"Hit enter on its keyboard," Carson ordered. "And we can't be late to our own supper, Rodney. I'm onto something here; surely you can relate to that."

Rodney looked more closely at Carson, seeing that he was completely caught up in what he was doing. He was used to Carson staying a little less absorbed in his work, but obsession wasn't a bad look for the Scot. Fanaticism made his eyes gleam madly. "Well...there is the minor issue of you inviting John to supper as well," Rodney reminded Carson. "So I think we actually can be late. Last I heard, standing someone up was not a nice thing to do."

Carson grumbled something under his breath and looked over at Rodney. "I know, probably better than you do. But this is important, Rodney. I think I've figured out what our genetic material is."

Rodney was unimpressed. "You're excited because we have DNA?"

"No," Carson muttered, "I'm excited because we don't have DNA, or anything I've ever seen before."

Rodney blinked. "Oh. Okay, that's big." No DNA. Huh. Rodney looked down at his hands. "So what do we have?"

Carson rolled his eyes. "That's what I'm figuring out," He told Rodney. "I'm in the middle of some tests right now; I don't know when I'll be done, as I can't leave until they're finished. Then I'll want to analyze the results, and maybe run some follow-ups and--

"I'll bring you something to eat, alright?" Rodney said, interrupting Carson's ramblings. "And I'll make our excuses to John." He figured it was the least he could do, since Carson often brought him things to eat when he was on a tear.

Carson smiled gratefully and leaned over to give Rodney a brief kiss. One advantage to having Rodney for a lover was that he really did understand what it was like to be in the throes of discovery.

Rodney headed for the mess hall to collect up something to eat. If he was lucky, he'd catch John before the man went to Carson's quarters. Indeed, John was in line when Rodney arrived, standing a little away from the group of Marines in front of him.

"What's on the menu?" Rodney inquired as he stopped just behind John.

"Green, green, green, yellow, brown meat stuff and jell-o," John replied. "It looks like lunch, revisited and with sauce."

"Did they put those fruity things on the jell-o?" Rodney asked hopefully. "Or is it plain?"

"Plain," John said. "But there are those crunchy sprinkle bits."

"Granola," Rodney supplied. "Well, what passes for granola in a city that considers power bars the height of chocolate confectionary grace."

John looked to be in a pretty good mood and Rodney felt a little bad for having to cancel supper. It hadn't been quite as easy for John to readjust to the city as it had been for Carson and himself; they had each other and he had... well, his job. They'd been there for him, more or less, but it wasn't the same.

Rodney was about to break the news when he realized he didn't really have to. After all, he was planning to take his and Carson's suppers back to Carson's lab and dine there. Why couldn't John do the same? "John," Rodney murmured quietly, so as not to draw attention, "Minor change of venue this evening."

"Erm?" John hummed as he dished up something fuzzy onto his plate. "Where?"

"Medical lab," Rodney answered softly. "He's caught up in some project and I can't drag him away."

John turned towards Rodney. "Should I just eat here? If you two are busy..."

"He's busy," Rodney corrected. "I need the company and he needs the food. Thus, you're eating in the lab with us." The more he said it, the better it sounded to Rodney. Carson really was going to be boring conversation for the foreseeable future.

"Um, ok," John tentatively agreed. He waited for Rodney to procure his and Carson's meals before following the scientist out of the mess hall. As they passed, several Marines whistled and called out various horrible bird-call imitations.

John was strongly tempted to try forming a third arm so he could flip them off.

•••

Rodney walked into Carson's lab and set his tray down with a loud clatter, while John used more care in placing his on a table far away from the many machines scattered about. Carson didn't acknowledge their arrival; he was staring intently at a series of computer monitors while simultaneously typing commands into the machine next to him.

"Food's here," Rodney announced as he pulled up a chair and divvied up the food he'd brought.

"I'll eat it later, thanks," Carson murmured, still not looking at his guests. "Busy now."

John smirked at Carson's intense focus. "Did he learn that from you?"

