By Enola Jones

If there was a word John Sheppard could ever have picked to describe Rodney McKay, “quiet” would not be it.

John had never met anyone that talked so much. Never!

So after nearly three and a half years, John was quite surprised to realise that when it was just Rodney and the rest of the team – or even just Rodney and him – there were long stretches of time when Motormouth McKay was….


“Hey,” John asked as he came to sit with Rodney at the mess hall. He tapped Rodney’s hand. “You doing okay?”

Rodney looked up, frowning slightly. “As far as I know – why?”

“Well, you’ve not been as… chatty… as usual.”

“I don’t have to talk all the time with you three,” Rodney said, as if that explained everything.

John looked at him, an eyebrow raising in question. I don’t get it.

Rodney looked back at him, his lips quirking in affectionate amusement. You will, once you think about it. You didn’t pass that MENSA test on your looks.

John chuckled. He leaned forward as if to argue the point – then stopped. “….wait….”

Rodney’s quirk of the lips became a full-blown grin. And he gets it.

“You and me…”

Rodney’s eyes moved to Teyla and Ronon, who were across the room talking with Lorne.

“—and them, right.” John blinked. “We just did it again.”

“The four of us,” Rodney said, gesturing. “We’re so close now that words are… superfluous.”

“Being part of a good team will do that,” John grinned at him.

Rodney rolled his eyes, but the smile remained. He shook his head and returned his eyes to the laptop in front of him, blindly reaching for the sandwich next to him.

Without a word, John slid the plate into his reach and Rodney’s thanks was a smile.

John leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. I could get used to this.


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