The rules said they had to sleep in the guest house.
"It is a show of good faith," Teyla explained. "If you are willing to suffer for the trade, then they can trust that are a worthy trading partner."
Sheppard wished she'd been a little clearer about what "suffering" meant. Sleeping on a dirt floor was bad enough with Rodney along. Sleeping in a room so low that his head brushed the ceiling when he sat up? That was uncomfortable, but not really getting into "suffering" territory. Sleeping in a round room with barely enough area to accommodate four grown adults? Sheppard would've really liked to have known that part ahead of time. Most of their suffering could've been avoided by parking Rodney and Ronon in the jumper, where they'd be cloaked and within radio range in case of trouble. So of course the guest house was all of these things, plus the walls were a thin material a lot like a bamboo screen, so there wasn't even much protection from the elements. Or from bugs, as McKay kept reminding him.
If it wouldn't have put not only the trading mission but their lives in jeopardy, Sheppard would have just bunked in the jumper for the night. Or even the tents!
But no. The rules said they had to sleep in the guest house.
They'd had to crawl in and Sheppard had spent several long minutes with Ronon's feet a fraction of an inch from his nose. Once he made it into the room, he had to spend several more long minutes with Rodney's shoulder in his crotch.
When Teyla practically melted in and unfolded gracefully, he hated her. For about thirty seconds anyhow.
Then, just when they thought they reached the apex of suffering, someone closed the door. Rodney made a wheezing, whistling sound and John awkwardly smacked the back of Rodney's head. Ronon switched on a tiny flashlight and they all stared at each other.
"I guess we should make the best of what we've got," Sheppard said. He wasn't sure if it was the quality of light, but Rodney looked a little green. Ronon's neck was bent at an awkward angle because of the low ceiling, and Teyla, folded into her meditation position, looked serene. She exhaled slowly and opened her eyes and somehow managed to infuse the tiny room with a feeling of calm.
"This is not so bad, is it?" She asked as she settled her back against one of the posts of the wall. "Ronon, perhaps if you were to move here..." She indicated the space near her right knee.
Ronon, still bent at wrong angles, somehow managed to curl up and shift so his back followed the curve of the wall. He took Teyla's knee as a pillow. "Could be worse," he replied.
"John?" Teyla indicated her crossed ankles. John did his own Twister routine until he ended up on his back with his head on her lap. With his knees drawn up and his own feet flat on the floor it was almost comfortable. Even with Ronon breathing practically in his ear. Even when Rodney pressed his spine against John's side and put his head on Teyla's other knee.
Rodney squirmed.
John warned.
Rodney squirmed some more.
Teyla sighed deeply.
"I don't know what to do with my arms," Rodney complained.
"Figure it out or I'll rip them off for you. I'm trying to sleep." Ronon sounded serious enough to be believed; Rodney stopped fidgeting.
John turned off the light and Teyla touched each of them on the forehead. "Just relax and breathe," she said, and led them through her most basic meditation exercise. John was sound asleep within fifteen minutes.
* * *
In the morning, when the village elders lifted off the flat roof and rolled up the thin wall, they had barely changed positions. Test passed. Mission accomplished. Without bloodshed, which always looked good in the mission reports.