Notes: Ori: I think Rina was watching Top Models...
Rina: Nope, it was Project Runway. *g* I’m a reality show slut and proud of it!

The Clothes Make the Man

Orithain and Rina

Disclaimers: We only wish they were ours. Sadly, this is as close as we’re going to get.

"What do you mean ‘Ford has gone over to Kavanagh’?" Rodney McKay’s tone was as cold as the coffee in the Styrofoam cup in his hand.

Elizabeth Weir reached out and gently took the cup from his hand before he crushed it. "I got a call from his agent this morning," she said calmly. "Apparently Genii Designs offered him enough money that it made breaking our contract easy for him."

"Damn him, damn them both!" Rodney snarled, banging his hand on the window and staring out blindly at the construction going on across the street from his design studio. "Where the hell am I going to get a new male model a month before the show? They’re all booked!"

"You could always pick an unknown," Laura Cadman, one of his models, chuckled from the next window, where she was watching the construction as well... or at least the construction workers. "Personally, I’d be willing to sit up and beg for some of those guys."

Rodney sniffed and glanced over at her. "Trust me, Laura, if you walk by them dressed in one of my creations, they’ll be the ones sitting up and begging..." He paused and looked down at the site again—or more precisely at the men working the site.

"Oh dear, Rodney’s thinking; we’re in trouble."

"Rodney, I was kidding! The sides of beef are pretty, but they’re not GQ cover material!" Laura gaped at him.

"According to whom?"

"You when you looked at last month’s cover!"

Elizabeth smothered a laugh.

Rodney sniffed and glanced back at the women. "That was because last month’s cover was a side of beef; Radek, back me up here!"

"He would have looked better hanging from a meat hook," Radek agreed. "Bulky beef isn’t my idea of appealing. Though that one’s not bad, for a man," he said, leaning closer to the window.

"Which one?" Elizabeth asked, leaning closer.

"The one with the hair," Rodney’s comment was a statement, not a question.

"The only one who doesn’t look like he’s on steroids," Katie Brown murmured.

"The one I watch while having lunch!" Laura laughed.

"He seems to be of a similar size to Aiden," Radek mused.

"Stay here," Rodney commanded as he turned and stomped out of the studio and down the stairs to the street.

"He looks much better than Aiden," Laura corrected. "Mmm, I hope Rodney brings him back. I wouldn’t mind crawling all over him."

"For all you know, he’s married with four children," Radek observed as he watched Rodney make his way across the site toward his target.

"Now that would be a crying shame," Laura purred, moving toward him.

"Stop hunting Radek," Lorne, Rodney’s one remaining male model, said, catching her around the waist and drawing her away. "Look, Rodney’s almost there."

"I wonder if I should have 911 on standby," Elizabeth sighed.

"You there, no, not you, cue-ball, I’m talking to your friend with the hair."

John Sheppard turned around and eyed the crazy man who’d walked onto the site without any safety gear. Granted, they were in the area where the workers usually ate, which was why he wasn’t wearing his own hardhat, but it was still pretty stupid. "You shouldn’t be here without safety boots and a hardhat."

"Good, then you’ll come with me to talk." Rodney turned and picked his way out of the lot without looking back.

John watched him walk away and looked over at his friend Ronon Dex. "We really need better security on this site."

The larger man snickered around his mouthful of food. "You attract ‘em no matter where we go, Shep."

"He’s not really my type. I prefer my men a lot less abrasive." But John glanced over at the receding back, wondering if the guy would ever notice that John hadn’t heeled and what he’d do when he did.

"You prefer your men on their backs," Ronon chuckled, leaning over to watch the intruder. "And he still hasn’t noticed that you aren’t coming."

"No, I think I was supposed to follow like a well-trained dog. He’s definitely a fruitcake."

"But maybe he’s a rich one; think Teyla would mind if I offered to be his boy-toy?"

"I think she’d rip your balls off and feed them to you."

Ronon grinned. "That’s why I love her, and look, he’s coming back."

"Oh wonderful." John waited until he got closer, then called, "I’m not a dog, and I don’t heel. Now who are you and what do you want?"

"I was hoping to have this conversation in a more civilized place..."

"What’s wrong with this place?" Ronon asked, looking around.

"My mother told me not to talk to strangers," John said virtuously.

"Fine, I’m Rodney McKay, happy?"

"Pleased to meet you," John replied, not giving his own name. "Now what the hell do you want?"

"To see you walk." Rodney ignored the other man who was now laughing so hard he had almost fallen off the picnic table they were sitting on.

One eyebrow shot up, and John watched McKay warily. "You escaped from a mental ward, didn’t you?"

"Sometimes it seems that way." Rodney cut a glance toward his studio windows and glowered at the sight of his staff and models staring down at him.

"Is there someone we can call to come and get you?"

"Fine, obviously I’ve got to explain this in simple words. I’m a clothing designer, and I’m looking for a model as one of mine defected to the enemy."

"I can pretty much guarantee he’s not here," John said, trying not to grin as guy grew more irritated.

"Is he always this obtuse?" Rodney asked the other man.

"What’s obtuse mean?"

John had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. "Look, Mackey, there aren’t any models here, so why don’t you run along before you get hurt."

"It’s McKay, not Mackey," Rodney snapped, "and models can be created. Apparently, the women in my employee find you attractive."

"How much does the gig pay?" Ronon asked, grinning.

"I’m not going to prance around in my underwear. The pay can’t be good enough!"

"I design clothes, not lingerie."

John snorted. "The stuff in magazines isn’t clothes. They’re costumes for rich people with more money than sense."

"Not that you’re judgmental or anything," Rodney sniffed.

"How much would you pay him to wear them?" Ronon asked.

"I’m not looking for a pimp, Ronon!"

"You keep saying if you had the money, you’d fix up that bike of yours," the larger man shrugged.

"You know what, never mind, I’d put a chimp in my designs before you," Rodney snapped, turning on his heel and stalking away.

John leaned back, bracing his arms on the table behind him and crossing his ankles. "So why’d you come over here in the first place then?"

"Because I thought a sane person would be interested in my offer!" Rodney shouted without looking back.

"You never actually made one," John pointed out, deciding he’d baited the man enough for the moment.

"If you want to hear it, come to my studio," Rodney waved a hand toward the window where the others were still watching. "If I stay out here any longer, I’m going to have an asthma attack."

"Aw hell. Oh well, I didn’t need to have lunch today. I’ll be back before the break’s over," John said to Ronon before starting across the site, finally following McKay.

"If they take pictures of you in your underwear, bring me a copy for the bulletin board!"

John flipped him off without looking back. "This better be good, Mackey; you’re keeping me from my lunch."

"McKay," Rodney growled.

"You look more like a Mackey to me."

"I need this like I need a hole in the head." They reached the building lobby, and Rodney pressed the elevator button, rubbing his bruised finger afterward.

"It’s really not necessary to stab your finger through the wall to get the elevator, you know."

"I’m pretending it’s your head."

John snickered. "Exactly what kind of pictures do you take?"

"I don’t take the pictures; I create the clothes; what part of designer do you not understand?"

John shrugged. "You mean you didn’t bring me here for my brains?"

Rodney turned and stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

Laughing, John leaned back. "Damn, you’re easy to get going. So what kind of clothes do you design?"

"It would be easier to show you than explain." The elevator arrived, and Rodney stepped inside, hitting the button for the top floor as soon as the other man stepped inside. "And just what is your name?"

"I was wondering if you were ever going to ask. John Sheppard. We’re not going to be raided or anything, are we?"

"By whom? This is fashion, not a sex shop."

"That’s what you say, but how do I know it’s true?"

"Yes, I saw you out of the window and decided to lure you to my lair to slip you a roofie and have my way with you," Rodney snorted. "Sorry, Mr. Sheppard, that’s a little too melodramatic for my tastes."

"Sounds like a good movie of the week though," John decided. "You’re an interesting man, Mackey."

"Try Rodney, is that simpler?" The doors opened on the open-area loft and the inquisitive faces of the others.

"I like Mackey."

"Yum," Laura purred, starting toward him.

"He calls Rodney by that name and is still alive?" Radek murmured to Lorne.

"Laura, keep your hands to yourself for now, will you?" Rodney ordered, shooing them out of the way.

"Sorry, beautiful, you’re not put together the right way for me to be interested," John said easily.

"Doesn’t it figure," she sighed, "but we’d still take pretty pictures together."

"Radek, get the shots from last season’s collection. John here is worried I run a sex shop or something."

"Not really," John confided to the others, "but his eyes are gorgeous when he’s pissed."

Radek burst into laughter. "You definitely have to stay."

"I’ve changed my mind; I’m going to go get Chewbacca down there for this experiment."

"He wouldn’t fit in the clothes," Radek pointed out with a grin.

"Is he straight?" Laura wanted to know.

"Yup, but very taken. And his lady’s the owner of a security company; she used to be Secret Service."

"Of course he is," she sighed.

"Would you walk across the room for us, Mr....?"

"Sheppard," Rodney sighed. "John Sheppard."

"Why do I suddenly feel like James Bond?" John looked around, raised his eyebrows when he found everyone staring at him, shrugged, and walked across the room.

"Are you sure you’re not bi?" Laura asked wistfully, making him burst into laughter.

Rodney held up a finger before turning and hurrying toward another room.

"He had an idea." Elizabeth walked over and held out a hand. "Elizabeth Weir, I handle the finances here. Your admirer is Laura Cadman, and the two gentlemen are Radek Zelenka and Lorne. The other, much quieter redhead is Katie Brown." She nodded at each in turn.

They all waved at him, and he smiled briefly. "Do you people often grab people off the street?"

"This was extenuating circumstances, and I don’t think any of us believed Rodney would go through with it," she laughed.

"Put these on," Rodney announced, coming back into the room, holding a suit.

"Gee, Mackey, if you wanted me to undress, you just had to say so."

Rodney rolled his eyes and dumped the suit into John’s arms. "Back there."

After John disappeared, Radek grinned at the designer. "And here I always thought your name was McKay."

"Do you want to see if you can fly, Radek? Get the camera so we can get some shots."

Snickering, Radek went to get the camera that Rodney would want. A moment later, John came out, looking very different in the suit and shirt open at the throat.

"Oh man, that is so unfair," Laura moaned.

After looking him over with a critical eye, Rodney made a few adjustments to the fit and stepped back. "Walk," he commanded.

"Do it well and you get a cookie," Lorne chuckled.

"I prefer a bone."

"Walk!"

"Woof." John glared at Rodney briefly before sauntering across the room.

"Turn," Rodney called.

Sighing, John did as ordered and walked back toward McKay.

"No, no, not that way, 360 degrees!"

"What am I, a turn table?" John stopped and turned in a slow circle, feeling all their eyes on him.

"To do runway modeling, you have to be able to sell from every angle," Radek explained in between taking shots.

"Runway modeling? Whoa, hang on there!" John stopped and looked from Radek to McKay. "What exactly are you expecting from me?"

"Why would I have had you walk if it wasn’t to do runway work?"

