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"Look, it's not beyond the realms of possibility that you planned this," says Rodney, his mouth sideways, and his eyes unhappy.
And that gives John a pang, even if it wasn't his plan that has gone wrong. Because it was his idea to come to PX4589, but only because it was his locker number in high school, and not because he thought Rodney would find, and then lose, such an intriguing widget.
It almost surprises John, but he finds he doesn't want Rodney to be unhappy, and thinking it might be his fault, so he shoots some stuff, and he blows up some other stuff, and Rodney ends up with his widget, his ancient widget, and his eyes are happy again. And that, in turn, makes John happy. And that surprises him as well.
"Cool," says John.
"Look, just hold it, Major. Just pick it up!" says Rodney. And John is striding through the corridors and he has more important things to do, he always has more important things to do, except that Rodney is waving the widget at him, and it's an interesting shape. A sort of pineapple. And John thinks, ancient fruit? And stops.
Rodney nearly bumps into him.
And Rodney's mouth is turned down, and he's frowning, but not unhappy. Not this time. And John wonders when he began to recognise the difference. But he's stopped walking now, and Rodney is waving the widget, and John holds up his hands to ward him off, and Rodney thrusts it into his grasp.
John has one second to decide if he's going to object, since Rodney hasn't even told him relative danger levels, or what he thinks it might do, and then the widget lights up blue to let him know he's done it, although he doesn't know what that is. He hopes it isn't bad.
And Rodney's got that crease by his mouth. In another man it would be a smile. And the widget is giving off a hum, a pleased hum. And John can't be mad at either of them. Smile-frowning Rodney, or the blue pineapple widget. And he wonders when that became the way it is as well, but decides that he doesn't really mind.
"Cool," says John.
"Well? Can you feel an increase in field strength, or not?" asks Rodney, and John raises an eyebrow at him.
Rodney apparently thinks that the blue pineapple widget is a booster relay for the blah, blah blah, and John turned off at that point. He knows he really shouldn't, but the widget is humming in his hand, and he feels incredibly good. Really very, very good, and all he wants to do is bask in the incredible feeling, and watch Rodney talk, because his mouth has that extra little twist to it that John likes, the twist that means he's getting angry, and Rodney is incredibly hot when he's got all frustrated, and his hands wave, and his voice speeds up even more, and… Oh yes, and Rodney is angry at him, and does the blue pineapple widget increase the field strength of the…
John giggles, and then wonders how the good feeling can get even better, because it is, so much better that it's almost painful. There are little lights around his vision now, and is that a good sign or a bad? John tries to tell Rodney this, but all he manages to do is lean forward in the corridor until he's touching Rodney on the arm. Oh, and that was a mistake.
Touching Rodney should never be a mistake, but the good feeling just shot right through painful ecstasy and out the other side. John wonders if he's managed to convey any of this to Rodney, as his mouth feels too full of his tongue all of a sudden, and although licking his lips is incredibly erotic, John wishes it was Rodney's mouth instead. He continues to topple until the floor is coming up to meet him, and that's good. That's fine – the world will stop tipping and sliding then, won't it? That's a good thing.
"Cool," says John.
"Just don't die, Major," says Rodney, and it sounds like it's coming from very far away.
John wants to see Rodney's eyes. He wants to see his mouth pulled down into unhappiness, because then at least he will be able to see. But it doesn't seem that the blue pineapple widget works that way, and he's blinking into the dark.
John wants to say that dying is the last thing he intends to do, but he's not sure he has a choice. He wants to say that he doesn't want to leave Rodney, or Atlantis, or any of it all, particularly as it's just getting interesting, although you could say that about any day of the week here, and isn't that part of the fun?
"You're not dying, Major. Do you hear me?" says Rodney, "I refuse to let you die."
And that's nice, thinks John. That's good. Because he trusts Rodney. Rodney's the smartest man he knows. So that means he's going to be all right, doesn't it?
"Cool," says John, and passes out.
"Why do you keep doing this to yourself?" asks Rodney, when he visits John in the infirmary. But there's no answer to that. Except maybe there is. But this time it's not just Rodney's mouth being pulled down into unhappiness, and it's not just that all their lives are usually in danger if John doesn't risk his, and it's not even as though saying that he never means to end up here will help. It's all of these things, and none of them.
Not to mention, that in this case at least, it wasn't John's fault. For once.
He watches Rodney's hands as they twist in the sheets precisely two inches from his own fingers, and he doesn't look at Rodney's unhappy eyes.
And Rodney sighs, and his fingers relax, and he reaches in a pocket and pulls out a chocolate bar, a very small chocolate bar, but, still worth its weight in, well, chocolate, and slides it under the sheet.
John looks up then, surprised. And Rodney's eyes are apologetic, if not happy, and John understands.
"Cool," says John.
"Major..?" asks Rodney.
And John is recuperating - he's enjoying the peace and quiet on the balcony, and he's enjoying the lack of anything blowing up, and he's really enjoying not being shot at, for a change. But he finds he doesn't mind Rodney interrupting all that enjoyment, in fact he's downright glad, because the absence of danger seems to have given him an ache that has nothing to do with his injuries. And the lack of explosions seems to make him nervous, because he's snapped at the last two people to come and interrupt him.
But Rodney's different. He always has been. After all, John wouldn't touch blue pineapple widgets for just anyone.
And John knows that Rodney's going to try and apologise properly this time. And he really doesn't want him to. Rodney saying it with chocolate was really all he needed. Anything else will make him uncomfortable.
He wonders what he can do to shut Rodney up. And then he thinks about what the blue pineapple widget made him feel. And then he remembers that the blue pineapple widget only increases the field strength, not creates it.
And then John leans over and kisses Rodney.
It's fun. There's no ecstasy, or flashing lights, but then, John doesn't really need them. He only needs the warmth of Rodney's tongue as it slips into his mouth, and the little noises he makes deep in his throat, and the way Rodney freezes solid for a split second, before pushing back, and down into John with his whole body, exactly the way he does with his frown, when he's contemplating a particularly troublesome discovery, or at John when he's at his most stubborn.
And John's glad he's on the balcony. He's glad they found the blue pineapple widget. He's glad that Rodney came to see him. He's just glad.
And Rodney breaks away, but not far, only an inch or two, to catch his breath, and rub his cheek against John's stubble. And he's talking - well, of course he is, he's breathing - and he's babbling something about his allergy to citrus, and how he might have known that a widget in the shape of a pineapple could only lead to trouble, when John decides, for the second time in the space of five minutes, that the only way to shut Rodney up is to kiss him. So he does, and Rodney shuts up, but his eyes are the happiest John has ever seen them. And that's great. In fact, that's beyond great. That's…
"Cool," says John, and kisses him again.