When they arrived at their room, they saw that the third bunk hadn't been simply placed in the room; it had been put on one of the other beds to form bunk beds. The room really wasn't big enough for a third bed on the floor, so it was really all that made sense. Unfortunately, it had been put over River's bed, and he made a rude noise – although he waited until the door was closed before he did it.

"Well, great..." He tossed his Physics and Biology books onto his bed and sighed. "Just my luck, he'll be a bed-wetter."

Shawn smiled, despite the fact that he wasn't all that pleased with the situation, either.

"I think you'll be okay."

"This is bullshit, Shawn." River complained, sitting down on his bed and promptly hitting his head on the bunk above it. "Damn it."

"We'll have to pad that."

Silently, Shawn was thinking that before all this was over the walls in his room would probably all be padded. He was pretty sure they were going to make him go crazy.

"We shouldn't have-"

River was interrupted by a knock on the door, and before either of them could open it, Ian opened it and walked in, carrying a handful of stuff and dragging his bags. Shawn walked over and took the top layer of things from him before he could tell him not to, and set them on the top bunk. From the look on his face, the idea of rooming with Shawn and River hadn't grown on him on the way there.

"I have to sleep over you?" He asked River with a scowl.

"Hey, you are a genius, aren't you?" River said, sarcastically. "I'm sitting on the bed, aren't I? It's a pretty fair indication that I'm the one who sleeps in it."

"Fuck you, Hayden." He looked over at Shawn, who had gone over to sit on his bed.

"You want to trade bunks?"

"Not especially."

"Come on, we'll put a rail on it so you don't fall off."

Shawn frowned, and started to make a comment that would probably get Ian pretty pissed off at him, but River once more beat him to it.

"Brooks, you'd better apologize before I kick your ass. I'm already tired of you making your snide little comments about Shawn's age."

"What'd I say?" Ian asked, raising his hands innocently. "I just didn't want him to say no because he was afraid of falling off. You mind your own business, Chatfield, or I'll toss you out the window."

Since the window was probably too small for Shawn to fit through, there was very little chance Ian would be able to shove River through it.

"Go to hell."

"I'm already there, dip-shit." He gestured around the room. Then he saw the photo that Shawn had put up on the stand by his bunk, and paused. Shawn looked over to see what he was looking at and so did River. It was a photo of Shawn, sitting on a park bench posing with Jack, Sam and Jaffer. Teal'c had taken it, and Daniel had been standing beside the Jaffa doing his very best to make Jack smile, which explained the shit-eating grin on O'Neill's face.

"Is that your dog?" He asked Shawn.

"No."

Ian crossed the room and picked up the photo.

"Your mom's pretty hot."

Shawn took the photo from him, scowling. is own temper was pretty close to boiling at the moment.

"She's not my mom, Brooks. And if you say another word about her, I'm going to throw you out that window."

"She's with your dad." Ian ignored the threat, and the flash of anger in Shawn's eyes. "Is she his secretary?" Brooks had noticed the similarity between Shawn and Jack easily, and had made an honest assumption. "Who's dog is that?"

Shawn ignored the questions, and put the photo back down.

"You can put your stuff in the closet."

"Fuck you, Adams. You're not my boss, either."

"That's it," River lurched to his feet, intent on beating the shit out of Ian Brooks, and whacked his head yet again on the bunk above his, this time catching the sharp edge of the frame. A nasty gash opened instantly, and the blood started to flow.

"Shit!" River put his hand to his forehead, smearing the blood that was already trailing down his cheek, but managing to staunch the flow a little. Shawn grabbed his washcloth – which had been sitting on his bed with his bathroom kit and towel – and handed it to River.

"Use that, River."

The bleeding cadet took it, and Shawn told him to sit down and he pressed his hand over River's, making sure his friend was using enough pressure. Then he looked over at Brooks, who was grinning.

"It's not funny, you piece of shit." He tossed a hand towel at Brooks. "Go wet that down and bring it back to me, and then we'll take him to the infirmary."

"Fuck you, Adams." Ian dropped the cloth. "I'm not your slave. You want it wet, you go wet it down."

"You bastard," River said, his voice slightly muffled because his arm was in front of his mouth. "I'm going to kick your ass."

"You can't even get out of bed without hurting yourself," Ian said, laughing, and flipping River the bird.

Shawn had had enough. He turned from where he'd been pressing against River's hand, and grabbed the extended finger in a vice-like grip, pulling down and in – hard. The finger bent backward at an angle that would certainly have broken it if Ian hadn't dropped to his knees following the momentum.

"Ow! Let me go you little bastard!" He struck at Shawn with his free hand, aiming by necessity someplace low. Shawn brought his other hand in to block the punch and grabbed Ian's nose between his finger and thumb. There was no way he'd ever hit someone he already had down. The other cadet started to struggle free, but Shawn tightened his grip – both on Ian's middle finger and on his nose.

"Stop it!" His voice was rough and filled with pain and anger and he brought his hand up to grab at Shawn, but the young man moved a little to the side and tightened his grip even further.

"Hold still, or I'll break both of them, I swear."

Ian stopped struggling, fighting back another curse and trying very hard to ignore the fact that his eyes were stinging with tears of pain. The nose grip was killing him.

"Knock it off, God damn it! Let me go!"

"I'll let you go... then you're going to take that towel, and you're going to go get it wet and bring it back to me. Then you're going to help me get River to the infirmary. Understand?"

"Fuck you!"

"I can get to the infirmary without his help, Shawn," River said, his own voice filled with pain, too. "I doubt shit for brains even knows where it is."

"Go to hell, Hayden!"

"Fuck you."

"You're-"

"Knock it off, both of you!" Shawn's voice interrupted their yelling, and he tightened the grip he'd started to relax. Brooks grunted with pain. He looked down at Ian. "Are you going to help me or not?"

"Fine! I'll help you. Let me go!"

Shawn let him go and stepped back, arms at his side, but more than ready to defend himself if Brooks came at him. The New Yorker got to his feet, holding his nose with one hand and shaking the other hand, looking at his finger to make sure it wasn't broken.

"Jesus, Adams..." He reached down and picked up the towel he'd dropped only a moment before. "You-"

"Go wet it down," Shawn interrupted.

"I ought to just go out in the hall and piss on it."

"Get going," Shawn said, turning his back on Brooks and pressing his hand once more against the towel River was holding. The wound really was bleeding badly. Of course, Shawn knew that head injuries always did, anyways, but it was still probably serious.

Brooks looked like he was going to say something else, but he shrugged, and looked at all the blood on the washcloth River and Shawn were holding. Without a word, he left the room, and headed down the hall for the shared bathroom.

"Fucking little bully..."