"How the hell should I know? I was just minding my own business, trying to have lunch, when you appeared out of nowhere. Hell, I couldn’t even have told you that there were male runway models."

"Well, there are," Lorne smirked.

"A fashion show necessitates runway models," Rodney explained less than patiently. "You seem to be able to walk without falling over, so I believe you’d survive."

"I’m told I mastered walking at nine months," John replied. "I can sometimes even talk at the same time."

"And we’re duly impressed."

"This is all very flattering and all, but I already have a job that I can’t afford to lose. Paying the rent is kind of a necessity, you know."

"Trust me, this gig pays enough to pay your rent into next year," Laura laughed.

"I find that pretty hard to believe, not to mention that I’d still be without a job if I walked off this one without notice."

"Elizabeth, show him the general contract."

"You’re not real good at listening, are you, Mackey?"

Rodney sniffed. "At least I can get your name correct."

"What can I say." John shrugged. "You look like a Mackey to me."

"He has a point," Radek chuckled, earning a glare from Rodney.

"Two actually. On his ears. Are you part Vulcan?" Katie chuckled warmly when John rolled his eyes.

"My ears are not pointy," he said in the emphatic, long-suffering tone of one who’s made the same statement often.

"Why don’t you take a look at the contract, Mr. Sheppard," Elizabeth offered quickly.

"If I look at it, will you all go away?" Sighing, John took the document and glanced at it. Then his eyes widened, and he started reading in earnest. "Is this for real?"

Rodney walked over and glanced at the paper in John’s hand. "Yes, that’s correct."

"Fuck, what exactly am I selling you for this much money?"

Radek snickered. "Your soul."

"For this much, I think you’re getting my soul, my ass, and everything in between."

Radek snickered more loudly. "Careful, there. He might take you up on the ass."

"Oh ha ha," Rodney growled. "I don’t pay for it; that’s disgusting."

John eyed him curiously. "Fortunately, I don’t sell it."

"I’m thrilled to hear it; now, do you want the job or not?"

"How long would I be committing to?"

"At least three months, I’d prefer six, what with the print ads."

"You get to travel a lot," Lorne offered.

"And you’re going to pay me this much," John brandished the contract, "for six months of work?"

"Yes, I’m going to pay you this much for six months of work," Rodney parroted back. "Is there a problem?"

"I think you’re nuts, but okay. This’ll be a good amount to have in the bank." John shrugged. "Anyone got a pen?"

Laura made a show of searching her cleavage for one, then shrugged. "Sorry, nope."

"Here you are." Elizabeth handed one over. "Though you may want to have a lawyer look at it first."

"I don’t exactly keep one on retainer. Though I’ll want it spelled out in the contract that it’s for six months before I sign. Any problems with that, Mackey?"

"Fine, six months it is." Rodney took the contract and the pen and scribbled the annotation on the side, initialing and dating it. "Is that better?"

"Much. I’m not really into indentured servitude." John initialed the change as well, then signed and dated both originals of the contract before handing one back to Elizabeth.

"Please forgive me if this comes out wrong," Radek said, "but you don’t sound like a construction worker."

"What, I’m supposed to grunt and reply in monosyllables?"

"That would go along with the stereotype," Katie replied, chuckling warmly.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I wasn’t actually born fully grown as a construction worker."

"That’s lovely to hear; now instead of playing share life stories, why don’t we discuss getting Mr. Sheppard to the salon."

"Salon?" John asked warily. "You’re not cutting my hair. And it’s John."

"Of course not, but it needs to be styled and your hands..." Rodney grabbed John’s free hand to inspect it. "Pitiful."

"He does work for a living, you know," Radek commented.

"There’s nothing wrong with my hands." John sounded rather insulted.

"Oh yes, I want my silks ruined by the living sandpaper here."

"Gee, I guess you’ll just have to dress me then."

"I think I’ll go file this." Elizabeth hastily vanished into the small office.

"Oh, don’t worry; I’ll be dressing you enough in the near future."

"Kinky," John purred. "I knew you liked me, Mackey."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t sleep with my models."

"That’s why your male models are usually straight," Laura put in.

John raised his hand and waved it. "Gay here," he said helpfully.

"So glad to hear it, is there any reason you keep telling us that?"

John shook his head pityingly. "You don’t actually think I followed you because I wanted to know what you were talking about, do you?"

"That’s exactly why I think you followed me."

John broke into a grin. "Smart man."

Rodney glowered and sputtered out a few choice words before turning to Radek. "Get the suit off him and get his information so we know where to get a hold of him—and make him an appointment at Peter’s."

Still chuckling, John cocked an eyebrow at Radek. "Is he always this cranky?"

"Actually, this is one of his better days."

The other eyebrow rose to join the first. "Is it too late to burn that contract?"

"You know what they say about making deals with the devil?" Lorne asked. "Well, he’s a cream puff compared to Rodney."

For a brief moment John’s expression turned distant. "That applies to a lot of people, unfortunately. But I think Mackey can be tamed." He grinned again.

Laura looked at him closely. "How much do you want to bet?"

"Forget it. I learned a long time ago not to bet." John gave her an odd smile. "I’ll just need a minute to change, Radek, and then you can have the clothes back."

"Take your time; there is no hurry."

"Okay, is it me or was that weird?" Laura asked the others after John disappeared into the dressing area.

"I think your eye-candy has a past," Radek murmured. "And I don’t believe he enjoys discussing it."

"Understatement of the year," Lorne nodded, "and you’d better get him that appointment, or Rodney may take his pissy mood out on you."

"Hmm, as amusing as that might be, not today. Lorne, get his address and phone number if he comes out before I’m done. We want to make sure we can find him. And let him know what time Rodney expects his models in the morning."

"Gotcha." Lorne dropped onto a battered sofa nearby, stretching his legs out and relaxing.

"Mmmm, I do like the eye candy around here," Laura chuckled, eyeing him. "Don’t you, Katie?"

"It’s one of the better perks of the job," the other woman laughed.

"And I know you like girls, Lorne." Laura moved to sit on the arm of the sofa.

"Oh, so the new guy’s gay and that means I get play?"

"You saying you don’t want to?" Laura tossed her head, auburn hair flipping back over her shoulder in a sleek fall.

"I’m saying it’s an interesting coincidence is all."

"Never mind then. I think I’ll call Carson and see if he’s free tonight." She stood up again.

Katie chuckled and sat down beside Lorne. "Amazing how you end up doing that most nights."

Laura shrugged easily. "He appreciates me."

"A man would have to be blind not to," John said as he rejoined them.

"So, regretting this yet?" Lorne asked as he sat up.

"It ought to be interesting," John replied easily. "I should bring Ronon over one day; he’d be amused. He likes the monkey house at the zoo."

"We’re more like gazelles," Laura shot back.

"I’d have gone with big cats personally." John gave her a toothy grin.

"Good answer."

"And before you get bitten, let me get your information down so Rodney knows where to hound you."

"Gee, that sounds so appealing." John shook his head but gave the necessary information. "And now, I need to go quit my job. See ya round!" He waved as he headed for the door, knowing Ronon was going to laugh his ass off.

"Have fun with the crazy man?" Ronon asked when John found him on the site again.

"You could say that. He’s a designer, and he wants me to model for him." John waited patiently for Ronon to stop laughing and then told him how much McKay was going to pay him. "Hell of a lot more than the Air Force ever paid us, and no one’s going to be shooting at me," John said smugly. "Besides, McKay’s amusing."

Ronon whistled at the figure. "Christ, you think he needs another model? I’d wear a dress for that kind of dough."

John shrugged. "Can’t hurt to ask. Teyla certainly drools over you, though I personally think it just means she needs glasses."

"Say that to her face so she can kick your ass for me." Ronon nodded toward the trailer nearby. "You tell the boss yet?"

"Just going to." John shoved his hands in his pockets. "He’s going to be pissed at the no notice thing, so I doubt I’ll finish out the day. Stop by my place after work for dinner and a beer. I’ll even feed Teyla if she wants to brave my chili."

"She says your chili’s for wimps," Ronon laughed. "And good luck in there."

Things went pretty much as John expected, and a few minutes later he was all but thrown off the jobsite. With the afternoon suddenly free, he headed to the store to get what he needed for dinner so the chili could simmer until Ronon and Teyla arrived. Then he was going to Google McKay and see what he could find out about him.

"Stop looking at me as if I’m insane, Carson! I needed a model, and... it seemed like a good idea at the time."

"A man ye saw out a window, Rodney! He could be a serial killer for all ye know!"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "As long as he sells my designs, I don’t care, and besides, Radek’s doing a little checking on him. Happy now?"

"Och, ye’re mad!" Carson shook his head in disbelief. "And ye’ve already signed a contract with him for six months wi’out knowing anything about him?"

"Like you’re one to talk!" Rodney huffed. "You were wanting to marry Laura five minutes after you met her!"

"Ye already knew her," Carson pointed out. "And she’ll nae have me," he added with a sigh.

Rodney snorted inelegantly. "That’s because she knows she can have you any time she pleases. I told you you’ve got to play hard to get, man!"

"I dinna want tae play games; I want tae marry the lass!"

"And to do that, you have to get her to think that she can’t have you anymore, understand?" Rodney rubbed his forehead and leaned over to steal one of Carson’s French fries.

"And how exactly am I tae manage that? I dinna think she’ll believe a sudden change of heart for no reason!"

"Were we really raised in the same house? It must be genetic because it’s obviously not related to environment—or maybe your mother smoked or drank when she was pregnant with you..."

"Rodney!"

"Well, for a man who went to medical school, you’re displaying a large lack of IQ!"

"There’s no one else, and she’ll nae believe I’m just giving up!"

"So find someone else; you have to have some female friends somewhere."

"None who look like Laura!"

Rodney groaned. "Fine, so go on drooling after her and letting her walk all over you. I’m just your brother; who cares what I say."

"Well, who would you suggest? My married, fifty-year-old department head? Or wait, I know, I could fall for your poor ex! I’m sure Sam wouldn’t mind getting the straight brother this time!"

"Oh ha ha." Rodney glowered as he took another fry. "That was a mistake that we both recognized right away; it’s all Mom and Archie’s fault for making me try to fit in to normal perceptions."

Carson snorted. "Rodney, there’s absolutely nothing about ye that’s normal! But Sam might do at that. She’s beautiful, brainy, and single. Yes, I think I should call her."

"Go ahead, do it; at least it will stop your whining, and if you dump Laura and marry her, it’ll stop my alimony payments as well!"

Carson growled. "Jackass!"

Rodney smirked at Carson over the rim of his glass of beer. "That I may be, but it got you out of your funk, didn’t it?"

"I really should have killed my dad before he ever married yer mum," Carson grumbled. "And since I’m not about to call Sam, I’m no further ahead with my problem with Laura."

"You were eight; there wasn’t much you could do, and I’ll call Sam for you." Rodney pulled out his cell and hit a pre-programmed number.

"Are ye mad?" Carson exclaimed, his jaw dropping as he gaped at Rodney.

