“I don’t know what she’s thinking . . . I mean, do I look capable of taking care of a baby!? She can’t just . . . she can’t . . . she’s not . . . . She’s the mother!” Rodney tossed the couch cushions aside, looking for the clean diaper he’d just dropped.

“You should be glad Sam didn’t just hear you say that,” John said casually, bending down to pick up the diaper from the floor.

“Yeah, I suppose this is what I get for marrying a feminist. John, I really don’t think I can deal with this. I mean . . . I’m sure I never was this . . . slimy as a child.”

John rolled his eyes, tossing Rodney a towel to wipe his hands.

“Oh no. What now? Do you have the book?” Rodney snapped his fingers impatiently a John.

John laughed. “Rodney, you don’t need a book to change a diaper.”

“Fine, laugh at the man elbow-deep in shit. If it’s so easy, why don’t you do it?”

“Because.”

“Because it’s harder than it looks.”

John would not be proven wrong by Rodney. He snatched the diaper from Rodney’s hands, lifting Max up and placing the diaper between his legs. See, that wasn’t that hard. Now all he had to do was fold it . . . kind of like making eggrolls. There . . . and then these sticky things . . . “Ta dah.” He lifted up the now-clean baby for Rodney’s inspection, lobbing the dirty diaper into the trash.

“Huh,” Rodney said, frowning.

John picked Max up, staring into deep blue eyes – though they were still lighter than Rodney’s.

Max gave a small noise somewhere between a burp and a giggle, shaking his tiny little fists up at John. John pretended to duck a punch. “He’s going to be a prizefighter. Aren’t you, little guy?”

He smiled. Despite all the slime, Max was kind of cute. He was like Rodney, only quiet. Max was like those hypothetical children that John thought that he might one day possibly have, with the right woman, of course. It wasn’t that he didn’t like kids. He didn’t really care either way. But the opportunity never really arose, and he was fine with that.

“Oh, and now you’ve turned into a cooing sap too. How’s he ever going to learn to behave like an adult if you keep talking to him that way?”

“Rodney, he’s two months old. Give him at least a year to enjoy his childhood.”

Rodney snorted. “Why? What’s so great about being a little slimeball that can’t even talk? Why waste the time?”

“How you intend to be a parent, I don’t know.”

John had meant it as a joke, but by the way Rodney’s face fell, he seemed to have misjudged.

“I’m sorry, Rodney. I didn’t mean . . .”

“No, no, John, you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. I mean . . . you know how you’re supposed to forget all your worries the second they’re born? You know how you’re supposed to fall immediately in love with them, because they’re your own flesh and blood?”

“I guess.” It hadn’t been true of his parents; how the hell should he know?

“Well, there must be something wrong with me, because I don’t feel anything. I mean, it’s fortunate for the human race in general that I get to pass on my genes, but other than that . . . I got nothing.”

John reached out to squeeze Rodney’s shoulder, shifting Max to his other arm. “Hey, it’ll come. Maybe you just don’t like babies or something like that. I’m sure that once he’s built a nuclear bomb by age three, you’ll fall instantly in love.” John held Max up for Rodney to see. “Come on, look at him. He’s like a little person.”

Rodney snorted. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

“Rodney . . .”

“I’ve made a huge mistake,” Rodney said. But it wasn’t the slight tremor in his voice or the defeated slump to his shoulders that made John’s heart ache. It was the sadness in those expressive eyes. John could see the need there. He could see that question they never afforded themselves the luxury to ask: ‘what if?’

Rodney stepped closer, but John didn’t meet him. He was still holding Max in his arms, after all. It was hard to ignore all the reasons they couldn’t when the main one was busy playing with John’s fingers and gurgling happily.

“John, what if I . . .”

La la la. He wasn’t listening. He wasn’t listening to the high whiny voice of temptation. He was not. He prayed that he wouldn’t be tested, that Rodney wouldn’t make him, because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to resist . . . and this kid, the kid with the wide eyes and the tiny toothless smile, deserved better.

Then Rodney’s pager went off. He looked down to check it, then lunged for the coat rack.

“What happened?” John asked, already heading for the door.

“Problem in one of the biochem analysis labs. Nothing for you to worry about. Can you watch him for a second? Thanks. I’ll call.”

“But . . .” He didn’t know what to do with a baby. Those parenting books were way boring.

“It shouldn’t take more than five hours. You can do it.”

“But . . . but . . .”

It was no use. Rodney was already halfway out the door.

John sighed. “Why do I bother?” he asked Max, who burped in response.

Sam practically fell through the door to his lab. She looked drawn, dark circles under her eyes and her hair longer than regulation length and in complete disarray. Even the civilian clothes couldn’t pull the look together.

