Back at the Reversebang again!

[kay_greatness]

Title: Wind, Waves, and Wooing
Author: kay_greatness
Rating: M for sexy language and a little bit of action.
Pairing(s): McShep, mentioned Teyla/Kanaan and Ronon/Amelia.
Warning(s): Parties under the influence, some John, Teyla and Ronon jealousy scuffling.
Length: about 19,000 words.
Summary: At first, SGA-1's beach vacation seemed perfectly normal. But between Teyla's best Jane Austen impressions, Ronon's gazing and John's less than coy advances, all directed Rodney's way, it looked like normal was out of the picture.

Beta'ed by omg_wtf_yeah! Thanks!

Preview here:


Title:Surf's Up on DW & at LJ
Artist: mific
Rating: G
Pairing(s): None
Warnings: Naked chests.

Check it out at mific’s DW or LJ!



After the political debacle of taking Atlantis home to the Pegasus galaxy and the pain staking effort put into re-establishing Atlantis's pristine reputation in the Pegasus galaxy, a vacation for SGA-1 was more than necessary to unwind. So during a fairly long period of peacetime on the Pegasus front, they decided to take the opportunity to indulge themselves.

Around mid-afternoon at the height of summer, the team assembled at the car rental company on the outskirts of Colorado Springs. It was hot- the sticky sort of weather where Rodney’s hands were sweaty and he didn’t want to touch anything lest he pick up any residual heat. Unfortunately, since instantaneous travel by Gate wasn’t possible in the fifty states, the four of them were going to have to muscle into a sedan and risk Sheppard’s break neck driving to get to their destination point, a beach house off the Pacific Ocean with two bedrooms, two baths and supposedly excellent surf (not that Rodney was planning on partaking).

John beeped the keys in his hands and the head lights on a black SUV in the parking lot lit up. “Looks like that’s the ride, boys and girls,” he said.

“Shotgun,” Ronon said as he passed Rodney and seriously, he learned more bad habits from Sheppard by the minute. Teyla stepped up beside the massive man and the two walked towards the car in companionable silence. She was on her own since their vacation coincided with Kanaan and Torren’s annual visit with Kanaan’s Great Aunt, and she seemed set on enjoying her time sans toddler.

Meanwhile, John shouldered up next to Rodney with his luggage slung over his shoulder like it weighed nothing (which it might, since John tended to take only himself and what was in his pockets on trips when he could). “Not going to be a lot of shade at the beach, Rodney. Hope you packed along your bucket hat,” he said casually like the words weren’t intended to raise the hairs on Rodney’s back with fears of skin cancer and lobster red skin.

Rodney came prepared. “Ah ha,” he said, digging into his pocket and then pulling out a small plastic Tupperware container of a generous helping of a thin, creamy white lotion. It was one of Rodney’s most recent Ancient finds, brought to him by Simpson with her handwritten Ancient scribbling for sunblock on the lid. Rodney beamed at Sheppard, who was looking, as always, roguish, all kinds of adorable and completely platonic (though Rodney usually tried to notice that as little as possible).

“Your threats mean nothing to me because you’re looking at the most effective sunblock this galaxy has ever known. Hypothetically, of course.” His use would technically be its debut in known, written history.“Considering there was a half-pound of it back on Atlantis, I figured that we could spare a small sample sized tub for me. It hasn’t been used before, but looking at the Ancient’s previous work, I think it’s safe to say that with their level of expertise they probably mastered sunblock a little better than Proctor and Gamble.”

John looked somewhat skeptical. “Wait, we’re talking about the Ancients, right? You’re going to be the galaxy’s first real-life Hank McCoy considering their track record.”

“Ha ha. Not everything they did turned out that badly.” Though more of it had than Rodney cared to think about. “And anyway, it’s a skin ointment. I’m pretty sure that they left the mad scientists to actual science. You’re not going to scare me away from something 1000 times stronger than Coppertone just because you want to become Bird Man if it actually grows wings for people.”

“You know I already called that.”

Rodney waved his words off. It was a conversation that they’d had more times than he could count. “Yes, yes, and if it’s a brain cell stimulator, it’s mine. It’s skin care and looking at you, you don’t need any. So how about you keep your hands to yourself, Colonel Grabby-Hands?”

John put his hands up in surrender. “What’s yours is yours,” Sheppard said with one of his coy little smirks that usually got Rodney's pulse going pretty fast.

Ronon and Teyla were by the car already because apparently they walked at the speed of Olympic runners while Sheppard and he were still halfway across the parking lot at a comfortable stroll. By then, they were starting to exhibit signs of restlessness from the wait. “Men, perhaps we could start by heading out?” Teyla asked. Her bag was by the back seat and she seemed surprisingly impatient to head out.

Ronon rested his head atop his folded arms on the roof of the car. “Come on guys. Enough with the talking.”

John pushed the unlock button on his keypad and gestured to the Pegasus natives, who started loading the trunk down with their bags. Ronon left the trunk popped and leaned against Teyla’s open door while Sheppard and Rodney ambled over.

And of course, they wound up at the trunk at the same time. John put out a hand courteously.

“Ladies first,” he said politely.

“Ha ha. But since you offered,” Rodney said, ignoring how Ronon rolled his head to the side as though it would speed things up. “I don’t know why we couldn’t shell out for a place with four actual rooms, you know. I mean, this is a vacation,” he reminded John. Unlike Ronon, Sheppard seemed to have all the time in the world for bantering.

“Think of it like camping, McKay. It’s better with a buddy,” John said, as he reached into the trunk and thoughtlessly pushed Rodney’s bag off to the side and then forward, despite Rodney’s protest of fragile, fragile technology. Rodney's bag slotted into the spot beside Teyla’s weird wicker overnight case and John chucked his own in on top of Ronon’s. He swung it shut decisively and the trunk bounced back up without closing.

“If there’s a hidden message in there, I’m just going to let that be,” Rodney replied. Out of the corner of Rodney’s eye, he could see that the giant was trading looks with Teyla. Her arched eyebrow seemed to be a knowing reply, but knowing of what was still unclear. Rodney pushed his second bag on top of John’s and then fiddled it around, checking for clearance unlike Sheppard.

“Hope your sunblock’s waterproof,” Sheppard said.

“Are you kidding me? You don’t think I’m planning on getting into the Pacific Ocean, do you? That macrocosm of bacteria? And have you ever heard of rip tides?” The trunk gave a satisfying click when Rodney tried it and he shot a smile John’s way at his superior Jenga style luggage packing skills.

“Ever heard of the bacteria count in sand, McKay? Imagine that in your trunks,” John said before he stepped around Rodney and took the driver’s seat. Rodney pulled open the driver side rear door and slid in beside Teyla.

“Any day now,” Rodney said to Ronon, who was still dilly dallying by Teyla’s door. Rodney shot a glance at the back of Sheppard's head in the driver’s seat as he readjusted his seat. “Hey, careful! Your legs don’t need living space all of their own up there, Colonel, no matter how long they are,” he said.

“And how about keeping your eyes to your own legs, McKay?” John asked rhetorically as he adjusted the rearview mirror and caught Rodney's eyes for a brief minute. For a minute, John's eyes looked like they said yes while his mouth said no, but Rodney brushed it off. A little back and forth always got Rodney's hopes up in a way that ultimately lead to nowhere. “Ronon, buddy, you getting in now?” Sheppard asked the big man.

The dread locked man looked down at Teyla while Rodney looked on the duo. “It’s going to be like this the whole way,” Ronon said, shutting her door and climbing into the passenger’s side.

Teyla smiled at Ronon in the front seat while Rodney poked John’s shoulder to get him moving. “I look forward to our arrival.”

****

The coast line was beach porn, period. It was the kind of coast line that other coast lines would tune in for on no-holds-barred late night skin shows on Cinemax. The shore was white sand and the waves were that crystal clear, Jell-O blue color that turned into beautiful turquoise as the waters got deeper. The house was okay, too (only two rooms with the long-slash-short straws pairing him and Sheppard)- white washed exterior, fire pit and big oversized furniture, a copper outdoor shower out back and granite topped counters in the kitchen, pristine bathrooms and a decent sized TV in the living room. It was, however, clearly merely a glorified frame for the huge, floor to ceiling windows that looked out on the beach, beach and more beach. Sun drenched, sparkling sand, blue surf- beach.

They took no time settling in, since they only had two weeks to make it count. Rodney gamely slathered on his Ancient sunscreen, slapped on his sunhat and sandals (Sheppard was right about the bacteria count in sand- he was not touching that with his bare feet), and he hit the beach with the others. Any impatience that the dynamic alien duo had exhibited in the trip over seemed to wash off in the cool waters of the Pacific. Then they all went about their beach paradise vacation activities. Even Rodney got in on a lazy round of frisbee.

The only thing that was a little weird was how close his team mates were sticking together. They had all this expansive space to themselves and it was almost like they had separation anxiety. He only noticed around four that everywhere Rodney went there was someone smiling back at him with their gorgeous, sun bronzed skin, and their gorgeous, model-esque faces.

He supposed that it was understandable, really. For Teyla and Ronon, it was one of the very few times that they’d actually been on any kind of vacation, and being on another planet in another galaxy probably kept them from relaxing completely right off the bat.

As for John- well, Rodney was used to the guy being a little quirky.

****

It was love at first sight when Ronon set eyes on the leopard sharks skirting around the shallows. Never mind the fact that Rodney reminded him sharks were sharks- dangerous, terrifying, intimidating creatures (much like Ronon himself). Ronon saw them as the puppy dogs of the sea. After that, nothing compelled the big lug out of the water. If the man could, it looked like he’d tuck one into a monster sized Ziploc bag and take it all the way back home. Sheppard was just as bad. His surfboard was stuck to his side like he'd superglued it there. He looked like an overgrown toddler as happy as he was to play in the water. A happy Sheppard gave Rodney all kinds of pleasant and occasionally embarrassing palpitations, anyway. A couple years of banter minus bedroom had taught Rodney the tingly crush feeling was almost certainly one-sided, so he was more than glad to leave the water to Colonel Sunshine and his sidekick.

Rodney was more than content to lie under the shade of the blue beach umbrella their neighbors had the sense to pack and John had the sense to borrow. He reapplied the Ancient sunscreen religiously (every 30 minutes, since it hadn’t come with instructions on the tub). The air was hot on Rodney’s chest and legs, the waves loudly breaking on the beach and tufts of clouds floated in pristine, eye-straining blue skies. Teyla sat beside him in her two-piece instead of the scuba topped thing Sheppard had convinced her she needed before they'd started out, reading one of the three Jane Austen novels that she selected as beach reading. Sheppard and Ronon were still out in the waves, falling off their boards and then getting back on again. Surfing. Rodney would never get it, even if it made for a nice view (of Sheppard's long, lean back and low slung board shorts).

Rodney rubbed the sunscreen into his arms, watching as the substance (which was really quite pleasant to touch- silky and gentle on his skin) turned from white to clear. The only problem was it felt filmy and he had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't quite as effective as it should be. When he looked up at Teyla, she was looking at him, her book closed on her knee. She had a funny smile on her face like she was very, very relaxed but since she didn’t say anything, Rodney turned his gaze back to the two men bobbing around within a stone's throw of the shore.

“They seem to be enjoying themselves,” Rodney said as Sheppard stood waist deep in the water, shaking out his hair with his trunks low on his waist. With Ronon glistening in the sun beside him, it was a little too easy for Rodney to imagine the scene devolving into something much less family friendly. God, Rodney needed to get laid.

