John didn't look up. "Yeah?"

"I... I think we might have a problem here."

There was something in McKay's tone that got John's attention; when he looked, Rodney had something small and oval-shaped in his hand. "What?"

Rodney shook his hand. "I can't put it down." 

"What do you mean, you can't put it down?" John stood and moved toward him, reaching for Rodney's outstretched hand. He couldn't even get his own fingers wrapped around the object -- it was like it was glued to McKay's palm. "Here, just..." He tried to pry Rodney's fingers away from it, and a jolt like electricity went up his arm, making him let go in a hurry. 

At the same time, Rodney yelped and jerked his hand back, cradling it to his chest and glaring at John.

"Okay, so we won't try that again," John said, flexing his own fingers and wondering what the hell this thing was.

"Well, if I'd known it was going to do this, I obviously wouldn't have picked it up," Rodney said irritably, just as the device detached itself from his hand and fell to the floor with a clatter. McKay looked at it and then up at John again. "Um, well. Problem solved."

"Don't touch it again," John said, frowning. "You okay?" 

Rodney was examining his palm. "I seem to be, yes. That was weird."

"You think it's one of those activation things? Like that personal shield?" There were times John thought they shouldn't be messing around with all this stuff the Ancients had left behind, not when they didn't know what they were doing. He crouched down and looked at the device -- it really did look kind of like the personal shield had. Like a metallic representation of a beetle.

"No, all I did was pick it up," Rodney said. "And there's hardly any point in being here if we're not going to touch anything."

John found a scrap of fabric and put it over the device, picking it up gingerly and tucking it into the pocket of his vest. He hoped it wasn't going to blow up.

"It probably already would have by now, if it was some kind of hand grenade," Rodney said.

Startled, John looked at him. "What?"

"It already would have blown up." Rodney was looking back at him with a funny expression on his face. "Isn't that what you..."

"Said? No, but I was thinking it." John was thinking lots of things, and he wasn't sure he liked some of them. Was he that transparent? 

"No, I just know you pretty well," Rodney said, smirking.

"I didn't say anything," John said.

Rodney frowned. "You didn't?"

"Well... not the part that you were responding to," John said. Okay, he was starting to get a little bit freaked out.

"Why? So you're projecting your thoughts -- it's not that big a deal. Maybe it's the device." Rodney gestured at John's vest pocket.

"You think?" Instead of trying to take the thing back out, John undid the front of the vest and shrugged out of it, lowering it to the floor and stepping backward half a step. He tried to think of something strange, something that Rodney couldn't possibly guess, and couldn't come up with anything but the image of a desert island, with the sand baked hard by the sun and a nice, frothy, coconut drink in his hand.

Rodney was smirking again, with his eyes a little bit crinkled up. It was a good look for him, no matter how much it sometimes annoyed John. "A pina colada? Interesting choice, Major. I wouldn't have pegged you for such a, shall we say feminine beverage."

"There's nothing girly about pina coladas," John snapped, before he even realized that this meant that if it was the device, it obviously didn't require any kind of physical contact. He frowned, running a hand through his hair. "Shit."

"Don't worry," Rodney said. "I'm sure we'll all find it very amusing, being able to hear every thought that flits its way through your mind for as long as this lasts."

The idea that the problem might be temporary was reassuring. "Look, let's just get back and figure out what this thing is, okay?"

"Okay." They started walking, and Rodney kept right on talking. Just like always. "Actually, this is the kind of thing that could come in useful. If we could get it to work on, for example, a Wraith, we could gather all sorts of information."

We'd have to know how it works first, John thought.

Rodney snorted. "I'm not worried about that; I'll figure it out. Don't I always?"

John rolled his eyes.

"I heard that," Rodney said.

"I didn't think anything!" John protested.

"Yes, you did." Rodney sounded smug instead of annoyed. It made John want to hit him. "Hey! I heard that, too. You'd better cut it out."

"I think about hitting you all the time," John said, as they reached a corridor that he was familiar with. Other things, too.

Rodney glanced at him. "Is that supposed to be reassuring?"

John sighed. "You could try being just a little bit nicer to me, you know. You think this is easy?"

"Yes, well, it's not going to be easy for everyone else who has to listen to your thoughts either, you know." They turned left at a juncture and headed toward the infirmary as if they'd actually discussed it.

Dr. Beckett was looking at something under a microscope when they went in. John thought, really hard, What's up, doc? in as Bugs Bunny-like a voice as he could manage, but Beckett didn't look up until Rodney cleared his throat.

"The Major seems to have a problem," Rodney said, gesturing at him.

"What would that be?" Beckett asked, sliding his chair away from the counter and looking at John expectantly.

"I seem to be, um... projecting my thoughts," John said. It sounded really stupid out loud like that, and he wished Rodney would rescue him from himself. "There was this device -- "

"We didn't think anyone else should touch it," Rodney broke in, and John felt a wave of relief. "First it stuck to my hand, and then when the Major went to get it off, it gave us both a low-level electrical shock and then detached itself. And suddenly I could hear everything he was thinking, right down to the insults." He gave John a look that left John feeling unsettled.

