"Can I be honest with you, Rodney?" Dr. Carson Beckett asked shyly.
"Shoot."
"I never thought I'd live to see this day," said he with a tone to match the epicness of the situation. "You and me, together like this. I told you it wouldn't hurt, didn't I? I told you that, in the right circumstances and with the right, ah, gear, this can be intensely pleasurable." Carson sighed. "What have you to say about it?"
Dr. Rodney McKay, on the contrary, did not look quite as pleased. He shifted in his seat, ruing the pain he now felt on his backside. Though he now understood how rewarding an experience it could be, McKay was not sure the ends justified the means in this particular case. He would never tell Carson that, however! So he decided to offer his most polite nod along with his most polished smile, even if the end result was as glaringly fake as could be.
Carson, a sensible being as he had always been, sighed and pretended not to be slightly offended; Rodney's displeasure was a direct affront to his abilities. He had received so much praise in past, it vexed him to think there was a man he could not please.
"Fine, Rodney," said Carson at long last. "But may I remind you, you did this of your own accord and I'm not to blame."
"I'm fully aware of that, yes." Rodney nodded.
"I suppose you are not one of us after all," said Carson, staring down at his own lap. "At least now you know what it's like... and that you're not like that."
Rodney shrugged. "Yeah, I'm definitely not a fisher. What a tedious sport! If I can really call it a sport. I caught three tiny, uncooked fish and I've been sitting here for hours... my ass hurts like hell!"
Carson's eyes widened and he let a grin slip. "Rodney! That almost sounded dirty."
"Oh, shut up, Carson!" Rodney spat back. "You're just looking too much into it."
They never did it again.
~*~*~*~
A/N: Oh, filthy minds! What did you think they were talking about???