"I wish I could say I'm proud of it," Rodney grumbled as he stabbed a disgustingly fresh vegetable, "But I like having his attention on me, not on those damned machines."

"Well then, now you know how I feel most days," Carson retorted as he finally turned to Rodney. He was smiling, though and when he saw John his grin got even wider. "Moved supper here, did you?"

"It was this or listen to a bunch of grunts try to imitate mallards," Rodney told him. John looked sufficiently disgruntled for Carson to believe that the mess hall really had been unpleasant.

"What are you working on?" John asked Carson as they settled into their meals.

"Do you really want to know?" Carson inquired seriously. "It'll probably bore you to tears."

"Try me," John pushed, glancing over at Rodney. "And if I get bored, you can say you told me so."

"Besides," Rodney added, "I want to know what's so much more fascinating than an evening of tasteful conversation and sex."

Carson chose to ignore that last comment and answered John's question instead. "I've been studying our genetics, you know," He started, pushing his food around the plate, "And having problems with it, to be honest."

"Why?" John murmured curiously. He took a bite of a bright yellow vegetable and grimaced at its bitter, caustic flavor. His plate contained a lot of it, too, which made John wish he had an MRE handy.

"At first, I thought it would be easy; preliminary tests comparing our old and new genetic material showed similar amounts of pyrimidines and purines. But when we got to running comparisons of structure, we ran into a snag," Carson explained.

"Snag?" Rodney echoed. "What kind of snag?"

"The techniques we have for analyzing DNA completely failed with our new genetic material," Carson said. "That was when I went back and started over, thinking maybe the change altered our DNA enough that it wasn't going to work with standard analysis."

"I see," John murmured, pushing some of the yellow vegetables onto Rodney's plate. The scientist took one bite and tossed the food back at John.

"Do be careful, Rodney," Carson chided. "Anyway, I was staring at the data today when I realized that I was going at it from the wrong angle."

"What's the right angle?" Rodney prompted as he perused the day's jell-o offerings. He'd taken a cup of each kind, figuring the others would want some also.

"I started from scratch, trying to discern the structure of our genetic material instead of assuming it followed along with the types we've already defined," Carson stated. "Which is, I suppose, what I should've done to begin with."

"Why?" John murmured. "It's not like you run into something with a completely new genetic structure every day...do you?"

"Not really," Carson admitted. "Even the Wraith share the same basic structure that humans have."

"So, what did you find?" Rodney asked. "Anything at all?" While Rodney was asking Carson about his research, John was trying to find a way to eat his dinner. The green vegetables were all more or less edible, but the yellow stuff was nasty. It also made up most of his plate's contents and he was damned hungry. Shifting repeatedly throughout the day was a major drain on his energy and unless he wanted to go back to the mess hall and procure more dinner, this was it.

"Well, I've not got all the results in," Carson started, "But from what I do have, I'm fairly confident in saying that our genetic structure is somewhat different from anything I've ever seen or read about."

John stuck a piece of the yellow vegetable in his mouth. It burned his tongue a little, so John shifted a bit, but just his tongue. As soon as the pain disappeared, he stabilized himself and found that the food no longer offended. Of course, he couldn't taste anything either.

"John, what are you doing?" Rodney asked as he observed John's very strange facial expression.

John swallowed before answering. "I think I just turned off my taste buds."

"I thought you wanted to hear about Carson's research," Rodney accused. "You're ignoring him."

"No!" John protested, looking sheepishly at a rather dismayed Carson. "That yellow stuff was just so damned bad it got distracting. At least now I can pay attention."

Carson rolled his eyes, but didn't really take offense. "So you're paying attention now?"

"If we don't have DNA, what is our genetic material?" John asked pointedly. "And you two should try the taste bud thing. It's easy; just shift your tongue enough to get rid of the receptors."

"Right," Carson muttered. "Most DNA is double-stranded, forming a double helix--but it can be single stranded too. Then there's RNA, which is single- or double-stranded."

"Basic biology," Rodney remarked. "But we don't have that?"

"The first thing I noticed was that our genetic material isn't single- or double- stranded," Carson said. "It's five-stranded."