“Sam, are you okay?” John stood from his desk, offering her a seat.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Sam . . .”

She sat and ran a hand furtively through her hair. “Okay, maybe I’m a little tired. I should’ve done this when I was younger and used to routinely pulling all-nighters just to get the lab to myself.”

“Hey, you’re doing great.” He tried to sound encouraging.

She smiled a small half-smile. “Thanks, John. I just . . . I wish that I could just . . . have time to enjoy it. I mean, Rodney’s amazing with the lab and everything, but there are some things he just doesn’t handle as well. He’s so far ahead of everyone that sometimes he doesn’t think that the people actually using his research will need certain things . . .”

“He’s not really Mr. User Friendly.”

Sam chuckled. “No, he’s not. And he and Jack talking is like ships passing in the night. Jack’s not stupid, but it’s like Rodney goes out of his way to annoy him sometimes. I just . . . there’s so much to do. I can’t afford to be the stay-at-home mom.”

John shifted uncomfortably. What could he say? This wasn’t his area of expertise. What did he know about families (functional ones) and all that? “I don’t know what to tell you, Sam.”

“I’m just so tired, John.”

“Why don’t you just try letting go sometimes?” Like he was one to talk. Deep down, John was just as much of a control freak as Sam was. “Let Rodney take care of Max. It’s not rocket science.”

“Exactly. It’s not rocket science. It’s not that I don’t trust Rodney. I mean, Max is his son, but sometimes . . . sometimes, it’d be nice not to worry. I mean, Rodney’s a great man. But he’s not made to be a father.”

“So, you weren’t planning . . .”

“No. When I decided to marry Rodney, I’d pretty much given up on having children. And I was willing. I mean . . . it was worth it, you know? And, at first, I thought I could deal. I mean, Rodney does help, even if he freaks out and calls me every time the baby so much as whimpers. A lot of women do this all on their own and work on top of it. I’m lucky, really. But sometimes . . . I watch you . . . I watch Jack . . . and I wonder why I had to pick the man with the parenting instinct of a bowling ball.” She sounded both desperate and amused.

“He’ll grow out of it. Besides, O’Neill and I just put on a good show. We couldn’t deal long term any better than Rodney could.”

“Jack had a son . . .” Sam reminded him quietly. “I’m sure he was a wonderful father.”

“Sam, you don’t still . . .”

She looked sheepish, shrugging. “Maybe a little. But I think it’s resentment more than anything. He’s so good with Max. But it doesn’t matter. I love Rodney. I married him. I’ve got to take the good with the bad.”

“Yeah. But, if you’re ever feeling overwhelmed, Sam, I can take Max for you. I won’t promise not to permanently traumatize him, but I’d help you out.”

“Thanks, John. I hope you know I’ll probably be taking you up on that offer.”

“No problem.”

“So, do you have the final specs for the propulsion casing? We’re placing an order with one of our contractors tomorrow . . .”

“You could at least make an effort, you know,” John said, trying to lean back on the couch casually, like he wasn’t really siding with the enemy – well, as much of an enemy as someone’s spouse could be.

Rodney spluttered. “I do make an effort. See me . . . I made that little buzzy EM-generator chair and all that.”

“Yeah. And you’re sure that won’t give him brain cancer or anything.” John prodded the thing experimentally, not even disturbing the slumbering baby.

“Completely harmless. Made it myself. Only have to mimic the electromagnetic field generated by sleep waves, very specific, tuned to the individual, but really, it’s no more dangerous for him than healthy natural sleep . . .”

“Yeah, but what if babies like get something out of crying all the time?” John took another swig from his beer. USC was down by thirteen and he was not a happy camper. He scowled at the TV.

“Like annoying their fathers into committing infanticide? Puh-lease. I should market this . . . could make a lot of money . . .”

“You have plenty of money, Rodney.”

“Yeah, but it would be for the good of humanity really. I’d be the savior of sleepless parents everywhere. Imagine – the Rodney McKay Baby Sleep Maker.”

John winced. “Maybe you should leave the marketing to the professionals. Look, I’m just saying that Sam’s under a lot of stress. You could try taking Max more . . . I don’t know, volunteering to spend time with him when Jack or I aren’t around to help you?”

Rodney snorted. “Like I know what to do on my own.”

“You have the Rodney McKay Baby Sleep Maker.”

Rodney plopped down on the couch next to John, where John had to resist moving his arm down from the back of the couch to wrap around his shoulders.

“But that’s enough. I mean - I’m just not the father type. John, I can’t deal with this, the kid waking up crying in the middle of the night, Sam bitching about her waistline, the constant lack of sleep and sex, and having to work on top of it. I can’t do this. I can’t do it without you.”

