bathroom himself. He stripped down efficiently to his tee-shirt and shorts and then turned off the light, stepping back into the main room.

When he came out, Rodney was still in the same position. John admired the view briefly. There was a few moments of struggle to get Rodney lined up in the bed appropriately and under the light covering, and then John pulled down the rest of the netting, tucking it into place and fervently hoping Rodney was done with being sick for the night. With another sigh, John raised his left arm over his head, tucking it in behind his pillow, staring at the ceiling.

Rodney suddenly rolled over on his side to face him, eyes luminous in the light of the moons. “I had my cat put to sleep today.”

“Yeah,” John said quietly. He turned his head so he could look at Rodney. “I figured that out. I’m sorry, buddy.”

“He was a good cat.”

“Yeah.” There didn’t seem to be much more he could say and he waited Rodney out, sure that he would fall asleep momentarily.

“I had him for a long time. I’ve known him longer than I’ve known most people. I took him everywhere with me. He even went to Siberia and Antarctica.” Rodney was silent for a long moment and then he sighed. “It was nice having him around, you know? He would lie on my desk and play with my papers. He would sleep with me in bed. He seemed to know when to bug me and when to leave me alone. He seemed to like me.” There was another long pause. “I mean, I know it was only that I had opposable thumbs and was the source of all cat food, but it was nice. The feeling of being wanted and needed by something, you know?”

John was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. “You’re wanted and needed, Rodney.”

“Yeah,” Rodney snorted, “for what I can do. Not for who I am.”

“Rodney,” John said a little helplessly.

“It’s okay, Colonel.” Rodney closed his eyes and rolled over on his other side. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

Sometime during the night, Rodney rolled over again and plastered himself up against John, his hand sliding up John’s neck and into his hair. John woke instantly at the first touch and held his breath at the intimacy of Rodney’s hand. Rodney’s fingers began a slow and gentle stritching against his scalp. John felt his eyes flutter half-closed for an instant before he reminded himself that Rodney was drunk.

“Rodney?” he said softly.

“Nice kitty,” Rodney murmured, patting him on the head.

****

The next morning, Rodney was insufferable. He groaned and winced at the sunlight pouring into the room, whenever John spoke, at the knock on the door. The person at the door proved to be Kelgin bearing a glass on a tray.

“I believe a ‘morning after’ beverage is required for Dr. McKay,” he said solemnly, but not hiding the twinkle in his eye. John forebore telling him that in his culture, that phrase had different connotations.

Rodney took the glass suspiciously but sat on the edge of the bed, sipping carefully after John explained it should cure his hangover. And surprisingly, it did. Rodney was at least looking and sounding more human by the time they went down to breakfast.

After they ate, John pulled Teyla aside and told her that he was going to make a quick run into the market and he would catch up with them later. Teyla said nothing, but raised an eyebrow. John felt like a kid playing hooky from school as he made his way back to the stall he had seen the night before.

“How much for that one? The cage too.” John pointed at the creature chittering in the cage at him. It was a handsome animal, body built like a primate but with a small, foxy face and little pointed ears. Its coat was a deep, rich mahogany in color with black points on its muzzle, ears and paws, its black tail curling protectively around it body where it sat on the perch of the cage. It clutched the bars of the cage with tiny, almost human-like hands and stared at him with a keen intelligence. It was exactly what he wanted. He negotiated with the seller for a while, haggling furiously until he ended up with the animal, a small bag of food and the cage, leaving behind his watch and his favorite knife with the vendor.

“No returns or refunds,” the man said, as John picked up the cage and walked away.

“Where have you been?” Rodney hissed as he slid into his place at the negotiation table twenty minutes later.

“Had an errand.”

“Where’s your watch?”

John raised an eyebrow at Rodney. Who’d have thought he’d have noticed a little detail like that? “Lost it,” he said succinctly.