John looked confused. "Is that possible?"

"If we have five-stranded DNA, it must be possible," Rodney countered.

"It is possible, but we don't have five-stranded DNA," Carson continued. "In terms of DNA, having three, four or five strands is usually a result of artificial DNA introduction or folding over and compression of existing DNA."

"And we have..." Rodney said leadingly, pondering the red or the pink jell-o.

"Our genetic material is five-stranded, but it's not because of folding over," Carson said. "And it's not DNA. I'm waiting on the results of one test, but I don't even think there are nucleic acids involved, at least not as we recognize them. There are pyrimidine and purine bases, but only what we had as humans. The balance of our genes seem to be built from other molecules."

"I'm confused," John admitted. "Which isn't that surprising. Can you simplify this at all?"

Carson nodded. "We have a heretofore unknown genetic structure that is a combination of our human DNA and what is probably sekoy'e genetic material, which takes the basic form of the sekoy'e material."

"Okay," Rodney said, pushing a cup of orange jell-o towards John. "I sort of understand. Is this going to do something important?"

"Ask me when I'm finished," Carson muttered. "But does it have to? It's discovery, Rodney, and thus important in its own right."

"Do we have chromosomes?" John inquired, dredging up everything he remembered from biology class. He got math better than most people, but he'd slept through most of the life sciences.

"We don't have cells in the classical sense of the term," Carson informed him. "It's a matter of luck that I located genetic material at all."

"Well, I'm glad you've made progress," John said. "And what's with all the jell-o?"

"It's good," Rodney said around a mouthful. "Sweet like strawberries."

John looked first at the orange jell-o in front of him and then at the pink jell-o Rodney was eating. "Rodney, the most that you can say about that jell-o is that it was packaged on the same continent as a strawberry field."

"Don't knock my comfort food," Rodney insisted indignantly. "Jell-o is one of the most inoffensive foods ever."

Carson smirked and tried out John's idea about taste buds. It worked quite well and Carson happily consumed his dinner, although he did make a mental note to tell someone that the yellow vegetable was disgusting. "Rodney's a bit protective of his jell-o, John."

"I noticed," John muttered. "It's just that it, well, it's kind of like us, you know?" He said, holding up a spoonful and letting it jiggle around. "A little firmer, but not all that different."

Rodney stared down at his dessert. "So jell-o bothers you because it looks like us in blob-form? What about before? Did you get all weird when you ate steak because it's a muscle?"

"It's not the same," John insisted. "Jell-o is just weird."

Carson managed not to giggle at John's petulance. "You won't win, John. Just let it go."

Rodney finished off his jell-o and reached for a bottle of water. "You're just jealous."

John blinked. "Jealous? Of your jell-o eating capacity?"

"No," Rodney said, smirking, "You're jealous that I'm eating it and not you."

John blinked again. "That was really disgusting, Rodney."

Carson laughed, both at John's distaste and Rodney's terrible humor. "Now you know what I put up with every day," He told John.

"Oh, you poor man," John murmured.

"Hey!" Rodney barked indignantly. He'd have thrown something at John, but they were in Carson's lab and they might damage something irreplaceable.

"Don't worry; I still love you," Carson said reassuringly.

"Of course you do," Rodney stated without pause, even though that was the first time Carson had said such a thing to him. John didn't react, but then Carson had said it so casually it could’ve easily been taken as a simple verbal convention.

"Because you're warm and fuzzy," John said, "And you like jell-o."

"Precisely," Rodney snarked, rolling his eyes.

Carson sighed at his friends' antics. "As much as I enjoy listening to your banter, my work isn't getting itself done on its own," He said, pushing back from the table. "If I'm lucky I'll be finished before morning."

John stood up as well and collected up their used trays. "Thanks," He said sincerely before retreating to return their dishes to the mess hall.

Rodney waited for the door to close before turning to Carson. "That went well," He commented.

"It did," Carson agreed. "Less tentative."

"Slightly," Rodney amended. "Did you mean it?"

"Yes," Carson said.