"Has anyone other than Rodney heard your thoughts?" Beckett asked John, taking the vest from him and setting it down on the countertop gingerly before stepping closer and studying him carefully.

"I don't know," John said. He created a mental picture of tutu-wearing monkeys holding umbrellas and jumping around to the tune of 'Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed.' "Can you hear that?"

"No," Beckett said.

"Be grateful," Rodney interjected. "The Major's mind is a scary, scary place."

"Come sit down," Beckett said, leading John over to a chair and pulling another one closer. He looked into John's eyes and ears, then said, "Open up and say 'Ah,' Major." John did, and Beckett peered inside before shaking his head. "Not that I expected to find anything. So it's just Rodney, then, as far as we know. Rodney, have you heard anyone else's thoughts? Other than Major Sheppard's?"

Rodney looked a little bit surprised by the question. "Not that I've noticed, no."

"Then it seems to me that this isn't just Major Sheppard's problem," Beckett said.

The look on Rodney's face as comprehension dawned was, John had to admit, gratifying. It was nice to know he wasn't in this alone. John grinned, and Rodney rounded on him and snapped, "Oh, that's right, laugh it up. Ha ha."

"Hey, at least it's not just me!" John said. "And I wasn't laughing."

"Maybe not out loud," Rodney mumbled. "Okay, fine. There's got to be a way to stop this."

"I thought you said it wouldn't last," John protested, frowning.

"Well, it's a reasonable assumption to make, if the personal shield device is any indication." Rodney moved over to John's vest and opened the pocket John had put the mind-reading device into, sliding his fingers inside carefully.

"That might not be such a good idea, Rodney," Beckett said, going to him and putting a hand on his wrist.

"If it can turn off the feed of his thoughts into my head, it's a very good idea," Rodney said.

John thought about asking if it was really all that bad, but didn't.

Still, Rodney withdrew his hand and turned the vest upside down instead, shaking it until the device slid out onto the countertop and skittered out of the scrap of fabric John had wrapped it in.

"It does look rather like the other one, doesn't it," Beckett said, slipping a glove on and poking the device gingerly a few times before picking it up. "Well, it seems as if it requires direct contact to activate it." He looked from Rodney to John. "You're both suspended from duty until this has been sorted out, of course."

"What?" John said.

"No, no, that's a good idea. It's not like I can be expected to perform at my standard level of genius with your thoughts zipping through my head like so many mosquitos." Rodney looked annoyed. 

"Uh huh. So why can't I still work?" John asked.

"It's just better for all concerned," Beckett said, patting John's shoulder reassuringly on the way past. "Don't worry; I'm sure we'll get this figured out soon. I'll let Elizabeth know what's happened." Rodney had already turned and headed toward the door. "Oh, and Major Sheppard?"

"Yeah?" 

"It might be wise to confine yourself to your quarters. Just for the time being." Beckett glanced up at him.

"Okay, okay. Fine," John said. "There's this book I've been meaning to read anyway." He went out into the hallway and looked around.

There was no sign of Rodney.

Two hours later, John had read more of War and Peace than he'd intended to read in the next two months, which put him way ahead of schedule. He thought about getting something to eat, but he wasn't really hungry. Elizabeth had come by to check on him shortly after hearing about what had happened, and he'd assured her that he was fine; that it was Rodney that seemed irritated by the situation and that maybe she should be checking on him instead.

He was trying not to think about Rodney too much, and told himself that it was because the last thing Rodney needed was an inflated sense of his own importance. Really, it was because he couldn't help but wonder if Rodney was attracted to men in general and him specifically, and if Rodney wasn't, thinking about it was going to open a whole can of worms that John would really rather not.

It was hard not to, though. Hoping to distract himself, John went to take a shower. He'd been under the water for a couple of minutes and was soaping his cock and balls, eyes half closed as he imagined that it was someone else's hand touching him. The camera in his mind panned up from a strong hand to a stocky forearm, then higher to a rounded shoulder, and then... 

He heard the door to his quarters open and Rodney's voice, out of breath, saying, "All right, that's more than enough of that."

John turned, rinsing off the soap, and stepped out, grabbing a towel. The bathroom door was open, but he didn't care enough to cover himself. "Rodney? What's up?" he said slowly, drawling the words, letting the first syllable of Rodney's name have the most emphasis.

"What's up? What's up?" Rodney sounded agitated. "It's not bad enough that I had to spend the last two hours listening to your laborious and may I add repetitive absorption of War and Peace, not to mention your thoughts about whether or not I'm attracted to you, but now I'm expected to sit around and listen to you jerk off?"

Trying to act unfazed, John shrugged and dried his chest off, thinking Sorry? very deliberately.

"Oh, that's just great! You don't even know if you're supposed to apologize?" Rodney ran a hand through his hair and turned away as John started to dry his dick, which was still half-erect. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" John asked.

"Stop fucking with me!" Rodney snapped. 

But I like fucking with you, John thought. Or at least I think I would.

