"G'day, Mate." Erickson opened the door with his usual 200-watt smile, slightly matted hair, and absurdly optimistic aura.

John shook his head – even with the Wraith fleet just two weeks away and the rest of the scientists running around like equation-laying chickens with their heads cut off, Erickson had just pulled out the biggest joint John had ever seen and offered him a chair.

"Hey, buddy," John actually managed to return the grin with real sincerity. Today was a good day – no impending catastrophes, no backlogged disasters, no interdepartmental wars down in the laboratories, and John's team was on stand-down in celebration of the Great McKay escaping from the jaws of death yet again. This was all very well and good, but the real reason why John was smiling was because today he was finally, finally going to get his way.

After nearly two years of flirtatious banter and fairy-tale-worthy heroics, Rodney McKay had finally given up the ridiculous pretense of heterosexuality and kissed John, right when John was thinking that he'd have to get a neon sign imbedded into his forehead before Rodney'd pick up the signals.

And since McKay was getting unleashed from Beckett's evil . . . well, very conscientiously evil medical clutches, John felt it was high time for he and Rodney to consummate the relationship they'd put so much time and bitching into cultivating.

"Hey, what's got you so giddy, Johno?" Erickson asked, stepping back and letting John into his quarters as he flopped down on the bed and reached to get the lube out of the bedside cabinet.

John shrugged. "Oh, nothing." How were you supposed to tell your fuck-buddy that you had to regretfully inform them that something way better (and a good deal more of a pain in the ass) had come along?

"It's not nothing," Erickson guffawed, punching John on the arm in a way he surely intended to be playful, but was actually more along the lines of painful. "I haven't seen you grin like that since . . . well, never."

John looked at the floor, feeling himself flush.

Erickson squinted at the expression, vaulting himself back up off the bed in an exuberant, if not particularly graceful, motion that would have made Marmaduke proud. "You finally bagged him! Congratulations, mate! I knew he'd come around one day."

"What? Who?" John didn't think he was that transparent, thank you very much.

Erickson rounded out today's bruising with a large hand slapped heartily to the center of John's back. "C'mon, Johno, you don't have to do that ‘don't ask' bullcrap with the guy you've been buggering the past six months."

John smiled guiltily. "Sorry. I just . . . well, I . . . we . . ." Why was he so damned bad at discussing his feelings?

"Yeah, yeah, I know how it goes. ‘You're an awesome mate, Rick, a real good lay, loads of fun, a bloody Adonis in the sack, hate to lose ya, but you're not the one.'"

"I wouldn't use those words exactly, but . . . yeah."

Another backslap. "Don't sweat it, mate. It was fun while it lasted. Just do me one favor though?"

"Uh . . . okay?" John was hesitant only because Erickson's last favor had been to let him use one of the docking cranes to lift a 200 pound lobster onto the northwest pier.

"Don't worry, Johno, I promise you won't get covered in bits of exploding crustacean this time around."

"Good to know."

"It's just that I heard from that funny little Czech bloke that you were using those jumpers of yours as submersibles and you know the kinds of . . ."

"I already put you on the list for the first surveying mission." John gave Erickson a wink. "And, hey, do you think I could borrow your extra board?"

"Gonna take him surfing?"

"No, but if he thinks that I think that he can't surf then he'll pout, so I have to bring it along so he can bitch about how he really can't. Does that make sense?"

"More than astrophysics."

John nodded. "True enough."

"Have fun, mate!" Erikson yelled after him, leaving John with yet another jarring back pat.

He didn't even realize he was whistling until Cadman walked past. "Good morning, Sir?" she asked with a saucy smile.

"That better not be insubordination, Lieutenant," John joked.

"Wouldn't dream of it. Quiet night, Sir. That's reason enough."

"Amen to that, Lieutenant."

Cadman left him with a wink, before continuing on her rounds.

Gotta be more careful, he told himself, even though nothing was going to tamp down on that ridiculously giddy smile he knew he must be sporting.

Ah, just the door he was looking for. John ran a furtive hand through his hair before knocking.

"What? The city had better be on the verge of exploding or someone has finally found a Starbucks in the Pegasus Galaxy, if whoever is knocking on my door at this hour after I've been nearly drowned and concussed wants hot water for, oh . . . all of eternity."

John smiled to himself, grin ready for when the door flew open. "I hear the hot springs in hell are nice this time of year."

Rodney seemed to run out of steam seeing John standing there. "What? Oh . . . it's you. Colonel Early Worm couldn't possibly let me get away with an extra hour on my one, possibly only, day of disaster-free downtime?"

John grinned. "It's early bird, and I'm here to make sure you put that one good day of disaster-free downtime to good use." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, settling into a comfortable sprawl on Rodney's bed. He had a great day planned for them – surfing, a couple of beers he'd convinced Branford to smuggle on the Daedalus , some good old fashioned necking in the sand, and then collapsing onto fresh linens with a sunburn and the sunset.

