NOTES: Because it's always enjoyable writing John and Rodney arguing. And Teyla really wouldn't have a clue.

Whipped

Rodney never thought he'd walk past John Sheppard painting anyone's toenails.

Painting toenails was not something that men did. Of course, 'what men did' was not necessarily circumscribed solely by the traditional 'masculine' roles - to whit, being testosterone-pumped protective cavemen like Ronon - but painting toenails was definitely out of the sphere of 'what men (or, at least, the men of Rodney's acquaintance) did.'

And yet, Sheppard, a military man if Rodney had ever met one, and the reputed Captain Kirk of the Atlantis expedition, was sitting on the couch of the rec room, with Teyla Emmagen's feet on his lap, painting her toenails a rich shade of reddish brown.

Teyla looked up first, her gaze resting pleasantly on Rodney, her eyes asking silent questions about his presence at the entryway. After a moment, when he made no sound, she asked, "Rodney?"

Sheppard's head jerked up, the brush pausing a bare centimetre over Teyla's feet. "Oh. Hey, Rodney." He went a shade of red not that far off from the colour of the polish, and looked back down at his handiwork and coughed slightly. If Teyla was unaware of any social expectations in a man beautifying her toenails, Sheppard knew what Rodney was thinking - or could probably guess. "Um. This isn't what it looks like."

Rodney wondered what the hell it was, then. "So you're not painting Teyla's toes? Because from here, with the nail polish and everything...it certainly looks like it. Maybe I missed the sign outside the room?" Rodney pointed behind and up at the doorframe he'd just passed under. "Sheppard's Beauty Parlour of Atlantis? I'm sure you'll have all the women flocking to have their toenails done..."

The long face darkened like a thundercloud. "McKay..." Okay, so the crack about the beauty parlour might have been uncalled for. Possibly.

"No, really, I'm curious," Rodney said, enjoying this. He was going to get years' worth of teasing out of this unexpected discovery. Sheppard the beautician. Unexpectedly, a rhyme appeared in Rodney's head. Oh, the places you'll go! The blackmail you'll find! When you leave Earth and not-quite-all it's customs behind!

"Teyla noticed that one of the female marines had painted her toenails and...she wanted to know what it was like."

Teyla took over the narrative, slightly hastily. "Colonel Sheppard offered to show me this...custom of yours." She looked from Sheppard to Rodney and back to Sheppard. "I was not aware that it was taboo."

The other guy had turned back to Teyla's toes again, continuing where he'd left off. "It's not taboo. It's just not..."

"Normal? Customary? Usual? Heterosexual?" Rodney asked with a touch of malice. "If I'd had any idea that Sheppard could do pedicures, I'd have asked him to do mine."

"You get your toenails done? And you're ribbing me about my sexual preferences?"

"Where did you learn to paint nails anyway?"

"Ex-girlfriend," was the terse reply.

"Oh. Well, I guess that would..." Rodney paused. "Sheppard, has anyone ever told you that you're whipped?"

"Not if they had any intelligence."

"Well, I'm intelligent and I'm going to say it now. You're whipped, Sheppard. Whipped. And you're not even dati--" Rodney pause. "I mean, you're not, are you?"

Now, both of them went the colour of the nail polish, and a few shades darker besides. "No!" John's answer was fast, but his eyes darted to Teyla's face first.

"No," Teyla said, with a little more composure and a little less emphasis.

"Oh. Okay, then. So..." Rodney knew he should leave it. Make his exit and go tell Elizabeth. Or Carson. Ronon might see the amusement factor - or not; it was hard to tell with Ronon. But Rodney had to know. He was a scientist, after all. "Why?"

Sheppard shrugged and went on painting. "Because."

"Not an answer."

The other man just kept at it, ignoring Rodney.

After a moment, Teyla advised, "It is all the answer you will receive, Rodney."

Rodney watched a moment longer, then shook his head, backed out of the rec room, and kept walking.

Whatever Sheppard might say, the man was whipped. Without a doubt.

- fin -