Rodney's shoulders straightened slowly, his spine uncurling. Very, very slowly, he turned around. "What?" he said, eyes wide and worried.

"I'm pretty sure you heard me," John said. "And I know you heard me before, since you already admitted it."

"But you... you're not..." Rodney stammered, as John let the towel drop to the floor and walked to the doorway that separated them. 

"I'm not what?" John asked.

Rodney swallowed, and then his tongue came out and wet his lower lip. "You're not..."

"Into guys?" John suggested quietly. "Attracted to you?" I'm pretty sure I am, and you know it.

"Really?" Rodney asked. "Me?" His pupils were huge, but he was smiling, just a little bit.

"Really," John said, and stepped in closer and kissed him. Rodney's lips were surprised but eager against his, and John slid a hand down Rodney's back, pulling him in closer. It turned him on to find out that Rodney was as hard as he was. "I'm also pretty sure I figured out what's up," John murmured, grinning.

"Yes, yes, very funny," Rodney said, his usual snark resurfacing amidst the wonder in his voice. "I really can hear everything you're thinking, you know."

"Everything?" John asked, with his lips brushing Rodney's as he spoke.

"Mm hm," was all Rodney said, because they were already kissing again.

It was so weird. Not the kissing -- the kissing was great -- but the part about being able to hear the Major's thoughts. Earlier, while they'd been in the infirmary, Rodney had heard little glimpses of things that had confused and surprised him -- things about himself that didn't have anything to do with annoyance -- but they'd been so quick. There and then gone again before he'd been able to absorb them; so quick that he hadn't been sure if they were the kinds of thoughts John was even aware of. And then, when Rodney had been in his quarters and John had decided to take a shower, and his thoughts started to wander to places that just confirmed all those fleeting thoughts Rodney hadn't been sure about... well, Rodney hadn't thought for a second that John would actually admit to any of the things he'd been thinking. 

John's hand slid down to Rodney's ass. God, you've got a great ass, John thought, and Rodney smiled against John's lips. John's mouth tasted fantastic, and the things he did with his tongue...  

He'd almost forgotten that John was naked until the other man pulled back and his own hand slid down the bare skin of John's side. John looked at him, head tilted to one side. "See, now I wish I knew what you were thinking," John said.

"All kinds of things, I'm sure," Rodney said absently, running his hands up over John's chest. "Although I seem to be rather distracted right now, so maybe none of them are worth mentioning."

John's eyes closed. Yeah, like that. Just a little... Rodney followed the thought and brushed his thumbs over John's nipples, and John gasped and pressed closer. 

They kissed some more, and somewhere along the way John managed to undo Rodney's pants and slip his hands down inside, squeezing Rodney's ass to an accompaniment of rapturous thoughts about how nice it was, none of which were things that Rodney didn't enjoy hearing. The best part was that everything he did -- every time he touched John, every square inch of skin he lavished attention on -- was similarly accompanied by wordless encouragement that allowed him to do everything right.

It was a heady, almost godlike feeling, and Rodney loved every minute of it.

John shoved Rodney's pants down and dropped down his knees, mouthing at Rodney's dick, licking it, until Rodney was whimpering embarrassingly and doing his best to stroke John's hair rather than clench his fist in it. He would have hoped that the distraction of the running soundtrack in his head -- which was, he realized, narrated by the Major himself, in that it was his actual voice Rodney heard -- Fuck yeah, knew he'd taste like this... god, this floor is hard... I wonder what he'd do if I... -- would have been enough to keep him from coming too soon, but that turned out to be a fruitless hope. Within minutes it was over, the hot rush of release so strong that Rodney's knees were like water as he gasped and panted his way through it.

He was grateful when John got up and guided him over to the bed. War and Peace was pushed unceremoniously to the floor with a muffled thud as Rodney lay down, his heart thundering in his chest and ears, but not doing anything to dull the sound of John's thoughts, most of which were, unsurprisingly, centered around his cock.

"Hang on," Rodney said, still breathing heavily. "Just give me a second, and I'll..."

"Hey, it's okay," John said. "No hurry."

But Rodney wanted to hurry. He pushed himself up onto one elbow and reached down with his other hand to touch John's erection, wrapping his fingers around it and stroking it slowly. 

John groaned and shut his eyes. "God, Rodney. I knew you'd have great hands."

"Do I?" Rodney asked, pleased. "I mean, I suppose they're fairly dexterous, considering the main focus of my work, but no one's ever called them..." He trailed off as he watched the almost unbearably sexy sight of John's cock working back and forth through his grip.

Oh, yeah. Great hands, John thought. "Yeah..."

With the Major's thoughts guiding him, it was the one of the easiest things Rodney had ever done to coax John into a state of near-frenzy. Rodney found himself lying halfway down the bed with John's dick in his mouth, the soft skin over hardened flesh delicate and salty tasting on his tongue.

Fuck. Fuck, oh fuck, yes, please...

Rodney sucked harder and John cried out and arched up off the mattress, quivering.

God... yes... just a little bit more...

