Authors Note: Please let me know what you think of this, complaints, suggestions; any feedback would be helpful as long as it is constructive. Now betaread by Ellex, who helped me improve this fic greatly.

Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Sanctuary and The Eye – only refering small comments or characters interaction, nothing to spoil the episodes in my opinion but probably makes alot more sense after having seen Sanctuary.

Warning for some vaguely adult content.

Thanks to SokorraK for help with banter topics and Iona for giving me a partial plot bunny and encouragement. This is in a way inspired by a moment in the Battlestar Galactica miniseries pilot, something I'd well recommend watching.

Also this is a lot different from any of the fic I've done before but I hope its ok and that people like. Comments would be helpful and are always nice to receive:)

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Stargate in any incarnations of course and I'm not making any money, this is just some harmless fanfic fun.

When no Words are Said

"It's just not enough! Do you understand?"

Rodney McKay's voice rang out shrilly in the hallway, as they exited the gateroom with him hurrying to catch her up. It had started in her office, door wide open, and had flowed out, following her as she attempted to ignore him and his explanation of the seemingly important problem. She glanced at him, not answering, leaving the next line to him.

"Power good, no power bad. It's that simple." he clarified abruptly.

She gave him another stern look as they passed a group of scientists. All of them were keeping their heads down, pretending not to notice the heated discussion between the man in charge of them and the woman in charge of him.

"I understand Rodney, I do, but what do you want me to do about it?" she said diplomatically.

She didn't look back as they carried on walking but she could feel their eyes on her back, carefully watching her and Rodney as they walked away. All of them keen to assess what they had witnessed, with their sharp wits at the ready for when they thought the pair had left hearing range.

They were aware of the rumours that had ben flying around, helped particularly by their argument several weeks ago over Chaya.

It had only been a small friendly squabble, a little teasing here and there, but people saw more to it.

So this was their own private joke, a prank if you liked, on everyone else, inspired by the scandal that the whole base was talking about anyway.

They thought there was more to it than mere friendship, that the teasing was flirting and the banter was indicative of something more. Perhaps it was seen as a way of resolving the underlying, presumably sexual, tension. Supposedly they'd argue about anything to push the feelings away, replacing a growing affection with annoyance, or love with hate, depending on who you heard it from.

And it only seemed to make it more fun to play along with it, like a weird injoke, getting more and more elaborate.

There was no kissing, no handholding, nothing but their arguments. No outward sign of anything unprofessional. Simply words, body language, looks, sighs - that was all it took for people to believe there was something there, something more than there seemed to be. A nice bit of gossip.

So every now and then they'd set up these scenes. The fights got more passionate, more frequent, but they were still only theatrical, not truly serious. People were either confused or amused to varying degrees, but no one seemed to suspect the truth.

First of all it had been about...what was it? Oh yes, the rationing.
Very easy to believe he might get upset at lack of coffee.

Then the science lab rotations, whining that Kavanagh was hogging all the best equipment when he needed it most.

And when they started on eating real food grown on the mainland and phasing out MRE's – although that had been real for the most part. Included into their plan to make it even more believable and showing a tantalizing escalation to their pantomime. And their observers lapped up.

Last time had been about giving staff time off for Valentines Day. He'd argued vehemently that it was a bad idea and worse timing, even though it was a fixed date in the year. He'd wanted her to move it so it didn't occur when he had important experiments in progress and needed all the hands he could get.

That topic was her favourite. She loved seeing him get so riled up, hands flying away about it emphatically and his behaviour so exaggerated, but knowing he didn't mean it, that it was purely for show. With her as the one member of the audience who could truly appreciate that.

Today it was power usage.

"Anyway, why were your estimates wrong? You said we had plenty to last the year."
She eyed him conspiratorially in the few seconds no one was watching, a small smile on her lips that could have been mistaken as flirtatious.

