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Rodney Gets Lei'd
by astolat

"Wait, what was that?" Rodney said, blinking, but it was too late, and Colonel Sheppard was already into the transporter and gone.

Rodney thought about tracking him down and demanding more of an explanation, but then he realized that was possibly a very very bad and terrible idea, and also would be extremely difficult if Sheppard wanted to avoid him, which obviously he did given the running-away-via-transporter stunt, which in fact suggested that the—the thing—had been a momentary aberration of some kind that they would now mutually pretend had never happened and shortly forget. Having reassured himself on these points, Rodney got some more coffee and went back to the lab.

The next morning at breakfast, he coolly greeted the colonel and sat down opposite him, determinedly normal, and then jumped halfway out of his chair. Sheppard was calmly pouring milk over his cornflakes, looking totally and deceptively innocent, like he hadn't just— "What—but—you—" Rodney managed, trying to pull his legs back under his chair, but then Ronon and Teyla sat down at the table with them, and obviously he couldn't talk in front of them.

He stared across the table the whole rest of the meal, unable to eat, while Sheppard cheerfully ate through his own cornflakes and then stole Rodney's french toast too. "You going to eat that?" he asked, pulling the plate over to himself without waiting for an answer. When he finally got up and left, Rodney stayed quivering at the table for a little while longer, until he was sure Sheppard was out of sight, and then he got up and hurried back to the lab. Power dynamics equations. That was what he had to focus on right now. Right.

Zelenka yawned and went to bed around 1 in the morning, leaving Rodney alone in his lab. "Hey," Sheppard said, lounging in the doorway, and Rodney yiped and knocked his coffee mug onto the floor.

He mopped hurriedly and with a wary eye on Sheppard, who brought over a wad of paper towels. "Yes, thank you," Rodney said, snatching them away, and stood up to put the counter between them as he threw them out. "Was there something you needed, Colonel?"

"I was up late, thought I'd come hang out," Sheppard said, stretching so his shirt hem scooted up past his silly low-riding jeans and showed off his ridiculously toned flat stomach, all tanned and sprinkled with dark hair, and Rodney jerked his eyes back up as it abruptly moved—too late, Sheppard was already right up close.

"Okay, what is with you?" Rodney said, a little desperately, looking from left to right: Sheppard had him pinned up against the counter, hands resting on either side of him. "What are you—stop that! Just stop it!"

Sheppard was grinning. It lit him up like a filament running with power. "I don't think you really want me to," he said, in apologetic tones, and pressed his thigh up between Rodney's legs. His long, lean, firm thigh—

"I think maybe you need to see Beckett," Rodney said squeakily, standing on his toes.

"Now why would you say that?" Sheppard said.

"Colonel, does it occur to you that your behavior at the moment is seeming, how shall I put it, a little, oh, gay?" Rodney said.

Sheppard leaned in very close and said softly, "So?"

Rodney stared at him like a small mouse fascinated by a snake. "Um. Well—that's fine, uh, that's nice for you—at least, I guess it must be—"

"Not too bad," Sheppard said, and settled in a little closer.

Rodney's eyes felt like they were about to pop out of his head. "Yes, but I'm straight!"

Sheppard laughed, his whole face crinkling up around it, all bright teeth and curving, irresistible mouth. And laughed. And kept laughing. Rodney got annoyed. "What!" he yelled. "What, it's not funny!"

"You're straight?" Sheppard managed, still laughing.

"Yes, I am!" Rodney said. Then he suddenly felt a hideous sense of doubt. He was, wasn't he?

"Rodney," Sheppard said, patient and infuriatingly amused, "you're gay."

"How would you know!" Rodney yelled. Sheppard did a mysterious hip-jiggle thing that made his thigh shift about half an inch up and down. "Well, yes," Rodney said feebly, "I suppose in some circles that might be considered evidence to suggest—"

"Uh huh," Sheppard said.

"However!" Rodney managed, valiantly, "one incident isn't, and—and anyway, you're—I mean, what do you expect when you're doing—doing that—"

"Actually," Sheppard said, and he hadn't stopped doing that, "what really gave it away was that last mission."

"Nothing happened on our last mission!"


"Huh?" Rodney said blankly.

"The chieftain's daughter?" Sheppard said pointedly.

"What about her? She was an annoying brat," Rodney said.

"Not her, the older one. The blonde, with the—" Sheppard made a gesture that was completely overstating the situation.

"What, so because I didn't hit on the chieftain's daughter and jeopardize our entire mission—" Rodney was indignant and relieved all at once. He wasn't gay, it was just Sheppard interpreting everything through the distorted lens of American military machismo.

"Rodney, she climbed on top of you."

"She was putting the flower-necklace-thing on me! The ceremonial—"

"She managed to put it on the rest of us without giving any more lapdances," Sheppard said.

Oh. "Oh," Rodney said.

"Uh huh," Sheppard said. "Oh." Even though the demonstration had been well and truly made, he still hadn't stopped moving. Rodney thought about asking him to stop, but, well.

"Wait, wait a second," he said suddenly, "if I am gay, does this mean we could—that we're going to—" John's hands landed purposefully on his belt. "Well, okay, in that case—"

= End =

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