And Rodney knew exactly what that little bit was, and it was so easy to give John what he needed when he was broadcasting it loud and clear. One press of Rodney's index finger back behind John's balls, which were drawn up tight, and John made a sound like a strangled sob and came in Rodney's mouth, the taste of him sharp and rich and perfect.

The room was quiet as the sound of John's breathing evened out, and then gradually John fell asleep, and Rodney's head was quiet, too.

At first, Rodney thought he was in his own bed. It took considerably more time than it should have for him to realize that he wasn't, and even more than that for him to force himself the rest of the way awake, relief flooding him as reality settled in.

A reality that included a naked John Sheppard in bed beside him.

Rodney was lying on his back, and John was on his side, facing away from Rodney. The bed was narrow enough that they were pressed up against each other. Rodney hitched himself onto his side and put his arm around John's waist. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," John said, but he didn't sound it, and the maelstrom of thoughts swirling around in his -- and Rodney's -- brain was enough to make Rodney tighten his grip.

"I can still tell what you're thinking," Rodney said, in case John thought that it might have worn off while they were sleeping.

"I know." John's voice was as flat as Rodney had ever heard it. 

If it had been anyone else, Rodney would have been tempted to make excuses and get the hell out of there as fast as he could. He was still tempted. But instead, he made himself shift back and then turn John around with determined hands that refused to take 'no' for an answer. "Hey," he said, which admittedly as small talk went fell short of the mark. But by then John's thoughts had separated themselves out enough that Rodney was too busy dealing with them to say anything else.

John was waiting for Rodney to get clingy, to ask when they could do this again and if this meant that they were in a relationship.  John was used to anyone he got involved with thinking that he would make excuses and get the heck out of Dodge as soon as he could. Expected him to be shallow, to want nothing but sex.

They weren't loud thoughts. Rodney didn't think they were even conscious thoughts, not really, and that was what made them so... well, disturbing. He'd always known that the Major's obvious self-confidence was the result of some sort of deep-seated belief in his inherent worth as a person, but Rodney had never realized that that would come with a whole set of problems of its own.

It's okay. No big deal. You can't let stuff get to you.

"Is it really that easy?" Rodney asked. Being able to hear John was strangely more intimate than lying naked next to him. 

"Look, let's not do this, okay?" John said, pulling away and getting up. He found a pair of pants and pulled them on.

"You're the one projecting his thoughts into my head," Rodney protested, sitting up with both hands holding onto the edge of the mattress. 

John's hair was sticking up in about a million different directions. It looked unbelievably stupid. "Yeah, well, I'm not doing it on purpose, so why don't you give me a break and make whatever assumptions you were going to make before you heard whatever you heard?"

Rodney gaped at him. "What?"

"Oh, didn't you hear me?" John said, but the anger that had been in his voice had faded and been replaced with something that sounded more like depression. It was an emotion that Rodney refused to acknowledge in himself, but that didn't mean he didn't recognize it. "Go on," John said, shoulders slumping. He looked smaller; as if everything that made him seem larger than life was somehow missing. "Get out of here."

Don't go. I'm not like that.

"If you're looking for someone to fool, Major, I'd suggest you aim in a different direction," Rodney said, trying to sound detached, which was basically the last thing he was feeling. "Or indeed in any direction other than mine under the current circumstances." He crossed his arms over his chest, not realizing until it was too late how ridiculous that probably looked considering he was naked. "I'm not leaving. And I know you're better than that."

John dropped his face down into his hand. "Rodney..."

"Yes?" Rodney said brightly.

"Give me a break, okay?" God, I hate this part.

"If you hate it so much then maybe you should stop going to such an inordinate amount of trouble to manufacture it," Rodney suggested. "I'm not leaving. And neither are you," he added quickly. "And we both know it."

John sighed. "Okay... if you already know everything that's going to happen, why don't you do me a favor and tell me?"

"You already think you know what's going to happen," Rodney pointed out.

"You never stop talking, do you," John said. I love it, he thought bleakly.

As a way of shutting Rodney up, it worked spectacularly. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. At no point did he have any idea what he was going to say if he managed to get his vocal chords to function. Finally, he stammered, "I... I..." He cleared his throat. "Well. Apparently sometimes I do."

John looked down at the floor and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "You think I'm being a real asshole."

Rodney feigned astonishment. "Oh my god! You can read my mind too!"

"Shut up," John said, with a hint of a grin that only touched one corner of his mouth. 

Standing, Rodney walked over to John and put a hand on the side of his face and kissed him, because it was inconceivable not to. "You don't want me to shut up," he said. 

"No," John agreed, defeated and elated at the same time, the wave of emotion rushing through Rodney like a relief he hadn't been aware he needed.

"I'm not leaving," Rodney said. "And I promise I'll do my best not to be insecure and worry that you're going to throw me over for the next spectacularly brilliant scientist who crosses your path." He looked thoughtful. "Not unless you can tell me that you really, honestly, genuinely want me to leave."

John shook his head. "I don't. You know that."

"Yeah, I do," Rodney said. And then, because it wasn't fair not to tell John what he was thinking when he already knew everything John was thinking, he added, "I like you, okay? I know what kind of person you are." Nervously, "I'm more likely to screw this up than you, you know."

