Strictly Theoretical

John stepped into Rodney's lab, looking over his shoulder and arching his back a little.

Rodney gave him a quizzical look. "Something wrong?"

"I think there's something on my pants."

Rodney pointed his finger at the floor and moved it in circles. "Turn around."

John turned around.

"You're fine," Rodney said.

"Are you sure?" John asked, brushing at his ass.

"Aside from the large knife pointing between your ass cheeks, you're fine."

John moved the knife to the side and turned back around. "That's weird."

Rodney crossed his arms in front of his chest. "What is?"

"You know the two blond botanists?"

Rodney nodded. Every man in Atlantis knew about the two blond botanists. Plus, Ford had waxed poetical about them on more than one ocassion.

"They were giggling and, well, it seemed like they were looking at my ass."

"You think the Blond Botanists were giggling at your ass."

John looked more than a little abashed.

Rodney shrugged. "They probably were."

"Why would they laugh at my ass?"

"They probably weren't laughing at it so much as trying to determine if it actually exists."

"My ass exists," John protested, "You just looked at it."

"I looked at your pants, anyway." It took every bit of self-control Rodney possessed not to laugh.

"What are you saying, McKay?"

"I'm saying that the existence of your ass, like the existence of black holes, is essentially theoretical."

"Theoretical," John repeated in his dangerous tone.

"We know you have one. You must. It's a biological necessity, but it's never been seen."

"You just looked at it."

"I looked at your pants."

"You want me to moon you to prove the existence of my ass?" John asked, with that light sarcastic tone he seemed to save just for Rodney.

"Not at all." Rodney couldn't contain his grin any longer. "I've been developing proofs in my spare time."

"Of the existence of my ass."

"I fully expect to publish when we get back to Earth."

John nodded, slight bobs of his head. "You're an asshole."

"Which I can be, because I have an ass." Rodney knew he sounded smug, but getting the best of Sheppard always made his day.

John walked toward him. Stopping when he was directly in front of Rodney's stool. "We are all well aware of your ass, McKay."

There was something about John being so far inside his personal space that made Rodney edgy. "Yes, well—"

John interrupted him. "Give me your hand." He held out his own palm up.

"Why?"

"McKay."

Rodney held out his hand and John took it. Then he guided Rodney's hand to his ass and pressed it firmly against the part in question.

"Is it theorectical now?" John asked, his voice a bit lower than Rodney was used to hearing it.

Rodney swallowed. John's ass wasn't full, but it was solid and sweetly curved. Nicely cuppable. He hadn't just thought that about John's ass. "No, it's, um, rather solid actually."

"Exactly." John squeezed Rodney's hand, causing Rodney to squeeze John's ass.

"Can I have my hand back?" His voice wasn't higher than usual. It wasn't.

"That depends."

"On what."

"On whether or not your hand is happy where it is."

"It's, um…"

"Yes, Rodney?" John gave him his mischievous, lop-sided grin.

"Which answer will get me my hand back?"

"That's cheating."

Rodney took a deep breath. He could lie, but he was a really bad liar, and John knew him pretty well. "Yes, it's happy," he said in his best put upon voice.

"Well then why does it want to let go?"

"Because we're in my lab and anyone could walk in at any moment."

"We could just tell them you were deriving a proof. " John paused. "For black holes." He smiled slowly. "Or we could go to my quarters and you could look for additional evidence."

Additional evidence? That might be… "Okay," Rodney squeaked.

John gave his hand a last squeeze and then removed it from his ass, stepping backward and tugging Rodney by the hand.

Rodney rose from his stool and let John pull him toward the door.