John promptly forgot all about the purchase he’d made as he delved once again into the intricacies of Seldarian negotiation. He didn’t even remember it when they broke for lunch. Rodney recalled something in their rooms that he wanted to get and headed back, planning to meet up with the team later.

He didn’t even remember it when Rodney began shrieking into the radio headset. “Sheppard! Our rooms! An intruder! Come at once!”

John took off at a dead run, weapon in hand, Ronon and Teyla close behind. As they pelted up the stairs, they could hear the sound of smashing glass and the shouts of Rodney in an incoherent rage. John gave a little internal sigh of relief at hearing Rodney’s voice. He motioned Ronon to take the other side of the door and then the two of them burst into the room, Teyla covering the hall.

What greeted them was the sight of a small angry creature racing from one cabinet to another, hurling items down at Rodney, who was alternating between ducking under one arm and shaking a finger at the animal while bellowing in his best father-knows-best voice that the animal had better stop behaving like that at once.

“Shoot it! Shoot it!” he yelled on seeing Ronon and John. He pointed a finger at the animal, hand trembling with rage. The creature sneered, baring sharp white teeth and flung some sort of brown material at Rodney. It landed with a splatter on the center of his chest and John realized it was feces. Ronon raised his gun to take aim and John shouldered him aside.

“No!” he shouted, “It’s Rodney’s pet!”

“What?” Ronon looked at him like he was crazy.

“What?” Rodney shrieked. “Are you insane? That incubus doesn’t belong to me!” Another shot of feces made its way to land on the side of Rodney’s neck. He snarled, breathing heavily through his nose as he wiped the fetid brown waste off his neck and flung it to the floor.

“Um, yes it does. It’s a gift.” John winced as another volley of poop hit the side of Rodney’s face with deadly accuracy. The animal chattered and pumped a tiny fist up and down in something that looked astonishingly like a victory dance. John glanced involuntarily at the cage, where the door stood open, the small twist of metal used to secure the latch obviously removed by clever little fingers.

Rodney wheeled to face John. His face became alarmingly red. “You did this? What in god’s name possessed you to buy this…this…this hellspawn!” Rodney pointed at the animal bobbing and weaving from the top of the wardrobe and then ducked as a portable alarm clock flew at his head.

John gave an embarrassed shrug. “I thought you needed a pet.”

“A pet.” Rodney still sounded like a boiler that was about to blow. “You thought I needed a pet. You thought I needed a pet that was vicious and vindictive and had temper tantrums like a two year old and to show its displeasure threw shit at everything in its path, is that right?” Rodney’s voice rose with every word until he was shouting. “What made you think I could possibly want a pet like that?”

“Similar personalities?” Ronon volunteered. From the doorway, Teyla gave a little yelp of laughter. John couldn’t help it; he started to laugh as well.

“That’s not funny!” Rodney yelled.

“Aw come on, Rodney, yeah it is. Just a little, you know it is.” John was still laughing when something warm, wet and smelly landed in his hair. In his hair, for god’s sake. He stood open mouthed in shock until the odor hit him. “Oh. Oh that’s just…oh.” He gagged, bending over and hitting the side of his head until the worst of the poop plopped on the floor.

Behind him, Ronon roared with laughter. John looked up to see Rodney laughing as well, bent over on his hands and knees, whooping with merriment. John took a determined step towards him before another round of feces landed squarely on his thigh. “Cut that out, you little weasel!” John lifted the P-90 towards the animal.

“No, wait,” Teyla intervened, amusement clearly in her voice. “This is a Moorkan. Some people believe them to be sentient. They are certainly are not meant to be kept as pets.” Teyla crossed the room quickly, so as not to draw fire, and opened the doors to the balcony. “Please,” she said to the creature, indicating the open doors. “You are free to go.”

The animal huffed in a manner very reminiscent of Rodney, which drew another chortle of laughter from Ronon before it hopped down from the wardrobe and made its way with alacrity towards the balcony, where it disappeared over the rail in a flash. “I hope you did not spend too much purchasing that creature, John.” Teyla was highly amused.