I wouldn't count on it, John thought.

Rodney frowned. "I thought I was the negative one in this equation."

"No; you just get really wound up under pressure," John said. "But then you usually come through for us, too, so..."

"Usually?" Rodney gasped. "Oh, Major, I'm wounded. Truly."

John put an arm around Rodney's waist tentatively. "Liar."

"You'll never know, will you?" Rodney asked, and then they were kissing again, and for a while none of the rest of it mattered.

Being able to hear John's thoughts wasn't always as inconvenient as Rodney had assumed it would be. It was gratifying, for example, to be able to hand something to the other man before he'd even consciously realized he wanted it, and the look of surprise on John's face when that happened was well worth any extra effort Rodney had to go to.

The team didn't leave Atlantis for two weeks, while the Major was effectively grounded. During those two weeks, John and Rodney had sex eighteen times; eight of them in John's room, nine in Rodney's, and once, with Rodney's heart pounding like it was going to jump out of his chest, in the malfunctioning transporter that Rodney was supposed to be fixing. 

The first time was almost an accident, of the 'what, he was bending over to pick something up and your cock accidentally slipped into his ass?' variety. The soap was slippery, and the part where Rodney had dropped it really had been an accident. The part where John had bent over and the tip of Rodney's cock, slick with suds, had nudged into place had been all Rodney's dick's idea; that was his story and he was sticking to it. John's gasp of shock and pleasure had been well worth it, even if the actual fucking left a lot to be desired -- Rodney was barely inside him an inch before he came, and then he'd slid in the rest of the way with his own come as lube and only managed a couple of thrusts before it was too much and he had to stop, shuddering. He'd reached around to stroke John to a climax that had been accompanied by both a moan and something that had sounded suspiciously like a whimper.

The second time -- and yeah, all the rest of the times -- had been on purpose, and all of them had been Rodney fucking John, except for the few occasions when they hadn't been able to wait even that long. Rodney hadn't figured out how to say that if John wanted to top, that would be okay with him. 

Rodney liked feeling competent. Hearing every thought that passed through John's mind while they were having sex made him feel like the best lover John had ever had; of course, the fact that John thought exactly that, often and loudly, didn't hurt.

But each time they fucked, John worried that it might be the last, that Rodney wasn't taking this seriously, and Rodney didn't know how to reassure him. He was so overwhelmed by his sudden and powerful status as a sex god that it made dealing with other things, especially things that he was stupendously bad at, like talking to people, that much harder.

He did try to initiate a conversation about it a couple of times, but each time John had made excuses that Rodney knew were lies and disappeared before Rodney could get past the first stammered opening sentences.

Even still, the sex was great, and Rodney was even starting to get used to not being the only one inside his own head. On the other hand, the Major had been effectively grounded since it had started, and that made him, well, cranky. 

A cranky John Sheppard was not, Rodney learned very quickly, a pleasant thing.

"What the hell are you doing?" John asked.

Rodney glanced down at his own boots and saw the Major's standing next to them. "Rewiring this console," he said. "And it's not as easy as it looks. Did you need something?"

"Forget it," John said, and started to walk away.

Sighing, Rodney slid back out from underneath the console and struggled to a sitting position. "It wasn't a trick question, Major. If there's something you need..." It was a way of asking without asking, something that Rodney was beginning to suspect he'd get very good at if their one-way telepathic bond continued for much longer.

John nodded, even if he still looked irritated. "Yeah; I was hoping you could take a look at something for me. Something, you know... scientific."

Rodney would have known what that meant even if he hadn't been able to hear what John was thinking. "Sure. This can wait." He wiped his hands on his pants and followed John to his quarters.

"How much time've we got?" John asked, gasping as Rodney's teeth bit down on his shoulder.

"Before someone wonders where I went?" Rodney tried to think, but it was hard to when the Major's hand was wrapped around his dick. "Half an hour, maybe?"

"Good." John slid down to his knees and sucked on Rodney's cock -- not enough to get him close to the edge, but enough to make him ache for more. "Because I was thinking maybe we could try something new."

"Oh? And what would that be?" Rodney tried to sound politely curious, but he was already hearing the answer in his head.

You, on your knees in front of me, with my dick in your ass. God, Rodney, I want to fuck you. I need to. 

"Yes," Rodney gasped, even as John guided him over to the bed and pushed him down next to it, arms resting on the mattress and then John's tongue was... "Oh God," Rodney said in a small voice.

He'd rimmed other guys on a couple of occasions, but more out of curiosity than anything else. Now he had John's strong hands holding him open and a warm, wet tongue probing, licking him, and Rodney's blood was rushing through his veins with such arousal that he thought this might be what going crazy was like. He whimpered; his hips twitched. He couldn't stay still, but he never wanted it to stop.

God, I want to fuck you, John was thinking, and Rodney whimpered again. 

"Yes," he said, forehead pressed to the mattress and hands clenched around the rough fabric of the blanket. "Yes, yes. Do it. Now would be good."

