Work Text:
One big problem with having a secret love affair—. No, there were two problems.
First, if you were a very busy man, finding time for the pinpoint scheduling, along with time to think up plausible explanations for implausible behavior—that was an issue.
Second, it you lived in a city full of people more like the cast of Friends than a group of dedicated scientists, i.e., who had nothing better to do all day than sit around and gossip about each other, you needed plausible explanations that didn't match. The time when they had separately told Woolsey they'd be out for an hour inventorying the same supply closet still gave Rodney nightmares.
He'd drawn up new rules after that—they had to make and share lists so they could keep track of each other's options and no more inventory excuses. No one in Atlantis was dumb enough to buy either him or John voluntarily inventorying anything (except the coffee supply) more than once a year.
"You're turning this into a lot of work," John had complained, but since he was naked on the floor of an unused lab with a dizzy, post-coital smirk on his face, Rodney didn't take him too seriously.
”No one," Rodney had said, searching for his underwear, "Is going to prison for having sex with me. Not even as a proud victim of the US military's pathetic homophobia."
"That's not really a problem," John said. Rodney wished he'd put his pants on. It was very hard to get dressed and walk away from a still-naked John. Very, very difficult.
"Don't talk to me about problems," Rodney ordered. "My plate is full. I have to go diagnose the problem preventing transporter traffic to the third tower and fast, since everyone thinks I've been over there working on it for an hour. I have a reputation to uphold."
"I'm not going to prison," John insisted.
"I know you're not." Rodney stopped for one last kiss because, hey, naked John, all for him. "And you're going to keep on not going to prison. Okay?"
"Okay." John smiled. "But we should—."
"Busy. Must go." Rodney hurried out. John wouldn't take this seriously, he had refused to resign US citizenship and apply for membership in some more civilized society and he'd put his foot down on Rodney gathering, or manufacturing, blackmail material against everyone in the city as a pre-emptive weapon of defense. Rodney was taking it seriously enough for the both of them, though. That was okay, John's energy was better spent finding times and places where the whole naked thing could happen.
Sometimes, John found beds. John + bed = creativity. Those memories were almost enough to persuade Rodney that no one liked tower three anyhow and it would be okay to spend another hour in the abandoned lab.
Because the good thing about this was that John and his carnal imagination were all Rodney's now, from one-armed hugs to hour-long blowjobs.
And secret didn't mean love wasn't real.
--end--