"Hey. You doing anything?" Ronon asks Sheppard when the Colonel opens his door.

"No, not at all. Come in." Sheppard stands aside and motions Ronon into his quarters. "I was just about to make some popcorn."

"These mandatory days off are killing me," Ronon grouses. "Now we have to take one every fourteen days? What the hell for?"

"Well, it's to keep us from burning out on the job. You see, the human mind can only handle so much stress..."

"Being bored stresses me out." Ronon takes a seat near the end of the bunk and put his feet up. "Can I hang out here?"

"Sure. You want a beer? Ale, right?"

"Yeah, that'd be great."

Sheppard fires up the popcorn maker - none of that microwave crap - checks the beverage fridge. "So, you seeing anybody yet?"

"Not right now. Thanks," he accepts the brown bottle. "What do you think Keller sees in McKay?"

Sheppard considers the question seriously. "Well, they're both smarter than most of the rest of us. She's what could charitably be called 'quirky' and of course Rodney's a total geek. I've seen stranger pairings." He sets his beer down. "Do you mind if I try something? Call it an experiment."

Ronon shrugs, "Whatever," and swigs his ale. When the bottle leaves his lips, Sheppard kisses him for three seconds. He pulls back with a contemplative look on his face. "That was interesting." With mercurial movement, he turns back to his beer and checks the popcorn.

Relatively calmly, Ronon says, "What the hell was that?"

"Hmm? Oh," Sheppard confides, "women like to know if a guy's a good kisser or not. Now I know," he raises his beer in a little salute.

Ronon's not sure what question to ask next so he settles for, "What women?"

Grinning, Sheppard tells him, "Amelia. You should really ask her out."

"Who?"

"Works in the control room, beta shift. Brown hair, brown eyes, dark complexion?" At the big guy's blank look, he adds impatiently, "The one with the mad kick boxing skills?"

"Her? Huh," Ronon nods thoughtfully. "Why don't you ask her out?"

Sheppard rolls his eyes, "Because she's not interested in me."

Ronon asks his other question, "Is that because you'd rather hook up with another guy?"

"Oh, I love women," Sheppard turns off the popcorn machine and dumps it out into the bowl. "Women are great - warm, soft, round. For comfort and compassion, female is definitely the way to go." He offers the bowl to Ronon and sits on his bunk tailor fashion, legs folded underneath him, "On the other hand, for simple companionship, hanging out, or just quick sex, guys are a good choice and," he emphasizes, "they always know when to leave the next morning."

Ronon stares at the human from Earth. "You're messing with me, right?"

Sheppard shrugs innocently, "Why do you think Teyla and I get along so well? We're practically pajama party buddies." At Ronon's blank look, he elaborates, "For example, she and I have similar taste in men. I can always tell when she's got the hots for somebody and can speak intelligently to his good points and his bad points. Like cute-not-cute? Boyfriend or friend-friend? Date-worthy or one night stand?"

"So...she knows that you..."

Considering the matter, Sheppard concedes, "Probably, deep down. We don't talk about it. And as for me and her getting together? Well, she's under my command. People would talk..."

"I'm under your command," Ronon reminds him of the obvious.

"Trust me, nobody has any doubts about your sexual orientation," Sheppard assures him. "Anyway, it's a cultural thing, really. Remember that movie we watched last week? 300?"

"Yeah, the Spartans against the Persians. That was a good movie."

"The Spartans were the ultimate warriors, most feared fighters on ancient Earth. They'd drill and spar together in the buff or with a loin cloth and they were totally comfortable with it. You know why? Because they totally trusted each other."

"Those guys in the movie weren't nude."

"Be-cause it was a movie." Sheppard realises he's not getting his point across and explains, "They expected a lot of kids to see it so, no nudity."

"You are messing with me," Ronon smiles.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sheppard insists.

Ronon sets down his ale and leans forward. "So if I were to ask you-"

"What's it like to kiss a guy?"

"What would you say? Seriously."

"Honestly? I'd say 'if you want to try, sure.' The first thing is," he sets his beer down, "you want to create-"

"Close your eyes."

"Exactly," he closes his eyes, "you want to establish a comfort level bef-mmm." Startled by the aggressive kiss, he finds himself lifted and laid out on his back in one swift motion. When he can breath again, his expression is slack. "Wow," he comments slowly, recovering his composure. "That was, uhm, not bad for a first-"

"Shut up."

