"Oh, there you are!" Rodney said, as though he'd just found John out for a walk in the park, not deep in the bowels of the city trying out his skateboard in what appeared to be an old abandoned dry-dock.

"Here I am," John replied as casually as he could. It wasn't as though he'd been avoiding Rodney, precisely. It was more like Rodney had been busy with his new walking-talking-Barbie-blow-up ex-whale and John was just being nice and giving them their space.

"You've been avoiding me."

"Have not." It was an automatic response. They both knew it hadn't been like this since Doranda.

"Yes, and you're out alone doing a recklessly dangerous activity in one of the off-limits areas of the city for the family fun."

Hey! It wasn't as though skateboarding was that dangerous. And besides, he liked this place – all the derelict old ships towering like giants with the old rusted rigging hanging off them like skeletons. And all the ramps and repair platforms made for a great skate park. But the Marines had set up an official obstacle course on the west pier, and he really would have been safer there.

"Fine. Maybe I have been. A little. But you have ‘Lassie' to keep you company."

Rodney sighed, sliding down the wall next to John. "It's not all it's cracked up to be. To tell you the truth, I liked her better when she was mute."

"Nothing to talk about?"

Rodney huffed out a sigh, rolling his eyes. "I wish." He pulled out a powerbar, unwrapped it and took a big bite in five seconds flat. "I mean, she worships the ground I walk on."

"I thought that was a quality you were looking for in a woman." It had sure seemed like it with Allina and with Katie. "Unless you mean literally. You don't mean literally, do you?"

Rodney waved the powerbar at him. "No, of course not. And I don't like women who worship me. Where did you get that idea? I'm not going to turn down a beautiful woman throwing herself at my feet, of course. Hello, genius here. But my ideal is Samantha Carter." He sighed dazedly, probably imagining her. "Smart, sexy, feisty, not afraid to call me on anything."

John was smart, wasn't he? And sexy and feisty and not afraid to tell Rodney he was being an ass.

"So you're not going to date her?"

"Date her? She's like fifteen!"

"I could've told you that before."

"No, no, Beckett said that there was no way to determine her real age and she seemed so wise – mature, reserved, you know?" It seemed to John as though it would be easy to seem reserved if one couldn't talk. But he wasn't about to point that out.

"But she's not."

"God, no. All she wants to talk about is how brilliant I am, which I don't really need spelled out for me."

"Of course you don't."

Rodney glared. "And she does understand a lot of the things I'm doing – just not enough to be helpful in any way. But if she's not fawning then she's asking how I feel about babies and monogamy and who is Samantha Carter and are you and that Australian biologist together and . . . are you, by the way? Because she seems pretty certain."

John sighed. She'd overheard them. And while he could lie, he wasn't going to do that - not to Rodney. "We were fuck-buddies for a while. No big deal."

"Oh." Rodney sounded really surprised – ‘oh my god, we're all alive' surprised, even. "I um . . . you never told me you were . . . um . . ." he waved the powerbar again. "You know."

John shrugged. "Never came up. It doesn't bother you, does it?" He cringed. The last time he'd come out to someone he cared about he'd walked away with a black eye and threat to request transfer out of the squadron as soon as possible.

"Are you kidding?" Rodney asked, standing abruptly, using one of the nearby consoles to pull himself up. "Do you really think I'm that . . ."

There was a loud clanging. Rodney stopped, looking at John, frightened.

"What'd you touch?" John was on his feet just in time to be slammed back to the floor as one of the large circular designs lining the wall spiraled open and a fast jet of water came shooting out.

The water was cold, the bubbles from the pressure swirling so that John could barely see anything at all. He was pushed further turned the center of the room in second, tumbling into old abandoned boxes of tools, ramps, the hulls of the Ancient sailing ships. His lungs where burning by the time he got far enough away from the jets to surface, spluttering and forcing his now-bruised body to tread water. That made three near drowning events in the past month for him and Rodney. He was seriously considering swearing off all things water related. Speaking of which, where was . . .

