"It's a bong."
"It is not!"
"Yes, it is. Look, there's the stem and the slide, the mouthpiece and the bubble chamber. And, I bet..." Sheppard crouched down next to the small pillar on which rested the... rather beautiful blown and stained glass... thing... and looked up the... stem, thing, "Yep. There's ash in there. Or something similar."
"You are insane. Number one, it's not a bong. Number two, how do you know so much about drug paraphernalia? And number three, it is not a bong!"
"I was in Afghanistan where such things are called hookahs. Christ McKay, lighten up! It's a bong. Why are you so sure it's not?"
"This is an artifact from the ancients." Rodney was speaking through his clenched teeth. Leave it to Sheppard to cheapen such a lovely and well-made... artifact. "Blown glass into an elegant shape and color. It could be a vase."
"Oh for crying out loud. It's not a vase. It's a bong. Look." Sheppard put his hands on his hips and glared at Rodney. "We're descendants of the Ancients, right?"
"Of course we are." Rodney rolled his eyes.
"So why is it so hard to believe the ancients engaged in a little recreational hallucinogens? It's human nature. And don't tell me you never experimented because you'd be lying. Hey, I wonder if the ash can be relit..."
"Get your hands off that." Sheppard had tried to pull the... the... stem thing off and Rodney slapped his hands away. "Whether or not I 'experimented' in my youth is immaterial. This object is a minimum of ten thousand years old. It's an Ancient artifact and is not a bong, and I would appreciate you treating it with the proper respect."
"I am treating it with respect, McKay. Jesus. Get the stick out of your ass and pay attention. This is a bong. This is the stem. This is the slide and it pops off like this."
Rodney was seething. Sheppard could be such a Neanderthal at times and it drove Rodney crazy how crazy it made him. "I said don't touch that."
"I'm not going to break it. And besides, it's been in that... cupboard thing for ten thousand years and not had a problem, touching it isn't going to break it. Ah, there." The end of the... stem thing popped off and Sheppard looked absolutely delighted. "Yep, ash. It's a bong."
"It is not--"
"Doesn't smell familiar. Does this smell familiar to you, McKay?"
He had to be doing it to deliberately goad Rodney into homicide. That was it, he'd always suspected Sheppard had a death wish anyway. "Put. That. Back."
"I wonder if cannabis ever grew in the Pegasus galaxy. Hey! Maybe the Ancients invented--"
"Why are you doing this?" Rodney knew his voice came out almost as a whine but he couldn't help it. "Why must you cheapen every single discovery made here in Atlantis?"
Sheppard looked appalled. "McKay, I do not--"
"Just because you found this... this..."
"...artifact doesn't give you the right to... to..."
"Look." Sheppard gently replaced the piece he'd removed. "If you don't want to believe it's a bong, you don't have to. But I'm telling you, that's what it is. And as far as I'm concerned? It's actually a good thing that we found it. It just proves that the Ancients were regular folk, just like us."
Before Rodney could reply to that, Ford bounced into the room they had been exploring. "Major, the other rooms check out -- oh, cool bong! Where'd it come from?"
Rodney dropped his face into his hands.
"So I hear you found a bong in one of the rooms over on the north pier." The staff meeting was just finishing and Elizabeth was speaking brightly to Rodney across the table. Next to her, Sheppard was trying to hide a grin.
"It is not a bong. It is an Ancient artifact." Rodney glared at Sheppard. "Despite some wild speculation to the contrary."
"From the description, it sounds like a bong to me, Rodney," Elizabeth said. Was everyone in Atlantis out to get him or something?
"I refuse to debate this imbecilic topic any further. Think of it as you will, it's still an Ancient artifact and it still must be treated with the appropriate respect."
"True, but you could say that of all Atlantis. And we're living here, not treating it as if it were a museum. Now that it's been cataloged, Major Sheppard has requested it be released to him and I see no reason not to." She gave Sheppard a raised eyebrow. "Despite the fact that it's obviously drug paraphernalia."
"Earth laws don't necessarily apply in Atlantis, Dr. Weir." Someday, Rodney was going to smack that smirk right off Sheppard's face. Or kiss it. Yeah, right.
"There are several plants raised by my people that are prized for their medicinal or restorative properties, gained while inhaling the smoke from burning them," Teyla said and Rodney gave her a glare. "Including one called pinz, which is said to have come from the Ancients themselves."