“Very much so,” Teyla replied with a smile. Her eyes seemed almost unusually friendly. She put down her book on the towel between them, and with a quirk of her head, she asked, “I wonder if you might be so good as to lotion my back.”

For a moment, Rodney’s mind blanked because the last woman whose back he’d applied anything to had been his girlfriend and it was a little more up-close and personal than he was used to getting with Teyla's back. He twisted his head, owl like, to look at her, but she appeared composed, mostly normal and like funny business was not in her repertoire so Rodney put the notion of any funny business out of his mind. Such was his luck anyway. “Ah. Um, okay,” he said, putting down his sunblock mid stroke. “I didn’t know that you even used lotion but... I suppose.”

Teyla turned, placing the lotion bottle in his hand and sliding her ponytail over her shoulder. Regardless of the fact that Rodney had agreed, all of a sudden with the bottle in hand and an expanse of bare Teyla-skin on display, it felt a lot more awkward and a lot less like a favor to a teammate. Rodney looked down at the bottle, fumbled open the top and thought, nothing to it, just smooth it on and done. He really needed to get laid.

Teyla had a mole on the middle of her back. The little dot was something Rodney had never seen before, given that it was right between her shoulder blades and ordinarily covered by clothes. Seeing it made Rodney skittish, given that if he'd never seen that much of Teyla before it was for a good reason (mainly that she didn't want to strip down with him), but he took it like a man, squeezed out some lotion and rubbed it between his hands until two long shadows fell over them.

“Ah,” Rodney said, squinting up at John and Ronon as they stood above them. “Hello. I was just…” But he wasn’t really 'just' doing anything, so the words trailed off as Teyla angled to the side to look at the two newcomers.

John took the bottle from Rodney's hands. “Here, I can take over, Rodney,” he said. He idly flipped the bottle over and eyeballed the back.

Rodney looked from Ronon (whose trunks seemed like they were in the process of slipping off- and, no, he wasn't staring at the prominent bulge), Teyla, who was watching Sheppard a little too keenly, and Sheppard, who was characteristically all kinds of delectable with his perfect shadow around his cheekbones. One of Ronon's dreadlocks dripped water on Rodney’s shoulder from where he was standing far too close.

“You need a hand with the sunblock, McKay?” he said in what sounded more like a growl than words.

First Teyla was asking him to lotion her back and now Ronon was asking to lotion his. They were pretty damn touchy-feely lately. Not to mention that Rodney was leery enough of Teyla breaking him in half if his hands wandered. Ronon's Satedan massage sounded like fifty shades of frightening. “Um, yeah. No thanks. I’m fully covered from about five minutes ago, so…”

Ronon grinned toothily. He was so haloed with the sun that his face was shadowy. “You want me to check you over?”

“Man said that he was good, Ronon,” John said easily, passing the bottle of lotion back into Teyla’s hands without having even popped the cap. “Why don’t you let him decide for himself?”

Teyla had a much too discerning look on her face as she eyed John and the bottle, and John meanwhile had his eyes on Ronon, who stared back with his eyebrow almost arched. The three of them looked like they were almost ready to sniff each other. The sun had baked their brains or something.

“Okay. I think I’m going to head inside for now,” Rodney said, scooting off of his oversized beach towel and carefully navigating between his two barechested team mates. “If I don’t stay hydrated, I get very, very cranky.”

Once he was inside, he peered out the living room window at the three of them. But they seemed to have done with their impromptu Mexican standoff and were now returning to their various beach activities.

Something was in the water. That or his teammates were tucking into the bar whenever he wasn’t looking, because they were acting about as weird as whiskers on lizards.

****

The next morning John and Ronon spent lying on their stomachs extremely close to where Rodney was dozing (or attempting to doze) with a good book, rotating every few minutes to let the sun in on some new muscle (Ronon) or crevasse (John). Sheppard looked unusually bronzed, and Ronon was, as usual, Mister Universe in a Pegasian package.

Earlier, Sheppard had even managed to convince Rodney down to the water for a moment or two of ankle dousing while Sheppard pulled out big spiny starfish from a sand bar and Ronon flipped his hair over his shoulder like a dreadlocked Fabio. Around lunch, they had hot dogs on the grill. It was the first time Ronon had eaten them, or more appropriately, he inhaled them. It was actually pretty funny (except for the part when Ronon leaned over the fire pit and offered Rodney his hot dog to eat off the spit, which was just awkwardly phallic). Rodney's team was all pretty, shiny and naked skin sitting so close to Rodney one would think there was a shortage of seats on the West Coast.

In fact, there was way too much of said skin on display for Rodney, so he took a short break from the oppressive heat inside (where Teyla followed him to redo her hair, of all things). When he returned around mid afternoon, Ronon was scratching out something in the sand very close to a volleyball net where for the last half hour he’d been handing the neighbors their asses.

Rodney put up his hand in a brief wave and Ronon folded his hand over his chest in an extremely bizarre, silent gesture. Then he headed back onto the volleyball field. Rodney shielded his eyes from the sun and dropped down onto the big tan pillows that he’d stacked high enough to actually form a seat. The blue umbrella above him gave him a fair amount of shade and shelter, and the fishy scent of fresh beach was a little less pungent than usual. He had a cooler at his side, stacked with water bottles and Hi-C. He opened his book and went back to reading.

Rodney was on page nineteen when Sheppard dropped down beside him. He had a Jell-O cup in his hand and a goofy smile on his face.

“Hey,” Sheppard said.

“Hey yourself,” Rodney said back. He scooted over to the side with his hands folded underneath his pillows to keep them stuck to his body, letting Sheppard take a little more space next to him. Sheppard kicked out his long, too-sexy legs and settled back on his elbows while Ronon slowed in the distance, gathering the volleyball from where it had gotten away from the sweaty men he was playing with. His eyes slowly tracked the two of them. Definitely strange.

“You don’t think Teyla and Ronon have been acting a little odd lately?” Rodney asked as the man in question rested the ball on his hip and gave Rodney and John a long look.

John nodded at Ronon in the distance with a slow, lazy smirk. Ronon headed back to the net at a turtle’s pace, his eyes on them until he couldn’t watch them anymore. “Aside from every day for the last six or seven years- no.”

“Hmm, yes. Well, I don’t know. Something about the two of them has been off.” Rodney dog-eared the page that he was on and John proffered his cup of Jell-O at Rodney's eye line.

“Here you go, buddy,” John said, putting a spoon in Rodney’s hands. The Jell-O cup was cold to the touch and its contents undoubtedly delicious.

“Oh, thanks. I thought we were all out.” Rodney pulled the aluminum lid off and stuck his spoon in, pulling out half the cup of wobbly, enticing blue Jell-O.

“We were. That’s my cup, but I figured I could spare one for a friend,” John said with an earnest little smile.

Rodney dropped the spoon into his cup resignedly. Of course John would have to offer it in the weird, Stepford Teammate way the three of them had been acting lately. Now the Jell-O didn’t taste half as good as it had a few seconds ago.

“Isn’t he close to beating this guy?” John asked with a little huff.

Rodney turned his attention back over to Ronon, who was in the middle of a huge slice. The ball rebounded off of the ground on the other guys’ side with such force it was a surprise it didn’t pop. “I think it’s just for fun now. He was ten points ahead of them half an hour ago. That was when the other guy came out.”

“You know what they say about show offs.” John said. And that was strange, since John was usually pretty supportive of the puppies that he took home, especially Ronon. Rodney hummed, casting a long look his way.

A moment later, Ronon crowed as the two men across from him huffed, their hands on their sides. His hands pumping in the air looked like victory. Ronon ran over to them, breathing hard and came to a stop directly beside Rodney.

“Water,” he panted. Rodney recoiled from Ronon’s crotch, which was about five inches from his nose, board shorts wet with sand and sweat. His pectoral muscles twitched. In response, Rodney pulled open the cooler and stuck his head deep inside. Rooting around for a good couple minutes as he perused the abundant bottled water selection would give Ronon plenty of time to take a few steps back.

By the time he came back out, his face felt nice and cool, and Ronon’s body was still perilously close. “Yes, yes, here,” Rodney said, handing over the bottle.

Ronon twisted off the top and guzzled half of the bottle. Then he poured the rest of the bottle over his chest and hair like some Playboy pin-up, flipping it out of his hair with a head toss worthy of a Pantene commercial. He looked down at Rodney. “Did you see that?" For a minute, Rodney thought he was referring to whatever that little display had been (what, was Teyla peeking outside or something). "They admitted defeat. Guys had to go home.” Ronon grinned.

Rodney felt like he was probably expecting a bigger reaction from him. “Yes, congratulations?” he asked. He shot a not-so-subtle look at John, expecting commiseration with how nuts Teyla and Ronon were being.

But John didn't look surprised or amused. He was looking a little sulky, actually. Ronon didn't seem to notice. He was busy staring straight at Rodney as he straightened his back, folded his fist over his heart and said, “My victories are dedicated to my love.” It sounded pat, like a speech that he’d heard many times before. Why he was mentioning it, Rodney could hardly understand because said love certainly wasn't there to hear it.

“Um, that’s good,” Rodney said. He shut the cooler and dug into his book again.

****

After their resounding defeat, the neighbors crawled back into their beach house with some profound sense of shame that seemed unbefitting to a volleyball match, and Rodney didn't see hide nor hair of them for the next few days, even though he spent most of it snug in the shade outside.

The beach vacation was a great idea. Rodney was getting pretty used to the constant one on one attention his team mates seemed intent on giving him, and it was actually kind of sweet. It reminded him of what precious little one on one time he got with them sometimes (especially Teyla now that she had Torren to think about) and sitting there on the beach doing Sudoku with John over his shoulder or being the first to try Teyla's horrible mixed drinks was pretty touching. Sheppard being all touchy and teasing in trunks was a little hard to handle sometimes, but the net gain really outweighed the potentially embarrassing side effects.

That and Ronon's personal kitchen knife juggling act had it looking like Team Pegasus vacation was the best one he'd ever had.

****

“This is wonderful, Rodney. I had only hoped that you and I would get this opportunity to be alone,” Teyla said, all a-flutter with activity as she tugged Rodney around the corner of the house while Ronon showered and John went across to the neighbor to get some extra cooking spray (which Teyla had helpfully reminded he definitely needed the second the man had started grilling).

“You wanted to get me alone?"

Teyla nodded, her hand warm in Rodney’s as she came up short and turned, giving Rodney a radiant smile. Apparently, her plan had been to take Rodney to the hill beside their house because that was where she stopped. In the distance, the waves crested and the sun beat down on the two of them with a generous helping of midday heat.

“Yes, but I had not truly imagined that we would get this chance considering how close and… protective our two friends have become of late,” she said. With one hand, she straightened her sporty black and white cover up and looked back at Rodney with a strangely shy smile.

Rodney furrowed his brow in confusion. “Um, Teyla? Why would they need to be protective?” he asked. Then he realized that Teyla's hands were still wrapped around his and he hurriedly withdrew his. Regardless, Teyla looked happy. Too happy, almost. Ronon folded his arms over his chest.

“Of course they do not,” Teyla said effusively. “My intentions are entirely honorable and I would not wish to harm our friendship with unsavory actions had I not the highest of hopes.”

Teyla kept getting more archaic by the minute and that last part sounded damn near alarming.

“I see that you’re really taking those Jane Austen novels to heart,” Rodney said awkwardly.