"And you're staying here to work for the rest of the night?" Rodney said incredulously, reaching for Carson.

"Yes," Carson said, his voice a little bit more hesitant than before as he took a step back, out of Rodney's immediate reach. "I need to get this work done, Rodney. It won't wait."

Rodney glared at the table. Carson loved him. Carson said he loved him, in front of a witness. Rodney wanted to take Carson back to one of their quarters and fuck him senseless. Carson wanted to work on some harebrained idea he had about sekoy'e genetic structures. "Fine," He muttered. "I'll help."

"With what?" Carson asked, mystified. It wasn't that he didn't want to go with Rodney; he hadn't meant to say it but he did mean it, and right now would be a lovely, romantic time to spend the evening alone with the man. He simply had to finish his tests; the samples were already in the machines and running. Putting them off meant redoing them completely.

"Your tests," Rodney said, slowly as though Carson were thick-skulled. "It might get you out of here faster. Failing that, it will keep me busy doing something I don't have to understand, because if I go to my lab right now I'll probably do something stupid and unproductive like shoot myself with strange Ancient technology, and if you think I'm going back to my quarters to jack off in the shower and wish you were there... well, the thought crossed my mind, to be honest."

"Oh," Carson whispered. "You can transfer the results from some tests into the master data file," He offered. "I've not gotten far on that."

"Fine," Rodney said firmly, taking a seat at Carson's computer. "You, start running those tests."

Carson whimpered and retreated to a machine on the other side of the room, hoping distance would keep him from breaking his personal promise to get this bit of research done. It wasn't easy, though, not when Rodney was right there, typing away on his computer and looking bothered and turned on and Rodney hadn't said it back.

Maybe if they went back to Carson's quarters, Rodney would say it. Carson suspected Rodney loved him, but he didn't know for sure. He hadn't gotten upset when Carson had said it, unless he was getting a lot better at hiding his emotions.

Carson mentally slapped himself for sounding like a teenaged girl and went back to his work, only looking over at Rodney every thirty seconds or so.

"Stop looking at me," Rodney snapped, not bothering to actually speak at Carson directly. "Unless you want me to drag you out of here by your pristine white lab coat."

Carson wouldn't have taken Rodney seriously except he sounded quite matter-of-fact. It didn't help at all that Carson was a little turned on by the idea of Rodney literally carting him off and that made him feel even more like a silly little girl. That vague humiliation was enough to get Carson focused on his work, although his plans for the night were now altered somewhat. He was going to get all the tests run and the data recorded, but he'd leave the analysis for morning. There was no way he would get any of it done with Rodney here.

Or Rodney anywhere else, for that matter. If Rodney left, it would be to go to bed and the mental image of Rodney laid out, naked and hard, made Carson's fingers falter on the controls of one machine.

He could always re-run that one test tomorrow; it wasn't terribly difficult and he had plenty of sample material.

Two hours later, Carson switched off the last machine and quietly walked up behind Rodney, who was engrossed in Carson's data set. From the looks of things, Rodney was running some kind of statistical analysis and Carson couldn't help but grin at the man's reflexive analytic tendencies. It didn't matter that Rodney had very little idea what the data meant, or how Carson was going to use it. He just liked playing with numbers.

"You can stay, if you like," Carson murmured, "But I'm leaving for the night."

Rodney swiveled around, blinking owlishly. "You're leaving? Why?"

Carson's grin returned full-force. "I was under the impression you'd rather I not work until morning, but if you've changed your mind..." Even as he spoke, however, Rodney was shutting down the computer.

"Let's go," Rodney said firmly, one hand on Carson's shoulder as he directed them out the door. Even though the contact was muted by the clothes he'd formed for himself, Carson could feel how wired Rodney was. Arousal, anxiety and excitement blended together and Carson wondered what it would be like to touch Rodney when the man was high on near-death experiences, coffee and sleeplessness. With the way life on Atlantis typically went, he wouldn't have to wait long to find out.

Carson walked to Rodney's quarters, distracted by the way Rodney felt as they drew closer. They were both a little tired and a lot turned on, and Carson's own nervousness was jumbling everything he got from contact with Rodney.