Rodney waved a hand at Carson and started talking. "Sam, yes, it’s me. I’m calling to see if you can do me a favor—well, it’s not for me; it’s for Carson. Yes, it’s regarding Laura." Rodney beamed. "Exactly! You’re brilliant, which is why I married you; if you’d just have been male, our lives would have been bliss. Now here’s Carson; work out the details with him."

"Oh my God, please let me die now," Carson prayed fervently before reluctantly taking the phone when no avenging deity appeared to strike him down. "Samantha? Is that ye, lass?"

"Yes, Carson, it’s me," she laughed. "What can I do to help?"

"You thought I was lying?" Rodney sputtered.

Carson sighed, tuning Rodney out with the ease of long practice. "Rodney seems to think that Laura would appreciate me more if she thought I’d found someone else."

"Well, she does seem to take you for granted..."

"You agree with him?" Carson exclaimed, startled.

"I just don’t like you being hurt," Sam said diplomatically.

Carson sighed again. "I think ye’re both mad, but I’m desperate enough tae try anything. Will you come pretend to be my girlfriend?"

"I’d be glad to; where do you want to go?"

After a moment Carson named one of the current trendy restaurants, which also had the benefit of having a superior menu, and the in club. "If ye’re sure ye dinna mind."

"The chance for a free dinner and dancing with a nice man? Of course not. Are we talking about Friday?"

"Aye, that would be good," Carson agreed. "I’ll pick you up at seven then?"

"Perfect. I’ll see you then, Carson."

After a moment of chat, Carson said goodbye and handed the phone back to Rodney. "I dinna believe I’m doing this."

"It’ll be good for you, Carson; trust me."

"Laura will probably never speak to me again," Carson prophesied glumly.

"Christ, she’ll probably jump you when she gets over her hissy fit!"

"If she doesn’t, I’m moving in wi’ ye and ruining yer love life too!"

"What love life? I’m too busy to have one at the moment."

"I’ll make sure it stays that way!"

Rodney snorted. "I’m terrified."

"You should be! Doctors know what does the most damage and what causes the most pain without any real damage."

"Oh, please, Carson, you’re too nice to do anything of the kind; remember Perna and how she dumped you? You practically gave her your blessing!"

"She was too radical for me," Carson protested. "She thought she could change the world by killing people. You thought I would stay with her?"

"Well, it would have been better than this!"

"I like Laura," Carson said simply.

"You sound like a high school girl."

"You’re just jealous that you don’t have anyone."

"I get laid whenever I want," Rodney huffed.

"Ah, so you’ve taken vows of celibacy then."

"Fuck you, Carson."

"Sorry, I only like the lasses."

"Such a sense of humor, you should go on tour—and are you done with those fries?"

Chuckling, Carson pushed them across the table. "Help yerself."

"You always order them and don’t eat them—should I tell you how illogical that is?"

"You never order them and always want them."

"See! Too nice!"

"Ye’re the only brother I have, Rodney."

This time, Rodney’s smile was genuine. "Same here, Carson, and we won’t talk about Jeannie." He chuckled at the last."

"Please don’t!" Carson said fervently, with a shudder. "I don’t think I could face that."

"With her as a little sister, it’s a wonder how either of us turned out normal—and don’t you say a word!"

Carson chuckled and stole back one of his fries.

"Idiot," Rodney grumbled fondly. "Now let’s talk about what you’re wearing tomorrow and how I’m going to get Laura to show up there as well."

"If there was any justice in the universe, lightning would strike me dead now."

"Hrmmm, definitely a blue shirt... and I’ve got just the suit in mind for you."

Carson groaned and wondered when he’d lost control of his own life.

The next morning John sauntered off the elevator into McKay’s studio, wearing an old, soft pair of skintight jeans and a simple white cotton button-down shirt with the collar unfastened and the sleeves rolled up. He saw McKay working at a drawing table, music blaring, and he came up behind him to see what he was doing.

"New clothes for me, Mackey?"

"What?!" Rodney jumped, dropping his pencil and sending the drawing he’d been sketching on shooting off the table. "I’m not sure about the etiquette on construction sites, but in a design studio, you..." He turned and got his first look at the cleaned up version of John Sheppard, and the tirade sputtered to a halt.

One dark eyebrow rose over amused hazel eyes. "Earth to Mackey. Anyone home?"

"That is not my name," Rodney growled. "Honestly, you remind me of my little sister, Sheppard."

"I think it suits you, Rodney. And I really don’t want to remind you of a girl." John stuffed his hands into his pockets, pulling the much-washed fabric taut over his groin.

After giving John a quick visual once-over, Rodney cleared his throat and nodded. "All right, you do clean up well. Today you’re going to work with Lorne; he’ll teach you the basics."

John nodded. "Walking and not talking, right?"

"Correct, but there’s more to it than that."

"There always is." John looked around. "So where do I change, and what should I wear?"

"What you have on is fine for now; I’m not risking my designs on you until I’m sure you know what you’re doing."

"What, you think I’m going to drool on them?"

"No, but Laura might when she sees you."

John chuckled. "As long as that’s all she does, we’re cool."

"You may be, but I’m not; now, go sit down and wait for Lorne to get here, will you? I’m working if you haven’t noticed."

"I noticed. That’s why I wanted to see what you were working on."

"Scaring me into apoplexy at the same time." Rodney looked to where the paper lay on the floor. "It’s down there."

"Gee, would you like me to get that for you?" John shook his head at Rodney before bending down to retrieve it. "You need to work on your social skills, Mackey."

It was obvious that Rodney had been distracted by the tight line of John’s ass as he bent over, and he sniffed as he took the drawing back and smoothed it out on the drafting table. "And why is that?"

"Because it’ll lower the probability of someone shooting you."

"Carson was right; you are a serial killer."

"If I was, you’d already be dead."

"This after I gave you a job, such gratitude!"

John shrugged. "You gave me a job because you needed me."

Rodney glowered, his jaw clenched so tightly it was a wonder his teeth didn’t crack. "Fine, yes, you’re correct; now will you go sit down on the couch and leave me to my work?!"

With another shrug John went and sprawled on the sofa, one arm flung over the back as he watched Rodney.

Rodney returned to his work, sketching out designs but growing more and more frustrated until he finally turned to glare at John. "Will you stop looking at me!"

"There’s nothing else to look at, and you’re interesting."

"Pick up a magazine or look out the—interesting?"

"Yup. You’re a hard man to peg, Mackey. I wouldn’t have put you down as a designer."

"And what do you think I would be?" Rodney sighed.

"I don’t know, a scientist, no, a department head, cowing minions and lording it over everyone else."

"Actually, I started out in science but found I preferred design; I can do what I like here."

"Yeah, I can see where that would make a difference. You wouldn’t like answering to anyone else."

"You sound suspiciously like my psychiatrist."

"Hey, insults weren’t part of the contract. I can still quit!"

"I own your soul for six months, remember?"

"Trust me, if I needed to, I could find a way out of it. But you are entertaining, and you’re going to pay me a ridiculous amount of money, so you own my body during working hours for the next six months. Oh, and Ronon wants to know if you want to buy anyone else for the same amount of money."

"Ronon? Are you perhaps talking about Gargantua?" Rodney asked, smiling slightly. "And as for the contract, you’d have to fight Elizabeth to get out of it, and my money’s on her."

"You have no idea some of the things I’ve gotten out of. And Gargantua, huh? I like it," John chuckled. "I’ll have to start calling him that."

"Wonderful, and when you tell him who coined the phrase, I’m going to end up broken like a toothpick."

"Not if you’re signing his paycheck," John pointed out, laughing.

Rodney rubbed his forehead and slowly got off his stool to refill his mug. "I’m going to regret this, but have him come see me."

John got up and walked over to the window. He opened it and leaned out, then yelled, "Hey, Ronon, come on up."

"What? You mean he was waiting? I’m going to be killed," Rodney moaned.

"If you hadn’t said yes, he just would have gone to work. It’s right downstairs, in case you’d forgotten."

"I know that," Rodney said testily.

"Just checking. You seem prone to these little memory lapses." John smirked at him, now leaning on the windowsill.

"That’s because I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown!"

"Poor thing. Maybe you should find a less stressful occupation."

"Or deal with less stressful people." Rodney looked over as the door slammed open and groaned.

"So, do I get the same deal as Shep?" Ronon growled, frowning at McKay.

Refusing to be intimidated, Rodney lifted his chin and glared haughtily at the other man. "That depends what you have to offer."

Ronon drew himself up to his full height and looked down his nose at the shorter man. "A hell of a lot more than his scrawny ass," he said, indicating John with a jerk of a thumb.

"Yes, but he fit the clothes I had made already; what do you have other than mangy hair and an attitude?"

"Oh my God, can I take him home?" Laura exclaimed as she walked in, making a beeline for Ronon.

"I’ll fight you for him!" Katie said, practically drooling.

Ronon raised his eyebrows at Rodney with a smirk. "Any more questions?"

"Christ," Rodney sighed, rubbing his temples. "Remind me why I hired any of you?"

"Because they’re all gorgeous, and collectively, they’ll strike your competition blind," Elizabeth said blandly.

"And just whose side are you on?"

"Your bank account’s."

"I hate my life."

John snickered. "This is going to be fun."

"Fine, I can deal with all of you. Elizabeth, get Rollo a contract; Radek, get him in something that fits so we can see how he moves, and then try and find us another girl."

John looked at Ronon. "Think Teyla would be willing to moonlight, or would she shoot us for suggesting it?"

"You can suggest it; she thinks you’re cute."

"I’m suddenly really glad I’m gay." John turned away from Ronon’s laughter. "Hey, Radek, I may know of a woman. I can call her and see if she’s interested if you want her." He looked back at his friend. "Ronon, show them a picture of her."

"My god, he’s taking over the place," Rodney muttered as Ronon did just that.

"Hey, if you don’t want that wearing your clothes..." John nodded toward the picture of Teyla and Ronon.

Rodney glanced at the picture and sniffed dismissively. "She’s all right," he paused and continued quickly when Ronon growled. "See if she’ll come in. Now, I’m going to go work if you would all kindly leave me alone!"

"Is he always this grumpy in the morning?" John asked as he dialed his phone, trying to reach Teyla.

"Unless he got lucky the night before, the answer would be yes," Laura smirked.

"I’d guess he hasn’t gotten any for a while then... Hi, Teyla! Want to become a model, gorgeous?"

"Have you been drinking, John—and more importantly, has Ronon?"

"Only coffee. They hired Ronon too, so now they need another woman. So of course, I thought of you. We all know how good you look wrapped around Ronon."

"Wait a moment, Ronon quit his job to be a model?"

"For the same amount I’m getting," John said hastily. "Maybe more. I think he scares Mackey."

"And now this designer wants me to model for him as well. John, none of us has any experience; this seems... off."

"He’s... unique. And apparently he wanted me because I fit the clothes he had made for his previous model," John chuckled. "He’s not Jack the Ripper, not even Svengali."

"And why does he want Ronon and myself?"

"I’m not entirely certain, but I think it might be because I asked," John replied very quietly.

Teyla was quiet for a moment. "John, does this man have a crush on you?"