“Please sit, Rodney,” Teyla said, indicating the sand underfoot like that was actually a spot that one could comfortably sit on.

Rodney warily eyed it and remembered Sheppard's words about the bacterial count in beach sand. He shook his head. “On the ground? No deal, sister. My back likes chairs and padding and lumbar support.”

Teyla took his hand and pulled him over towards herself. “Sit,” she said, pushing Rodney down by the shoulders. “If your back becomes unmanageable, I would love to relieve the strained muscles with a traditional Athosian massage that follows exercise.”

Which sounded a lot like something that Rodney had never expected to hear from Teyla before, and if there were traditional Athosian massages, it was the first time that he’d heard about it. Rodney brushed sand off his knee and folded his ankles over each other with his legs at a full stretch.

“Oh-kay,” Rodney said, looking up at Teyla from where she stood above him. She patted his shoulders, her hands lingering a little too long. “I’m not sure if I should be happy about that or wondering exactly-”

“Rodney, please. Relax. I can feel the tension in your shoulders,” Teyla said. She dropped down beside him and sat Indian style, her hands relaxed over her shins. “I would like to sing you a song,” she said.

Rodney dimly remembered hearing secondhand about her singing at some point, but couldn’t remember what had been said specifically. He'd thought it was pretty glowing. “A song?” he repeated with some wariness. He flashed back on the roommate he'd had in college who insisted on belting out Simon & Garfunkel's complete catalogue every other night in a creaky falsetto. He harbored a fear of one-on-one recitals ever since.

“Yes,” Teyla said.“One that is very meaningful to me. It is quite long and taught to Athosian children so that one day, they may sing it to the one that they are closest to.”

“Ah. That explains it,” Rodney replied drily. Of course it didn’t, and the addendum on the end ‘closest to’ almost sounded ominous to him.

“To those that one wishes to fully devote themselves to,” Teyla said, her eyes drilling deep, meaning-filled holes into Rodney’s.“As I do to you.”

Oh, good Lord. Rodney’s face was frozen. In a second, it sounded like Teyla was going to get down on one knee and do something that he would never be able to forget, no matter how unfortunate that would be. Then Teyla opened her mouth and let out a hollow, low sound like the hooting of an owl.

It was terrible. Thinking back on it then Rodney was pretty sure that whatever singer somebody had told him about couldn’t have been Teyla because anyone in their right mind would try to repress any memories of her singing. For a period of time mercilessly without measure, Teyla hooted and bellowed, her eyebrows drawn in concentration as she attempted a long, deep soprano, her voice cracking on notes that were clearly way too low for her to hold onto. Finally, after Rodney’s ears had been thoroughly tortured with a seemingly endless off-pitch baritone ‘oh,’ Teyla finally stopped.

Silence reigned for one protracted moment and then another until Rodney cleared his throat. “Well, that was very… remarkable actually," he managed. "Thank you.” Even if, technically, she should be thanking him for not burying his head in the sand on the second verse.

Teyla laughed. “The Athosian medley, unfortunately, was originally meant for our warrior men. I am actually quite comfortable singing in the upper and middle range." Which might explain the rave review he dimly recalled. Teyla continued. "I’m afraid that I don’t have the appropriate range for many Athosian scores. I have never been known for my singing voice in my native land.”

“Yes. Well, after hearing that, you should be,” Rodney said to Teyla’s rueful smile.

“Was it really that bad?” she asked.

“I’d rather not relive the moment,” Rodney replied, peering at Teyla sidelong for any sudden movements because now that she was not singing anymore, it reminded him of how more-than-friends her speech had been, and as beautiful and smart as the woman was, 'just friends' was exactly what Rodney was comfortable being.

“The song is meant to be symbolic of one’s feelings. It is called To Those that are Nearest and it is intended to tell another that no matter what lies before them, the singer will be by his or her side,” Teyla said. She looked perfectly sincere and Rodney suddenly felt warm all over, especially (and embarrassingly) around the eyes. It was just the kind of thing that Rodney would never have thought he’d hear from a friend, and that was what it sounded like she was saying.

And it was true. She was one of his three best friends. “Thank you,” Rodney said as sincerely as Teyla had.“I’ve never really had many friends so that means a lot. And I’d like you to know that it goes both ways.”

That was true, too. Of all of the things that had come out of the hellish ride Atlantis took from Pegasus to San Francisco Bay, and then all the wheedling to get it back there, the fact that he felt no doubt that Teyla was there with the rest of his team to stay, no matter how far it took them from her first home- it almost made it all worth it.

“Rodney-” Teyla began. Then a bellow from around the house interrupted her.

“Rodney!” the voice issued, nasally and obviously John. “Rodney!” It was a short, impatient little yell- whiny like a neglected puppy.

Teyla and Rodney looked back to the house, where a wet Ronon in a dangerously low towel was pushing open the back doors. He peered around the fire pit and over the nearby furniture, but apparently he didn't see them behind the curve of the hill (if it was, indeed, them he was looking for).

Teyla turned back to Rodney. “It appears we are needed,” she said.

Back to being part of a eight leg race. Even the waves weren’t proving distraction enough for his teammates lately, who seemed about ready to devolve into huggy, touchy-feely lunacy.

“Yeah, well. Duty calls,” Rodney said back, standing up on creaky knees.

****

The next day, they headed out to the beach at mid-morning. By afternoon, Rodney was fed up. Rodney tentatively raised his arm up at eye level so that he could examine his shoulder. His face felt hot and tingly all over, the warning signs that the Ancients had screwed up something as simple as sunblock and he was well on his way to a burn. He poked his arm where the skin was tinged pink. The white spot he left behind turned red, red, red.

“Okay, I give up,” Rodney said to Sheppard, who peered at him from under the elbow flung over his eyes. "Seriously, it's like I'm SPF resistant."

The pleasant sound of waves rushed against the shore nearby, where Teyla's head bobbed up every once in a while as she snorkeled (John's suggestion). Rodney sat up to dust the sand off his legs and snorted indignantly at the light pink color of his stomach.

"Look at this!" he exclaimed. "What the hell? I'd get better sun protection if I squatted under a cheesecloth!" He fiddled his tub of sunscreen open and dug his fingers into the silky lotion, fingers scraping the sides in his enthusiasm. Rodney dropped a large blob of it onto his arm and sighed in relief as it cooled his overheated skin (one thing it did well).

John rolled onto his stomach, the flat muscles and wiry black hair trailing down from his belly button mesmerizing as he moved. Rodney tried his best not to look. John watched Rodney rub the thin white sunscreen onto his shoulders and bit his lip like he was trying to get Rodney all hot and bothered (which was definitely working).

Rodney felt oddly conspicuous under Sheppard's eyes, and tried to brush the feeling off. "Ouch," he hissed a little too enthusiastically as he rolled his shoulders- shoulders which were on the razor's edge of a burn. He glanced at Sheppard, who was rubbing his thumb over his lip and then studiously stared down at his legs where he haphazardly rubbed the sunscreen in.

“Hey,” Sheppard said, “You want a hand?”

Suddenly, a million images passed before Rodney’s eyes of John’s shorts slipping down on his hip bones and the pert ass underneath them and all of Sheppard's lip rubbing made him half hard. Before the protests could even form in his mouth, John sat up on his elbows and put his hands on Rodney's stomach, which was pretty damn surprising.

"I think I'm good." Rodney flicked at Sheppard's naughty fingers while said fingers flirted with his waist band and almost gave him a heart attack.

“Rodney, come on. Let me help out,” John said. His breath hit Rodney's stomach, and Rodney fisted his hands by his legs as Sheppard hovered over him in the most surreal waking fantasy he'd experienced in a while. He was about ready to jump out of his skin. His eyes flickered shut and for two long, hard breaths he felt Sheppard's fingers rub over his upper thigh just hard enough for Rodney to stand up and take notice. The front of his shorts mortifyingly tented while Sheppard paused over his lap.

“Oh. It’s just all the swim trunks and bikinis,” Rodney said in a rush of words. His pulse was racing (not just because of little Rodney). Then he swallowed and chanced a glance at John and he was surprised at the pleased look on Sheppard's face. It was confusing as hell because Rodney had never, in his wildest dreams, thought this would happen- but it was also exciting as hell. Sheppard looked up at him with the dirtiest look Rodney had ever seen outside of porn and then licked one long, wet stripe up Rodney's stomach.

“Oh my God. But wait. Oh- oh,” Rodney cried out, his hands fluttering open and shut by his sides as John rested his head on Rodney's belly.“Wait, what does this mean? And here?” he hissed with a hand thrown out to the beach in the distance.

“It means that I want to suck you until you come in my mouth,” John breathed against Rodney’s hip, his eyes bright green and dirty on Rodney's. It sent a flood of sensation all through Rodney’s body and straight to his dick. Rodney closed his hands over John’s and looked him in the eyes.

“Oh-kay, I meant more regarding the two of us, though.” John didn’t seem to think that needed any answer, and the longer that John kept rubbing his fingertips insistently over his legs, the more Rodney agreed with him. "I'm talking here," Rodney complained to the octopus otherwise known as John as he took John's hands in his in an attempt to restrain his enthusiastic fingers. "I'm not some kind of object."

"You talk all the time, McKay," John replied, rubbing his wet, pink, delectable mouth over Rodney's knee and staring at him with hooded eyes. It was really hard to keep on topic.

"Stop looking at me with those- Oh, come on,” Rodney broke off as John rolled his lip between his teeth like he was very much in need of something to keep his mouth busy. His eyes were dark, dilated, and he huffed out hot breath against Rodney’s shorts. “Those hungry eyes.” Rodney's heart jumped in his chest because the look he was giving him felt pretty damn good to be getting. And he remembered John's head almost resting on his shoulder as they worked through the last page of Sudoku yesterday and all the other moments like it in the forever (it felt) that he'd known him.

This vacation was probably the first time (maybe the only time) that he'd really thought that Sheppard looked at him the way he looked at Sheppard and even without any explanation, it was pretty intoxicating. Without fully thinking it over, he stuck a hesitant hand in his soft, dark hair (just to keep him from getting anywhere).

“Cock hungry eyes?” John asked huskily.

“Jesus, you’ve got such a dirty mouth," Rodney whined, pulling at the silky strands of John's hair. His eyes slipped shut at the feel and his hand in John's hair softened.

“You like my mouth, right, McKay? You want to put your-”

From somewhere behind them, a door clapped shut and the two whipped their heads around to see Ronon emerging from the beach house with the look of a hunter on the prowl.

“Okay! That's enough from you,” Rodney interrupted, pushing at John’s head and shoulders, and John straightened up just as Ronon spotted them. Rodney tossed his book over his lap as erection protection and John flopped down on his side- not before Rodney saw the evidence of John's enthusiasm for the previous topic. "We'll talk about this later," Rodney promised, even though he wasn't sure he wanted to, since whatever 'this' was wasn't even all that clear to him. When had 'this' even cropped up? He was pretty sure he'd have noticed given the massive hard-on of the heart he'd had for Sheppard since pretty much day one.

John's smile was remarkably carefree as he pillowed his head on top of his arms. "Sounds like a plan," he said. Rodney's stomach was flip-flopping like crazy, but John's drowsy little smile still managed to turn up the temperature.

Rodney sighed as Ronon approached with what looked like a bevy of drinks. It was going to be a long day.