John looked around frantically. He didn't hear any terrified shrieks or scathing complaints. Shit! Where was the man?!

John immediately dove back under. The water was cold and clear, but with all of the ships and derbies floating in this huge bay, Rodney could be anywhere. John swam further in the direction of the area they had been in, scanning around for the blue of Rodney's science uniform.

"Come on, come on," he urged as he surfaced, swimming around panels and toolkits and bolts. Where could he have gotten too?

It was getting harder to see the closer he got to the jets. Harder to swim too. He was already tiring. But then he saw something: a speck of blue pressed up against the dark hull of the ship closest to the jet they had been sitting practically against. It had to be Rodney.

John swam forward, his muscles and his lungs burning. Rodney was pressed up against the hull, trapped there the way John kayaking instructor had always warned him about the support beams on bridges. Fuck. John could barely swim into the invisible force of the jet's stream.

Rodney's body was limp, almost lifeless as John was forced towards him. Only a quick kick-off that almost crippled his knee was enough to save him from the same fate. He was lucky that he'd managed to grab Rodney by his belt loop on the way past, yanking with all his might until Rodney scraped towards him, away from the hull, and they were blasting off, pushed calmly away by the entering water.

It was seconds before John stopped being dazed enough to kick up and towards the surface, getting a solid stroke beneath him and dragging Rodney's limp body towards the nearest vessel. The water level had risen enough so that John could latch on to the loading steps on the side, dragging Rodney up and onto a platform.

"Goddamnit!" Rodney wasn't breathing, his lips still and blue. John clasped his hands together, pushing on Rodney's diaphragm and hopefully forcing the water out of his lungs. Water spilled out of Rodney's mouth involuntarily and John tilted his head back and breathed for him, simultaneously pushing his fingers to his friend's neck and checking for a pulse.

It was there – weak, but steady. That meant Rodney hadn't been deprived of oxygen that long. John knew the man had an incredible lung capacity.

More rescue breathing – Rodney's lips cold, sliding against his, almost reminding him of that first kiss in the jumper. "Rodney. Shit, Rodney, please!" John gasped between breaths. He'd had enough of his best friend almost drowning. Where were insane sea stalkers when he needed them?

"Rodney, I swear to god, if you . . ."

And then Rodney was coughing, water spilling out of him with each relieved choke. John yanked him up and forward, patting his back in encouragement. "It's okay, buddy, I got ya. Just cough it all out."

Rodney nodded weakly into John's shoulder, sniffling a little and shivering.

A minute later, when the coughing had finally quelled, Rodney's sea blue eyes met John's, worried and bewildered. Then his hand came up to his lips, brushing softly against them as he studied John's. "You kissed me."

John made a show of snorting, even when he was panicking on the inside. "It's called Rescue Breathing. And you're welcome, by the way."

But Rodney still looked shocked – perhaps even a little awed. "No. Before. I kissed you. And you kissed me back."

Shit. He remembered. John's spirits fell. These past weeks, all he wanted was for Rodney to remember, but now that he did, John wanted nothing more than to run away. Whatever Rodney's motivations had been the first time, this whole whale-woman debacle was nothing more than evidence that Rodney didn't want a repeat performance.

Then a smile bloomed, slow and lovely, across Rodney's features. "You kissed me back."

John smiled shyly, bewildered and shaking and cold, even as Rodney's hand was warm against the nape of his neck, guiding him down for a gentle kiss. John nibbled on Rodney's lower lip, dipping his tongue in to explore Rodney's mouth. It was a salty kiss, tasting of sea and waves and the depths of the vast ocean that surrounded them, but Rodney's mouth was warm and there was a sweetness lurking beneath it all that John couldn't ignore.

The kiss would have turned fiery if Rodney didn't pull back to choke out another cough. "Sorry."

"It's okay." John meant it. All of it was okay – right down to the inter-species pedophilia. He pulled Rodney tighter into him, both of them shivering with cold and arousal. It would all be okay now.