Once again thankyou to my amazing beta reader GeneralSamCarter for making this fic sound normal. Also thank you for your reviews!
Chapter 2
Ronon crept into the room, his eyes darting around making sure no one could see him. No one had; no one was even aware he was in the room. Ronon allowed himself a smirk, his gun was in his hands, the familiar weight somehow comforting as he darted over to the door.
For a moment he considered kicking it open, but that would attract far too much attention. Instead he opened the door, watching as it swung open after a soft click. Ronon took a few fast paces into the room and slid across the freshly waxed floor in John's socks.
He had successfully infiltrated the kitchens without anyone in the mess hall seeing him.
Ronon opened the refrigerator and looked inside. There in the middle of the first shelf was a large mixing bowl filled with a thick gloop. Ronon prodded it with his gun, the mixture did nothing back. There was a cloth on the side which Ronon used to clean the end of his gun. His sniffed the cloth; it smelled familiar but Ronon couldn't quite place the scent. He discarded the cloth and gave the strange mixture another experimental poke, this time with his index finger.
He lifted the finger now covered in the oddly textured concoction to his lips and licked the tip. Porridge. Ronon liked the rest of his finger clean and, after a quick glance around to see if anyone else was in the room, shoved his hand in the bowl. He had learnt from John the there were things on earth called "pie eating contests". Surely if they had those they must have other types of eating contests as well, and if there was such thing as a 'porridge eating contest', Ronon knew he could win hands down.
He finished off the gigantic bowl in a matter of seconds and washed his hands. Now that the mystery of the gloopy stuff in the mixing bowl had been solved, Ronon needed something else to investigate and he set off to do just that.
On his way out of the kitchen Ronon bumped into John.
"What cha doing in there?" John asked, trying to look over Ronon's shoulder. Ronon looked around shiftily, as though making sure no one was watching.
"Investigating," he said his voice low. John looked blankly back at him.
"You're investigating the kitchen?" John's eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. What was going on with Ronon today?
"I'm wearing…." Ronon paused for dramatic effect, "the socks."
"Your wear….oh…right." John remembered his earlier conversation and mentally slapped himself on the head.
Ronon, afraid he wouldn't be able to keep a straight face anymore, quickly left the mess and went to his quarters. There on the floor next to his bed were his battered leather sandals.
Normally Ronon wore the standard issue military boots, they were all big bulky and cool looking, but he still hung on to his old sandals. Of course Sateda had hadsocks and regular shoes but Ronon had his own style; his own sockless style.
Ronon put on his sandals and smiled to himself. He'd solved a mystery with the help of John's socks, now it was time to see if he could solve one without them.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"Ronon, Hi!" exclaimed Zelenka, shocked to see Ronon in the lab. Ronon gave him a toothy grin.
"What you working on?" he asked gruffly, plonking down on the table top. Perhaps there was something to discover in here, after all a lab was a place for discovery.
"Well Rodney started working on an equation to…" and with that Ronon stopped listening.
Ronon eyed the stapler that was next to him on the desk. It was a different colour to all the other staplers Ronon had ever seen. Atlantis staplers were red, except for one. Colonel Carter had a green stapler that she brought with her.
The stapler on Zelenka's desk was green.
Ronon wondered briefly when he had started noticing the colour of peoples' stationary but quickly shrugged off the thought. He had to concentrate. Ronon slyly pocketed the stapler, made his excuses and left the lab.
He deposited the stapler back on Sam's desk, who gave him a pleasant albeit confused smile.
"Thank you Ronon…err…where did you find it?" Sam asked, feeling as though she should try to make polite conversation with the Satedan.
"I can't reveal my sources," Ronon crept shiftily out of the room. Sam made a mental note to stop letting John be Ronon's sole source of information on earth culture.