****

Talking about it one-on-one wasn't meant to be, however. Instead, around a late dinner at nine, Teyla, Ronon and John disappeared all at once for the grill (which was strange in itself since grilling had been a one guy job up to then). After about half an hour, it became clear that something was not right, so Rodney ventured out to find the three of them.

By then, the sun was a low orange circle over the water and a lone man jogging in the distance (obviously not Ronon or John) was the only other occupant on the beach. When he turned the corner of the house onto the patio, Rodney found himself face-to-face with the Pegasus trio surrounding a smoking grill covered in half cooked meat on sticks forgotten over the flames. The first thing Rodney noticed was their posture- Ronon seemed particularly looming, John's shoulders were raised in his patent "I’m right" shrug and Teyla’s eyes were narrowed to unhappy slits as she listened to John speak. It felt very, very wrong and more than an itty bit intimidating.

“Rodney, no more mincing words," Teyla began when she caught sight of him with one of those skewered pieces of meat in hand. "Is it true that you and John embraced each other after our song together yesterday?"

Rodney froze at John having told them and in a micro second, his mind sought out why he would and what it meant until he hit the last part. “Wait, our song, Teyla? I thought you said that it was some kind of traditional friends thing.”

“So now you don’t believe me, Teyla?” John asked, tsk-ing with his hands on his hips. Rodney shot his eyes over to him and tried to figure out what he wasn't saying, but he couldn't. He set his mouth in a flustered frown and looked at the other two to see if they were any easier to decipher, but as usual, there were no easy answers.

"I wish to hear this from Doctor McKay himself," Teyla said to John.

Then they turned their scary-pretty faces on him again, and Rodney could tell from a glance at Teyla and then another at John that no answer was the right one. He swallowed awkwardly.

"Answer her, McKay," Ronon grumbled, his arms over his chest showcasing brawny biceps.

"Okay," Rodney said a little forcefully, then paused. "Yes, kind of?" he answered uncertainly, looking at John for some support because of all the things that he had expected to come out of John's mini wrestling match with him earlier that day, this was not one of them. John, however, looked inscrutable and far more interested in what Teyla and Ronon were doing than Rodney. It made Rodney feel a little like John was tattle-tailing to the teachers and a little exposed, too.

"And you did so being aware that the Colonel wishes to court you?" Teyla asked.

"Court me?" Rodney shot his eyes over to John, who raised a blasé shoulder. It was about the last way that he would've wanted to talk about it. For some reason, the words didn't sit right when they came out like that.

"Don't play innocent, Rodney. It doesn’t suit you," he chided.

Rodney thought back over earlier that day. "Okay, yes, Colonel Hands-On," he admitted, shooting Sheppard an unhappy look. "I’ve had some idea since your fan dance routine earlier but I’m not entirely sure why we’re having this completely awkward conversation about it with the whole gang." It made the whole thing seem pretty disingenuous, not to mention that Ronon and Teyla were distractingly invested in their beach antics.

Teyla stepped forward, inching her way ahead of Ronon. "Then I will inform you," Teyla said bravely. "I, too, believe that I am an excellent candidate to become your mate, Doctor McKay."

Rodney gawked at her for half a moment. "What?" he burst out. The woman in front of him looked dead serious while Ronon behind her shook his head.

"Except you’re kind of in the middle of something already, aren’t you Teyla?" John cut in, leaning to the side so that he could look her in the eye. She stared back, seeming less than amused. "You know, with the little guy Torren and the other one… oh, what’s his name again, Kanaan?"

"That sounds like a valid point," Rodney said absently, still flabbergasted.

"Nothing that I cannot extract myself from, John," Teyla returned evenly.

"You’d just abandon the thing you two have?" John asked almost helpfully. Rodney squinted at him. John was acting mostly normal and it was weird as hell when compared to the balls-to-the-wall crazy that was emanating from Teyla and, to a lesser degree, Ronon. "Have you even talked with him about this? And what about little Torren? You want him to grow up without his dad?"

Teyla arched a cross eyebrow but wouldn't be deterred so easily. "I have not spoken with him because I believe that this kind of conversation is best done in person, but I am sure that he will understand that I must follow my heart in this matter." Rodney boggled at the woman as she straightened, looking dead at him like she was trying to earn Brownie points. "And Kanaan is an excellent father. I would think of it less like Torren is losing a father and more like he is gaining yet another."

She looked satisfied with her own answer. It reminded Rodney that he would not like to be on her bad side, especially when she was this half cocked, since an unhappy Teyla was pretty intimidating. He considered his next words for a moment, and then began. "No offense, Teyla, and I’m sure that if you’ve made up your mind, you’ve thought it all through."

"Of course," Teyla put in while John frowned at him and Ronon arched a heavy eyebrow in discontent.

"And I wouldn’t question your mental capacity to do so, at least not while you have that shish kabob in your hand," Rodney finished.

Teyla gave him her most serene smile. "A wise move as ever, Doctor McKay."

"But have you really thought this through? I mean, have either of you?" He shot a glance at John. The more that the three were talking, though, the less that Rodney bought John's sudden interest, which was prety expected and rotten at the same time. He turned back to Teyla and continued.

"Look, last Monday we were all happy days are here again at the beach with the surfing and the grilled meat-" he gestured vaguely to the grill still happily smoking behind them. "And now I don’t want to get a head of myself here, but you seem touchy. All of you, actually. So what's the deal because it can't conceivably be that you've decided you're all gung-ho about me at once."

"Rodney, while it is true that this love may have taken an unexpected turn that does not make it any less real to me," Teyla said earnestly. And it would be easier to believe if she had ever proposed marriage before they'd gone on vacation in Crazytown.

Ronon muscled past John, who did not look too happy to be taking the back seat in their conversation. "Yeah. Me too," Ronon said, his face completely sincere. "What Teyla said."

"God. You too?" Rodney asked, grimacing at the massive man.

"Hey, what about Amelia?" John protested, his voice rising in annoyance. And he raised a good point. The two of them had gotten more than a little cozy over the two years they'd been dating, and any day it seemed like Torren was set to have a little honorary cousin at the rate they were going.

Ronon shrugged and shot John a half amused look. "She’s a big girl. She can take it."

John looked like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "That’s nice to know that you’re thinking of her. So this is gonna be the treatment McKay can look forward to if and when a new girl or guy comes along and you decide to take the next train out of there?" It was crazy, absolutely nuts that Sheppard even thought that Rodney was considering it. The whole group had gone over the edge. Rodney rubbed his forehead.

John turned back to Rodney. "McKay, come on," he said, his hand out. "I’m the only single guy here. Make the call."

Rodney's mouth hung open. It was the kind of thing he would've liked to hear from a sane Sheppard. He stared at John for one long minute while Ronon and Teyla became impatient, trading looks. Then he snapped back to attention. "Not that this whole conversation isn’t absolutely fascinating but I think that the more pertinent question might be how and why all three of you suddenly and out of the blue decided to make your move?"

His team looked at each other with raised eyebrows and shared headshaking. It seemed that that question wasn't a top priority for them. "No, Doctor McKay, I think what may be the more pertinent question is why you would listen to the Song of the Wild with me, and watch Ronon’s contest of agility and strength over the volleyball contest and then also accept John’s gift of Jell-O and whatever else he may have offered you. This is most disturbing and unexpected." Teyla discarded her shish kabob on the grill and gave McKay a look of pure dejection. Rodney felt for her a little, even though when they weren't out of their minds whether McKay wanted to two-step with her or not probably wasn't as high a priority.

Ronon, however, didn't appear so sympathetic. He nudged Teyla with his elbow. "You got a problem with the way McKay does things?" The woman looked back at him boldly.

Support came from an unexpected quarter. "Now, wait. I think Teyla has something here," John said.

"Really?" Rodney asked uncertainly. "I don't know if I'd go that far."

Even nutty, it appeared that John could still reason with Ronon pretty well. The larger man gave Teyla a long look, and then he assented. Teyla looked at both of her companions as though she was building a plan among the three of them, as if Rodney's input was no longer necessary. It made the hairs on the back of Rodney's neck stand up. "If Rodney had intentions towards one of us, why would he then choose to see the others in secret?" Teyla asked.

"Whoa, whoa!" Rodney cut in. "Look, it was completely coincidental that what I was doing with one of you didn’t come up with the rest of you. Honestly, I had no idea that your strange- though very appropriate, I’m sure- singing, Ronon’s volleyball battle or a cup of Jell-O were anything but gestures of friendship. Like usual." Except for the thing earlier that day, of course. Rodney looked over at Sheppard and his face burned up.

"I don't know, McKay. Rodney Junior seemed more than aware of my intentions," John said and Rodney threw his hands up to the sky in exasperation.

"Yes, I also find it hard to believe that you did not realize our intentions," Teyla said.

"I’m not buying it," Ronon agreed.

Rodney puffed up. "Okay, I may have thought that there was something a little off," he conceded, pointing at John before he could cut in, "but not like this. I assumed that we were just, you know, being especially friendly. And yes, Rodney Junior has occasionally admired your figures in a friendly, completely harmless way and maybe I've indulged in a few idle fantasies- which I’m sure I’m not alone in."

"No fantasies for me," Ronon said. "You guys aren’t my type."

"Yes, I have never felt anything more than friendly interest until now," Teyla agreed. John shrugged a disinterested shoulder so much as to say that he also didn't engage in wild daydreams revolving around Ronon's trunks. And that was mostly okay since Rodney was pretty sure he didn't want him to, anyway. At least not outside of his wild daydreams.

"Yes, I’m sure we’re all saints here but me!" Rodney waved his hand around. "But thinking about Teyla mud wrestling the girl from PX9-whatever or anything else that gets me through the long double moon nights, that doesn’t mean that the three of you get to fight over my hand in marriage. I, in no way, signaled that I was okay with that. Got it?"

His trio of teammates was not impressed. Teyla decisively turned to the others. "I do not think that Rodney is aware of whom he wishes to choose from among us," she said, looking between John and Ronon, who were nodding.

"I wasn’t aware that I had to choose one of you in the first place," Rodney argued somewhat sourly.

"Give it a rest, Rodney," John said offhandedly.

Ronon cleared his throat and stood up straighter. "In Sateda, if a girl can’t make up her mind, the guys fight barehanded to forfeit or first blood to prove who’s the toughest warrior. The winner takes home the girl. Unless she backs out."

The more that Rodney heard about Ronon's background, the stranger it became, with its mixture of Viking-like traditions and 1900s Earth technology. "First blood? What is first blood?" Rodney asked faintly. "You've got to be kidding."

"If it is a physical contest you want, then I would be more than happy to serve it to you, Ronon of Sateda," Teyla said surely.

"You think you can take me? The last time we tangled-" John taught Ronon way too much American slang, "- it ended with you and Sheppard on the floor with your hands tied behind your backs."

Teyla gave him an imperious smile. "Ah yes. But I believe that if we remove the element of surprise and you approach me face-to-face the results may be..." she paused, savoring the words, "surprising."

Ronon leaned back. Meanwhile, the smoke from the meat on the grill was starting to smell less savory and more charred. "Then how about we see?" Teyla's smile was predatory and looked like she would be all too happy to serve up something Ronon's way.

"Hey now, kids. Let’s not get a head of ourselves here," John interrupted as the voice of reason while Rodney nodded and pointed at the other man. "Why don’t we sit down, settle this like adults and set up a time and place for me to take you two out in?" And zero to sixty, John proved he was just as insane as the other two. Rodney shook his head in disgust. "Formally. You’ve got to give up or get cut to get knocked out, last man-" John put up a hand at Teyla’s protest, "-or woman standing wins. Sound fair?"