"Really? You got any samples?"
"Purely for medicinal experimentation, Dr. Weir."
"I have a bag of it in my rooms, actually. We burn it as incense as a help in meditation or to sleep."
"Really?" Now even Elizabeth was doing it, sharing a look with Carson. "Dr. Beckett has been trying to identify some local medicinal herbs in order to stretch what medicines we did bring with us."
"Aye," Carson said, looking from Elizabeth to Teyla. "Especially something to help people sleep. I dinna know why no one expected us to have problems sleeping in a new galaxy and all."
Elizabeth was nodding. "This is a relaxation aid? And it's not addictive?"
"Oh, not at all. It engenders a very mild euphoria which leads to muscular relaxation. I've found it helps me sleep when I've been unable to. I would be happy to share some with you, Dr. Weir, Dr. Beckett."
"Thank you, Teyla, that would be lovely. Can you stop by the infirmary with some, later? Lord knows I could use something to relax me, especially considering how so many of you conspire to keep me wound up." The look she gave Rodney was distinctly chilly and he bristled. He certainly had never gone out of his way to make her life difficult. "What do you think, Carson, could it be adapted in any way for the staff? It beats alcohol, which I do not want to have floating around."
"I'm familiar with the herb," Carson said. "Though I haven't tried burning it. Could you come by in about an hour then, Teyla?"
"Of course, Dr. Beckett."
"And I'd like to take a look at the bo--" Carson changed his wording in mid-stream, after seeing Rodney's glower, "--artifact as well, if you could, Major."
Rodney closed his laptop with a decisive snap. "If we're done here, I have work to do." Rodney avoided everyone's eye as he stalked out of the room. Idiots. If they wished to discuss drugs they could do it on their own time, not his. That was the last thing he needed, to be less guarded around Sheppard. Well, anyone, actually. No one needed more ammunition against him. He got loopy even being around someone who once smoked marijuana -- who knew what some outer-space herb would do to him.
Rodney gave the whole incident no more thought for the rest of the day -- well, that is, he tried to but it just kept coming back to haunt him. Every third person seemed to be using the word 'bong' in conversation, which made no sense. Was everyone on Atlantis a closet druggie?
Though he went to the mess hall for dinner, Rodney kept his laptop with him and used it to prevent anyone from joining him. His intention was to eat quickly and to get back to work. They were still working on the Ancient database; he hoped that, hidden somewhere in those terabytes of information, he could find the location to more zero point modules. It was becoming a priority and he couldn't understand why more people weren't as obsessed about it.
When a person sat down opposite him, despite his having the 'working! back off!' expression, Rodney could barely hide his irritation. "What?" He glanced up and discovered Elizabeth Weir giving him her best raised-eyebrow I-know-what-you're-thinking look.
"You work too hard, Rodney." Elizabeth put her napkin on her lap and took up fork and knife. "We all do, but you especially. I've just come from Carson who's finished the analysis on Teyla's herb, pinz. It's almost too good to be true, though I suspect that's the Ancient tampering with the original plant." She grinned. "I don't mean I suspect, Carson does." She shrugged. "It's completely harmless and Teyla says it's very effective. I'm going to try it tonight and I suggest you try some as well."
He glared at her -- he was doing a lot of that lately -- and closed his laptop. "I do not need an artificial method of--"
"It's not artificial, it's natural. Burned as incense. It has a pleasant aroma, even, very light." She took a bite and gave him a look that told him his glare was bouncing right off her. "If you had a headache, you'd take an aspirin. And don't tell me you wouldn't."
"It's hardly the same thing."
"I fail to see the difference. You have to have experimented when you were younger--"
"What I did or did not do as a youngster is completely beside the point. Drugs are dangerous and can lead to all sorts of problems -- cognitive, biological, reproductive..."
"Rodney, you're being unreasonable. This is no more dangerous than Benedryl, and I know you take that. It helps you calm. It helps you sleep. What's the harm in that?"
"What's the harm? I don't know and don't intend to find out." As if he could afford to lose any type of control around, well, anyone. "I suppose Major Sheppard has already dosed himself to the max with it." As if the man could get any more laid-back than he was already.
She didn't speak for a long moment so Rodney looked up. He found her looking at him with an expression that was about midway between hilarity and you-poor-clueless-bastard and it made him want to run away and hide.
