It was Daniel Jackson who noticed it first, on one of his very rare trips to Destiny. Sometime between a lecture to the hoi-polloi concerning Ancient and a meeting with Colonel Young concerning what was and wasn't PC, he drew a conclusion.
"They're gay," he said, as soon as he was back in his own body. Blinking, the man who'd come to relieve him – Private Menkins – tried to get a question out. "Colonel Young," Jackson explained. "And Doctor Rush. They're gay."
Private Menkins blinked again.
"Dr. Rush …," he said. "You mean the Scottish guy?"
Jackson nodded, wondering how many times Menkins had been onboard Destiny.
"Oh," said Menkins with a nod. "I knew that."
Jackson suspected that everyone except Destiny's crew knew that.
"Rush, how much time's on the clock?" Young barked.
"Twenty-six hours," Rush replied. The science team confirmed it with quiet nods, and Eli cut in with his own appraisal.
"The planet looks habitable," he said with a significant look to Colonel Young. "Like, really habitable. Miami habitable. But without the druggies."
Young raised his eyebrows. He turned and faced the open wormhole.
"Let's get a team together, then," he ordered.
Military personnel dispersed.
By the end of the day, there were five huts set up – the maximum amount Inman would allow, considering how much of this planet's trees she wanted to bring back. There were, however, ten people on the planet.
And no one wanted to go back.
"Everyone, bunk with somebody you're comfortable with," Young advised as the day wore on and the alien sun started to set. "I don't wanna be woken up because you're arguing at three in the morning."
With a quiet undercurrent of mumbling, the away team paired up and disappeared into their huts. Feeling satisfied – and looking forward to a night's sleep on an actual warm planet – Young bent down to extinguish the campfire.
That was when he caught sight of someone still sitting on the assembled logs, elbows resting on his knees.
Damn it.
Rush.
"Guess it's you and me, then, Colonel," Rush said airily, not moving out of the shadows. Young suppressed an irritated sigh.
The only thing, he thought, that makes this better is that Rush is irritated, too.
"Let's go then," he said wearily, throwing dirt over the fire.
Together, they set off for the last remaining bunk.
"Move over," Rush hissed, kicking out and catching Young's bad leg. "You're on my side."
"Ouch! Damn it, Rush, there are no sides! It's a little mattress!"
"Stop touching me."
"You stop touching me!"
"I'm not touching you, I'm kicking you. Get away!"
"I can't help touching you, dammit, I'm a cuddler! At least it's not painful. Like you."
"I think it's plenty painful, Colonel."
"That's ridiculous. You're ridiculous. Go to sleep."
"I'm not tired."
"Rush! Go to sleep or I will knock you out!"
"Ha! I'd like to see you try."
BAM!
CRASH!
THUD!
"Ouch! Stop it!"
BANG!
"What's wrong with you? That effing hurts!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, did you want me to be gentle?"
"It would be appreciated!"
WHAM!
"AGH! DAMN IT!"
"Oh, shit shit shit I'm sorry–"
"My balls!"
"Shh, shh, be quiet!"
"BE QUIET? YOU MANGLED MY BALLS!"
"I didn't mean to! Shut up, someone'll hear you."
"Aaaagh."
"Stop moaning!"
" … Brody?"
"Yes, Eli?"
"Do you … um, hear that?"
"Those suspicious moaning and thudding sounds coming from Rush and the Colonel's tent?"
"… Yeah."
"Yes, Eli. Yes, I do."
" … Brody?"
"What, Eli?"
"Does this mean they're …?"
"What? They're what? Eli, I'm trying to sleep."
"Does this mean they're gay?"
"…"
"…"
"I don't wanna answer that, Eli. Go to sleep."
"OK."
"I'm taking bets," said Jackson to O'Neill.
"On what?" O'Neill asked.
"On when Colonel Young and Dr. Rush come out."
O'Neill stared at him.
"Come out?" he repeated. "You mean, out of Destiny?"
"No, sir," Jackson said kindly. "Out of the closet."
There was a long pause.
"Has anyone put money on next year yet?" O'Neill asked.
"No, sir."
"I'm in."
It was only after they'd been off the planet and back on Destiny for two more days that Colonel Young and Dr. Rush began to notice things.
Weird things.
Downright crazy things.