Once they were inside, Rodney reached for Carson. That first kiss was as much in relief as passion and Carson groaned into it, tossing aside his radio and reaching for Rodney's. The anxiety from earlier quickly faded as desire took over and Carson fought against the urge to simply fall into it. He wanted to be coherent, wanted this to last longer than an admittedly satisfactory quickie before they passed out for the night.

Rodney slid his hands underneath Carson's shirt, fascinated by the way it felt like he was both touching Carson and engulfed by him. It only lasted a few seconds; before he could reach Carson's nipples the man's clothes were gone and Carson was wonderfully naked.

"Do you have any idea," Rodney growled, pushing Carson backwards across the room, "What it was like?"

Carson clasped Rodney's arms and wished that he'd get rid of his clothing. "What what was like?" He asked, trying to walk backwards and lean in for a kiss at the same time.

"Sitting in that lab, three feet away from you," Rodney replied harshly. "And I had to enter data to distract myself!" He let Carson bump against the bed, stepping forward to pin him against the foot of it.

"We're here now," Carson offered as he sat down on the bed, leaning forward to press his lips against Rodney's stomach. He could feel Rodney breathing deeply and wondered if Rodney's skin was moist with sweat. Carson brushed his mouth against the silky fabric of Rodney's shirt just above his belt, knowing that to Rodney it was almost the same as being touched on his bare skin.

Rodney shuddered and let his clothes go away, wanting Carson to keep going, to take his cock between his lips and finally get somewhere beyond this maddening, frustrating want. Instead, Carson placed his hands on Rodney's hips and pulled hard as he twisted on the bed, pulling Rodney down next to him. Rodney rolled onto his side and caught Carson before he could move away, bringing their bodies together and capturing Carson's mouth again.

Kissing Rodney was thrilling, but it wasn't enough so Carson pulled back and pushed at Rodney's shoulders until he was lying on his back. Then Carson edged a hand underneath Rodney's back and urged him onto his side so that Carson could press himself along Rodney's back. Rodney gasped as Carson bit lightly at the back of his neck, one hand sliding possessively around Rodney's cock.

"How did it make you feel?" Carson whispered into Rodney's ear, his breath swirling along the shell, "When I said it, with John there?"

Rodney swallowed audibly and thrust against Carson's hand, his head tipping back along Carson's shoulder. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a broken whimper. Carson had him trapped but it wasn't his hand but rather that voice that held Rodney in place.

"Tell me," Carson demanded, pushing his erection along the cleft of Rodney's ass. "Tell me, Rodney. Did you get hard? I did, as soon as it hit me what I said. Couldn't take it back, now could I? Not with a witness right there."

"I...I..." Rodney stuttered, drowning in the feel of Carson surrounding him. He could tell that Carson was being nothing less than honest; his skin practically screamed with the intensity of his emotions. Carson wasn't even doing that much to him; his hand simply held Rodney's cock and the gentle slide of their bodies as Carson rocked against him was more a comfort than anything else. It was Carson's voice, these surprising, demanding words, that had Rodney twisted around in knots.

"Tell me!" Carson growled, letting go of Rodney's cock as he slid one thigh in between Rodney's, opening his lover. Carson took himself in hand, the head of his cock nudging at Rodney's entrance.

"I wanted to say it back," Rodney finally said, finding his voice even as anticipation made him shake. "I wanted this, right there on the table."

Carson eased into Rodney's body, moving slow but never stopping. Rodney groaned as he was stretched, the familiar thickness of Carson's cock a welcome intrusion. "Even though John was there?" Carson asked harshly, panting as he thrust. His fingers dug into Rodney's hip, searching for leverage.

Rodney rolled his hips backward, impaling himself fully on Carson's erection. He could barely keep his eyes focused, much less recall what he'd been thinking all those hours ago. "Wanted..." Rodney hissed, pushing on the mattress with his hands as he tried to urge Carson on, "Wanted him to watch."