"They weren't!" He responded full force, clearly angry at her suggestion he'd been wrong.
Others in the corridor stepped out of his way, wary of his fury, in case the acerbic tongue lashed out at them. She was pleased that only she really knew him in that respect. She was the only one who knew that this was staged. In truth these words were a far cry from the kind of thing she'd come to expect from his mouth when they were not around anyone else, when the facade was lifted.

"But everything you've said suggests that's the problem," she countered, trying to stifle the grin at his reaction.

He clenched his fist, one arm at his side, other waving about as he answered. "No, no, no. The problem is people using too much for personal consumption."

He'd motioned at some random nearby personnel as he said that, and they quickly scurried away, leaving the two of them alone.
But they still carried on, knowing they weren't nearly finished, not by a long shot.

"It's necessary." was her simple reply that only exacerbated his mood.

"How? How is using a laptop outside of working hours playing Minesweeper or watching a DVD something we need?"

Now they were passing his quarters. She noted his small glance to it at the door, his slight hesistation, not quite enough to make anyone think they were headed there.

"It boosts morale, it's for relaxation." She turned to him as they walked, a subtle manoeuvre that she was sure wouldn't be lost on those standing nearby as they passed.
"You do know what that is, don't you, Rodney?" she queried slyly, voice a little huskier than was normal.
He looked unamused at her comment but she knew better. The real amusement was ogling them in disbelief five metres ahead. She wondered what they'd think, though they already had ideas that they weren't afraid to share. However, she decided to add more bait, unable to resist the temptation of seeing the expressions on their faces as she and Rodney stalked past them.

"You look a little wound up, maybe you could do with some yourself," she posed, desperately trying to keep her mask on rather than giving in to the need to laugh.
That earned her an exasperated look from Rodney and she pondered why he was so good at this when he was so bad at poker. He couldn't bluff for money or his life but acting this out seemed to come easily to him.

"What I need is for people to stop draining the Zed P.M. It's already low and we're killing it, which is as good as killing ourselves because we need it to power primary systems."

There he went again, interjecting enough logic and technobabble into the mix to make it all seem justified.

Just as dramatically, they stopped talking as they reached their destination, sneaking into her quarters, fortunate that no one had been around outside. They were both breathing heavily from the brisk walk and talk. They stared at each other with a sense of completion, meeting the challenge they'd set themselves.

People saw what they wanted, believed what they saw, but no one questioned it.
It had started off as as a prank but no one had called them on it yet.
There was talk behind their backs but never any confrontation, no matchmaking or careful advice from anyone, least of all their friends.

The first time they'd been giggling with laughter in the empty halls and they'd quickly ducked into his quarters, unable to hold it back any longer. Their amusement was evident on their aching faces as they stood there catching their breaths. Such a refreshing change from the usual Atlantean tasks for the day. It had certainly beat writing reports.

Now they were old hands at the banter and eager for the real resolution, the unseen one that no one thought might actually be.

Because after the laughter had subsided, there had been something more under the surface, in the quiet. Communication as simple as the messages they had faked, it was in the eyes and their positioning and so many other things that they'd been playing up just moments before. In their manipulation, they'd uncovered a truth as plain as their deception, lurking under all their friendly conversations and even the lies of their joke.

To hell with the rumours, they'd gone beyond them, beyond friendship.
She pushed him back suddenly, their bodies stumbling back further into the darkened room.
Neither found it shocking that they were suddenly, passionately, kissing with all the wrath they'd demonstrated earlier.
But they ran with it anyway, as if it were the same, like the fussy quarrels they had gotten so good at, steeped in truth this time.
If she'd thought about it she might have found it bizarre that she was fumbling with his shirt zipper as they moved towards the bed.
Only it wasn't so odd if you believed what you saw, and they'd never seen it until now, and still didn't quite understand it. Luckily that didn't stop it happening because they understood on a different level; past their rational denial and conscious minds.

For a few minutes she wasn't a heartless leader and he wasn't a wayward scientist.

For a few minutes they were themselves, without expectations or promises.

Without words, and the lies you could spin with them, in reality, in your mind.

Silence defined what was said, and illuminated what was just as meaningful; what was left unsaid.