Startled, Sheppard asks, "What? Why?"

Ronon shakes his head, "You talk too much," and lowers his mouth. Before he could get there, an annoyed Sheppard applies a sudden and sharp pressure behind and below the kneecap to distract, then leveraging his mass to flip the bigger man over onto his back, he ends up straddling him.

Catching his breath, he reminds Ronon sharply, "I don't like to be interrupted." Firmly and unhurriedly, he renews the kiss as if it were the only thing of consequence.

Ronon neither reciprocates nor resists but plans his next move. He's not sure what this game is but the Colonel has never beaten him in a contest yet and he isn't going to start this day.

As Sheppard relaxes into the kiss, Ronon sits up with his hand firmly at the man's back. Timing it precisely, he bites Sheppard's lower lip. The Colonel has the presence of mind not to flinch until Ronon releases him. Annoyed he wipes the blood off his lip. "Alright. That's enough, Chewie." So much for relaxing. He starts to climb off the bed. Big mistake.

Ronon scoops him up into a reverse bear hug, rotating him through ninety degrees and playfully body-slams him onto his side.

"Ow!" Sheppard protests. Ronon watches in amusement as Sheppard gingerly checks his side and complains, "I think you cracked a couple of ribs."

Grinning, Ronon admonishes him, "Don't be such a baby." Casually he settles down behind Sheppard and drapes his arm over the smaller man's waist sending Sheppard's Spidey-sense into high alert. He glances suspiciously over his shoulder. "What are we doing?"

"I saw it on one of those teevee shows your people are always talking about. What did they call it, uh," he tries to remember. "Sponging?"

"Spooning," Sheppard rapidly corrects him, "They call it spooning." He has this ridiculous image of base personnel gossiping about "sponging."

"Oh yeah, 'spooning'. Anyway, it looked comfortable."

Sheppard concedes, "Well, it can be. It's casual. There's no pressure. Or tension."

"You okay with this?" Ronon asks slyly trying to keep the grin out of his voice.

Sheppard grimaces but says pleasantly, "Sure, why not? It's kinda relaxing." He surveys his tactical situation, 'about as relaxing as being cuddled by a Bengal tiger.' After a minute or so of dead silence, he knows he's in a contest of wills. "So are you going to ask Amelia out or what?"

"Thinking about it."

"Oh. Well, good. I think you two would really make a great match."

"Sheppard?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

After another minute or so of the silent treatment, Sheppard turns his head, "Isn't there anything you want to talk about?"

"I'm gonna get some sleep. You mind if I stay here tonight?"

"Of course not. Why would I mind?" Sheppard answers facetiously. He tenses as Ronon moves up and places a firm kiss on his carotid artery. He feels warm breath next to his ear as Ronon simply says, "Goodnight" in that gravelly baritone.

'Damn,' the Colonel raises his eyebrows, thinking that in a straight up contest between John Sheppard and Ronon Dex, women would fall for that voice every time.

He rolls over to face Ronon and kisses him again, deeply, meaningfully and utterly without pretense. He holds his gaze for several seconds and barely whispers, "Goodnight." He turns over again with his back flush up against Ronon's chest, curls up and settles in to sleep, almost childlike.

Taken aback, Ronon furrows his brow. In a straight up contest between Ronon Dex and John Sheppard, women would fall for those eyes every time. 'Damn.'

He settles down to sleep as well, leaving his arm draped over Sheppard's side.

Judging from the sky, Ronon wakes up about three hours before dawn, which comes suddenly on the open ocean. Plenty of time to work out and grab a shower before joining up with everybody for breakfast. He pauses at the door to look back at his friend.

Sheppard's compact build appears positively diminutive in these circumstances but what he may lack in stature, he more than makes up in attitude. Whatever he may lack in reach and muscle power, he makes up for with a quick and agile mind.

With a new perspective, Ronon lets himself out the door.

Slowly, one eye, then the other opens and Sheppard's lips curl into a smile. "They always know when to leave." He sprawls out now that he has the bed to himself. Judging from the sky, it's about three hours to dawn, way too early for breakfast. He decides to sleep until the sun wakes him up.