It absolutely did not. "Don't I get a say in this?" Rodney cut in.

"I think you’ve already said about all that we’re comfortable with, Rodney," John said drily. "How about tomorrow at the cove around sun up, say O-600? That work for you two?"

Teyla gave the two of them a very confident nod. "I am ready at the earliest convenience and look forward to it."

Ronon seemed to think the whole thing was just great. "I like real contests. How about I give you guys a head start?"

"It will be my pleasure to train you both in true Athosian fighting," Teyla bantered back.

"I’ll be waiting for you," Ronon returned with a sly smirk.

"Hey, save it for the fight, okay, guys?" John asked placatingly like they were doing something normal, like scheduling a group run or a game of checkers.

"Until then," Teyla said. Then she turned her attention back to the grill. "Now, this meat appears to be done to me. Ronon, John?" she asked. The two men beside her took up their spots beside her in a completely normal, not crazy way.

For once Rodney was speechless.

****

Rodney spent the night tossing and turning while an odd sense of calm reigned over the house- Teyla, Ronon and John kept sending each other cryptic looks, but had agreed to keep the peace until dawn. It was eerie and completely disturbing. The only way Rodney was able to get any sleep was complete and utter denial. He tried not to think about John at all (though his face kept coming back to him and the word 'courting'). By three, he convinced himself that his teammates were joking (a good explanation for why they were so calm and almost companionable with each other after they’d agreed to the match up). No joy.

It began on the hill top within sight of the beach house (if Rodney squinted) at a deadly hour of morning where the horizon was still pinkish and the sky was turning a nice shade of periwinkle. Rodney peered through the window at the three figures: Sheppard at a laidback slouch, Teyla all peace and serenity while Ronon appeared menacingly enormous beside them. They seemed to be laying out some ground rules. Sheppard indicated some point on the beach with a lazy wave of his hand and Ronon spoke, pulling out his stunner (how he had gotten it through the gate without anyone knowing was one of the mysteries Rodney had gotten used to with a half Yeti friend). Their powwow stretched on for a couple minutes as Rodney anxiously reseated himself behind the sheer white curtain. If there was one thing Rodney wasn’t known for, it was patience. The three of them seemed to be completely comfortable taking half the day to lay down the ground rules for some fist fight that they shouldn’t be having in the first place.

The curtain flipped over in front of Rodney and just like that, while Rodney pushed it out of the way, the three suddenly broke off from one another at a furious run. Sheppard ran down the hill, white sand showering up from where he slid down and took off. By the time Rodney looked back for the others, Teyla’s head was almost out of sight behind the cattails while Ronon had completely disappeared to God knows where.

Rodney turned from the window and swallowed. They were doing it. They were actually doing it. He hadn’t really thought that it was possible and it made Rodney completely queasy because –that–was not normal. And beating each other up wouldn’t fix whatever was wrong with them. And by the time they were done beating each other up and out of their craze or whatever, the only person to blame for not figuring it out sooner or stopping them would be Rodney. Which Rodney wouldn’t blame them for, even if intervening might mean getting beat up himself.

Rodney stood up and grabbed his shoes, sunblock, and a t-shirt to go with his day old shorts.

Someone was going to have to stop them, or at least monitor them to make sure everyone’s hands, feet, arms and legs were intact by the time they were over. It looked like it was up to him.

****

The plan was easier said than done, and apparently military training, natural instincts and (in some cases) lives of running from Wraith had made Rodney’s three teammates killer paintball players (which was essentially what they were doing, trading out a couple drops of blood in the place of paint and inserting ‘deranged competitors’ in the place of players.)

Rodney had caught sight of Teyla early on, but judging from the crazed-calm look in her eyes, she wasn’t really one he wanted to try to talk some sense into. The whole thing felt insane- the hushed noise of cresting waves, the feeling of eyes everywhere. It sent chills down Rodney’s spine. He needed another plan, one that didn’t involve coming into close contact with the mental patients had as teammates since they were acting like crazed hounds, but none were coming to him. While thinking it over, he hunted for them, his face hot and way sweatier than he liked getting through the uncanny feeling like he was on a stage set for something sinister. The beach was clear of all of his teammates and Rodney spent an unsuccessful few hours trudging over sand and beach in the hot sun until he heard an unmistakable nasally groan.

His head shot up in the direction it had come from- left side. Sheppard. It was definitely him, and judging from the pained sound, he wasn’t alone. Rodney didn’t let himself think about it. He ran towards the noise and ignored the part of his brain that replayed the look in Teyla’s eyes over and over to the mantra ‘do not want’.

He’d be able to talk reason to Sheppard. He was the one that Rodney absolutely and completely could not imagine going nuts, and (Rodney let himself think it) if any of them won, he’d want it to be him. As a show of solidarity, he told himself, really, since Sheppard always had his back.

Rodney ran over the left side of the beach, climbing up higher and higher through the cattails on the dunes. He crashed through the tallest ones around the boardwalk and then dropped back. Ronon and John rolled through the sand, Ronon on top until the smaller man twisted and scurried out from beneath. John had apparently gotten a hold of Ronon’s stunner. He had it in his hands for about a second before Ronon kicked it away. The thing skittered into tall grasses and Ronon gave an evil grin. He pinioned Sheppard’s hand with one knee and with his other, drew out his largest hunting knife.

“Forfeit or first blood. You give up, Sheppard?” he asked.

“No, I think I’m gonna see how this plays out,” Sheppard wheezed back.

“Suit yourself,” Ronon said, “Then we’ll do it the hard way.” He took Sheppard’s hand and knocked the fist loose like he was playing with a baby. Sheppard was hopelessly stuck under him and all his wiggling didn’t seem to be doing anything (perhaps he meant for them to serve as a distraction because they were certainly distracting Rodney?) and in a minute, Ronon would knock Sheppard out of the game, which might be good if it knocked some sense into him but might also mean that at the end of the day, they were all still crazy and he was King Kong’s bride.

Rodney stopped himself from thinking. He closed his eyes, imagining Ronon’s scary knife coming at him unsheathed, and then stood up, marching out from behind the cattails.

“You want me?” he asked, throwing out his hands, “You got me. Hey, Ronon.” The colossal man looked over, half interested but not foolish.

“Over here.”

It wasn’t going to work. There was no way it would work. But then the man grinned, and started barreling over like he'd won a prize, and that was all it took. John kicked out over the sand to the grasses in the other direction and grabbed Ronon’s stunner gun. At the sound of his movement, Ronon whipped back around.

“No, no, no!” Rodney exclaimed, but in the space of time it took for him to say it, the goliath was already right on top of Sheppard, grabbing his elbow and spinning him around. John kneed him in the side and shot low. Immediately, Ronon stumbled and then collapsed over John.

It was one of the most terrifying things he’d ever seen, but John, all unruffled and casual, just half-pushed Ronon up off of him. The man sagged limply down onto John, his dreadlocks obscuring Sheppard’s face.

“Rodney, a hand here?” he rasped. Without thinking, Rodney came over and the two pushed and pulled until he was off of John. Then John got up and coolly took his pocket knife from his pocket and opened a small cut into Ronon’s palm. The day was turning out to be one full of disturbing sights.

And it hit him that he had helped put Ronon into Sheppard’s maniacal hands. In the middle of a fight-to-first -blood for Rodney’s hand. A pang of terror ran through Rodney and he sat down on the sand beside the collapsed man.

“Oh God. He’s going to kill me.” The words rushed out in a panic from behind the fingers that Rodney put onto his head.

“He’s not going to kill you,” Sheppard reassured him. “He knows how this goes. He’s the one who made it up.”

Rodney looked up at him in dismay. The colonel was way too nonchalant, possibly even smiling. He nudged Ronon with his shoe and then for some bizarre reason Rodney couldn’t parse through, rubbed the wet edges of his knife against Ronon’s white t-shirt. Possibly out of pride. On the other hand, at least he wasn’t as bad as Ronon was. Rodney didn’t have to worry about the man pile driving him (though the thought did occur).

“No, he knows how it goes when the girl stands on the sidelines waving a handkerchief or something, not jumps in the middle of combat to run interference for the victor. He’ll kill me when he wakes up.” Saying the words made Rodney realize how true they were, so he repeated them. “He’s going to kill me.” Rodney hadn’t thought of as the big, scary mega-man that he was in so long that it felt like a revelation again.

“Is that what you were doing?” John asked.

Rodney glanced at the man with big shell-shocked eyes and an unhappy face.

“Running interference for me?” Sheppard continued. He had an off-puttingly earnest expression on like it really mattered what Rodney was going to say next. Rodney shifted uncomfortably on the sand.

“Um, yes? Technically probably primarily because I don’t know what Ronon’s mating rituals are, but if they’re anything like how he eats...” Rodney shot a glance at the unconscious man, but he was safe. For the moment.

“People in glass houses,” John chimed in.

“I’d actually take that as a compliment given that it means I show some level of passion and dedication to whatever I do,” Rodney shot back.

“Or whatever does you,” John said with a smirk, pushing the stunner through his belt. “Guess I’ll find out soon enough.” The imp seemed to be enjoying himself far too much in his little sparring match. He took one last look at Ronon, and then with a little hip sashay (that was completely unsexy, Rodney swore to himself), Sheppard surveyed the area.

“That’s not even remotely attractive,” Rodney told him but the colonel seemed to know better. He had his hands up on his hips and double checked to make sure Ronon’s stunner was secure in his belt. Rodney shook his head and hammered on.

“You’re not actually planning on going through with this. Are you? This is insane.”

It seemed to bother John a little, like Rodney yammering at his back in the puddlejumper. “Yeah, I am, and I’m pretty sure the whole thing would run a lot smoother with a little more support coming from the balcony,” he complained.

Rodney looked at him for a long moment. “I didn’t even know you wanted to date me,” he said finally, as stupid as it sounded, because Rodney still didn’t and even if John thought he did, he might not really want to. And that thought was making Rodney all kinds of miserable. Rodney crossed his arm over his knee self-consciously and stared at John as the man looked over the hill tops like he was trying to see through them.

“Rodney, I really don’t think this is the time and place to go over all of that.” The sun glinted in Rodney’s eyes and he threw up a hand to shield it.

“You don’t think that now is the right time to talk about dating?” he asked indignantly.

“Yes, Rodney, since Teyla could be anywhere and all you’re doing talking is calling attention to the two of us here!”

The man was hopelessly frustrating. “Oh yes, the woman you’ve sworn to take down for my hand. You’re lucky you still have all of your limbs after your little tango with Ronon.” Rodney gestured at the fallen giant with one emphatic hand and John shot him a cocky little smile. “The way Tarzan over there was going at it made it look like he’s been taking it easy all this time and you know Teyla can put you in stitches faster than you can hang ten.”

John didn’t look impressed. “Thanks for your concern but I think I can hold my own as long as you stop giving away our position by talking,” he said, special emphasis on the words and his hands on his hips like he could take Rodney’s attitude and shoot it right back. Rodney threw out a hopeless hand.

“That’s what I’m concerned about! You think you can but Teyla is like She-Hulk. There’s no winning. And even if you could, I don’t want to take home any of my teammates in pieces.” He tried to look John in the eyes, but the sun was right behind John’s head and it was hard to get a fix on him.

“I’m not going to hurt anybody, Rodney. It’s just a contest,” Sheppard said.

