John didn’t remember anything about being a bat, and would have remained blissfully ignorant if Carson hadn’t taken video footage, “Purely for a medical baseline,” he said, but if so, John would like to know why Rodney felt it necessary to upload the file to Atlantis’ shared file storage.
“You know, it’ll be kind of hard to maintain military discipline when my personnel have seen me like that,” John said to Rodney while staring at himself as a small, black, furry bat with big eyes and flicking ears.
“As opposed to a naked blue bug climbing the walls and then attacking them?”
“Point.” It would be easier to bear, John supposed, if he appeared in the video as a creature of the night feared by Batman and criminals alike, instead of—“Why am I wrapped in a fuzzy pink towel?”
“Ah, but I had to keep you from panicking,” said Carson, oozing sympathy. “Poor wee thing.”
That set Ronon off again, and Rodney started giggling, which made John smile involuntarily. Teyla’s discipline broke, and she grinned delightedly, and no amount of John pouting at her even dented it.
“Fine. See if I don’t have my camera ready the next time you get covered in that ore from M9A-277,” John said. Teyla was an incredibly beautiful woman who looked good in pretty much anything, but not puke-colored mud. “And you,” John added, pointing to Rodney. “Two words—P.T.”
Rodney suddenly lost the smirk. John gained one. Mr. FileShare would not like to lose his quote P.T. privileges, that was for sure. John gave great head. Now that he’d lost the fangs, of course.
“And as for you,” John said to Ronon, who just raised his eyebrows. “I was going to free up Lorne for those painting classes, but now see if I will. You’d probably just paint me as a bat.”
“Nah,” Ronon said, clapping him on the back. “Too twitchy.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Cute ears, though.”
Some battles, John thought, were lost before they’d even begun.
February 29, 2016
San Francisco, CA