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mountain goats

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"Well, I said not to open that door, now didn't I?" Rodney crossed his arms defensively over his chest and rocked indignantly up on his toes.

"A few questions come to mind," Sheppard said, mildly, but there was no mistaking the homicidal gleam in his eyes. Rodney pulled the kids back protectively: for all he knew, Sheppard had a penchant for barbeque. "How? And, why?"

Rodney grabbed some hay from the bale in the wardrobe and dissuaded the ram from eating Sheppard's pants (well, more of Sheppard's pants). "They were a gift," he said defensively. "I think my biological clock is ticking. Suddenly I had this huge reaction from the primitive part of my brain. Female! Two point five kids! Protect!" The look Sheppard gave him, all amused eyebrows and annoyed eyes and sardonic mouth, made Rodney's own mouth twist. "I just -- I'm bad with complex relationships. This is easy," he said, helplessly. "A little food, the occasional run up and down the North Tower, and -- "

" -- and they love you?" Sheppard said, cocking his head as if listening to very distant music.

"Yes!" Rodney said. "Bombs, robots, storms, life-sucking aliens, time travel -- hard. Goats -- easy."

"Hey, hey, hey," Sheppard said, and scratched PointFive between the ears. "It's okay, Rodney. Tell you a secret." He leant just a bit closer. "I'm easy, too."