John was silent for long seconds. "Maybe."

"And isn’t this taking advantage of that?"

"He needs models, and you and Ronon are both disgustingly photogenic. It sounds like a win-win to me."

"And what about my real job? The one I’ll go back to when he’s done playing Henry Higgens with all of us?"

"You own the company, Teyla. It’ll still be there. But if you’re not interested, just say so. I thought you might enjoy this, but apparently I was wrong." John’s tone had grown stiff.

"I’m not saying no, John; you know me, always playing devil’s advocate. I’ll come down and talk to this Mackey, and we’ll see what happens, all right? And tell Ronon he’d better not let any other woman grab his ass while he’s there."

Laughing, John hung up. "She’s on her way. And she says nobody better touch what’s hers."

"Possessive wench," Ronon grinned. "Damn, I love that woman!"

"Taken or gay," Katie sighed to Laura.

"Why can’t I find one like these?" Laura sighed.

"Hey, you have Carson. Those eyes and that accent..." Katie shivered.

Laura shrugged. "He’s a fallback. I like him, but..."

"You’re an idiot," Katie said emphatically. "That man is seriously hot. He could have me any time he wants."

"And if your complaint is that he’s nice," Elizabeth looked over to where Radek was working with Ronon, "nice can be very, very good."

"Ah, you noticed that, did you?" Katie chuckled. "Good for you! He’s much better than that jerk Simon you were seeing last year."

"But Radek’s so..." Laura caught herself when the older woman looked at her, eyebrows raised. "Nice."

"Exactly," Elizabeth laughed, "and when you grow up, you’ll figure out that nice goes a hell of a lot farther than hot and edgy."

"Here, here!" Katie chimed in. "Hey, since you don’t want Carson, can I go after him?"

"He wouldn’t notice you, especially if I smiled at him," Laura sniffed.

"God, you can be such a bitch sometimes, Laura. If you don’t want him, leave him alone. He’s a nice guy who deserves better," Katie snapped.

"Oh please, you only want him because you can’t have him!"

"And you don’t because you can!" Katie shook her head and walked away, not wanting to get into an argument with a woman she considered a good friend. It was just that Laura seemed to have a huge blind spot when it came to Carson Beckett.

"That sounded like a fun way to start the day," Lorne mused as he breezed over to the group. "And who’s the new guy?"

Laura glared at him and stalked over to the buffet table, helping herself to a cup of black coffee and a yogurt.

Shaking her head, Elizabeth said, "That’s Ronon. He’s a friend of John’s who’s also going to be doing this collection, along with his girlfriend, who should show up any time now."

"You’re not serious; Rodney’s hiring more amateurs?"

"It seems so." Elizabeth sighed heavily. "I think he’s gone mad, but at least they are attractive and photogenic. We just have to hope they can learn to move."

Lorne sighed and shook his head. "Well, I know what I’m going to be doing from now until the show. At least Sheppard has a sense of humor; what about the big guy—Ronon, right?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. I don’t think he’s actually spoken to anyone. He seems to go for the strong and silent thing."

"Well, at least silent isn’t a problem in our business."

"It will be if he grunts at a backer," she grumbled.

Lorne chuckled. "That’s what Rodney does; it doesn’t seem to hurt business any."

"No, Rodney yells at them and calls them blind idiots," Elizabeth corrected ruefully. "You’re right; Ronon has to be better. And I’d better see about this contract." She started across the room toward the tall, muscular man.

"So, where do I sign?" Ronon asked bluntly.

"That’d be the dotted line above the word ‘signature’," John said helpfully.

"Shut up, Sheppard," the taller man growled.

"Well, it is!"

"Why don’t you come into my office so we can go over it?" Elizabeth suggested diplomatically.

"Yeah, let’s do that; people are nuts out here."

"I’ll send Teyla back if she gets here before you’re done," John offered.

"Do that; I don’t want her hurting Mackey if he gets her going."

John murmured, "McKay, Ronon. Let’s not make the man rupture an artery."

"He isn’t even around to hear!" Ronon exclaimed.

"Habits are hard to break. So just do it!" John barked, for an instant reverting to a tone he hadn’t used with Ronon in a few years.

Eyes widening, Ronon nodded slowly. "Gotcha, Major, I’m just going to go with the nice lady and sign the paper that will give me a lot of money."

"You do that," John said with an apologetic smile as he relaxed, pretending not to notice the curious stares all around.

Juggling his coffee and a low fat muffin, Lorne walked over to Sheppard, who was now conspicuously alone. "So, want something to eat before runway bootcamp starts up?"

"OCS," John sighed before helping himself to coffee and an apple.

"Huh?"

"Bootcamp’s for grunts; OCS is for officers." John looked around. "And I’d say that Mackey would insist on the very best."

"Uh yeah, right." Lorne eyed him oddly. "Whatever you call it, once you’re done eating and Elizabeth’s done with your buddy, it’s time to work."

"Walking’s work?" John asked, eyebrows rising.

"You aren’t walking; you’re selling, and trust me, it’s work."

"If you say so," John murmured. "No offense, but compared to some things I’ve done, this is going to be a cake walk."

"Whatever you say, I’m not the type to judge, and I’d rather not be judged, okay?"

"I’m not judging. Believe me, I’ve seen enough of that for one lifetime. It’s just that, well, this isn’t exactly downtown Kabul, ya know?"

Lorne eyed him closely. "I’m getting the feeling you were in the military."

John smiled wryly. "I’m pretty certain that Mackey and his friend over there have already run me, so it’s not like I could keep it a secret."

"Probably, but they aren’t going to tell us anything, so if you don’t want to talk about it, it’ll stay cold." Lorne finished his muffin and tossed his garbage in a pail before brushing his hands together.

"Good, so why don’t you show me exactly what it is I’m supposed to learn?" John started before looking up when the door opened. "Hey, Teyla, go on into the office. Ronon and McKay’s business manager are expecting you." He gestured toward the office door.

The tall, mixed-race woman looked around the open space, studying it and the people inside before nodding. "I’ll do that."

When she was behind the closed door, Lorne let out a whistling breath. "That’s Ronon’s girlfriend? Damn!"

"Fiancee actually, and she owns a security company, so I wouldn’t suggest putting the moves on her. She’d break you in half. And if she left anything, Ronon would stomp on the pieces." John eyed him. "She used to be with the Secret Service."

"No problem here; my face is my life, I’m not risking it for that."

"Good decision. So, about this training?"

"C’mon," Lorne nodded toward the end of the room surrounded with mirrors, "we’ll work there."

"Geez, what’s with all the mirrors?"

"Get used to them; how else are you going to see how you move?"

"Why the hell do I need to see me move? Never mind, if I could make it through martial arts training, I can do this."

"So, Radek, how goes it out there?" Rodney sighed.

"Remarkably well, considering. Sheppard moves... very well."

"For a straight man, you’re sounding almost bisexual there; be careful."

Radek pulled a face. "I don’t want to go to bed with the man. But you’d have to be blind not to notice him. Look for yourself."

"I’ve looked enough and look what it got me," Rodney grumbled, poking at the drawing he was working on with an eraser.

"Three new models?"

"Who’ve never modeled in their lives!"

"So why did you hire them?"

Rodney sighed. "Because I need to get laid, that’s why; obviously my attention is on other things than business."

Radek chuckled. "Are you going to break your own rule and go after the one you really want?"

"And have him think that the only reason I hired him was because I want to fuck him? I don’t think so."

"It’s the truth, isn’t it?"

"Whose side are you on here?"

Radek shrugged. "I told you about his past. I’m fairly certain that he could break you into teeny-tiny pieces if you tried to make him do something he didn’t want to. And he is gay." He glared at Rodney. "And you know perfectly well I’m on your side. But if you want him, find out if he’s interested too."

"And what if the only reason he is is because I’m paying him?" Rodney fretted.

"Rodney, that man ignored orders and flew into a war zone because he thought it was the right thing to do. Does that sound like a man who would go to bed with you because you pay him?"

"Maybe."

Radek clutched at his hair. "You are an idiot!"

"No, I’m a pessimist; there’s a difference."

"I give up. Fine, be miserable!" Radek stalked away, heading for a cup of coffee.

"I will!" Rodney shot back petulantly, throwing his eraser at the other man’s back.

Watching from the mirrored area with Lorne, Ronon and Teyla, John looked at Lorne. "Does he do that often?"

"What, throw things? Not at the models, he doesn’t want to bruise us."

"So he just throws things at Radek and Elizabeth? Why do I think his mother should have spanked him more often as a child."

"Or dropped him on his head," Ronon added helpfully.

"Behave, Ronon," Teyla murmured.

John snorted. "Just wait till you meet him for yourself, Teyla. You’ll agree."

"Actually, compared to some other designers I’ve worked for, he’s mellow," Lorne shrugged.

All three of them turned to stare at him.

"Would I lie? Tell them, Katie."

She nodded. "It’s true, Rodney may growl, but he’s all bark and no bite; he’s not going to make you take uppers to lose weight before a show."

"Like that would happen," Ronon growled.

"Innocent," Katie smiled.

"I think he meant to him," John chuckled. "Can you see Mackey trying to make Ronon do anything?"

"I can’t see him making any of you do anything, but if you think he’s going to ask nicely, you’re crazy."

"No, I think I might pass out from the shock if he did," John chuckled. "But if he throws anything at me, it’s going right back at him."

"Just don’t hit him," Lorne laughed. "He goes catatonic if he sees his own blood."

"If he throws anything at me, he’ll be seeing plenty of it," Ronon glowered.

Teyla rolled her eyes as both Katie and Lorne goggled at Ronon. "You’d never hit someone who couldn’t fight back."

"Teyla wouldn’t let you," John put him, smirking at the big man.

"Why are you protecting him? I thought you didn’t even like him!"

"I never said that," John protested while Teyla rolled her eyes. "He’s amusing."

"Amusing?" Lorne and Katie chorused.

John nodded. "Yup, I’ll bet it’s never boring when Mackey’s around."

"Sheppard likes excitement," Ronon snorted.

"It keeps life interesting," John shrugged.

"What would keep my life interesting would be if the people I paid to work were actually working," Rodney drawled from behind the group.

"I think I’ve already walked more miles than I did out of... Well, than I ever have," John retorted.

"They’re doing all right," Lorne said before Rodney could ask.

"Yes," Katie agreed. "Teyla’s doing very well."

"Of course she is," Ronon said proudly, sliding an arm around her shoulders.

John snickered at him. "I think she mastered walking on her own, big guy, without any help from you."

"It’s good to meet you, Mr. McKay," Teyla said diplomatically.

"Likewise." Rodney looked at her critically before nodding.

"Hey, I didn’t get a nice, polite greeting, Mackey," John protested.

"Perhaps that’s because she actually managed to get my name correct."

"I keep telling you, I like Mackey better."

"And I’m so happy to hear that." Rodney glowered at the snickers. "Where’s Laura? I have a job for you all tonight."

"Right here, Rodney," Laura said, coming up behind him with a bottle of water in her hand. "What’s up?"