First, it started with Eli and his idea of movie nights. Only they weren't regular movie nights. They were movie nights of things like Pride and Prejudice, or Sleepless in Seattle. Movie nights with movies taken from the laptops of lonely women.
Movie nights that somehow ended up with Rush and Young alone.
"This is weird," said Rush frankly the third time it happened.
"What is?" said Young, who may or may not have been deliberately missing some important signs.
"This!" said Rush, gesturing to the room as a whole and sending a particularly dirty look to Molly Ringwald's face. "The romantic movie nights that everyone else insists we attend just so they can leave us alone together. The music that plays whenever both of us are in the mess hall."
"Dirty Dancing," Young interjected. "It's the Dirty Dancing soundtrack."
Rush glared at him.
"Sorry," Young said. "Go on."
"Furthermore," Rush snapped, "there's the fact that everyone seems to be conspiring to make us sit together whenever possible."
"What, you think they're … they're trying to set us up, or something?" Young said, giving an incredulous little laugh. Rush stared at him for a moment with a mix of sadness and pity.
"Tamara ordered you to sleep with me because I'm 'too skinny and might get cold,'" he said, allowing the harsh reality to sink into Colonel Young's brain. "And even if we managed to escape that, we can't really overlook the bowl of home-made condoms Varro sent us."
"Oh, yeah," said Colonel Young. "The leather ones."
Leaning forward, Rush hid his face in his hands and tried to drown out the ending credits to Pretty in Pink.
"So everyone thinks we're gay," Young summed up, apparently so shocked by the idea he couldn't work up a proper reaction. "That's … inconvenient."
"I just don't understand it!" Rush said, voice muffled. "I mean, it's ridiculous! I loved my wife. I loved Mandy. Am I effeminate? Is that it? People think I'm girly?"
"You think you've got problems?" Young challenged. "I'm the epitome of masculinity over here. And I was married. And I knocked up T.J.! I mean, come on!"
They subsided into a miserable, introspective silence.
"You know what we should do?" said Young. Rush shook his head. There was a long pause until Rush finally looked up and caught the Colonel's eye.
"Give 'em hell," Young said.
It was at breakfast the next day that Young stood up and clacked against his gruel bowl with his spoon.
"Everyone," he called, "I'd like to make an announcement. Dr. Rush, if you could join me."
Completely blank-faced, Rush abandoned his breakfast and stood next to the Colonel.
"It's come to my attention," said Colonel Young, "that many people on this ship are having unprotected sex. And while I agree that what you do is your business, if anyone on Destiny should acquire an STD, it quickly becomes mine."
He nudged Rush, who raised his chin defiantly.
"That's why Everett and I have decided to donate some of our own stash of condoms to those men aboard the ship who are sexually active," he said.
The mess hall went quiet.
"We don't really need 'em," Young admitted. "Nick and I only have sex every few weeks, so we've got more than enough supplies."
He handed Rush a bucket and Rush weaved between the tables, handing out leather condoms to every male, with the notable exception of Volker, who went beet red and started mumbling curses.
"OK, Nick," said Young when all the condoms were distributed, not quite lowering his voice as much as a normal person would. "It's my day off. Your quarters or mine?"
Rush pretended to consider it.
"Mine," he said eventually. "More room, less company."
They left the mess hall.
"Who had 'this week' in the pot?' asked Telford after his next trip to Destiny. Jackson gaped at him.
"You're kidding me."
"Nope!"
"No one had this week! Everyone here was guessing in years!"
"Well, it's this week," said Telford with a shrug. Jackson shook his head in disbelief.
"That's not fair. That's not fair at all."
"Well, who had the closest bet?"
Scowling, Jackson checked the spread sheets.
"It's Jack O'Neill," he said, lip curling. "Damn it. This is why I should've guessed October. Nooo, my instinct said. It's too soon, my instinct said. Fucking instinct."
"Just give the guy his damn money and stop whining."
"All right, all right."
Jackson grabbed the key and went over to the locker he and all the other gamblers had taken out.
"First public kiss?" he asked as he removed the money.
"My money's on Thursday," Telford said.
"I was gonna pick Thursday!"
Telford shrugged. Huffing, Jackson shoved the money in a bag and threw Telford a blank piece of paper.
"Start another registry," he ordered.
"Yes, sir."