Hang on a minute, John thought, tinged with amusement, as his tongue delved deeper and Rodney's cock released a slow pulse of pre-come that slicked the tip into a state of almost unbearable sensitivity.

A minute stretched into two and then three, and by the time John finally slid his cock into Rodney, Rodney's legs were shaking and he was gasping for air. He almost came right then, but the fit was tight enough to be more than a little uncomfortable and that was enough distraction to keep him from going off like a rocket.

Okay?" John thought, waiting, one hand stroking over Rodney's hip.

Rodney squeezed his eyes shut and breathed through his nose, teeth clenched. "Yes."

It must have sounded less than convincing, because John didn't move. "Rodney?"

"Yes," Rodney said, relaxing in the aura of John's genuine concern. "Yes, yes. I'm fine."

John pulled back a bit, tentatively, then pushed forward again, and Rodney really was fine. Better than fine. He groaned softly at the chorus of oh Jesus, oh fucks echoing in his head, some of them his and some of them John's, and tightened his grip on the edge of the mattress until his knuckles hurt as John started to fuck him.

Christ, I didn't know it would be like this, John thought, each word distinct and awed like they'd been written on the inside of Rodney's brain with a fine-tipped pen.

The next thrust made Rodney whimper -- he grabbed onto the pillow that was within arm's reach and dragged it closer, buried his face in it with a gasp as John shifted and shoved forward again. 

Oh Jesus, Rodney. John shuddered and groaned, his grip on Rodney's hips tight enough to hurt. Fuck. Yeah.

Rodney would have echoed that if he'd been able to without words. As it was, he was too busy moaning into John's pillow and rubbing the tip of his dick practically raw on the edge of the mattress. Then there was a lot more groaning and some desperate gasps from John, and they were moving together because there was no way that Rodney could stay still despite John's grip on him, and then John's fumbling hand found Rodney's cock and Rodney came in a sweet hot rush that left him boneless and breathless.

John gasped something that Rodney didn't catch, but it didn't matter because in his head John was chanting Rodney, Rodney, a stream of ecstatic words running together like water to the sea. And when John came there were no words at all -- just a wave of delicious sensation that felt to Rodney like a second orgasm of his own, one that was almost more powerful than the first.

"Jesus," John said, when he'd caught his breath. "That was..."

Rodney didn't need him to finish. "I know."

He was glad he wasn't the only one that groaned when they got up off the floor. 

"Next time," John said, collapsing on the bed and hitching over to make room for Rodney, whose knees were aching enough that he was worried about the early onset of arthritis, "we use the bed."

"Yes, please," Rodney said fervently, lying down facing John. "Anything but the floor."

John leaned forward and kissed him, slowly and gently. "You okay?"

Rodney was already sucking on John's lower lip, so he just made a muffled sound that was supposed to mean 'Yes' and ran his hand up and down along John's side, where the skin was smooth and silken. John's body temperature was always a degree or so lower than Rodney's, something that Rodney found surprisingly sexy. It made him want to be naked next to John all the time.

"Sorry I dragged you away from what you were doing," John murmured, kissing Rodney's jaw.

"No, no," Rodney said, closing his eyes and sighing. "I'd much rather do this."

Good, John thought, sliding down and starting to suck Rodney's dick, which immediately began to perk up. So would I.

Eventually, Elizabeth and Carson decided that John could return to duty, since otherwise he'd be stuck in Atlantis twiddling his thumbs and getting more and more irritable. And fucking Rodney, although of course Elizabeth and Carson didn't know about that little hobby, and Rodney and John were both happy to keep it that way.

Of course, the first time out couldn't be an uneventful trip. That would have been too easy.

Teyla smiled as they stepped through the gate, looking up, her face glowing in the sunlight. "What a beautiful day," she said.

"We've been cooped up in the city too long," Ford agreed, turning in a slow circle as he continued to walk in the direction they'd started in.

Rodney glanced at John, then stopped and slapped at his arm as a sharp pinprick distracted him. "Ow!"

John stopped and turned around. "What?"

"I don't know," Rodney said, feeling his heart pounding a little bit too quickly as he examined his arm. There was a hole in it bigger than a needle mark, oozing blood. "A bug, I think."

"A bee?" Ford was back, looking concerned.

"I don't know," Rodney said.

"There." Teyla pointed, and he looked in that direction in time to see a disturbingly large creature that resembled a hummingbird hovering in mid-air.

"What is it?" John asked. His hand was on his gun.

"It looks like what we call a meshvaar," Teyla said. "I have never known one to attack an Athosian. Perhaps we startled it when we came through the gate."

Rodney kept his hand over the throbbing spot on his arm and watched the hummingbird-mosquito thing warily. 

"Maybe it just thought Rodney looked tasty," John said, still with his hand on his gun as the creature flitted from side to side, appearing to study them. 

"This really hurts," Rodney complained. "I hope it's not poisonous."

"I do not believe that it is," Teyla said, giving him a look that said plainly that she thought he was being overly dramatic.