"And what do you mean ‘tonight’? Is this going to involve a lot of night work?" John asked.

"Considering what I’m paying you, you’re complaining? And before you continue, it’s simple; I want all of you to go out as a group wearing the clothes Radek gives you and party at Reve."

"My favorite kind of assignment," Lorne grinned.

"Great, dancing with women," John sighed.

"Deal with it. I want you all to be here and ready by ten; Radek will get a limo to take you there. Stay until at least one; then what you do is your business, but do not do anything disgusting in the clothes, got it?"

"What, you’re not going to come supervise us?" John challenged.

"Of course, but I feel no need to go any farther than the club."

John rolled his eyes. "Do you even know how to have fun?"

"Pardon me? I have plenty of fun, not that it matters to you!"

"Of course you do," John replied. "Don’t worry, we’ll stay out and wear your clothes while you go home for a cup of cocoa."

"Careful, Shep, I think he’s going to burst a blood vessel," Ronon murmured.

John eyed the fuming designer. "Naw, I’m just making sure he’s awake."

"As it so happens," Rodney ground out, "I have a date."

"I thought Jameson broke up with you," Laura said innocently.

John smirked. "Got a rebound guy, Mackey?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Apparently not," John shrugged. "Though I’d have thought you’d be one to wait a while."

"My god, I haven’t dated the man for two months!"

"I guess that counts as a while then. Don’t forget to be safe." John grinned at him while Ronon shook his head. He’d seen Sheppard like this before, and he almost felt sorry for the designer.

"Thank you so much for your concern, now can you get back to practicing so you don’t make a fool of yourself in the show?"

"I never make a fool of myself." John threw a challenging smile over his shoulder and then prowled down the makeshift runway.

"Oh my," Katie breathed prayerfully.

"Such a shame," Laura murmured, causing Rodney to glare at her.

"Only to you."

"I don’t notice anyone else doing anything about it," Radek put in, eyeing Rodney significantly.

"Shep never has to wait for anyone to do anything about it," Ronon chuckled, making Teyla elbow him in the side.

"No, not when he looks like that," Laura agreed, still staring as John came back toward them. "Damn, I’d buy anything he wore."

"Glad to hear it; I know I pay you enough to afford my designs."

"Yeah, but I don’t have anyone that’ll look like that in them," she sighed.

"Pardon me; Carson looks perfectly fine in my clothes," Rodney put in.

"Yes, exactly. He looks fine; he doesn’t look like that."

Katie and Elizabeth both shook their heads but didn’t waste their breath arguing.

"Are you insulting my brother?" Rodney asked sharply before continuing. "Because I’m the only one who can do that." Waving off her answer, he shifted his attention to Ronon and Teyla. "You two, we need measurements, so come with me."

Teyla’s eyebrows rose sharply, and John winced. "It’s nothing personal, Teyla," he said hastily. "He just has the social skills of someone raised by wolves."

"Are we through insulting my parentage, because I’d really like to get this done," Rodney sighed over the snickers around them.

"I always liked Lucan," John protested. "I thought he was pretty hot back then. Of course, I was only about ten."

"Does he do this all the time?" Rodney asked Ronon and Teyla.

"Yup," Ronon nodded, "but it means he likes you."

"Hey," John protested, "I resemble that remark."

Knowing from experience that John could continue for hours if allowed to, Teyla ignored him in favor of walking down the fake runway, hips swaying as she moved gracefully.

Rodney watched her critically and, hearing Ronon’s grumble, spoke without looking at him. "I’m not in the least interested in her in any way other than as a model, so take the macho attitude and stick a sock in it."

"Don’t worry about it, Ro," John assured him, "Mackey’s more likely to be interested in your ass than Teyla’s."

"Is that supposed to reassure me?"

"Not my type," Rodney stated flatly before stalking back to the workroom followed by a snickering Radek.

John chuckled. "He definitely needs to get laid."

Ronon’s eyebrows rose. "Are you offering?"

"Naw, he’s not my type. But it’s fun to needle him."

From behind them, Katie spoke up. "Just don’t think you can hurt him and get away with it; Rodney may be an idiot at times, but he’s a good guy, and we like him."

"I like him too or I wouldn’t tease him," John said easily. "And I don’t play the kind of games you’re obliquely accusing me of."

"We know Rodney, not you."

"Fair enough. But once you get to know me, you’ll love me." John gave her the brash smile that had charmed him out of trouble most of his life.

"I’m not worried about me," she commented.

"The only thing that’s going to convince you is time, so I’d say it’s time to get back to walking lessons."

"I knew there was a reason I hated clubs," Rodney grumbled to Radek as he looked out over the crowded dance floor.

Radek looked from the very attractive men and women dancing below them to Rodney, and gingery eyebrows rose. "You don’t like people more attractive than yourself?"

"Very funny." Rodney glared at the shorter man. "No, I hate crowds of people stupid enough not to be wearing my designs, and shouldn’t you be asking Elizabeth to dance or something?"

"She wanted something to drink first," Radek replied easily. "We will dance soon. And then, unlike you, my friend, I will go home with someone tonight. You need to find someone, Rodney; you get unpleasant when you’re frustrated."

"It’s not my fault Charles cancelled on me tonight."

Radek rolled his eyes. "You’re more frustrated after a night with him than before."

Rodney sniffed and took a sip of his wine. "That’s because he’s prettier than he is smart, exactly the reason I don’t date my models."

"And here I thought it was because he was boring in bed."

"Why did I ever tell you that?"

"Because you were frustrated, which brings us back to my original point. Not to put too fine a point on it, Rodney, you need to get laid," Radek said bluntly.

Rodney downed the last of his drink and set the glass down on the table next to them harder than necessary. "Well, that’s not going to happen here, is it," he snapped. "I should just go home and get some work done, leave you and Elizabeth to ride herd on the kids."

"And how do you know that you won’t find the man of your dreams..." Radek started, only to stop abruptly, his eyes widening and eyebrows shooting up as he stared down into the crowd. "Rodney, why is Carson here with your ex-wife?"

"Has Laura seen them yet?"

Radek gave Rodney a narrow-eyed glare before turning back to the crowd, looking for the models. "No, she... Ah, yes. And she doesn’t look very happy about it."

"That’s why they’re here, that and the fact that I’m a fucking altruist who worries about his brother’s happiness."

"I hope this doesn’t blow up in our faces. And it’s fortunate that Carson’s back is to Laura because he looks very uncomfortable. I don’t think he can pull this off." Radek watched with interest as Laura began making her way through the crowd toward the couple at the edge of the dance floor. "Then again, he does have a temper, so she might irritate him into it."

Almost against his will Rodney leaned over the railing to watch as well. "Sam will help; she likes him, and she doesn’t like how Laura treats him." He smirked slightly when Laura approached the couple and Carson feigned surprise at seeing her.

"Oh, hello, um, Lara isn’t it?" Sam smiled sweetly at the auburn-haired model. "I see you and the rest of Rodney’s stable are all here tonight. Couldn’t get a date, hmmm?"

"I’m working," Laura snapped. "Carson, who is this?"

He gave a weak smile but kept his arm around Sam’s waist. "Laura, this is Sam."

Sam eyed the shorter woman dismissively. "I suppose airbrushing can work wonders," she said cattily, amused by the way Laura’s eyes narrowed.

"As can a few trips to the gym, you should look into one."

"Now, ladies," Carson began, "ye shouldn’t squabble."

"True, it’s rather pointless when I’ve already won the prize." Sam curled a possessive arm around Carson’s waist and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Carson! I thought that you, that we..."

"Ye made it plain that I wasnae what ye really wanted, Laura," he said gently. "I’ve finally decided that being yer backup isnae what I want either. Have a lovely life." He kissed Sam again and led her onto the dance floor, leaving Laura gaping after them.

"Bravo, Carson," Sam said once they were out of earshot. "It’s a pity, isn’t it, that we never were attracted to each other? Life would have been so much easier."

"Aye," he sighed, "but that isnae what life has planned for any of us. I just didn’t think this would be so damned hard."

"The best things always are. And honestly, it’s no hardship for me to spend time with you until she realizes what she’s missing. You’re something of a rarity, Carson, a genuinely nice guy."

He smiled ruefully. "Aye, that seems ta be the problem."

"There, that’s done," Rodney nodded.

"Playing matchmaker? And here I always thought you didn’t give a damn about anyone’s feelings but your own," Radek teased.

The gaze Rodney turned on the other man was slightly hurt, and he shrugged. "I don’t need the soap opera theatrics in my life is all. Now, I’m making a stop, and then I’m going home to enjoy the quiet."

"Rodney," Radek sighed, but it was too late. Rodney was gone, and Radek was going to have to find a way the next day to apologize. Coffee and chocolate would figure prominently.

John handed Katie off to Lorne and extricated himself from the group, saying that he’d be right back and gesturing quickly toward the sign for the men’s room. As he made his way across the floor, he glanced over his shoulder, meeting the eyes of the dark-haired stranger who’d been watching him for the last several dances.

Damn crowds, Rodney fumed as he slowly made his way down to the main floor. Damn crowds, damn clubs and damn... he cut off the thought before it was fully formed and finally pushed down the hallway to the men’s bathroom.

"Hey, buddy, I wouldn’t go in there..." a member of the crowd outside began, but Rodney shouldered past him, opening the door and walking inside to enjoy the relative silence—until it was broken by the sound of two people engaged in more than freshening up.

"This is a public facility!" he fumed, having reached his breaking point. "Get a damned hotel room, or go behind the building, but get it out of here!"

The stall door opened, and a tousled head poked out. "Jesus, Mackey, you really need to learn to relax, or you’re going to get an ulcer." John bit his lip to muffle a groan when the other person in the stall apparently did something he really liked.

"You!" Rodney nearly shrieked. "It figures, and if you tear or stain that outfit, it’s coming out of your pay!" Ignoring the fact that half the blood in his body had traveled south hearing Sheppard’s groan, he glared at the other man.

John snickered and looked back into the stall. "You hear that? No dripping on the clothes." Muffled laughter was the only reply, and John grinned at Rodney again. "Not a problem."

Rodney’s eyes narrowed. "I’m so glad you find this amusing. Once you’re done, which I doubt will take long, try to remember why you’re here." Ignoring the fact that his bladder was full, he turned and shoved at the door, almost planting his face into it before realizing it pulled open.

Still chuckling, John disappeared back inside the stall, his breath catching and exploding out of him in a sharp cry of pleasure a moment later.

Biting his lower lip at the erotic sound, Rodney got the door open and plunged back through the crowd, seeking his escape from the club and the whole evening.

"Good morning," John called cheerfully as he came into the studio the next day, seeing that he was the last one to arrive. Even Ronon and Teyla were already there, but John had stopped at IHOP for a decent meal. The low cal food that was available here might be fine for the other models, but John knew that his build was due to a fast metabolism. If he stuck to the yogurt and rabbit food, within a week he really would be skinny.

"Hey," Ronon called, walking over to him. "Watch out for Laura this morning; she’s in a mood."