Rodney turned to him, eyes wide and imploring, distracting John from the sleepless circles beneath. Even frayed and haggard as he was (more so than John had ever seen him), Rodney was still beautiful. John couldn’t stop himself from leaning in closer, yearning for contact, to comfort, to soothe, to protect, like always.

John had promised himself that no matter what happened, he wouldn’t succumb to temptation. Rodney had a family to worry about now, and John knew how much it’d hurt Rodney when his parents had fought as a child, when his own father had cheated. He wasn’t going to do that to Rodney’s son. He wasn’t going to be the bad guy.

But then Rodney was leaning in, his breath warm and familiar, smelling of coffee and chocolate and something rich and homey that John could never really identify. It reminded him of Atlantis, of shimmering spires and spectacular sunsets and the warm sunlight filtering through Ancient stained-glass windows that told a history written into his very genetic code the way Rodney had always been written into his destiny.

But beneath it all there was still rationality, resistance.

“Rodney, we can’t . . .” he said, panting and breathless from a familiar desperate kiss.

Rodney looked at him almost sympathetically, as though it was one of the great tragic ironies of the universe that he thought he could resist this.

“We can’t.” John knew his voice was hushed, torn. They couldn’t. That, he knew.

But, then again, if he’d really meant it, he would’ve stood off the couch, moved away. If he really meant it, he wouldn’t have kissed back so desperately.

“Like hell we can’t,” Rodney said and leaned in again.

And maybe John could’ve dealt with the dull ache in his chest. Maybe he could’ve handled seeing Rodney and Sam with the perfect little family of geniuses and the suburban home and the minivan. Maybe he could’ve dealt with losing the love of his life. Maybe he could’ve torn himself away, the same as he made himself leave Atlantis and all her wonders behind. But he couldn’t deal with the raw need in Rodney’s voice. He couldn’t refuse when even as he knew this was all so wrong, every fiber of his being was telling him that it was so right.

They were pretty good at hiding it. They’d had practice, after all. But they were also too good at it – too practiced. They got reckless. ‘No sex on base’ turned into ‘no sex in the lab’ or ‘during busy hours.’ But the mountain was always busy, and despite the huge number of available storage closets, people actually did need supplies every once in a while.

Rodney had John pushed up against a crate of spare computer parts. It was dirty and submissive like he hadn’t done in forever. John naked from the waist down and Rodney with his pants pooled down around his ankles. Rodney nipped at John’s neck, just below the collar line. It hurt just enough to send a spike of lust down his spine, Rodney’s hands everywhere.

How did he ever expect to go without this? It was as basic and inevitable as breathing, Rodney’s fingers moving in him, Rodney surrounding him. He felt powerful like he hadn’t since before his injury. He felt wanted, treasured. How could you not feel like the world, feeling someone need you so intensely?

“I love you,” John gasped into Rodney’s mouth, hot and frantic.

“I love you, too,” Rodney said, thrusting home in one long stroke.

“Oh god,” John gasped as Rodney found his prostate. He clenched down hard, pain and pleasure and pure delight tumbling through him and around him and out of him, like he could light the whole world with the force of this revelation. With Rodney, every time was a revelation.

And then he squinted against a very real light – the light spilling in through the open door from the corridor.

Rodney noticed it too, because he pulled out and started trying to pull up his pants.

The silhouetted figure in the doorway stepped in further, shutting the door but turning on the lights.

It was Toderov. “This is interesting,” he said, leaning back against the door and crossing his hands over his chest.

Rodney looked mortified. John did his best to look casual . . . well as casual as one could when caught by a junior officer without pants. “So, you’re not going to . . .”

Toderov shrugged, smiling his most annoying sardonic grin. “It is not my problem, yes? Though I would not mind so much if you did not assign Paulson to my team again. Or anyone who is going to drop very heavy laptop on my foot or misread Geiger counter and tell us all we are about to die.” Yeah, John felt a little bad suggesting that Toderov could handle the new recruits.

“No more newbies . . . it’s done,” Rodney said.

“Nice day.” Toderov smiled and sauntered off, conveniently forgetting to shut the door behind him.

Rodney tripped over his pants trying to get up to close it. “We’re so busted.”

John shook his head. “Naw, Toderov might be a little crazy, but he keeps his word.”

“Hey, I know Russians. Can’t trust them.”

“True, but if he told, he’d have nothing else to blackmail us with.”

“Hmm . . . good point. You’re sexy when you’re logical.”

Rodney grinned ferally and promptly fell over trying to get the rest of the way out of his pants.