"Well, you wouldn't know, would you," Rodney said, "what with it never biting anyone before."

John met Ford's gaze and tilted his head in the direction of the mesh-whatever it was; Ford had already drawn his gun, Rodney noted. "Here, lemme see," John said, stepping closer to Rodney and peeling his hand away from his arm.

"Ow," Rodney said. "Ow! Do you have to poke it?"

"Looks kind of puffy," John announced. "I think you should go back and have Carson take a look at it."

"Really?" Rodney raised startled eyes to John's.

"Yeah," John said, hitting his radio. "Elizabeth? Rodney's coming back through."

There was hardly a pause before Elizabeth responded. "Is everything all right?"

"He got bit by something and I think Dr Beckett ought to take a look at it," John said, widening his eyes at Rodney. Don't fight me on this one. You won't win.

"I'm fine," Rodney said, to Elizabeth and John both, because he could feel the thread of worry behind John's unspoken words. 

"No sign of an allergic reaction, Rodney?" Carson's voice came through the radio. 

"No," Rodney said. "No; not yet, at least."

"It's reddening around the edges and it's pretty swollen," John said, brushing his thumb lightly over the skin next to the bite mark. "I'd feel better if McKay was back in Atlantis. Just to be on the safe side."

"Aye," Carson said. "Come on back, Rodney, and we'll take a look at it."

"Okay," Rodney said, since it seemed like everyone was conspiring against him. 

The last thing he saw before stepping through the gate, backwards, was John's face.

Rodney's ability to hear John's thoughts cut off the instant he was back in Atlantis. Well, most likely before, not that he would have been capable of noticing then. It was much more disturbing than he would have imagined -- the wormhole closed, and it was like John was... gone. 

As a result of his distraction, Rodney barely paid attention to Carson as his arm was cleaned and bandaged up.

"And if you notice any signs of reaction, contact me immediately," Carson said, taping the bandage into place.

"Yes, yes," Rodney said, not thinking about anything but getting back to the control room where he could wait for John to return from the mission.

"You're not listening to me at all, are you," Carson sighed, and that did get Rodney's attention for a few seconds. "Are you that worried?"

"You would be, too," Rodney said. "If you'd been able to hear everything someone was thinking for weeks, and then all of a sudden you couldn't..."

"They're in contact at all times," Carson said soothingly, patting Rodney's arm, but somehow it was hard to be reassured.

Fifteen minutes later, Rodney had managed to annoy everyone in the control room to the point where Elizabeth suggested, very firmly, that he go away and find something else to do. He was just about ready to when his radio crackled to life, the sound of harsh panting in his ear. 

"We're coming through!" It was Ford's voice, shouted between gasps for air.

"Is everything all right?" Elizabeth asked, and Rodney shot her a look of disbelief.

"Of course everything's not all right!" he snapped.

"The Major has been injured," Teyla said. 

In a flash, Rodney turned and ran for the stairs to the gate room, his heart slamming against his rib cage. John could be dead and he wouldn't know, not when he couldn't hear his thoughts. 

He reached to the bottom of the stairs just as the gate whooshed and opened, but no one came through, and neither Ford nor Teyla were saying anything.

"No," Rodney said immediately, going right up to the event horizon. "No. No, no, no."

This wasn't happening. Couldn't be. 

Carson ran down the stairs into the gate room, looking alarmed, with Elizabeth at his heels. Rodney turned back to the gate. "Come on," he said, quieter than he should have. "Come on, come on..."

"Where are they?" Elizabeth asked.

"I don't know!" Rodney snapped. "There's... I can't..."

"Lieutenant Ford activated the gate," one of the tech guys in the control room reported.

"There must have been something chasing them," Rodney said, turning to Elizabeth desperately. 

Just then, Teyla and Ford burst through the event horizon, staggering under the weight of John's limp body between them. "Oh God," Rodney said again, as Carson jumped forward and caught John, lowering him to the floor. In Rodney's head, there was nothing but silence. "Is he -- "

"He's alive," Carson said, after a heartbreakingly long moment, and Rodney felt all the strength go out of his legs. He sank down onto his knees, one hand over his mouth, thinking that someone as smart as he was shouldn't be the kind of person who reacted so spectacularly badly in a crisis.

"Come on, let's get him to the infirmary," Carson said, as some other members of the medical team stepped forward with a stretcher. Rodney hadn't even realized they were there.

"What happened?" Elizabeth asked, as Teyla and Ford straightened up, still catching their breath.

"It was the Wraith," Teyla said. "One of them shot Major Sheppard."

"I took both of them out, but it was a little too late for the Major," Ford said, looking guilty. "He got hit in the back of the head. But he'll be okay, right, Doc?"

Rodney almost answered before he realized that Ford was talking to Carson. "He should be fine," Carson said. "His pulse is strong."

Grimly, not caring what anyone thought, Rodney walked beside the stretcher all the way to the infirmary, unable to look away from John's face.

The next few hours seemed like a lifetime. Rodney spent most of them sitting in the infirmary on the bed across from John's, staring at either the floor or his hands. It seemed wrong that the only thoughts inside his head were his own -- it was too quiet. He didn't think he liked it.