The harsh laugh that drifted across Rodney's ear startled him, as did the force with which Carson thrust. Rodney moved in kind, trying to take Carson deeper. It wasn't enough, not the way they were positioned so Rodney reached back to grab Carson's thigh. He rolled, Carson following, and spread his legs farther apart, propping himself on his forearms.

Carson planted his hands on either side of Rodney's shoulders and began pounding into Rodney, their bodies coming together with almost brutal force. The harder Carson thrust, the more Rodney pushed back, crying out each time Carson's cock found his prostate. Sweat slicked their skin and Carson briefly worried that they might hurt themselves but the thought fled as soon as he had it. There wasn't much they could do to each other that couldn't be healed, almost before they felt it.

Not physically, anyway, and Carson knew they were dancing around a razor-tipped flame where John was concerned. Thoughts about what they were, or weren't, doing with John also fled as Rodney tightened around him and Carson reached beneath the man to stroke his erection.

When Rodney felt climax building, he didn't bother to fight it. The telltale twitch at the base of his spine flashed and sparkled before engulfing him and Rodney froze, momentarily hyperaware of Carson's weight along his back and the bristle of his lover's beard against his shoulder. Then pleasure took over and all Rodney knew was that he was coming and so was Carson, sensation flowing between them.

Carson levered himself to the side, carefully withdrawing from Rodney before collapsing onto the bed. He reached over, pulling a still quivering Rodney into his arms. He held on tightly, trying to bring his breathing under control and at the same time listen for signs that Rodney was regaining coherence. It was like this every time, so Carson waited patiently while Rodney relocated his mind.

Rodney turned in Carson's arms and buried his face in the man's neck, needing the constricting tightness of those arms holding him down. He always felt so vulnerable after Carson made love to him, like he'd barely survived being taken apart and put back together. Rodney craved having Carson inside him, but it was an overwhelming feeling.

"Are you back, then?" Carson murmured, rubbing his hands along Rodney's back.

"Mmm," Rodney hummed, relaxing into Carson's embrace. "I love you, too."

"Yeah, that's what I figured," Carson said as he reached for a blanket. Rodney mumbled something incomprehensible, already drifting off to sleep.

Carson let himself follow, knowing full well they'd not yet dealt with where John fit into what was going on between them. It could wait, however, until they weren't dizzy and sated and half-dead from getting that way.

Tomorrow sounded soon enough for Carson's tastes.

•••

John sat up quickly, dislodging his blanket and knocking his radio off the nightstand as he flailed his arms. He didn't have nightmares every night, but when they struck, they were truly hellish. This one featured massive amounts of blood and him watching Carson die in a horrific permutation of a vision they'd shared in the temple.

He wondered if he'd ever get past the guilt he felt from residing within a recreation of someone who drove another person to suicide. When that other person was Carson, it didn't seem likely.

John lay back down, knowing he wouldn't get back to sleep. The dream had been too vivid; he saw bits of it every time he closed his eyes. A few minutes later, he gave up trying and rolled out of bed, making up some clothes as he went. Carson and Rodney were probably still in the medical lab and a late night patrol was sufficient excuse to drop by and get some decent proof Carson was still alive.

When John got to the lab, it was dark and all the machines were quiet. He immediately went to Carson's quarters, using his interface with the city to open the doors. Like the lab, however, this place was devoid of people. The faintest scent of its inhabitant lingered, along with Rodney’s, but they weren't present.

John tamped down his growing fear and walked to Rodney's room, thinking that maybe they'd retired there for the night. He opened the door and stepped inside, already expecting to find nothing.

He was wrong, but John wasn't entirely sure he was happy about that. Carson and Rodney were curled up together on Rodney's bed, arms and legs knotted together as they slept half-under a blanket. The scent of sex lingered heavy and thick in the dimly lit room. They looked achingly perfect together, relaxed and confident enough to trust one another in sleep.

John hated having to stand next to the door and stare at them, but he hated himself even more for never being able to find that for himself. He felt like an idiot for even worrying about their well-being, for letting a dream override his good sense. John turned to leave, hoping to not wake the two men, when a voice stopped him.