"Oh great, pissy models. It makes me miss friendly fire," John sighed. "And how’s Mackey?" On reflection he was a little embarrassed by their encounter the night before, but he’d let himself be boiled in oil before admitting it.

"No idea, haven’t seen him yet; must have slept in—or he got lucky," he chuckled at that.

John chuckled as well. "Somehow, he doesn’t strike me as the pick up a stranger in a bar type."

"Speaking of that, you seemed to vanish for a while last night..."

John grinned wickedly. "I am the pick up a stranger in a bar type. And handicapped stalls are nice and roomy."

"I hope you’re being careful, John," Teyla commented as she joined them.

"Always," he replied emphatically. "I’m not stupid, and the only thing I take home from one of those encounters is a smile. And maybe a phone number."

She chuckled and Ronon slapped John on the shoulder. "Just don’t give ‘em the number here; McKay might get pissed if his fantasy boy is taken."

A sheepish expression crossed John’s face. "He, uh, already knows. He walked in on us last night."

"Christ, Shep, we haven’t even gotten paid yet!"

"I hope the two of you can get unemployment for a job you’ve only held for a day," Teyla sighed before looking toward the door when it slammed open, revealing McKay, who was half-hidden behind an armload of fabric.

"Radek, grab these; Elizabeth, there are bills for you here somewhere; Katie, I need you in the back," he fired off before vanishing in the back room.

"I don’t think he’s firing us," John observed blandly a moment later as everyone started scurrying around in a flurry of activity. "Besides, we have contracts. He can’t fire us for not being celibate."

"We hope," Ronon muttered darkly.

"Oh, get some coffee," John grumbled.

Katie reappeared just before lunch, and Rodney followed her out of the workroom. "Sheppard, I need you after the break."

John’s eyebrows rose. "I’m all yours," he purred, trying not to grin.

Rodney glowered. "Very amusing, try not to get distracted during your meal; I’m on a tight timeline."

After casting a disdainful glance at the table covered with bowls of salad, John shrugged. "Since there’s nothing here that qualifies as a meal, now’s as good a time as any."

"Perhaps for you, but I need to eat, so try to curb your enthusiasm."

John shrugged. "Whenever you’re ready. Although if you take too long, you may have to come find me at the nearest Burger King!"

"In the bathroom?"

"Naw, I need meat I can sink my teeth into today."

"Lovely. You have half an hour."

"See you then.

"Hey, Ro, I’m going after some real food. You want to come with?"

"Teyla?" Ronon asked, glancing at her.

"Go ahead," she laughed.

"Hey, you two mind if I join you," Lorne asked.

"The more the merrier. And the fewer likely to pass out from hunger," John added with another look at the table.

Lorne grinned and nodded. "Yeah, rabbit food only goes so far, though it’s your best friend the week before a photo shoot."

"If I stuck to that crap, I’d look like a concentration camp survivor," John snorted.

"Don’t worry, Shep, we’ll keep you fed."

"Twenty-five minutes," Rodney yelled.

"Jesus, keep your pants on, Mackey. We’ll be back before you even miss us." John headed out the door before the countdown could continue.

When they were out the door, Rodney leaned against the wall and stared at the ceiling. "Why did I do this to myself?"

"Do what?" Radek asked with interest.

"This, this whole situation. Lorne could have handled double-duty."

Radek shrugged. "Because you know people come to see the models as much as the clothes in some cases, and Sheppard and Dex will bring them in."

"Keep telling me that, all right?"

"Even after you tell me to shut up," Radek chuckled.

Rodney smiled slightly. "Even then, now where’s my lunch?"

Radek waved a hand at the table. "You don’t want to share the delectable feast provided for your models?"

"No one cares what I look like."

Radek made a noncommittal sound as his eyes went to the door the male models had recently exited. "Pizza will be here any... Ah, that should be it now."

"Good. Bring it back; I’ve got some ideas I need to work on."

Shaking his head, Radek went to pay for the pizza, knowing that it would likely sit for some time before Rodney noticed it again.

Hearing the door open, Rodney looked up and blinked before looking at his watch. "Oh, you’re back. Fine, put the clothes on, and get up on the platform."

His eyebrows rising, John looked around at the many clothes hanging on racks and draped over every flat surface. "Which clothes?"

"Black pants, light blue shirt." Rodney waved a hand in the general direction of the outfit he was speaking of.

John began shrugging out of his clothes once he’d spotted the garments. "Are you going to tell me what exactly this is all about?"

"Exactly what is all about?"

"Why I’m in here about to touch your sacred clothes with my sandpaper hands."

Rodney’s jaw clenched, and he took a deep breath. "Because the clothes were fitted for my former model, and you aren’t exactly the same size as he was."

"Ah. You couldn’t have just said so?" Wearing only a pair of form-fitting boxer briefs, John walked over to the clothes and shrugged into the shirt, leaving it hanging loose as he stepped into the pants.

"Leave it that way for now," Rodney said after a moment’s pause as he rose, gathering up some tailor’s chalk and pins.

"Whatever you want," John said easily, holding up the pants with one hand as he stepped up onto the platform.

"The shirt," Rodney sighed.

John grinned as he fastened the pants. "Precision in all things, Mackey."

"It’s the trademark of my line; now stand still." Rodney dropped to his knees beside John, examining the line of the pants.

"If you keep groping me like that, there’s no way in hell all of me’s going to stay still," John gritted out.

"Next time wear a cup," Rodney sniffed, sliding a finger around the waistband, concentrating on his work and not the man standing before him.

John glared down at the dark head so close to his groin and distracted himself by imagining all the painful things he’d love to do to the annoying designer.

"Don’t move," Rodney muttered, drawing a line just off the seam, pinning the material there before stepping back to see how the fabric lay.

"Yes, massuh," John drawled, eyebrows climbing as he eyed the designer with amusement.

"Or move and enjoy how a popped testicle feels."

"Excuse me?!"

"Working with pins here," Rodney explained none-too-patiently.

"You are a very annoying man."

"Yes, yes, I’ve been told that and worse many times before and by people whose opinions I value more than yours."

"I was under the impression you didn’t value mine at all."

Rodney glanced up at him. "Exactly."

John chuckled. "And yet I find you strangely entertaining."

"And that just makes my life complete; put on the shirt now."

John looked down at the shirt that he was already wearing, albeit unbuttoned. He started buttoning it up.

"You know what I meant."

"Uh huh. Tucked in or loose?"

"Loose for now." Rodney stepped up behind John and ran his hands over his shoulders, smoothing the material down.

John couldn’t prevent a slight shiver, and he mused that Rodney had nice big hands, just the kind he liked.

"Not bad," Rodney muttered, making small marks with the chalk along his back.

"What’s not bad?"

"The fit; you’re slightly broader in the shoulders than Aidan, but it won’t take too much work to fix it."

"Ah, of course." John fought the urge to shift, slightly uncomfortable with the way the fabric stretched across his shoulder.

"Go ahead and take it off," Rodney said, stepping back and holding out a hand for the shirt.

"Thanks. It’ll fit better when you’re done, right?" John handed the garment over and stretched.

"Of course it will; what do you think I am, a hack?"

John rolled his eyes. "Sorry to have offended your prodigious talent. Whatever was I thinking?"

Rodney gave a bit of a smile. "Obviously you weren’t."

"You’re definitely not short on ego, are you?"

"Sometimes it’s the only thing that gets you through."

John’s gaze turned inward. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Sometimes it is."

Rodney looked at him sharply. "Yes, well, none of this is getting my work done, so try the chocolate pants and the bronze shirt."

John blinked. "You mean the brown pants and sort of rusty shirt over there?"

Rodney sighed. "Yes, those."

"Okay." John unfastened the pants he was wearing and looked around. "Where do you want me to put these?"

"Give them here; I need to keep them separate." Rodney held out a hand, waiting for John to disrobe.

"I figured." John stepped out of them, handed them over and went to get the next outfit, once again not buttoning the shirt to start with.

Rodney half-smiled again. "He can be taught."

"A few of my professors would even agree with you."

"Glad to hear it, now change!"

"Changing." John stepped into the pants, did up the fly, and stepped back up onto the platform.

"Of course I understand; I may not like it, but I understand," Rodney grumbled into his cell phone as he walked into the loft a week later. "I’ll just have to see what I can do."

The models looked at each other and back at Rodney, no one wanting to speak up. Sighing, Radek stepped forward. "See what you can do about what, Rodney?"

He sighed before lifting his chin almost defiantly. "About a dinner partner for this evening; is anyone free?"

"Ronon and I are having dinner with my grandmother," Teyla said.

Lorne, Katie, and Laura shook their heads quickly, eyes wide.

"Elizabeth and I have plans as well," Radek said.

"Looks like you’re stuck with me, Mackey. Or you would be if I didn’t already have a date. Better luck next time," John shrugged.

Rodney’s expression grew neutral, and then he nodded quickly. "All right, it’s understandable, being last moment’s notice. You all have busy lives I’m sure." He started toward the back room, pausing at the door. "Take the day off, all of you."

Eight pairs of eyes widened, and several jaws dropped. Elizabeth actually reached out as if to place a hand on his forehead to test for fever.

"’Take the day off’?" Radek repeated in disbelief. "I would have bet my life that you were incapable of uttering those words, assuming you even knew what they meant!"

Rodney gave him a withering look before going into the workroom, closing the door firmly behind him.

"Okay, is Rodney sick or dying or something?" Lorne asked incredulously.

"I think the world is coming to an end!" Radek muttered.

"Shouldn’t someone find out what’s going on?" John suggested, making everyone back away from the door.

"Be my guest; I’m much too young and beautiful to die," Laura sniffed.

Katie shook her head. "When he gets like this, it’s better to just let him sulk; he’ll be back to normal eventually."

"Before the show, I hope," Elizabeth murmured.

John hesitated, but the others knew Rodney better, and it wasn’t as if he was the guy’s friend or anything. "So back to walking?" he asked with a sigh.

"Thought he said to take the day off," Ronon commented.

"Oh right." John shrugged. "I guess I’ll see if Dave’s free this afternoon before our date. I’ll see you all tomorrow."

"I would suggest everyone be on time." Elizabeth glanced at the worst offenders.

"I’ll do my best." John grinned and waved as he disappeared out the door.

The others slowly drifted out, though Katie hung back. "Do you think he’s all right?" she asked Elizabeth and Radek.

They both hesitated, looking toward the closed door. "I hope so," Radek said slowly.

Elizabeth nodded. "I don’t know if going in there would make it better or worse, so we just will have to leave things as they are and hope this blows over quickly."

"We’ll hear about it eventually if there’s anything we can do," Radek agreed.

"Okay, I’m out of here then," Katie called. "Have fun you two, but not too much or you’ll be late tomorrow!" Laughing, she grabbed her bag and darted out of the loft.

"And the final nominee for tonight’s Designer of the Year award is Rodney McKay."

John’s head shot up, nearly knocking one of his date’s teeth loose, and he stared across the room to where the spotlight was centered on Rodney and the conspicuously empty seat next to him.

"Aw shit," he whispered fervently.