"No, Major Sheppard did not," she said, finally. "However, he and Carson and Teyla were deep in discussion when I left them, an hour or so ago. I'm sure he's trying to figure out what the ash he found in the bong--"
"--bong, trying to figure out what the Ancients were smoking." She made a sound like she was trying to hold in a giggle, which was highly inappropriate for a woman of her rank and stature. "No pun intended. Didn't quite mean it to come out like that." She took another big bite of her dinner and he decided he'd had enough.
Putting his utensils and napkin on his tray, he put it on his laptop and stood. "I think this entire complex has gone drug happy. If you'll excuse me, I'd better go make sure everything is working, since it appears I'm going to be the only one on the wagon for a while." He tried to stalk off but his exit was ruined when he accidentally got his foot tangled in the leg of his chair and nearly fell. He carefully did not look at Elizabeth as he left.
It was late and Rodney had just finished some work in his lab before going to his bed to sleep. It had been a long day and he was looking forward to some shut-eye -- something that was increasingly difficult to do, lately. He knew he was over-tired because he was having trouble sleeping but he would most emphatically not seek artificial help for that. There were other methods, tried-and-true natural methods of getting to sleep, like masturbation. Though he was going to have to change his latest favorite fantasy since the star turned out to be an idiot who was also apparently a stoner. He snorted; military types. No brain, except maybe in their little heads. He'd been thinking Sheppard was different, smarter, less of an moron and more of an intellectual equal, but apparently he'd been wrong all along.
Rodney most emphatically did not want to think about how unhappy that thought made him.
His usual route took him past that particular military person's room, not that it made any difference. But this evening, he noted a strange odor and an even stranger sound... singing? If it was, it was particularly obnoxious.
Following the smell (sweet, but not marijuana, Rodney remembered smelling that from college), he ended up at Sheppard's door. That's where the horrible noise was coming, as well. It sounded like Sheppard was strangling cats, but with words.
"...Simply irresistible! She's so fine, there's no telling where the money went... Simply irresistible..."
Rodney's first thought was to turn and walk away, to just not get involved. It was obvious what was happening and he really didn't want to think about it. But his inner snarkiness, still upset that Sheppard had been removed as an object of fantasy, told him to go in, witness the debacle and have excellent blackmail material for the rest of his tenure in Atlantis.
After wrestling with his better judgment for a moment, Rodney let his inner snarkiness win and banged on Sheppard's door. "Major! What the hell are you--"
In mid-shout, the door opened, wafting the sweet smoke out so strongly that Rodney choked and waved his hand. "Dr. Rodney McKay! I was just thinkin' about you!"
Oh my God, Rodney thought to himself, he's completely stoned. Sheppard was in a tight black t-shirt and a pair of sweats so threadbare they might as well have been spiderweb. The knees were missing and they sagged down on his hips so low that Rodney could tell he was going commando. Rodney swallowed the last of his words and forced his eyes up and front. Unfortunately, Sheppard seemed to have noticed his detour and his eyes, while still too dilated to be sober, reflected amusement.
"Like I said, just thinkin' about you. C'mon in!"
"No." Rodney drew himself up and stared at Sheppard's face and only his face. "I will not compromise my immune system by exposing it to whatever you've been smoking in that Ancient artifact. And don't think this isn't going in my report back to-- urk!"
Sheppard grabbed his arm and yanked him through the doorway, closing the door after him. Rodney, thrown off-balance, staggered and would have fallen if Sheppard hadn't maintained his grip on Rodney's biceps. "You know," Sheppard drawled, "you should wear more black. But blue is good too. It matches your eyes."
"Matches my... what? What the hell?"
"This is one of my favorite songs, you know," Sheppard said, and it was then that Rodney realized the guy had an earbud on one ear. The other was dangling down his shirt and both were attached to an MP3 player. "The T-Rex version. People who listen to Duran Duran should be shot."
Rodney drew himself up and tried to look imposing, though it was difficult while his eyes were tearing up from the smoke. "Major Sheppard. You are wasted."
"Yeah." Sheppard grinned. "I am. It's great. Sanctioned hallucinogens, Ancient style. Can't get any better than that. You're dirty and sweet, oh yeah. Get it on, bang a gong, get it on..."