But that couldn’t have been further from the truth, because if it was, that meant all three of them were after Rodney simply because they really, really liked him and John’s little Sinbad the Sailor fight was because he wanted to keep doing what they’d done on the beach (which Rodney wanted) but normal-John probably did not.

“No, it isn’t,” he said, “and I don’t know what you guys think is happening but something is seriously wrong here and usually, in situations like this someone has my back. Which is to say you. Last time I checked, when weird shit is happening, you and I work together to save the day.” Rodney tilted his face to one side so that the sun was behind Sheppard’s big spiky head and he could see that he looked like he was hesitating. Like maybe what Rodney said struck a chord because it was absolutely, one hundred percent true. “Which is why I’m asking for your help in the first place,” he finished.

Sheppard looked at him and Rodney looked back, doing his best friendless puppy face entirely without meaning to.

“Rodney,” John started. Then he snapped his head to the side. Right when Rodney opened his mouth, a noise like a slow rush started, then became louder.

Oh no. Rodney remembered Teyla’s cool, predator look and Ronon’s scramble. If she was like their king-sized friend, it would be hard as hell to fight her off should she decide to become overwhelmed by admiration, and as much as little Rodney was halfway interested, the rest of him found her admiration more than a little terrifying. The noise came closer until he realized, his heart dropping into his shoes, that the sound was sand crunching under running feet, and it was right by them.

“Go!” John shouted.

Rodney didn’t have to be told twice.

****

It was one run after another. He hadn’t seen where John was going, he just ran until he got a stitch in his side and then a little after that until thirty minutes later, he settled down behind a rock inside a small scenic cove, the kind that might be nice to visit if one wasn’t hiding from overly amorous friends, and got his breath back. It was quiet back there, the sound of the waves distant and the rock cool against Rodney’s face.

And of course it was the one place that Teyla decided to go striding through about an hour and a half later. She looked different from the last time he’d seen her. Her hair was pulled back against the nape of her neck like before and she still had that god-awful stick she’d crafted to the shape of her typical Bantos rod, but now her tawny skin was shiny with a thin sheen of sweat, and she looked particularly alert like a mountain lion on the hunt, glancing from side to side before she came to an abrupt stop at a rocky ledge in the cove.

Rodney froze and then, with his head screaming quiet, quiet, quiet! over a thousand other complaints, he slid back behind the rocks as carefully as possible. His hands were sweaty from running and he was sure that any natural camouflage his tan tee shirt and slacks could have afforded him was a moot point since even without a mirror, he could tell his face was redder than an American stop sign and probably about as visible.

Nothing to see here, he intoned mentally, hunching so far below the rocks that the top of his head and his eyes alone were on Teyla. She took one step in his direction and Rodney’s eyes went wide. Oh God. He was about to dart beneath the rocks regardless of the racket it might cause (because he’d rather take it lying down than make himself a bigger target)when a spray of white sand fell from the ledge behind her and Teyla’s head whipped to the side.

Rodney looked up at the ledge. The cave he was in was three feet above Teyla but even with the height advantage, he didn’t see anything. But there had to be something there. He glanced back at Teyla, who had her head up like she was a shark and she could smell blood in the water (and God, she was attractive, though in an entirely too-creepy way at the moment). Then his eyes scanned the face of the ledge again.

There! At the very top of the incline, a tuft of black hair sprouted out from behind the rocks like the natural landscape was made up of rock shaped Chia pets. It was unmistakably, obviously John, and in about two minutes, Teyla was going to find him and beat him with her vice-like thigh grip or rub his face in the dirt and make him surrender only after telling her he liked it dirty. Or something like that- and Rodney wouldn't like seeing that in person half as much as he liked it playing out in his head. And then Rodney’s hand would be fair game, which he was almost certain that he didn’t want and entirely sure wasn’t a long term solution to whatever had them all messed up.

Rodney sank down below the rocks and rubbed his sweaty face against the shoulder of his tee shirt. Teyla approached the incline with her usual aura of intense concentration, her eyes darting over the rocks until suddenly she caught sight of something that brought out her now-it-will-hurt smile and she started up the ledge.

That’s when the rocks came down on her in a small shower of white sand and stones ranging in size from ping pong to softball sized balls. Teyla curled to avoid the landslide just as the first pebble struck her and in the shower of dust and commotion, Rodney saw John spring out from atop the ledge in full Action Jackson mode before the shower of dirt and sand obscured the two just long enough for Rodney to stop himself from calling out and duck down below the rocks again.

Whatever was up with John, Rodney sure as hell didn’t want to get caught by any member of his team, much less the one who thought that booby traps were an admirable means to end an argument. Rodney swept a fly off of his hand and peeked out. He breathed a sigh of relief because Teyla was scuffed up but apparently largely uninjured. It was quiet now over by the rocks save for the sound of the rocks shifting as Teyla sat up and John’s feet crunching against the sand and debris as he ambled over. John was taking his time, chewing on the rope that had apparently served as his pull for the trap, and it hit Rodney that he was being careful not to hurt Teyla any more than he had to. Teyla sat up, tossing a pink conch shell off of her shoulder with a narrow glare.

Above her, John slowed to a stop and struck a pose with his foot up on the hill like Captain Morgan had overtaken his body. He must have lost his stunner at some point because Rodney didn't see it in his belt. “Well, what have we here?” he drawled. John had about six feet between them and judging from the look in Teyla’s eyes as she pushed the pebbles and sand off of her legs and stood, it was a wise idea. Her hair stuck out of her pony tail and the sand caked on her cheeks where it had mixed with sweat. She rubbed sand from her jaw and said, “John. Of course.”

Teyla bent and rifled among the rocks until she found her half broken stick and gave Sheppard the evil eye. It was damn near to heart stopping at a distance of forty feet, but John had never had any sense and his slow smirk seemed particularly brazen in response. If Rodney hadn’t thought Sheppard stood a chance before, now that he’d rubbed dirt in Teyla’s eye (literally), he was pretty sure the man had a better chance against vintage Schwarzenegger than her.

“I see that our definitions of a fair fight vary.”

They were rounding each other like two cats in an alley, Teyla all lithe grace and John with that saucy attitude that came so naturally to him, and it was absolutely the adrenaline that was causing Rodney’s pants to get a little tighter down the front.

“Now, now, no need for name calling. We have a little phrase back home that applies here: all’s fair in love and war.” Sheppard inched back and Teyla followed. “Only you and me left in this, Teyla,” he told her, almost sing song in that way that Rodney suspected drove his opponents up the wall.

Teyla swatted at a spare cattail with her stick. “Then let us fight and stop side stepping this battle.”

Sheppard looked like he was in his natural habitat, easing back over the rocks with a confidence as though he knew the terrain like the back of his hand. He found his way to the ledge’s end and then looked back before hopping over the edge surprisingly carefully. Once he was down, he shot Teyla what could best be described as battle-ready come-hither eyes and took another step or two back.“Sure thing. Just as soon as you put down your stick and come over here, we can shake hands and start this thing fairly.”

Teyla seemed to consider it. She held herself very straight and her hand resettled on her stick. Then she cut a shallow slash over the sand between them with her stick, and (Rodney craned his neck to see) the rod came up about three inches off the ground with a thin length of rope attached.

Sheppard almost looked contrite but his teammate seemed none too pleased. Rodney sucked in a breath at Teyla’s long, even stare before she dropped the rope.

“You will not fool me again so easily, John Sheppard,” Teyla said and then swung herself off the ledge directly at Sheppard.

It was probably the only chance Rodney was going to get to creep away. Over by the ledge, Sheppard dodged, kicking up sand where his feet hit the ground before blocking a blow from above. Then Teyla smacked the other end of her rod down hard enough on Sheppard’s thigh for Rodney to hear the stick singing as the colonel attempted to sweep her legs. The other end of Rodney’s rock pile would take him outside of the mouth of the cave. When he heard Sheppard’s sharp inhale, Rodney went for it on all fours, abandoning all sense of caution until he’d smacked himself down at the other end. The rock was hot against Rodney’s back and the way away from the cove from there was pretty much a straight, cover free run along the beach that Rodney wasn’t sure if he was capable of, much less clear for. Teyla and Sheppard still sounded occupied, though, so Rodney swallowed a dry, scratchy breath and peered out from the edge of the rocks at them.

Sheppard’s back was to him, the tan small of his back flashing from under his black tee shirt as he tried a haymaker on Teyla’s midsection and she snapped her stick down on his wrist, catching his arm between her side and the rod. Then he knocked her left leg out from under her and the two went tumbling across the ground, first Sheppard’s lovely backside up in the air and then Teyla was on top with her stick against his throat.

“Yield,” she demanded. John arched his neck, his hair gritty with sand and even more insane, and Rodney quickly pulled his knee and hand back behind his cover. His heart was in his throat. Then John said, “How about we try you first?” A handful of sand went flying into Teyla’s face and at the moment she lost a firm grasp of her stick, Sheppard tossed her off of him, her stick flying through the air and smacking against Rodney’s rock.

With an inopportune squeak, Rodney sank down behind it and squeezed his eyes shut. In his head, he counted to ten and made up scenarios in which Teyla and John suddenly decided a nice swim would be better than kicking each other’s asses or Teyla forgot about her stick and the urge to smack John with it. Once he made it up to forty-five without the sound of their feet hurtling towards him, Rodney took a chance and stole a look at the two.

Then he wished he hadn’t when he saw Ronon’s long shadow fall over Teyla and end at John’s foot. In one leap, he threw himself down to the beach below, his feet forming massive pits in the sand. Teyla and John threw uneasy glances at Ronon as he stood, their eyes darting back to each other as they shifted on their feet.

“What about me? You guys counting me out?” The man was insane. His dreads were dirty and his face was greasy but he was smiling in a way that Rodney really wished he’d never seen because he was pretty sure that smile would be unbridled nightmare fuel for a good while.

Teyla glanced at John, and he sidled to the side.

“You’re out, Ronon. Fair and square,” he pointed out without moving his eyes from Teyla, “I cut your hand. Now it’s time for you to go join Rodney in the viewing audience and make nice.”

As John eased left, Teyla eased right like in an old fashioned stand-off, but half of their attention was on Ronon.

“He is right, Ronon,” Teyla chimed in while not letting John out of her sight. “By the rules of this game, you must acknowledge defeat.”

Rodney’s eyes shot over to Ronon and then back to the other two.

“Old Sateda rules,” Ronon said, sliding out his knife from his side holster with a cocky look, “forfeit or death, and I don’t feel like killing you two today.”

Teyla’s eyes slid half shut in a serpentine smile. “I do not believe you will have the chance,” she hissed while she struck out, hard and fast at his middle section. Ronon cantered to the side and then took a swipe at her, which she knocked aside with a forearm block.

“Now we’re talking,” John said before he threw himself into the fray, bobbing below Teyla’s roundhouse and then elbowing Ronon’s side as Teyla kicked out at Ronon’s leg. Ronon’s knife skittered out of sight and he swung Teyla over his shoulder- only for her to hit the ground, rolling. John smacked down beside her a second later from a glancing blow of Ronon’s arm, and the man loomed over the two.

“Give up yet?” he asked.

“Never,” Teyla replied, bringing the heel of her foot into the back of Ronon’s leg and sending him falling down between the two.

