"Zelenka! Hand me that screwdriver, will you? I'm pretty sure I know what's been causing the fluctuations…" Rodney's hand waved from under the console he was fixing.
Ronon grunted, and slapped a broad, red handled screwdriver into the other man's palm.
"I'm sorry, did I look like I was working on a tractor? You know those are too big for anything useful." Rodney slid out, still scowling. "And why are you over this side anyway? You can't say you've finished already. Oh." He paused, looking at Ronon for the first time.
"I though you were…" He waved a hand vaguely in Radek's general direction. "Never mind. Did you get lost looking for the gym, or did Sheppard send you to drag me to the armoury again? Because if so, I'm busy."
"Nope." Ronon shrugged, and leant back against the wall.
"Nope, what? Why are you down here?" Normally he would have taken the chance to rile Rodney up further, but he wanted his help.
"I want to learn science."
"You want to learn 'science'." Rodney managed to make the air quotes practically visible. "And you thought it was just monkey see, monkey do? What kind of science? And why, for that matter?"
"Feel kind of useless in an emergency. Thought I could learn some stuff, and teach you how to fight some."
"What is this, some kind of charity trade off? You can't just learn science like that."
"Isn't such a stupid idea, you know. Could be useful." The little man with the crazy hair, Zelenka, had decided to join in.
"Useful, how exactly?" Rodney had turned slightly so as to keep both opponents in his sight, and Ronon realised it might not be too difficult to teach him how to fight after all.
"You are always complaining when something goes wrong on missions and you aren't in a position to fix it. Maybe he could help." Zelenka slid back beneath a huge desk, apparently finished with the conversation.
"Fine, whatever, it isn't like I'm hugely busy running an entire city after all." Rodney threw his hands up in exasperation. "And don't think you'll be able to keep up with us in the next huge crisis."
"As long as you don't start taking on wraith with your bare hands."
"As if that would even… Oh." Ire abruptly deflated as he sees Ronon's point, he turned back to the console. "No time like the present. For starters, pretty much everything can be opened using these screwdrivers." He held out a tiny yellow one for Ronon to get a clear look.
"Why do you carry the others then?" Ronon asked.
"I said pretty much everything, not absolutely everything." Rodney's eyes rolled, and Ronon grinned, enjoying this new, more competent, side of his team mate. "Now come on, I need to show you the different crystals."
His hands are sure and steady as they pull clear hexagons out in a way that they never are on his P90, and Ronon is careful to memorise their positions and the different etchings on the side of each. Rodney turns out to be a surprisingly good teacher, keeping the berating to the minimum he is capable of and going over everything enough that Ronon fully understands, and can do the next on his own, with Rodney's beaming approval.
By the time their stomachs are growling and Ronon pulls Rodney up from the ground, watching the other man wince as his back clicks from the sudden change in position, Rodney has decided that the idea for this mutual tutoring was a great one, and that Rodney was a genius for coming up with it. Ronon just snorts, confident that he'll be able to get revenge for the co-opting of his idea when he comes by McKay's room the next morning and drags him for a run before they start hand to hand.
Ronon's days become pleasantly full, his mornings spent first with McKay, than beating up Marines, his afternoons with running with Sheppard then learning all the ways to make his new home work. It's like being back on Sateda, back in school, only now he sees the reason for the tasks he thought dull as a child and doesn't want to be outside playing games instead.
His new routine is interrupted by the arrival of the Daedalus, the huge ship bringing new food, entertainment, and personnel. It's been suggested by Sheppard that he not spar with any of them for the next week, at least not until their chance to go back to Earth has disappeared. All of this would normally be welcome, if the ship hadn't also brought Colonel Samantha Carter, a beautiful blonde astrophysicist, who Ronon takes an irrational dislike to from the moment Rodney sees her.
He's put in charge of the new scientists and stands over them as they do the make-shift work Rodney has been setting aside for some time. Nothing vital to the expedition or particularly dangerous, but difficult enough to pose some challenge.
"Also," he'd confided, when Ronon asked whether having a real scientist supervising would not be preferable, "I'm not allowed to shoot over their heads while they work. Having you glare is probably the most pressure I'm allowed to place them under to simulate the conditions we usually have to work in."
"I'm sorry," Colonel Carter asks, as she sees the numbers Ronon has scrawled beside the new names, "What does this stand for?"
"Kavanaugh Scale." Ronon grunts, as deliberately rude as he thinks he can get away with without Rodney giving him betrayed looks out of wide blue eyes for the rest of the day. She turns to Rodney for further explanation, and he obliges gleefully.
"How many Kavanaughs they would be worth. I, for instance am worth approximately fifteen, Zelenka about thirteen, and Ronon here is a seven, although if I could give bonus points for things like being able to intimidate the idiots who seem to feel wasting my time is necessary or always having knives tucked in new and innovative places, I'm sure he would score higher." He finishes easily, and Ronon feels an involuntary smile creeping to his face. He always knew Rodney didn't think he was a complete idiot, but seven was higher than any of the new recruits had received.
"And a Kavanaugh is?"
"Some dullard who used to work, and I say work only because that's what he was paid to do, not because he was particularly hard-working, on Atlantis, but got kicked off. Most useless person I have ever met, and I count all politicians, English majors, and tofu-loving hippies not bathing in a futile effort to achieve world peace in that statement."
Carter doesn't look like she approves entirely, and Ronon is glad, because it seems like this is the first thing she and Rodney haven't been bouncing around and excited over. He takes another step closer to Rodney, until he can practically feel the heat radiating off Rodney's back.
"Dinner time, McKay." He rumbles, the sound coming from low in his chest.
"Good, great!" They leave, and Rodney doesn't remember the blonde woman until the last moment, turning back with an apologetic expression. "You want to come, Sam? It's almost-turkey with purple could-be-carrots." His tone is as wheedling as if he were suggesting chocolate coated coffee beans.
"As tempting as that sounds," and her mouth twists wryly at the statement, "I think I'll stay here for a while, grab a powerbar."
Ronon puts his hand on Rodney's back as they leave, staring challengingly at the woman who stands behind. He hasn't really felt this need to exert a claim on Rodney before, but if there's one thing that Running all these years has taught him, it's not to fight his instincts too much. It feels right to have his hand resting in the small of the other man's back, so he leaves it there. Rodney seems as oblivious as ever, excitedly discussing how the results of his research can be combined with the latest ideas from earth to possibly help decrease the power usage on Atlantis by six or seven percent.
Ronon murmurs agreement in the appropriate places, and stops McKay in one of the quiet corridors by the simple expedient of stepping in front of him and waiting for the word flow to halt as the scientist stares indignantly up at him.
"What? Is there some reason we aren't in the mess hall?"
"Sheppard explained some things to me, when I first got here."
McKay looks confused. "Is this about the Simpsons again? Because firstly, American humour, I don't find their jokes funny either, and secondly, no, no relation to the engineer."
"No. He said I couldn't sleep with any of the soldiers because Earthers have policies." He crosses his arms, waiting for Rodney's response.
"Unenlightened American military morons have policies, yes. Is this why we stopped, you just wanted clarification on Don't Ask, Don't Tell?"
Ronon leans in close, placing an arm over Rodney's head and watches his pupils dilate and breath quicken in his chest. "You aren't a soldier, or an American."
"No, and thank God for both." He pauses, mouth slightly agape as he seems to process what Ronon has just said. "I mean…"
Ronon doesn't wait to hear what he means, capturing the lips he's been watching for months under his own.
"Oh." Rodney elucidates. "Oh."