It wasn't that they were avoiding each other. That wasn't the case, not at all. In fact, they saw each other all the time--at breakfast, in the hallways, staff meetings, needing to patch up someone after a sparring match that Ronon had escorted to the infirmary. And every time they saw each other, it was Ronon smirking at her in the hallway, two seconds from a wink, and Jennifer smiling back for a moment before hastily looking down at her feet, suppressing the urge to squeal and hiding her reddening cheeks.

It was that they weren't actually talking. They hadn't talked since everyone had dinner after the quarantine a week ago and their almost kiss (Damn it, Radek, she'd thought quite often lately). Jennifer's excuse was that she had been busy. Busy, busy, busy. Someone had been on leave for the weekend back on Earth and had come back with a particularly nasty strain of the stomach flu, and now the staff were getting sick right and left. One wouldn't think that however many light years and miles they were from home, you'd still need a flu shot.

But, other than Rodney coming into the infirmary every day with phantom flu symptoms like sweaty palms and pink tongues, things went this way for awhile--not really talking other than the occasional "Good morning" or "Please pass the pepper," or, "Did you really have to dislocate his shoulder, Ronon?"

He was so confident. It both drove her insane and made him all the more attractive. Everything he did, he was so sure of himself, as though he knew exactly what he was doing, whereas she felt more anxious and unsure than ever.

Which, of course, he did. Men.

Ronon calmly let a few more days pass. As impatient as he was, there were some things that were worth waiting for, and waiting was half the fun of wanting, he knew. Besides, it wasn't as though she wasn't putting him through hell, either. The other day, she'd asked him to pass the pepper, and he'd lifted it in her direction. Her smooth fingers had curled around it, brushing across his, and he damn near shivered at the sudden knowledge of just how soft her skin was. Then, yesterday, he'd been in the infirmary with Sheppard (Sheppard had gashed his arm on their latest mission and needed stitches), and Jennifer had taken her hair out of its clippy when it got loose before shaking it out, sending a puff of vanilla and flowers and something deeper, spicy, in Ronon's direction. She had replaced her clippy seconds after with her hair in a new bun, but not until he'd had three separate daydreams of that silky hair, bouncing, sliding, falling in her eyes…

"Are you all right, Ronon?" Jennifer had asked.

He snapped back to reality and realized he was gripping the counter of her instrument tray so tightly, his knuckles felt numb and the tray was scooting across the floor ever-so-slightly.

"I'm fine. Later."

"That was abrupt," John remarked.

"Mm," was her reply.

So she was surprised when Ronon came in a few days later with a deep scratch on his neck, just below his right ear.

"Got grazed by a bullet," he explained.

She grimaced. "Have a seat."

Ronon plopped down on the chair closest to the fresh tray of sterile utensils and tied his hair in a ponytail.

"This is going to scar," she murmured as she carefully cleaned the wound with antiseptic.

He shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"You'll need stitches." Jennifer pulled up an adjustable chair next to him, fixed it so she could actually reach his height comfortably, and numbed the area before beginning a neat row of stitches.

Ronon tried very hard not to think about the tiny puffs of warm breath breezing across his earlobe and neck. "Mm."

"Sorry," Jennifer said, assuming she was hurting him.

"It's okay," he near-whispered. Then, "So, you've been avoiding me."

She frowned. "Not really. I've been busy. The flu and all."

"Right." His tone suggested he didn't believe her in the slightest bit.

"I haven't! I've had so many people come in here, and you just have to tell them, 'It's a virus, you have to let it run its course.'" Her fingers traced down his ear.

This time, he couldn't hold back the shudder.

Jennifer stepped back and looked at him in concern. "You okay?"

He shrugged cheerfully. "Cold chill."

She continued her stitch and tied it off carefully before placing a bandage over the wound, gently pressing medical tape to secure it.

"There you go. Feel better?"

He nodded. "Still hurts a little."

"Aw, poor thing. Here, I'll kiss it and make it better."

"What?"

"Your Mom never did that? You know, you get a boo-boo, and one of your parents would kiss it to make it better?"

"A boo-boo?"

Jennifer could tell the word tickled Ronon. She rolled her eyes, before leaning forward and placed a chaste kiss on his bandage over the wound. "See? Now your boo-boo is supposed to feel better."

"It does, kind of."

They stared at each other for a moment.

"Um, so…what was that the other day, during the quarantine?" Jennifer asked.

"What was what?"

"Uh, you know…" She reddened, then turned and busily began tossing the items on the cart into a sterilizing bin with a clatter. "Never mind. I guess it was one of those, you know, life-or-death situations, and , uh, things just…it's just one of those things when you're so worried, and then, when you get out of it, it doesn't really matter…"

"Hey, Jen?"

She took a deep breath, cringing before turning around. "What?"

"My lip hurts. Will you kiss that and make it better?"

She smiled softly before stepping towards him. Jennifer leaned down, and softly, gently kissed the corner of his lower lip. She pulled back. "Better?" she whispered.

Ronon smiled. "Almost." He reached forward, hands on her hips, and pulled her forward again before nibbling on her neck.

Jennifer inhaled deeply, tilting her head to the side as he kissed his way up her neck and over her jaw line. Her eyes involuntarily closed as he smoothed her chin with his lips, then kissed her full on the mouth, slowly. Her hand touched his face, other hand gripping his upper arm. He deepened the kiss, tongue slipping seductively into her mouth while he pulled her up closer to him and wrapped his arms around her.

"Hey, Doc--oh!"

Jennifer and Ronon broke apart abruptly, only to see Rodney standing in the doorway, a look of immense surprise on his face. It quickly turned to fear when he saw Ronon glowering at him, joined by a scowling Dr. Keller, who folded her arms across his chest.

"Yes, Rodney?" she said flatly.

"I, uh, thought I might be sick, but, I guess I'm just going to come back later…"

"You do that," Ronon said, his voice rumbly and annoyed.

Rodney turned and practically fled the infirmary while Jennifer turned back around to face the man she'd seriously just considered asking if she could rip off his shirt, her fingers rubbing across her lips. "I, uh…maybe this isn't the best place to start this…we have to be professional…"

Ronon nodded. "I'll come get you at the end of your shift." His rough hand slid slowly down her smooth arm, squeezing her hand.

"I'll be here," she whispered breathlessly, almost as though she were intoxicated.

He kissed her once more, quick but firm and deep, before turning and striding out of the room, leaving Jennifer to smile to herself before it turned into a wide grin, already anticipating tonight.