"Has something happened?" Carson asked sleepily. He'd been roused by the sound of his door opening, but any fear he'd felt had dissipated once he knew it was John. The man looked so broken, though, like he'd suffered greatly.

John shook his head. "Go back to sleep; it's nothing." He made to leave when he was again stopped, this time by Rodney.

"If it was nothing, you wouldn't be here," Rodney remarked muzzily, "At an ungodly hour, looking like you're running from a gang of zombies."

"John," Carson said as he sat up, disentangling himself from Rodney, "What's brought you here?" His tone was gentle and quiet, but John could tell he wasn't going to let go of the issue.

"We'll all get to sleep faster if you just tell us," Rodney suggested. "And I for one enjoy my rest." He was snapping because he didn't like being woken up for no good reason, but if John actually had a reason for being here, Rodney would consider getting over it.

"Bad dream, is all," John said sheepishly. "You weren't in your lab," He explained. "I thought you were working all night. When you weren't there, I got worried. Can't lose our best doctor, can we?"

Carson frowned. Bad dreams were rarely enough to cause someone like John to panic. "What did you dream?" He asked curiously, getting out of bed. He formed some loose flannel sleep pants as he did so, figuring either Rodney or John would comment on any nudity.

John looked uncomfortably between Rodney and Carson before answering. "Remember that vision? The one where you...where Rodney and I fought?"

As soon as Rodney heard John, it all clicked in his mind. "You thought maybe Carson was dead," He stated. "And when you woke up the feeling didn't go away?"

"Yeah," John replied. "It was stupid, I know, I just..."

Carson reached out for John, clasping his lower arm tentatively. "It wasn't stupid, John," He murmured, tugging John back towards the bed. "You're not the only one with nightmares."

Rodney watched as Carson lured John towards him, easing the man deeper into the room. "We both have them, too. The ones that take after the visions really suck."

"What are you doing?" John asked Carson as they reached the bed. He tried to tug his arm out of Carson's grasp, but the man tightened his hand and sat down.

"Going back to bed," Carson said. "Which you should do as well."

"Well, yes," John muttered, "I've got this thing in my room that's built for just such a purpose."

Rodney snorted. "Like you'll actually sleep if you go back there. You know you won't." Rodney knew all too well; he'd had nightmares about Carson committing suicide more than once and the only thing that had gotten him back to sleep was holding Carson for the rest of the night. That way he knew Carson was alive and well and wasn't going anywhere.

"Lay down, John," Carson ordered softly, dragging John down onto the bed. John looked like he was going to protest, until Rodney reached for him also. They eased him down in the middle of the bed, Rodney thinking up some pajamas for himself.

"Relax," Rodney told John as they dimmed the lights and got the blanket arranged. "He's alive, right next to you."

"This is weird," John said, staring up at the ceiling. He was uncomfortable and hot and he was lying between two men who'd had sex in this bed not too long ago.

"It's probably pretty uncomfortable, but that's because you're still wearing your boots," Rodney pointed out. "Look, John, I know what you're going through. Do you think I don't dream about that vision? Or that Carson doesn't?"

John thought very seriously about shifting forms and sliding out of bed. He settled for a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. "It's alright to care," Rodney continued quietly. "It's a lot better than the alternative."

"It's not that," John said, listening to Carson breathe. Hearing the man alive next to him was rather comforting, not that he was going to tell Rodney that. "I'm lying in your bed. With you. And Carson. That's what's weird."

Carson sighed. "Not as odd as you're thinking. It'll still be that way tomorrow, though, so for now could you just try to rest? If you're still wanting to worry about it, morning will come soon enough and you can fret over it then."

John was going to protest, but a warm arm draped itself across his midsection as Carson turned on his side and settled in for the night. He was followed by Rodney, who was faced away from John but still pressed warm and close. Getting out of bed would require serious displacement of obviously settled-in people, so John gallantly stayed put, refusing to admit that where he was wasn't all that bad.

Actually, it was pretty damned nice. Not that he was going to say anything about it.