Finally, finally, John groaned and stirred. Relieved, Rodney jumped up and moved over to the bed, reaching for John's hand. He remembered what it was like to be numb and paralyzed, and he knew John wouldn't like it any better than he had.

John's eyes opened, and his hand twitched in Rodney's. 

"I'm glad you're awake," Rodney said nervously. "I was... well. I'm glad."

John made a muffled questioning sound.

"You were hit by a Wraith stunner," Rodney said. "Don't worry -- Carson said you'll be fine."

Carson chose that moment to come over and see for himself. "Ah, good, Major. Good to see you awake. Now, don't worry about a thing; the effects of the stunner should wear off within a few hours, and then you'll be good as new." Rodney saw his eyes take in the fact that they were holding hands, but Carson didn't say anything. 

"I feel like I got run over by a bus," John said hoarsely.

"Aye, I'm sure you do," Carson said with sympathy. "I'll stop by in a bit to see how you're doing." Weirdly, Carson pulled the curtain around John's bed before leaving.

John looked at Rodney, eyes narrowed. "No, I didn't tell him anything," Rodney said. "But I'm sure the fact that I've been here since they brought you back has given him more than a hint."

"Are Teyla and Ford okay?" John asked.

"Yes, yes, they're fine. Don't you think I would have told you if they weren't?" 

John managed to look apologetic. "What about you?"

"Me!?" Rodney could hardly believe what he was hearing. Then he blinked, realizing what he wasn't hearing. "Wait! I can't hear you!"

"Getting stung by that bug-bird-thing made you deaf?" John asked.

"Not that!" Rodney resisted the urge to smack John. "In my head! You! You're gone! It was cut off once I came back through the gate, but I figured it was just temporary."

"Well, that's good," John said hopefully. "I mean, I figured it would wear off sooner or later, but..."

"That's good?" Rodney stared at John in disbelief. "Oh, please tell me that you didn't just say that."

"Say what?" John asked, confused.

"That you're happy for this to be over!" Rodney threw his hands up into the air. "Well, fine! Great! You know what? I'm happy, too, okay?"

"You are?"

"Yes! You're happy, I'm happy. Everybody's -- "

The curtain was flung back, revealing an angry-looking Carson Beckett. "Forgive me for interrupting, but neither of you sounds happy." He glared at Rodney. "Now lower your voice or I'll have you removed from my infirmary, do you understand?"

Cowed, Rodney nodded, and after a few seconds, Carson went away again.

"Sorry," Rodney said, tucking his hands into his pockets and feeling the ache in his arm, concentrating on it. "But it's your fault, you know."

"What's my fault?" John sounded perplexed. "Did something happen when I was unconscious that you neglected to tell me about?"

"Well, it would be convenient if we could blame it on the effects of the stunner, but I don't think it would be scientifically sound," Rodney said, actually considering the possibility for a moment. 

"I still don't know what we're talking about," John pointed out.

"You being glad to get rid of me," Rodney said.

John looked upset and reached for Rodney's hand. "I don't want to get rid of you," he said. "Why would you think that?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you said it?" Rodney suggested, trying not to raise his voice again.

"I did?" John licked his lips, which looked dry. Rodney had to wrench his gaze away from them. "No, I didn't. I said that it was good that you don't have to hear me in your head all the time."

Rodney frowned. "That's not the same thing?"

"No," John said. "It's not the same thing at all." Gently, he asked, "Do you know the last thing I can remember thinking before I got hit?"

Rodney shook his head. "I couldn't hear you anymore, remember?"

John's hand tightened on Rodney's. "I was thinking that I should have told you that I'm in love with you," John said.

"I... you... but I..." Rodney shut his mouth, since he was apparently incapable of forming a complete thought. "You are?" he asked, in a tiny voice.

"Yes, I am." John was wearing that wide smile, the one that only really lifted one side of his mouth, making the expression crooked and endearing.

Rodney wasn't sure he'd ever experienced a moment of pure joy quite like this one. "So... that stuff I was saying about being happy," he said, pointing his thumb behind him to indicate the previous moment, now passed. "I was right." He grinned hugely and bounced on the balls of his feet, wishing that he could jump into bed with John and hug him.

"Yes, you were," John said, still smiling, eyes crinkled up. "You really like being right, don't you."

"Of course I do," Rodney said. "Only a stupid person wouldn't be able to enjoy being right." He meant so much more, but it was bigger than words could express.

"And you're not a stupid person," John said, shifting over to make room on the mattress next to him.

Rodney sat down, still holding John's hand. "No," he agreed, leaning in to kiss John. John's lips were dry and cool, and he kissed Rodney back with an enthusiasm that was surprising considering his condition. "Oh!" Rodney said, realizing. "I'm in love with you, too. But you knew that, didn't you?"

John reached up and cupped Rodney's face, rubbing his thumb along Rodney's jaw. "Yeah," John said, even though he hadn't spent the past few weeks hearing Rodney's thoughts. "Yeah, I did."