Radek takes a deep breath and folds his arms across his chest. "The Wraith are coming to kill us," he says slowly. "And you wish to complain because Major Sheppard brings us coffee?"
Rodney gives him an incredulous look. "Well, yes." He stretches out the second word, perhaps aiming to demonstrate more fully his contempt for Radek's priorities. "It's creepy."
"The Wraith, Rodney." Radek does not believe naming them three times will make them appear any faster, but he hopes the word will not cross his lips again today. "They are creepy. Major Sheppard is just..." He thinks for a moment, setting up the monitoring for the power adaptors with absent-minded taps at his console. "He is just Major Sheppard. So." He shrugs.
"Hmm," says Rodney. It is the good kind of 'hmm', the sharp noise that normally heralds excited hand-waving and inspiration. Today, however, Rodney is not looking at the work before them, instead staring down at his empty mug.
Radek doesn't worry. Matters can surely not get worse.
The third time Sheppard brings them coffee, Radek is careful to thank him sincerely. Rodney peers at them both through a mountain of much abused circuitry, calculations flashing behind his eyes.
"Oh, hey, I've got it," Rodney says the moment Sheppard has gone. He picks up his cup and drinks in one fluid movement. "He's into us."
The power adaptor readings are fluctuating more rapidly than they predicted. Radek taps again at his console, hoping to correct for this before they destroy another of the custom-designed fuses. "We should have run another simulation before rewiring this network," he remarks, "and no, he just wishes to keep us caffeinated. It is admirable; please don't discourage him."
Rodney breathes out, a loud huff of impatience at a world full of imbeciles of whom Radek is king. "I was right about you, wasn't I?"
Radek feels silence is the wisest course of action, although he allows himself a smile. He disables two crystals, disconnecting the circuit most likely to be disrupting the adaptor. The fluctuations continue, but slower, and he tries not to laugh at the memory of Rodney, flushed with desire, taking Radek's startled mutter for a declaration of intent. It worked out well enough, after all.
"Sheppard wants us so bad." Rodney leans over and adjusts a third crystal. "And-- wait, wait, surely you're not trying to blow this fuse?"
Radek shrugs again. "It is true. Driven insensible by lust for you, Rodney, I am now trying to break the electronics. Also your team leader wishes to sleep with both of us. Please, don't judge us."
They stand outside Sheppard's door, jostling shoulders like schoolboys. Rodney clutches a bottle of vodka too tightly. The door opens and Radek holds three glasses up, trying to hide his amusement.
Sheppard is barefoot, wearing only a greying t-shirt, boxers and a thin trickle of drool. His hair sticks out in more directions than even Radek's father's did, and he has a crease mark down one cheek. His eyes, however, are alert.
"Rodney wishes us to get you drunk and seduce you," Radek says gravely, sorry now that they woke Sheppard even for a joke such as this. He and Rodney have come straight from the lab; they did not remember that Sheppard keeps different hours.
"Right, fine, you mock now." Rodney speaks indignantly, but he is staring as Sheppard rubs absently at his mouth. "But when--"
"No, Rodney, for this you may have all the credit."
Sheppard is not easy to read. The eyebrows go up, the eyebrows go down; Radek finds his own eyes darting sideways to decode Sheppard's expression from Rodney's face. The eyebrows twitch, and it is clear Rodney thinks (a) he's right and (b) Sheppard doesn't know it yet. They twitch again, and Rodney's confidence gives way to shock that (c) he will actually get his way.
The surprise would be charming if Radek were not so certain to be collateral damage.
"You do?" asks Sheppard, looking only at Rodney.
Perhaps Radek will escape this with both dignity and vodka. A shame -- he has enjoyed the companionship -- but not a catastrophe.
"We do," says Rodney, lifting his chin as if he is trying to persuade Dr Weir to allow him to juggle ZPMs for fun. I won't drop them, his eyes promise. It'll be awesome. It is strangely convincing.
"Huh," says Sheppard, moving back a step to look at them both. "Well, okay. Let's work with that."
Radek cannot recognise Rodney in photographs. To him, Rodney is a collection of movements, a flurry of hand gestures, head tilts and lightening-quick flashes of inspiration. Rodney exists in motion.
Sometimes, Radek likes to watch as Rodney jerks himself off, swift hand movements and deft fingers drawing out the pleasure for them both. When Radek first asked, Rodney thought he was making fun, but still he indulged Radek in this. It was good of him.
So when Radek signals for them to go ahead, Rodney must know he is not making some noble sacrifice. It no hardship to take pleasure in Rodney's activity, and to see Sheppard so loose-limbed and free is an honour in itself. But Sheppard smiles with an easy grace, quirking his mouth in an echo of Rodney's, and says, "Hey, Radek. I could use a hand down here."
Sheppard has already pushed Rodney against the wall, one hand against Rodney's hips, the other clumsy on his zipper. They kissed for a long while, Rodney's hands never stilling as Sheppard clutched his hips too tight.
Now Sheppard kneels, relaxed and happy, pressing his mouth against the fabric of Rodney's briefs. The vodka sits untouched by the door.
"Didn't I--" Rodney cuts himself off with a whimper as Sheppard draws back, rolls his eyes impatiently.
Rodney bucks forward, the motion quick and involuntary. He whimpers again; this time the smugness is unmissable. Radek, who can see a very little way into the night's future, does not blame him.
"Radek," Sheppard growls, "he won't shut up."
Radek frowns. "I see." His knees protest as he kneels to face Sheppard. "Serious problem, yes?"
Their lips share a smile around Rodney's cock. If these are the end times, Radek thinks, at least they will go well.
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