Spoilers: None
Sequel/Series: Yes pouting I wasn't planning on a series or sequel but it would seem my muse had other ideas.
Feedback: Love it. Beta: Thanks to Ellex. All further mistakes are mine.
Summary: Ronon's doing the teaching this round.
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Roughly shaken back to consciousness, Rodney moaned in protest and curled into a ball as waves of nausea washed over him. His gut clenched repeatedly and the fervent wish for oblivion was rudely interrupted when a straw was shoved between his lips.
"Sip slowly." The words were low and deep, like the threatening rumble of thunder emanating too close for comfort.
Head swimming, Rodney took a drink and surprisingly, while the concoction tasted vile, it soothed his stomach, relaxing strained muscles. Tentatively, he took another sip, then laid back, allowing the medicine to work its way through his body. Thankfully the room was dark, warm and silent, a blessing to his over-sensitized body. Everything 'hurt'; sound, light, the chill in the room, even a breeze across his skin felt like nails on a chalk board.
"Eat." Something resembling food was waved in front of him and the scent of it made his stomach and gut roll in a chorused protest and warning.
"Not unless you want more sheets to change." His voice lacked its normal cutting edge and those few words left him winded and tired.
In the dark, Rodney could make out the shrug that moved thick dreadlocks. "Maybe later."
If anyone had to find him in such an embarrassing state, Rodney supposed it could have been worse than Ronon. At least Ronon didn't insist on dragging Rodney off to the infirmary for all to see and he barely reacted to the disgusting lack of bowel control. Quick, efficient, and practical, Ronon would have made an excellent nurse.
"Hot?"
Rodney shuddered, curling up further under the blankets. "Cold."
A large paw was placed on his forehead and when Rodney tried to shake it off, the room started to spin so he laid back down and tolerated the invasion into his personal space. The hand moved, leaving a wake of coldness behind that had Rodney shivering again. Shortly thereafter, a thermometer was stuck in his mouth. When it beeped, Ronon removed it and made a non-committal sound.
"Why?"
It was the question burning at the back of his mind. Rodney clearly remembered a lunch from the mess being brought to him by the skittish Japanese woman from his department as he spent the afternoon working on the water reclamation systems. A few bites into the meal and he'd realized something was very, very wrong as his stomach started to rumble in protest.
A short time later, taunting voices had him desperate to keep what little control he had over his body as he sought to escape the intended embarrassment. A few of the scientists had wanted a public display of humiliation for imagined insults to their limited intelligence and questionable work.
The caveman had appeared out of nowhere, sending the scientists scattering and then tending to him, wrapping him up in that long leather jacket to contain the worst of the mess until they reached Rodney's quarters. Why he would go to such lengths was beyond Rodney and he wondered what the 'Conan the Barbarian' impersonator would want in return.
The weak moonlight shining into his room showed scowling, dark eyes drilling into him.
"You're my teammate."
"Not anymore." Rodney snapped at him, furious at having to continually remind these slow-witted people of that fact.
"Just because you're being stupid doesn't make it any less true." Ronon pointed out.
"My only stupid mistake is staying here for as long as I have!" Rodney hissed, waving his hand over to the opened letter on the desk across the room. "I have others who are actually eager to have me around, so why don't you drop the act and tell me what it is you really want? A bigger, better gun? A weapon to stop the Wraith? Why don't I just come up with a universal bad guy ray gun, guaranteed to take out whoever is trying to dominate the universe this week? I'm sure I can just whip it up before I leave, no problem!"
The drink was shoved back into his face as Rodney trembled from both anger and muscle spasms, and he drank several sips before laying back, exhausted, an arm thrown over his eyes.
"Go away," he moaned, exhausted from the continual cramping and, though he'd never admit it, too heart-broken to continue with this argument.
Ronon ignored him. "I want you back on the team."
Rodney sneered. "To increase your life expectancy!"
"We've all taken turns at saving each others lives, that's what team mates do," Ronon told him. "But that's not why I want you back."
"Oh, do tell!"
The silence stretched out long enough for Rodney to move his arm to look for the hulking man next to the bed, and in the faint light he could make out a hint of sorrow and pain. It cut through his defenses better than any of the kind words could, perhaps because the emotions from this normally quiet man were intense and real.
"I miss you."
--tbc