In that moment, he didn't care whether it was deserved. He didn't care if the entire base thought he was as much of a conceited asshole as Kavanagh - concerned only about his pride. Because he was right! If Weir couldn't see that, it was her own damn fault. Maybe he shouldn't have called her a . . . but she should have expected that he couldn't hold his tongue.

"Confined to quarters until you cool down . . ." John, of all people: the only one to ever sit watching when he thought Rodney was asleep, the man who made tender -almost awed- love with him, the only person who'd said 'I love you' so Rodney believed it, even if it was whispered when John didn't think he was listening. That betrayer . . . that . . .

He stepped inside his quarters.

"You have no idea how much it hurts me to have to punish you." That man with the silky smooth voice, the one that wrapped around him like a warm cloak on a cold winter's day.

The anger burned, a fever . . . "You bastard."

It was the kiss that cooled him down.