"Save the rough stuff for later, lover," Dave laughed, rubbing his jaw and reflexively running a hand through his carefully styled blond hair before glancing in the direction John was looking in. "You know McKay? Great designer, but a total asshole."

John frowned, drawing away slightly. "He’s not so bad."

"And how do you know? Wait, you mean this is the guy who hired you?" Dave burst into laughter that he quickly tried to smother when several gazes turned their way.

"I’m sorry I mentioned that to you. Now shut up!" John hissed.

"Meow, what’s gotten into you?"

"You’re being rude," John growled, his eyes on Rodney.

"And you’re being ridiculous; what do you care about him other than the fact that," Dave paused as the winner was announced, "he’s going to have more business now and that’s going to make you busier, though I think I liked you better when you were a construction worker."

John’s eyes narrowed. "In that case, don’t call me, I’ll call you."

"Why don’t you call your new best friend instead?"

"I know we all know Mr. Sanders has the attention span of a gnat, considering what a mish-mash his collections are, but you’d think he’d try to at least pretend while out in public," Rodney commented from the podium.

"A very good idea." John stood up, indifferent to the attention he was getting from most of the room, and walked across to sit down in the empty seat beside Rodney’s.

Hiding his shock as well as possible, Rodney glanced at Dave and shrugged. "Obviously your attention span isn’t the only thing that’s sub-par."

A wave of muffled laughter, and some not so muffled, swept the room. John hid a grin in a sip of wine, helping himself to Rodney’s.

"Well, after that show, not much I say is going to register anyway, so I’ll just say it was well-deserved and it took you all long enough," Rodney smirked, lifting the crystal trophy for a moment before returning to his seat.

"He was your date? My opinion of you just dropped."

"Mine too," John admitted. "But he was damn good in bed. Unfortunately, we can’t spend all our time in bed. Which would be why I just told him to go to hell."

"Well good for you, and the reason you’re sitting here, drinking my wine would be?"

"Because I don’t immediately want to shut you up every time you talk."

Rodney’s eyebrows rose. "Funny, that’s not what I gathered."

"Mackey, do you honestly think I’d work for you if I couldn’t stand you? I was doing fine where I was."

"I have no idea." Rodney shook his head and reached for his glass of wine, taking it from John’s hand. "I have a hard enough time admitting to myself why I hired you."

"And why did you hire me?"

"As if you don’t know."

"I’ve... wondered."

"How thrilling for you."

"You know, I think it could be," John said slowly.

"You forget, I’m not your type, and yes, I heard that comment. Don’t worry, John, I don’t date my models, so it wouldn’t be an issue anyway."

"Rodney, how much of what I say do you think I actually mean?" John asked wryly.

"I have no idea; it isn’t as if we’ve had many conversations."

"True," John admitted, leaning back in his chair. "Maybe we should change that."

Rodney frowned at John over his wine glass. "I don’t need your pity, which is exactly what this feels like."

John snorted. "Mackey, the last thing I feel for you is pity. Look, I like you, okay? And it’s not like I have a whole of friends, not after..." He was interrupted by a flash.

"Maj. Sheppard! So is that what a former Air Force officer is reduced to?"

John looked up in dismay at a tabloid journalist who’d dogged his steps after his discharge.

"And just who let you in here?" Rodney said stiffly, standing and glaring at the interloper. "Not anyone with authorization, I’m sure, and, as such, I’m sure your camera will be confiscated and you will be reminded of the fines inherent in publishing any accounts of the evening. Do. You. Understand?"

John stared down at the table as the hotel’s security removed the woman. "Sorry about that," he said, pushing his chair back.

"Unless you called the woman and invited her here, it’s hardly your fault. And I take it you’re leaving?" Rodney asked as John stood.

"I think I’ve worn out my welcome." John managed a wry smile. "I’d hate to imagine what my third scene of the evening might be."

"Losing your date so soon after you got him, Rodney?" Calvin Kavanagh sniffed as he stopped by the table. "At least you have better taste in men than in your clothes; though they usually have better taste than to stay with you."

John stopped and eyed the newcomer. "On second thought, I suppose I can wait a while longer for a drink." He sat back down. "If this was your next option," he added, "no wonder you waited for me, Rodney."

"Calvin, a model?" Rodney snorted out a laugh. "Hardly; he can barely dress the ones he over-pays, including the person you replaced."

"I never thought he was a model," John laughed. "I meant as a date. But even as designer..." He looked from the newcomer’s clothes to Rodney’s and shook his head sadly.

Kavanagh sniffed superiorly. "Rodney, Rodney, Rodney, letting your dick think for your head again."

"Perhaps, but even my dick is smarter than you."

"I’m not sure if I should be insulted or relieved," John murmured, looking amused.

"I know which I’d be. If you’d like to work with a real designer, let me know." Kavanagh chuckled, tossing John a card before walking away.

"I’m really tempted to shove this award up his ass."

John pulled a face. "I’d really rather not think about his ass." John picked up the card by a corner as if afraid of catching something from it and shoved it into the water in the centerpiece on the table. "I hope that doesn’t kill the flowers."

"They’re cut; they’ll die anyway," Rodney shrugged. "And I think I’m going to get out of here and avoid the kissing up that’s about to happen." He stood but hesitated. "Did you drive yourself or come with Sanders?"

"I came with him. I wasn’t expecting to end up going home alone," John sighed.

"Sorry my award ruined your evening; if you need a ride, I did drive." Rodney looked away as he reached for his award, hefting the heavy crystal sculpture.

"You didn’t ruin it; Dave being an asshole ruined it. And it was going to happen sooner or later; he was already starting to get on my nerves. But yeah, I’d love a ride."

"You’ll have to give me directions," Rodney commented as they walked out of the hall, nodding curt thanks to those who offered congratulations.

"Sure," John said easily, strolling along beside him.

Half an hour later, he was sitting in the passenger seat of McKay’s car, protesting, "I am not lost!"

"And that’s why we’re driving in circles. Just how long have you lived in the city?"

"About a year," John grumbled.

"And did you never leave your house?"

"It’s the first time I’ve been to that particular hotel. I don’t normally frequent the garment district," John snarled. "So I got a little turned around."

"Well, forgive me for trying to be nice and give you a ride home!" Rodney cut a glare at John before making yet another turn, sighing in relief when he spotted the interstate.

"Just drop me somewhere," John sighed. "I’ll call a cab."

"So you can be robbed, raped and murdered? I’m not living the rest of my life with that on my conscience! Is it north or south from here?"

"Umm..." John looked around. "Directions are a hell of a lot earlier from the air. Okay, north. It’s north of here."

"Are you sure? At this rate, I’m taking you back to the loft, and you can sleep there."

"At this point, I’m not even sure which state we’re in!"

"Oh, forget this; we’re going to my place. I have an extra bedroom; you can sleep there because I’m not driving around all night." Before John could answer, Rodney took the turn for the southern interstate.

After a moment, John said, "But will you still respect me in the morning?"

"As much as I do now," Rodney said dryly.

"Damn, and here I was hoping to be debauched."

"Very funny."

"See, I knew you would come to appreciate my finer qualities."

Rodney rolled his eyes and hit the blinker to change lanes.

John chuckled. "I’ll grow on you."

"I don’t date my models," Rodney repeated, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself of that fact.

"And I don’t usually really date so much as fuck, so maybe we’ll both try something new," John said with shrug.

Rodney glanced at him again. "Considering who the last person was you dated—excuse me—fucked, perhaps I should ask for a blood test first." He quirked a half-smile at the last.

John snorted. "You think I’d fuck him without a rubber? Not in this lifetime."

"The fact that you kissed him without one is enough for me."

That surprised a laugh out of John. "I’m a firm believer in mouthwash too."

Rodney chuckled at that. "Smart man." He changed lanes again and took the exit ramp to a side-street, then into a gated community.

John looked around, his eyebrows rising. "You’re doing all right for yourself."

"I suppose; I don’t do it for the money," Rodney shrugged, circling around to pull into his driveway, waiting until the garage door rolled up before pulling inside.

"No, you do it because you have to," John said, a wealth of understanding and wistful pain in his voice.

Rodney turned the car off as the door rolled down and looked at John speculatively. "You’re obviously speaking from the voice of experience there."

"I had something like that once," John said quietly, not looking at Rodney.

"I’m sorry you lost it."

"Me too." John sighed heavily. "But if I had to do it all over again, I’d do exactly the same thing. Some things are worth the cost."

Rodney nodded. "It would be worse never to feel like that; now come on, it’s late. We should get inside."

"Yeah, this has been one hell of a night," John sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Getting out of the car, he offered a ghost of his usual cocky grin. "Lead on, Mackey."

Inside, the house was furnished simply, clean lines with splashes of color that reflected the designer’s aesthetics. "The bedrooms are upstairs if you want to get to sleep," Rodney commented as he set the award on the kitchen counter.

"I think I’m still a little too wound up to sleep. Could I get something to drink?"

"Oh yes, of course," Rodney nodded, glancing around the kitchen. "Coffee? No, not when you’re wound up; wine, scotch, tea?"

"Scotch would be great, thanks." John leaned against a counter, watching Rodney. "Nice place."

"Thanks." Rodney took two cut glass tumblers down from a dark cherry cabinet and filled them from a bottle he pulled from another. "I don’t get much company here actually." He poured them both healthy shots and handed John his glass before putting the bottle away again.

"I’m not surprised." Seeing Rodney’s expression before he hid it, John continued, "I meant that with all the hours you work and not dating models, you wouldn’t have a lot of time to meet anyone." He took a swallow of his scotch. "So how come you were alone tonight?"

"Because my brother got called in for an emergency and everyone else was busy." Rodney shrugged and took a sip of his drink.

"Sorry. If I’d had any idea how tonight was going to turn out, I’d have gone with you in the first place."

"I’m sure you had a much better evening planned." A loud thump sounded from upstairs, and Rodney smiled. "Looks like her majesty is awake."

John’s eyebrows rose. "Her majesty?" he repeated.

"Delilah." Rodney pointed toward the stairs where more loud thumps preceded the appearance of a medium-sized black cat with a white face, belly and legs.

"Cute," John said with a grin, leaning down to extend his fingers for her to sniff.

"She’s a tyrant," Rodney murmured, his smile growing tender as Delilah padded forward to smell John’s fingers, then rub her head against them, demanding petting.

"So I see. But all the best ones are." John stroked her head and back as she wound around his legs, purring loudly.

"That’s why she’s named Delilah; she sapped my strength when I saw her."

John burst into laughter. "Does she like to be picked up or not on a first date?"

Rodney leaned against the island and waved a hand. "Give it a try; she seems to like you, and she’s declawed. She may run the house, but I draw the line at her shredding my fabrics."

John scooped her up, and Delilah promptly curled into his arms and butted her head against his free hand, demanding more petting.

"It looks like you’re a hit. Don’t be surprised if you have a guest tonight, and if you shut the door, she’ll let you know she’s not happy."

Chuckling, John scratched her head, and she vibrated with the force of her purring. "Since I get yowled at enough during the day, I think I’ll take the course of least resistance and leave the door open."

"You know, I could rescind that offer of a bed..."