It took Rodney a couple of seconds to realize that Sheppard wasn't trying to clear his throat or gargle, that he thought he was singing to whatever was playing on his MP3 player. When that sank in, he couldn't help himself -- he started to laugh, helplessly. He banged his forehead on the heel of his hand. "Oh, great, now I'm getting stoned. If I lose brain cells or the ability to reproduce reliably, I'm going to--"
"You're built like a car, you got a hubcap Diamond star halo. You're built like a truck, oh my. You're dirty sweet and you're my guy..."
Rodney wrenched his arm from Sheppard's grip. "I am not your guy. And please stop singing, you're frightening... everything within earshot."
"You could be. My guy, I mean, if you wanted to." Sheppard's grin turned a little feral and his eyelids drooped. Rodney noted a distinctly predatory look in those half-seen eyes and tried to hold a shiver down, tried to figure out how he was going to get out of Sheppard's room since Sheppard was standing between him and the door. "You know you said it wasn't a bong? Well, it is. And that ash? Carson said it wasn't toxic. Mixed with pinz it's the bestest, mildest upper ever. And you know what else?" Sheppard leaned in closer and Rodney stood his ground, nervously. "It's kinda like an aphrodisiac. I've got the biggest boner right now..."
Rodney couldn't help it, he had to look. And yep, Sheppard was right. He did. Oh, sweet Christ. "This is... this is not right." No, it certainly wasn't, because it wouldn't be remembered properly and he wanted Sheppard to remain a fantasy, not to be a stoned reality.
"What's not right, Rodney?" Sheppard took another step towards him and Rodney performed a credible fake to the right before an end run. He almost made it to the door but Sheppard knew more about football and managed to stop him by a full body check. They went crashing to the floor.
"OW!" Rodney was surprised his elbow, slammed into the thick pile of carpeting, didn't shatter.
"Are you okay?" Sheppard rolled off and sat up, bringing Rodney with him so that they were sitting knee to knee. "Christ, Rodney, you're a klutz."
"I'm a klutz? I didn't get down here on my own, you know!"
"Yeah, sorry, but I didn't want you leaving, not yet, we're just getting started."
Suddenly, it all fell apart for Rodney. It had been a long damn day, his favorite fantasy was turning into a bust and his elbow hurt like a sonofabitch. He took a deep breath -- at least the air was clearer on the floor -- and released it as a sigh. "I'm leaving now. You can continue to... to..." Rodney waved his hand to encompass the whole sordid mess, "...do whatever you're doing without me. Though I must say I'm more than a little disappointed, Major."
Sheppard put his hand on Rodney's shoulder, keeping him from rising. "Disappointed?"
"Yes." Rodney glanced at Sheppard who was observing him far more carefully than his drunken state should have allowed. "I thought you were above this kind of thing."
"Rodney. Lighten up." Sheppard still hadn't taken his hand from Rodney's shoulder and the heat of it was burning through the cloth. He spoke again, softly and earnestly. "You work too hard, you do too much and you never seem to have fun. Having fun is important, Rodney."
Rodney just looked at him. "Why is everyone in Atlantis suddenly concerned with my recreational time? I don't have time for fun," he said. Long practice kept the bitterness out of his voice as he said it. "I have too much to do, as you just reminded me."
"Oh for God's sake, Rodney, shut up. For one night, let it go. Let your hair down, do what you've always wanted to do. Just this once."
Okay, red alert now, Rodney thought. Sheppard was leaning in towards him, taking his face between two big, lean hands (oh, the fantasies those hands had spawned), letting those hands pull them together and then his lips were on Rodney's and Rodney froze.
Sheppard didn't seem to mind. He kept his hands on Rodney's head, holding him in place while his mouth caressed Rodney's lips. So soft, so mobile, so perfect; Rodney's eyelids sagged shut but he still wouldn't move. This was an aberration, he told himself, Sheppard was stoned out of his mind and had no real idea who he was kissing. When Sheppard's tongue swept across his lips, Rodney shuddered but didn't open his mouth.
When Sheppard pulled back, it was almost like a physical pain to Rodney. "Let me in, Rodney," Sheppard whispered. That feral, dangerous look was back in his eyes and his hands never moved. "I know you want it. Let me in..." He grinned. "Or I'll start singing again."
"You don't know anything," Rodney murmured back, but he didn't sound convincing even to himself. Luckily, Sheppard's MP3 player had gotten lost in their crash to the floor so the threat was hopefully empty.