Then it was all three of them rolling over the sand together, feet twisting this way and head locks woven over each other. Teyla had Ronon’s hand trapped between her knee and the ground, and Ronon had Sheppard’s leg twisted behind him in a stretch that probably would have been impossible unassisted. Any time one of them rolled out from the pile, someone else’s hands, legs and teeth drug them back in again. Rodney’s muscles were starting to cramp in sympathy (or maybe from the sustained crouching) as the three hissed “Give up?” and “Yield?” at one another to no joy.

By the time they’d slowed down to tussling and even Ronon was getting red faced, Rodney had hatched a plan that involved the volleyball net (which he could get) and very careful aim (which he needed to get ASAP). They were more than distracted enough for Rodney to crawl out from behind the rock, wheedle his way a few steps and promptly knick the back of his heel on Ronon’s knife half hidden in the sand.

“Ow!” he cried out indignantly. And then it was quiet. Sheepishly, Rodney looked over to the three of them, who were staring back at him like he was the canary and they were hungry, blinking cats. Ronon had both Teyla and John’s heads locked under his arms and John’s elbow was up by Teyla’s face.

“Enough of these contests,” Teyla growled, pushing John’s elbow aside. “Let us settle this.” It was surprising how intimidating the three could be even with John’s nose smashed up against Ronon’s shoulder and Ronon’s dreadlocks dangerously close to becoming early lunch for Teyla.

“The first one to win Rodney’s affection is the victor,” she said.

Ronon looked like he was thinking too much. A chill ran up Rodney’s spine and he began walking backwards with his hands up as John made more room for himself at the bottom of the pile.

“And you go about winning it by?” he asked in a reedy voice while he pushed Ronon away from his face.

Teyla looked straight into Rodney’s eyes.

“Seizing it,” she said.

“Oh God,” Rodney squeaked.

Ronon pushed himself up and whipped his hair off his face, all eyes on Rodney.“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” he said and Rodney started running.

He didn’t look back at them. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t have half a chance of getting away from all three of them unless they were tied together and even then. It didn’t matter. He ran faster and harder than he had at escape time on their last mission, the slap of their feet against the wet sand spurring him on. He high-tailed it past the cove and onto the sandy stretch their beach house was off of. The waves were a blur on his left side and the sand white and spotted with seashells on his right.

“Shit! Shit!” he cried, his feet pounding the soft, wet sand. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Ronon gaining on his right side until his flipping dreadlocks were much too close for comfort. Rodney feinted to the right and crashed into the waves, kicking salty beach water all the way up to his face, where the Ancient sunblock immediately started slipping down his cheeks. They were right behind him, splashing in after like a herd of elephants. Rodney refused to look. He trudged out as hard as he could in his shoes filling with water and his sopping tee shirt.

Don’t look back, don’t look back, he repeated to himself and then, turning to the side, saw that John had miraculously overtaken the other two. The look in his eyes was about as happy as a dog hunting rabbits and with one enormous leap forward, he was six feet away. Then three while Teyla and Ronon began to trail behind. Rodney stopped and threw up his hands.

“Forfeit! Forfeit!” Rodney yelled over the sound of the waves, sinking his head into his shoulders. But John was too close to take it easy. With one last spurt of effort, he nabbed Rodney by the arm and said, “Got you!” with as much pride as a parent would muster for their child’s first painting. And then John froze.

“I already gave!” Rodney shot back with the waves smacking up against his chest, “The least you could do is not act so proud of yourself.” A fresh wave slapped against John’s cheek, plastering his black hair to the side of his head and soaking Rodney's face. Instead of looking gratified, John looked confused.

“John? What is it?” Rodney asked and the colonel turned big hazel eyes on him like he was an overgrown puppy and not the very intimidating military man chasing him through hell and high water moments before. Then he looked out on Teyla and Ronon who were midway between them and the shore, and looking just as puzzled.

“Teyla?” he called over. She turned towards them and Ronon beside her rubbed the side of his head against his forearm. After a moment, the Athosian called back, “I think that I would like to sit down.” Ronon nodded in agreement. The two started back towards the shore, Teyla rubbing her temples like she had a bad hangover.

John’s back was to Rodney, his wet tee shirt clinging to the shape of his shoulder blades underneath it and all Rodney could see of his face was the curve of his pointy ear and his cheekbone. All of a sudden, Rodney felt queasy.

“John?” he said again.

Teyla and Ronon had made it back to the shore and collapsed onto the sand. They were looking out over at them as far as Rodney could tell.

When John looked back at him, his eyes were dark with a look that Rodney couldn’t discern, squinted at the edges. The sea pushed Rodney a step closer to him and then pulled him back.

“Let’s get out of here,” John called over the waves. He turned and started back.

For a moment, Rodney was left standing there. The sea slapped him like no one’s business and he rubbed his hand over his face. It came back white and drippy, the filmy drops of diluted Ancient sunscreen splashing into the puddle already oozing off of him- yet another flawed Ancient invention.

Suddenly it hit him. He flipped his tee shirt out and looked down at his sun-pink, entirely filmless skin. Then he looked at his three team mates all in various states of disarray back at the shore.

“Oh shit.”

****

SGC wouldn’t let him get away with sending the half tub he had left of his magic sunblock via mail. Even if he was the scientific head of a prestigious space mission on a sorely overdue vacation, apparently he couldn’t be trusted to work from home and had to take an eight hour flight over to Cheyenne Mountain to spend another fourteen hours being poked and prodded at by the joker they had in the medical bay and about anyone else on staff that longed to satisfy their curiosity as to how skin-like his skin was. More than once, Rodney wondered if a particularly harsh needle prick or skin sample rub down might be inspired by some professional jealousy that Rodney was off on the last frontier and they were busy stuck in the basement, but regardless of their motives, he was assured that they wouldn’t let him out of there until they’d done full work ups of every possible portion of his body. So he made the most out of it and spent his time doing what he did best, analyzing the substance until the a-ha moment came and he had to endure another three hours of lectures and threats about clearance and containment for having brought the –seemingly harmless- cream along with him in the first place. It didn’t help to point that he had cleared it, and as the acting head of Atlantis’s science department, that should carry some weight. At some point, though, Samantha Carter on a board of others graciously told him that he could continue his vacation without the cream like they were doing him a favor. And also that if he found himself in similar situation again, his career might be in trouble. Like he hadn’t heard that one before.

He slept on the plane somehow (the turbulence was terrible). He figured it would probably be best to go back to his teammates in as solid a condition as possible, lest they decide to chase him down again for an entirely unloving reason.

Around two thirty in the afternoon the next day, Rodney pulled up to the lonely blue and white beach house with its tacky yellow shutters and tacky yellow door and stout, unhelpfully short stilt legs. He’d taken a cab from the airport because he still wasn’t sure anyone back home was in the mood to pick him up. Anyway, it was miracle enough that the SGC had allowed the three to take a house call for their check up and Rodney didn’t know what the effect of breaking their resting with a phone call would be but he didn’t want to try it.

Out by the sea, the waves were almost peaceful. Rodney put his chin up and went inside.

The TV was on at a low volume as a receiver of some kind nabbed a football from the air and hit the ground under a pile of other players. Ronon was lying on his side on the floor and looked less muscled than he had two days ago when he’d been prepared to slice and dice his teammates if they didn’t give up, Teyla was curled into the wicker armchair and John slouched down into the sofa with an enormous mixing bowl of popcorn. It was the best thing Rodney had seen all week (even counting the flashes of skin he’d gotten from his unabashed teammates).

“Rodney,” Teyla greeted him and John half turned. He picked up the remote and muted it.

“Hey, Rodney, what’s the news?” he asked.

“Ah, yes,” the scientist said, striding into the center of the room and dropping his overnight bag along the way.

“It was the sunblock or should I say, um, pheromone enhancer?” Teyla seemed to be doing her best to look impressed (which was understandable, since Rodney’s scientific sleuthing often deserved some visible recognition). Ronon, too, sat up, folding his arms over his knees to listen, and John raised his eyebrows. They all looked very willing to listen now that no one had knives, stones or rods at their disposal but Rodney still fidgeted. “They just got the results in at Cheyenne, with my help of course.”

“Of course,” John assented with a nod. Rodney rolled his hands letting them do some talking of their own. “I would have realized it sooner, naturally, if the transcription of the box I got from Simpson hadn’t misprinted some of the lettering. See, what I got read something like ‘sun detractor,’” Rodney said, glancing at his audience, “when the box read something more like ‘man attractor’. Just a few letters off but a very big difference.”

Rodney chuckled, giving his audience a moment with that. Teyla nodded and John gave a little quirk of his mouth while Ronon stared back at him with the same blasé look he usually had.

“It’s funnier in Ancient. But anyway, the pack’s stuck back at the SGC now and God knows when we’ll be getting our hands on it again. If ever. But the solution dissolves," Rodney crossed his hands in a big, decisive slash in front of him, “100 percent in salt water, so we’re all in the clear for the next two and a half days of sun and surf and it’s back to good old Banana Boat for me.”

Teyla glanced at her teammates and they glanced at one another. “We are all very relieved to hear that,” she said. The three of them still seemed a little quieter than usual like they were nursing the headaches they’d been suffering from when Rodney left.

“Yes, of course,” Rodney said, but it still seemed like there was something he’d left unsaid. After a moment, he went on, filling the silence with what he’d half thought out like usual, “And obviously, there are no hard feelings on my side. I mean, I didn’t seriously think that the three of you were actually at each other’s throats in a knockdown drag fight out for me without something being a little off- not that that wouldn’t be a compliment- but it did strike me as somewhat... odd.” He paused, rubbing his one hand with his other, and remembered John’s look at the beach with a pang.

“I would hate for you three to leave this with any feelings, deserved or otherwise, of resentment or negativity for my actions,” he finished reluctantly. He looked at Teyla and Ronon, then glanced at Sheppard. The three seemed to be communicating something with each other that Rodney was left out of (something that he’d always hated when people did it), but he bit his tongue and waited.

Finally, Teyla spoke. “Rodney, I think that we all would agree that we have each had trying moments with one another,” she said, her voice smooth and ambassador like as always.

“Character developing,” John cut in, his hands crossed over the top of the popcorn bowl. Ronon looked like he agreed- the corners of his mouth were half up in that way that Rodney usually took to mean ‘yes’ without speaking.

“But in the end,” Teyla continued, “we are all like family to one another and the love that we felt for you was true, if not in the outlet that it took. That is what counts. And any woman,” Teyla looked at her team mates with a small courteous nod, “or man would be more than lucky to have you as their other.”

“But I’m with somebody,” Ronon said. That won a short burst of laughter from them. Rodney looked at each in turn, and they looked back: Teyla with an almost maternal smile to her eyes, Ronon with his typical nonchalance, and John, his face a little pinkish (Rodney guessed) from the sun.

“Thank God,” Rodney said, and then, “I would hate to have had to… Well, forget it. Anyway… Can I get in there?” he asked, pointing to the empty couch on John’s left side and the small sliver of floor he had to cross where Ronon’s gigantic body wasn’t.

Then his team mates wiggled to the side, and he tossed himself back into the soft, fluffy tan sofa. Seven hours didn’t feel like enough sleep. He resettled against the overstuffed, pliant back cushions. Then John turned the sound back on and Rodney did his best not to laugh at the ridiculously suggestive names for American football positions (though mentioning it was more than fair play).