John felt like all kinds of an idiot. And he reeked too. “Rodney and I will need to shower and change before we return to the negotiation table this afternoon,” John sighed, avoiding Teyla’s question. “If you could explain the delay?”

“Yes, and I will have someone clean up the mess here or have your things moved to another room,” Teyla’s expression was serene once more, but John could tell she was smiling on the inside.

Rodney groused the whole way to the communal shower room, demanding bags in which to deposit their soiled clothing, bitching about the fact that VIP quarters didn’t extend to private showers, expressing disbelief and outrage that John could have been so stupid.

John apologized once, and then said nothing more. He stripped off his smelly clothing and stuffed it into the bag provided by the staff, opening his kit and grabbing his soap and shampoo before stepping into the shower stall. The bank of showers was arranged in a series of cubicles that partitioned off each shower area from shoulder to knee. John turned the knob on full blast, shoving his head under the steaming water right away. He lathered up and rinsed his hair three times, concentrating on the water and letting it drown out Rodney’s complaints from the other side of the partition.

Until Rodney’s “hello?” and his angry finger snap, caught his attention.

“What?” John frowned, turning his back to the spray and rolling his neck into it. He slicked his hair back with both hands.

“I said, I forgot my shampoo. I need to borrow yours.” Under the partition, John could see the impatient tap-tap-tap of Rodney’s foot. That shouldn’t have been endearing, but somehow it was. John handed over the shampoo, their slick fingers meeting and brushing over the top of the partition.

“Thanks.” Rodney’s voice sounded muffled under the running water.

They exited the showers at roughly the same time, Rodney in the act of winding his towel around his waist as he came around the corner of the partition. He froze momentarily on seeing John, his eye flicking over him briefly before turning away. He picked up a second towel and began scrubbing at his hair.

John dried himself with his own towel, wrapping it around his waist. He then cleared his throat. “I bought him because he was handsome and I could tell he was smart.”

Rodney looked up then, pausing in the act of drying his hair, towel dropping to his neck. He looked like a startled, downy chick. “What?”

“The Moorkan. The creature. Whatever. I thought you would like a smart animal.” John looked steadily at Rodney.

“Oh.” Rodney looked a little stunned for a moment and then said, “Well, yes, I think smart animals are more interesting.”

“And I wanted you to know that you were wanted and needed. That you were liked and appreciated. For who you are as opposed to what you could do.”

Rodney gripped the ends of the towel around his neck and appeared to be studying his toes, which were wiggling thoughtfully. “Well. Yes. That was very nice of you. I…I thank you for thinking of me.”

It wasn’t his imagination; the front of Rodney’s towel was starting to tent with the filling of his cock. Any moment now, Rodney was likely to turn away, embarrassed at the response of his own body. Rodney gave a little laugh, half-turning as he spoke, reaching for his clean clothing. “For future reference though, keep in mind that whole ‘no opposable thumbs’ thing.”

John took another step forward. Now he was close enough to feel the heat radiating off Rodney’s body, to see the tiny beads of water on his shoulders and smell the heady scent of Rodney’s damp skin mingled with the smell of John’s own shampoo. “Just so you know, opposable thumbs have their uses, Rodney.” John’s voice sounded gravely to himself and Rodney’s eyes snapped up to meet his own, turning suddenly dark at the expression he met there. He straightened, clothes abandoned, abdominal muscles tightening as John reached forward and brushed his fingers along the top edge of Rodney’s towel.

“We’ve got a meeting,” Rodney said, stepping in closer to John until their hands were trapped against each other’s abdomen. Rodney’s hips began to sway infinitesimally. John leaned in until his lips were brushing Rodney’s, his fingers beginning to loosen Rodney’s towel.

“We can be late.”

~fin~.

Current Mood: anxious

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Oh, poor Rodney! *misses all my past kitties and hugs my current one* But at least he has John and John's hair and John's misguided attempt at getting him a new pet. *happy sigh* Perfect!

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