"Your cat likes me."

"She also liked my ex, so her taste is questionable at best."

"I don’t know your ex, so I can’t comment on that, but at the moment, I’d say her taste is impeccable."

"I’m sure Sam would agree with you in that regard," Rodney chuckled.

"Sam... The blonde who was with Laura’s sort-of boyfriend the other night?" John started to laugh. "Good for him!"

"Good for... Carson?" Rodney asked, frowning in confusion.

"He was using her to get Laura’s attention, wasn’t he? I mean it was obvious that he’s totally hung up on Laura, but being with that blonde made her take notice."

"Thought it was a good idea, did you?" Rodney smirked. "It was mine."

"I shoulda known," John grinned. "Good for you too then."

Rodney flushed slightly. "He’s my brother; he deserves to be happy, and he wasn’t with the way things were. Sam likes him so she agreed to help."

"I think I need a scorecard! Let me get this straight. You’re gay, and not Scottish, but your female ex-wife is pretending to date your Scottish brother to make one of your models jealous? I need more scotch!"

Rodney handed over his glass and chuckled. "Stepbrother, we were both around eight when my mother married his father. As for Sam... it was my last gasp at pleasing Mom and Archie by doing something normal."

"Ah. Yeah, I know what that’s like. I played the straight guy too when I was still in. But now," John shrugged, "I just please myself."

"And apparently half the city’s gay population," Rodney grinned before sobering and nodding. "It’s much easier when you don’t have to pretend."

"And a hell of a lot more fun."

"Not arguing that." Delilah chose that moment to twist and jump down from John’s arms, making her way over to Rodney and meowing demandingly until he picked her up and rubbed her stomach.

"Dumped again," John said mournfully, taking another mouthful of Rodney’s scotch. "It’s the story of my life."

"Don’t worry, she wouldn’t appreciate you anyway and those teeth? Not what you want in a mouth anywhere near any body parts."

"Youch! Go wash your mind out, Mackey!" John cringed.

"Sorry, I’ve been told I’m lacking a filter between my mind and my mouth."

"I’m going to have to agree with that one. But at least you’re never boring."

"The goal of my life," Rodney said dryly.

"An admirable one."

"I’d toast to not being boring, but you have both glasses, and my arms are full of cat, so it would be futile gesture."

"Yeah, don’t annoy the cat," John chuckled. "Here, have a sip for your toast." He held the glass to Rodney’s lips.

As he took a sip and swallowed, feeling the burn as the liquor slid down his throat, meeting the warmth in his stomach as he met John’s eyes.

"To you not being boring," John said softly.

Rodney nodded and licked his lips. "The same to you."

John’s breath caught as he stared at Rodney’s lips. "Tell me to stop," he whispered, leaning closer.

Rodney’s almost desperate laugh turned into a yelp when Delilah twisted in his arms and thumped to the floor, stalking away from them both. "You want me to tell you to stop?"

"No, but you can’t say I didn’t give you a chance." John moved in closer, crowding Rodney against the counter, and then he kissed him. For a moment their lips simply pressed together. Neither would ever know who opened his mouth first, but their tongues were rubbing together, sliding over slick surfaces as they took it in turns to explore each other.

Rodney groaned, his fingers digging into John’s back as they gave and took control of the kiss, grinding together as they devoured each other. Gasping, John pressed closer, his hands sliding down to cup Rodney’s ass so they could rock against one another.

"We," Rodney gasped, pulling back as far as their hold on each other would allow. "We need to stop before this goes too far."

"Fuck," John panted. "You’re explosive stuff, Mackey."

"McKay," Rodney sighed, closing his eyes when the move slid his erection against the all too apparent bulge in John’s pants.

"I like Mackey better," John chuckled breathlessly as his hips rocked forward involuntarily.

"Which is more dangerous for me."

"I’m harmless. Just ask anyone."

"That’s the problem; I can ask anyone. This will start and be really good, and then you’ll get bored and poof, over."

John sighed, his eyes closing and his head falling forward so his forehead rested against Rodney’s. "We just established that you’re not boring."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh." John raised his head and opened his eyes to stare at Rodney. "Besides, I already promised Katie I wouldn’t play games," he said wryly.

Rodney frowned, not noticing he was stroking his hands over John’s back. "When was this?"

"The first or second day I worked for you."

"But why? Why would she have noticed or cared to comment?"

John lightly dragged a thumb over Rodney’s slightly swollen lower lip. "Because she cares about you, Mackey. And because even when I was trying not to notice you, I noticed you."

"Oh," Rodney repeated, feeling slightly embarrassed at his one-word answers but unable to stop giving them.

"Much as I’d like otherwise, I think I should get to bed. We can talk about this tomorrow."

Rodney nodded after a moment and let his hands fall away from John’s back. "Yes, bed; I’ll just show you the guestroom."

"Mackey... Rodney, it’s not that I don’t want you. We both know better than that." John pressed close again, their erections rubbing together and making both of them gasp, before backing off. "But I think we both know that if we do this, it’s going to be more than a one-night stand, and neither of us is thinking straight enough to make that decision right now."

Rodney took a deep breath and nodded shallowly. "I know, I know, and I didn’t mean—hell, yes I did, but I know better than to jump without looking, so... Bedroom."

"Alone," John said mournfully. "Which really sucks, and not in a good way."

Rodney quirked a half-smile. "You’ll have Delilah."

"No offense, Mackey, but I really don’t want to come on your cat."

"Oh, now that’s disgusting!" Rodney laughed. "You’re the one who has to wash out his brain, not me!"

"Hey, you got me all hot and bothered, and a sleeping man can’t be blamed for his reaction to soft fur and a rumbling purr!" John chuckled.

"Excuse me, suffering from the same reaction here, and if you keep talking about my cat that way, I’m calling the cops!"

"Trust me, your cat’s not the one I want to do illegal things to."

Rodney chuckled and started up the stairs, looking back to make sure John was following him. "They’re only illegal in some states, I’m sure. Now let me find some sheets and towels..."

"Boring states," John said, his eyes intent on Rodney’s ass. "Damn, Mackey, remind me to follow you up stairs more often."

"What?" Rodney glanced back to see John staring at his ass, and flushed. "Oh, um, yes, I’ll have to do that." Flustered, he opened the hall closet and waved a hand at the door to his left.

"Thanks," John said a few minutes later once they had the bed made and McKay was about to leave the room. "Oh, and congratulations on the award tonight."

"Thank you." Rodney’s smile was soft and genuine. "I appreciate that, and you joining me." He looked around and cleared his throat. "The bathroom’s to the left when you go in the hall and—do you need some sweats to sleep in?"

John grinned wickedly. "I prefer to sleep in the buff."

Rodney groaned. "I’m getting plastic wrap for Delilah!"

John burst into laughter. "I promise not to molest your cat."

"That’s good to know." Rodney backed to the door and gave a fleeting smile when Delilah hopped up on the bed and made herself comfortable. "Sleep well, John."

"You too, Rodney."

Despite his fatigue, the evening’s events kept John awake for quite some time before he finally drifted off, so it was no surprise that he didn’t wake with the dawn the next morning as he usually did.

A knock came at the door followed by Rodney’s voice not long after that. "If you’re awake, breakfast is ready; if you aren’t, you need to be."

John blinked dazedly before realizing where he was and sitting up, the sheet falling to his waist. "What," he called, "I don’t get woken with a kiss?"

"You’re nude, and I’m honest enough to admit that I don’t trust myself around you in that state." Rodney was silent a moment before laughing quietly. "But feel free to kiss Delilah."

"Again with the cat," John chuckled. "You’re kinkier than I gave you credit for, Mackey." He wrapped the sheet around his waist and went over to the door, opening it to grin at Rodney. "And is the offer of sweats still open? Along with a t-shirt? Because I think people’ll talk if we show up together and I’m wearing a suit."

"And the bare feet won’t be a dead give-away?" Rodney snorted though he obviously was enjoying John’s bare-chested state.

"Doesn’t everyone wear dress shoes and sweats?"

"Oh yes, it’s the new fashion; in fact, you’ll be wearing just that ensemble in the show."

"Smart ass. Okay, fine, so I don’t get to be comfortable today. I guess the shirt would be okay with the sleeves rolled up and the neck unbuttoned, and without the jacket and tie, it’s not overly dressy."

"Or you could call your buddy and have him pick you up a pair of shoes from your place if he has a key," Rodney suggested.

John beamed at him. "And that’s a much better idea. I knew I liked you. Now if you tell me coffee’s part of that breakfast you mentioned, I may have to marry you."

Rodney snorted out a laugh. "It’s a good thing I don’t take you seriously because the coffee should be done now. Let me grab you some clothes and you can go enjoy it."

"I’m hurt that you think I’m a joke," John sniffed, but the effect was spoiled by his laughter. "And what’s wrong with breakfast in a toga?"

"Let’s see," Rodney called as he walked to his own bedroom, "slippage, seepage and spillage."

"Ouch!" John winced. "Though slippage has possibilities."

"Not if we’re getting in to the studio on time" Rodney yelled from his room before coming out with an armful of clothes. "And here you go; come on down when you’re dressed."

"I’ll be right there. Don’t want breakfast to get cold, so I’ll shower after." John was right on Rodney’s heels, it only taking a moment to pull on sweats and a t-shirt.

"There should be enough time for that." Rodney paused when Delilah raced down the stairs ahead of him, taking care that he didn’t trip over her. "And how’d you sleep?"

"Fine eventually. I had a few things on my mind that kept me from falling asleep right away."

"Hmm, I’m acquainted with that feeling myself." Rodney poured John a mug of coffee and handed it over before getting one for himself.

"Thanks." John took a mouthful and stared down in surprise. "If you can make coffee like this, why do we have that sludge at the studio?"

"Because I’m not bringing thirty-dollar-a-pound coffee in for people to swill like tap water!"

"Good point. And I’m honored that you’d share your coffee." John grinned over the cup at him.

"You should be. There’s bagels in the basket; I’ve got cream cheese or cheddar cheese, or there should be some peanut butter in the pantry if that’s what you like." Rodney set his mug down and opened a can of cat food, scooping it out into a bowl for Delilah.

"Mmm, fresh bagels and cream cheese. Are you sure you won’t marry me?"

"Without seeing a ring? Hardly."

"You told me to get dressed." John smirked.

Rodney blinked, staring at John. "You mean you have a piercing..." his voice rose.

"Maybe you’ll find out one of these days."

Rodney groaned and took a deep swig of his coffee.

John grinned and took a bite of his bagel, then licked cream cheese from his lips.

"You’re evil, and this after I gave you a bed to sleep in last night."

"Evil? And here I’m offering you my all."

"No, you were offering the possibility of it at some later, undefined time," Rodney grumbled, turning to butter his bagel and keep John from seeing the grin he couldn’t hide any longer.

"No, I was offering it if you decide you’re willing to try it."

"Oh, I want to try it, all right, but, like you said, this is something we need to take slow."

"I never said that I take my own advice."

"I didn’t think you did, but I’m going to. Now eat, we need to leave in half an hour."