****

It was actually really nice to clear the air with the three of them, almost so nice that Rodney wasn’t regretting the whole trip in the first place. Point in fact, it was almost like the whole space-drugged thing loosened them up because the next day was so laid back that the four of them ended up staying outside all day with Teyla in her scuba suit top diving for sand dollars for Torren, once even coming up with half of a giant clam shell that she had plans on giving to Kanaan for use as a salad bowl or something. John and Ronon stayed out on the waves until the sky started getting dark pink and orange, milking every last bit out of their rented surfboards. Rodney, of course, mostly stayed under the protection of their borrowed umbrella, but he even went out into the water for a few hours and picked over the sandbar for the perfect starfish which Teyla wanted to bring home for her son.

John and Ronon came in when it was getting dark enough that the waves were harder to see, the sun behind them vibrant yellow and the clouds above looking violet and orange tipped. Then Rodney’s three team mates worked on starting a bonfire until it was decided that the two aliens with the camping-slash-survival experience were better without John’s hand in the pot and Rodney and he were relegated to making sure the beer stayed cold. The team stayed out until the ocean breeze was making them chilly despite the impressive large bonfire Ronon kept stoking. Then one by one they went in. A little after one, Rodney went into his shared room without turning on the lights and plunked himself down face first into the downy white pillow and smooth, cool sheets, trying not to linger too long on the salty scent coming off of John’s skin or how his arms were close enough that it practically raised their hairs on them because it reminded him of times that they’d been a lot closer than two Adirondacks apart. He fell asleep before John had even come in behind him.

****

Around three, Rodney jolted awake, the memory of a less than pleasant dream featuring a best and worst reel for the last week making his palms sweaty and his body a little interested.

Adrenaline mixing up signals Rodney reminded himself, taking a few shallow, even breaths and willing down the fledging erection he had. Then he turned over. No snoring. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness of their room, he could see John’s bed was empty and the blanket and sheets were in the same sloppy state they’d been in that morning. Rodney sat up and turned on the lamp.

Rodney wasn’t going to get any sleep. Instead, he crawled out of bed and made his way around the stone-silent house, peeking through the living room and kitchen where a few lamps were on but no one was home. He stopped at the doorway Ronon and Teyla’s room was off and listened intently, but he heard nothing, a sign that they were either asleep or had also disappeared. Then he saw John through the glass door at the back in the white Adirondack chair by the fist sized glowing embers that still remained of their bonfire and after a moment’s hesitation he opened the door and went out.

The waves were quiet tonight, the rush of water against sand. “Hey,” Rodney called over, walking through the sand. “What are you doing out here?” Rodney sat down on the outdoor sofa chair that Teyla had monopolized earlier (the one with the velvety taupe pillows). Sheppard looked him over and then replied, “Nothing much. I thought you were asleep?”

“I was,” Rodney started. “I couldn’t stay that way. I’ve been having these nightmares about Ronon’s offer to, you know, with the sunblock where at first he’s just after the lotion but then things take a decidedly different turn.” Rodney perked up. “Actually at that point it’s less of a nightmare and more of a-"

“I get the picture,” John said.

“Yes. Well.” The embers put off a surprising amount of heat still. Rodney rubbed his forearms to spread the warmth and looked at the mostly empty beer bottle in Sheppard’s hand. “Probably nothing new for you. I’m sure that idle fantasies of past male worshippers of yours have run through your mind once or twice before.”

“McKay,” John complained without heat. It was actually really amazing to be able to say that and feel comfortable- for too long, the question of how and when Sheppard might be compelled to do the nasty had plagued Rodney. He couldn’t imagine that in the first year they’d known each other he would have been able to mention gay sex and Sheppard’s name without a tell-tale red glow lighting his face. Only a week ago, he would have been a little reluctant, but now that it was out between them, Rodney’s complete willingness to get down with John, it felt like a relief.

“I’m actually glad that- that we can talk like this. I was somewhat concerned after the incident that things wouldn’t be the same between the two of us, but this is... nice.” Rodney looked at John and the man looked back, but his eyes looked a little hooded.

“You heard Teyla,” he said.

“Yes, but Teyla didn’t have her nose inches from my groin while under the influence.” Sheppard looked a little pink around the edges again, and this time Rodney wasn’t blaming sun exposure.

“She didn’t?” John asked, his eyes a little less guarded.

“What? Of course not. You don’t think that would come up?” The man was self-contained crazy in the form of a lithe, distractingly dirty-mouthed AF service member.

“I don’t know. It happened with us,” John offered. His voice was low and he had a look that Rodney didn’t get but was pinging some distant bell in his head anyway, like the time he’d come in to talk to him about Rodney's dating habits when Jennifer Keller had (briefly) been the first thing on his mind.

“Yes, but that’s-” Rodney stopped when he realized that he couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t beg questions that he didn’t know how to answer. “Okay, forget it. I’m just impressed with your presence of mind and- and consideration here. After all, it wasn’t like I could control it and I had no idea that you were all bonkers at the time.”

“I know that, Rodney, you don’t have to convince me,” Sheppard said.

“Well, I feel like it could do with a little stressing, just to be on the safe side. I mean, it was never my intention to force you to do anything.” He didn’t want the last part to sound too much like a pitch, but it had been a small part of what he’d thought up (now in singular rather than plural) to say to his teammates on the plane over there. In his imagination, it had gone over quite well.

“Unlike with the Lovin thing,” John retorted.

“Hey!” Rodney cried, “That was an experiment only!”

“A thing of the past,” John said breezily.

“For which I’ve already apologized many, many times,” Rodney returned.

“Okay, this was nothing like the time that you dosed me on purpose so that I could do your laundry.” John’s tone was a little chiding but he seemed almost sincere, and Rodney was about as used to hearing about the Lucius incident out of context as John was about the shooting thing.

“I didn’t think so. You know that your friendship means more to me than just…Well, it means a lot.” Rodney tilted his chin up and stared at John, who seemed more than a little touched. The colonel swallowed.

“Thanks. And you too,” he said.

Rodney nodded and then looked out over the waves. He had something to say stuck in the back of his throat, and it was never easy for him to keep quiet, so after a moment, he said, “For a second, though, I actually thought that you were, perhaps, well...”

Out of the corner of his eye, Rodney saw John’s jaw working. He was looking everywhere other than at Rodney. It was the kind of look that he’d seen on John before whenever a diagnosis was really bad or he had something that he really didn’t want to say, and suddenly Rodney thought the conversation felt a lot less cozy and more like dangerous territory. The stuff that hinted at stupid, long standing crushes and embarrassingly soft sides, the kinds of things that John probably didn’t want to know about (unless his ridiculously sincere smile after the time at the beach meant something). Rodney certainly didn’t want Sheppard to know about said things if Sheppard didn’t want to know about it.

“I know that you weren’t now, of course,” he rushed on, “I mean, obviously you were under the influence otherwise you wouldn’t have. Though you did seem to hold onto the delusion longer than the others.” But it was really bothering him, how much less crazy John had seemed than their teammates and a half-formed stupid theory left his mouth before he could stop himself. "Almost like you were used to liking me like that, and that was why it was so much easier for you to, you know, not get completely nuts. Just take it and run with it."

For longer than Teyla or Ronon by what could probably be scientifically classed as a statistically significant difference, Rodney thought, and then pushed it away.“But that was probably due to proximity and-”

“Rodney-” Sheppard said. His voice sounded scruffy and off, so Rodney looked at the embers instead and thought again of John’s goofy look after the two had almost danced the horizontal mambo. His heart was going about as fast as his mouth was, and without giving himself a chance to think it over, he started up again.

“I mean, if you actually wanted to pursue something like that, it would obviously be complicated and otherwise less than desirable. Unless you wanted to rise above the adversity, which of course, would be entirely up to you.”

The silence after was a yawning, horrible stretch of time that Rodney would have used one monkey finger to wish away and taken the curse. It felt like standing in front of Albert Einstein with his boxers around his ankles and an incorrectly rendered proof on a whiteboard beside him. After a taxing minute, he glanced at Sheppard, who could at the very least be acting like he didn’t get it, but instead looked completely stunned.

Rodney swallowed and looked down at the sparks thrown up into the air by the embers.

Then John spoke.

“Do you want to rise above it?”

“Well, I haven’t really thought about it since it seemed so improbable that it would even come up,” Rodney said defensively and then met John’s eyes. They were wide and his mouth looked softer than usual.

“But if it did?” John asked. It sent a dozen little twinges through Rodney’s body, but he shook it off even as he remembered Sheppard’s hand on his arm in the water probably ten seconds after the other two had fallen behind.

“Why are you asking? I mean, not to be pushy here but we’re not, you know,” Rodney said, thinking maybe something more like eleven, eleven point five seconds.

“Of course not,” John returned somewhat less than convincingly. Rodney nodded, little shoots of excitement and queasiness causing his mouth to go dry. Then he couldn’t help himself.

“And if we were, we’d have to think really hard about the consequences of our actions before we proceeded. I mean, longer for you, obviously since normally I process things at a relatively high rate.”

“I don’t think we have to worry about me taking too long on anything,” John shot back distractedly. He looked delectable, almost irresistibly touchable with his pouted mouth and his eyes all confused like a puppy with its first bone.

He was still there, Rodney thought, sitting across from him and talking in that slow drawl of his while Rodney practically poured his heart out. And he didn’t look like he was going anywhere, either. The thought sparked like electricity through Rodney over the nagging feeling like he was losing control.

“I really do want to sleep with you.” Rodney said resolutely, and then at John’s no-duh look he said, “But more than that, I mean, obviously it was a huge compliment for the three of you to be fighting over me, but if one of you had won or if for some insane reason I had to take the plunge with someone… Well, you’d get my vote.”

It was out, even if it didn’t mean anything alone. Rodney wanted to throw up and John was speechless across from him, staring at him like he was completely stricken. Then he stood up and surged across the sand between them, sinking onto his knees in front of Rodney and taking Rodney’s mouth with his own before Rodney could say something, cry out foul or even get his hands out of the way. Instead John’s body bumped against his left hand, forcing it a little painfully into the tight fit between the wicker arm and John’s side, his knee crushed against the other arm as John wheedled his way between them and his mouth hot and wet on Rodney’s. Sheppard kissed his upper lip and then bottom, pouring all of the energy Rodney guessed he got from not speaking into kissing him until his lips were slippery and tingly all over and he had to stop.

“Okay. Wow. But we’re not making a rash decision here. I mean, we would know if we were,” Rodney breathed. Warning bells were going off like crazy in his head, but instead of listening to them, he gave back as good as he get when Sheppard seized his mouth again and scrapped his teeth along Rodney’s lower lip (the playboy).

“Rodney, I think seven years is more than enough of a meet and greet,” John rasped back and Rodney had never heard of a better answer until the bells went off again. John puts his hands up around Rodney’s neck and in the dim light cast by the almost out bonfire, Rodney almost thought he saw wetness in Sheppard’s eyes. It was sweeter than Rodney would have even thought possible from the devil-may-care colonel, and set off thoughts of a thousand reasons and ways that this could go horribly wrong and end up with Rodney short the guy he went to when nothing else was working, the friend that he’d had more good times with than any other single living soul, the best person, man or woman, that he’d found so far after searching two galaxies.

“But what if we-” he huffed out between kisses, “I mean what if we don’t make it or if- if you were to burn up in the atmosphere or if your job-“

John muffled Rodney’s last words with his mouth and then pulled back. His face was red and sympathetic heat ran to Rodney’s already flaming cheeks.

“Rodney, I…” John’s voice was stilted, uncomfortable, “You know, with you. Let’s just rise above it.” It was also exactly what Rodney needed to hear.

“Okay. Okay,” Rodney said back, “Let’s do that.”

THE END.