"Yes, I do," Sheppard replied. "I know you watch me. Do you know how I know? Because I watch you too." One of Sheppard's thumbs swept across Rodney's cheekbone. "I think you don't know how to relax, to have fun. I think you've forgotten what it's like to not be busy, not be frantic. It's not wrong to relax every now and then. Relax, Dr. McKay. Let me show you what it's like."
Rodney stared hard at Sheppard; for someone stoned half out of his mind, he certainly sounded lucid. And Sheppard watched him? "You do not," he said.
"I do." Sheppard leaned in again and delicately licked at Rodney's lips. "Let me in."
"I -- I --" Apparently that's all Sheppard needed as he swooped in and trapped Rodney's words in his mouth. Sheppard's tongue was a knowledgeable intruder, running behind Rodney's teeth, stroking the top of his mouth, rubbing against Rodney's tongue, inviting and encouraging it to follow back to Sheppard's own mouth. Rodney couldn't help it, he moaned as the taste of Major John Sheppard filled his brain, and his hands came up to clutch at Sheppard's t-shirt.
Sheppard pulled back again, after the long, wet, nasty and fabulous kiss. "That's it," he murmured. "That's it. Let me in all the way, Rodney."
"Maj-- She-- John..." Rodney realized the idiocy of calling someone who was delicately kissing your temple by his last name or title but Sheppard's first name came hard to his lips, "John... this isn't..."
"No strings." Sheppard still had Rodney's face framed in his warm hands. "Only what you want, Rodney." The smile he gave Rodney was so sweet that Rodney would have had to turn away, except he couldn't. "Let me in."
"Goddammit," Rodney muttered. "This is so unfair." He only gave Sheppard -- John -- a moment to register his words before he threw his metaphysical hands in the air and said, "Fuck it." Then he jumped John, pinned him to the carpet and proceeded to show him that he most certainly did know how to have fun, even if he never had time to actually have fun, even if he couldn't allow himself to have the fun he so desperately craved.
And John, after one brief, shocked pause to register Rodney's capitulation, wholeheartedly joined in, rolling them over and grinding himself into Rodney who was sporting a boner quite as large as John's, thank you very much. Maybe it was whatever the hell was in that damn bong, but once Rodney gave in, he really gave in. And it was so unfair but at least he'd have the memory for future masturbation fantasies. And maybe he'd get the herbs from Carson. Maybe.
It took longer for Rodney to get naked than John, since all John was wearing were rags and Rodney was dressed properly as chief of the Sciences Division of Atlantis, for whatever it was worth. And whoever decided that all personnel on Atlantis should wear the equivalent of combat boots must have been out of his or her or its mind. The upshot of it was that Rodney couldn't get the damn boots off, not with John Sheppard on top of him enthusiastically drilling for oil in Rodney's tonsils with his tongue.
Trying and failing to lose the footwear, Rodney made a frustrated noise and heaved, getting John off of him and climbing to his feet. With the proper leverage, he was able to get the damn boots off and start on his pants but by then, John had managed to get to his feet too and a hot, naked, hot and extremely hot (and naked, don't forget naked, oh and very erect and nicely hung too and Rodney was aware that his eyes were bugging out) John Sheppard derailed Rodney's thought processes completely.
That was apparently John's intent as he actually looked to be stalking Rodney. He pulled Rodney's shirt off and bodily lifted him out of the puddle of pants and underwear around Rodney's ankles (John must lift weights, Rodney thought, the guy wasn't muscle-bound but oh God the muscles he had) and turned them so that he had Rodney pinned to a convenient piece of wall. Then he proceeded to kiss Rodney again, obviously thinking he had discovered the best way to shut Rodney McKay up. Not that Rodney was complaining.
Not complaining until John stopped kissing him, anyway. "Wait! What..."
"Just a minute, Rodney," John said, sliding to his knees and swallowing Rodney to the root.
And holy shit there it was, Rodney McKay's number two fantasy: Major John Sheppard blowing him. And damned if it wasn't hotter in reality than it was in Rodney's admittedly thin fantasy life. Only the sight of Sam Carter on her knees in front of him would have been better... then John did something with his tongue and leapt into first place. Way into first place.
"Oh God oh God... I'm..." Rodney thought it only fair to alert John but all John did was look up at him, through his obscenely long and far too pretty eyelashes and that did it, Rodney came and damned if John didn't swallow it all down. Just like that.