"What are you grinning about?" Rodney interrupted his musings, tossing a dirty shirt in John's direction as he searched around for his laptop. "Please tell me nothing's exploded and the city's monthly Jell-o supply is still intact."

John's grin widened as he allowed himself to stretch fully, shirt riding up past his naval.

"What are you doing? You look like my cat. Did you come here for any particular reason, Colonel, or are you just going to mark my pillow and meow until I scratch behind your ears?"

Okay, so maybe Rodney needed a little prodding. It was just like the man to not see a returned interest when it was jumping up and down, uncomfortably tight jeans and all. John rolled his eyes, adjusting himself. "Well, there are some things you could scratch."

"Hm?" Rodney asked, tearing into, then out of, the bathroom. "Have you seen my laptop? I swear it was just . . . ah . . ."

John sighed, standing. Time to switch gears. He crept up to where Rodney was bent over, using his sexiest slink, and leaned over until his breath was tickling the back of Rodney's neck.

Only to have Rodney jerk up in surprise, landing a good head-butt to John's nose.

"Jesus, McKay, got that thing plated in bullet-proof armor?"

"Well, what the hell were you doing getting so friendly? Personal space, Colonel, I'm sure you're familiar with the concept. And . . . wait . . . do you think that would actually work, because my brain is pretty valuable commodity and losing it to a pesky little thing like a bullet . . ."

"No, Rodney, it would not work, and after what happened yesterday I thought you wouldn't care how friendly . . ."

"What?" Rodney's eyes went wide before he buried his face in his hands. "Oh, yesterday. Um . . . about that, Colonel, whatever I might've done . . . said . . . I had a concussion. She was just a figment of my imagination. I knew you'd come for me. A part of me did, I swear . . . and did I mention, thanks for that?" Rodney punctuated his statement with an awkward grip on John's arm. "Seriously, thanks."

What the hell? That wasn't what he was talking about. Not at all. "Um, don't mention it. Look, Rodney, do you . . . when you . . ." God, he was so bad at this. "About what you did in the jumper, on the ride back . . . wait, who's she?" John fought the sudden stab of jealousy deep in his gut.

"Oh . . . you know . . . nobody. Hallucination. I mean, of course she wasn't . . . I was just a little . . . you know, concussed." Rodney flushed.

Oh shit. "So you don't . . . you didn't . . . wait . . . what?"

"Okay, you have to promise not to tell anybody," Rodney looked either way, whispering as though he expected to find someone else hiding in a corner of his small little closet of a room. "But I . . . uh . . . I hallucinated that Lieutenant Colonel Carter was there in the jumper with me. And she kept telling me that you were coming for me and I shouldn't waste my energy and that I had no chance with her, but then I actually did and . . . well, you don't want to hear about that, do you? Anyway, to what do I owe the displeasure of you bounding in here at ungodly hours of the morning?"

Houston, we have a problem. Rodney had been hallucinating . . . hallucinating about Colonel Carter, not John. Trying not to let his disappointment show, John ground out, "Oh, nothing, I just thought you might want to spend the day on the beach. Surf a little, sun a little, relax."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Yes, because drowning and skin cancer are my two favorite leisurely past-times."

"C'mon, McKay, it'll be fun," John pleaded half-heartedly. "All piña coladas and hula girls."

"Hula girls? Really?"

"No. But you could always ask Teyla . . ."

"Yeah, sorry, Colonel, but I'm actually very attached to my balls, and with those big sticks of hers . . ."

"We can teach Ronon how to surf."

"Yes, yes, and it'll be just like Baywatch, only without the driving force of Pamela Anderson's spectacular breasts. Emmmm . . . do you think maybe if it's not a hula skirt we could get Teyla to . . ."

"Maybe she'll be so grateful you're still alive that she'll let you keep on living. But I wouldn't count on it." Could they please stop talking about all the gorgeous babes that Rodney'd rather chase futilely around than the guy waiting patiently right before his eyes? Seriously, did he really think he could find someone better for him? Someone who'd put up with his bitching and play Starcraft with him and keep him from blowing himself up?

Rodney shrugged. "Well, I guess it's been a while since we had a team day."

Rodney was getting that look – the one where here was secretly excited but too proud to show it. On any other day it would have made John grin, but today he just clapped Rodney on the shoulder and said, "Cool. Meet us in the Jumper Bay in twenty." He'd planned on dragging Rodney there, without even a stop for the SPF1000, but now he had to radio Ronon and Teyla and dredge up two more surfboards. A few more of Erickson's marine biology buddies must have them.

John ambled off, trying not to cringe at the bitter finality of the door sliding closed behind him.