Then John stood, slowly, brushing his body over Rodney's, reminding Rodney with every square centimeter that he hadn't come yet. Rodney would have liked to have called up another fantasy but his brain had gone on vacation and hadn't left a forwarding address. So he was going to be just as compliant as John wanted him to be and that was fine too.
Apparently what John wanted him to do was to simply stand there, leaning against the wall because his knees were shaky, and let John taste him. Which John did, starting at Rodney's hairline. By the time he hit Rodney's nipples and realized what erogenous zones they were, Rodney was already half-hard again. John spent a lot of time biting and licking Rodney's nipples... his neck... his abdomen... and then he came back up, took Rodney by the shoulders and turned his face to the wall. "God, you taste good," he said, his voice hoarse. Then he went back on his knees and bit Rodney's left butt cheek.
Rodney yelped but John just chuckled. "Spread 'em, Dr. McKay," he said, and Rodney discovered a whole new, heretofore undiscovered fantasy which beat every single fantasy he'd ever had from the time he discovered his penis -- John Sheppard rimming him. Rodney thought he was going to die from it. After a few moments, he realized the pathetic mewling noises he heard were coming from him, but he couldn't stop them. Instead, he leaned his overheated forehead on the wall and just rode the tide of sensation.
After too short a time, John climbed back to his feet and leaned his whole body against Rodney's. Rodney heard a scraping noise from the desk next to him but he was so blissed out, and so hard -- again, already -- he didn't realize why until two slick fingers entered him. "Loose, Rodney, stay loose, let me in..."
Rodney whimpered. He braced his hands on the wall and waited for John to enter him, wanted John to be inside him, wanted to let John in but there were no words, his speech center was completely off-line. Which was odd for him, but he filed that away to look at another day. Then John did enter him, pressed in him, held him up, moving in and out so smoothly and so deliciously that it was perfect, better than perfect. Now John was making those pathetic mewling noises, or maybe it was both of them, who cared, because John was moving faster and deeper and Rodney was pushing back, his hands on the wall for leverage, thrusting back with every jolt in, hearing John's gasps and guttural moans in one ear until John reached around Rodney and started pulling on his cock. Then the world just exploded and went away for a while.
When Rodney managed to put himself back together, he discovered he was on the floor with John spooned up behind him. He'd never felt so good in his life and his hum of satiated pleasure made John chuckle. "Just think what we'll be able to do on the bed," John murmured into his ear before licking around the shell.
Rodney shuddered in pleasure, but it was tinged with sadness and he sighed.
"What?" John blew in his ear.
"I should go," Rodney said, trying to get his muscles to respond to his will. They were being exceptionally stubborn for some reason and Rodney blamed the smoke.
John was quiet for a long moment. "You don't have to."
"Yes, I do. You won't want me around in the morning."
Lifting himself on one elbow, John tipped Rodney's head back and around. "What are you talking about?"
"You're stoned, Major Sheppard. You're under the effects of an aphrodisiac. And you're straight and I was convenient. And you won't remember--"
John started to laugh. He fell back to the carpet still laughing, helplessly and infectiously. "You are such an idiot," he said.
Rodney sat up -- ow, he was going to feel that for a while and wasn't it nice? -- and glared down at Sheppard, who was still laughing. "What the hell--"
Sheppard reached up and grabbed Rodney's head, pulling him down for a long, quieting kiss. "You moron," he murmured, still smiling. "I'm not that stoned. And the only aphrodisiac here is you."
It took Rodney more than a few moments to realize what John was saying -- must have been the damn smoke slowing down his cognitive faculties -- then he looked carefully at the man who was grinning up into his face. "You're not? I am?"
"Shut up." John tumbled Rodney to the floor. They rolled around for a moment, kissing until John was able to pin Rodney. "Are you having fun, yet?" he asked, kissing Rodney's nose.
So maybe Rodney's brain was slowing a bit, because it took him a few long moments to figure it out. "Oh."
"I... guess I am."
"Good. Now, where's that MP3 player..."
"Oh, no you don't. I'm going to melt that thing down. You may be a genius in bed but you can't sing worth a damn, Major."
John blinked down at him and Rodney realized he was grinning ear-to-ear. "I'm a genius in bed?"
"Well, actually, we haven't tried it in bed yet, but empirical evidence..."
Rodney sighed happily. "I can do that."