Disclaimer: I own true insanity. That is all.

AN: Written in a different format than I'm used to so bear with me. PG rating is for a reason... ;) Shep thunkers use your imaginations.

John Sheppard shook out his wet hair, sending droplets splattering against the opaque walls of his shower. Running a hand over the back of his head and trying to dislodge any wayward drips, he glanced around for the standard issue soap. Some point during his shower he'd knocked it with his elbow – admittedly in some frustration at its bland smell.

"Slippery little sucker," he chided, grinning as he spotted the white glob dejectedly disintegrating next to his feet.

His fingers barely brushed the soap when it skittered across the floor towards the sliding door panel. Grumbling under his breath, he stretched out further and snatched the escapee. As his eyes rose from the floor, he noticed a crack appearing in the side of the door.

Momentarily dazed and fascinated, John watched the heavily booted feet appear in the stead of the opaque panel. Explanation came by way of a gruff voice, "Sheppard."

John stood up so fast he almost cracked his head on the hovering shower fixture. Ronon Dex loomed across the only exit, one hand supporting him as he leaned against the door way, the other stroking his holster. This wasn't the sort of greeting one would expect, so unsurprisingly the retrieved soap ended up striking John's foot right between two bones.

"Ow!" He yelped, "Uh – Ronon – I'm a little busy right now."

The holster lost its caress as Ronon chose instead to inspect one of his knives. Glints of light bounced off every single point on the serrated edge. The Satedan angled the blade towards his victim.

"Not too busy," he leered.

"Never too busy," John agreed, nodding vehemently.

Dex's mouth seemed to grow, revealing more teeth than was really safe. He rumbled, "You have approached Teyla in courtship. Do not deny this fact."

"Er – well we – um – "

"As I thought," Ronon continued, voice dropping dangerously low, "I suppose I must trust Teyla's judgement and there are worse men…"

John watched with ever widening eyes as his visitor surveyed him with calculating disapproval. Now on Earth, where things made more sense, the "are your intentions honourable" talk was a mere formality. John wished those rules applied here and now, but clearly Satedans took their threats very seriously.

There's been no threat yet, the Colonel reminded himself with false confidence.

He cleared his throat (mustering up the right amount of bravery to face a big hairy man holding a knife) and said indignantly, "Just a minute. I'm one of the good guys. I'm…I'm attracted to personality in women! It's not about the body, honest."

"So you do not think she is beautiful."

"Wha – wait you're twisting…" John groaned in frustration and smacked his head on the shower fixture. Deliberately. Then he corrected, "No no I think Teyla's beautiful – very beautiful – I was just…trying to tell you that I admire her in other ways."

Ronon lowered the blade but certainly not in acceptance. In fact, now it was in line with something John considered very sacred to his person. For a few moments neither man said anything, just eyed each other up. Dex broke the silence, casually saying, "I only have your word for it. You know what I'll do if you give me cause. That means, Sheppard…"

John nodded vigorously again as he interjected, "Yeah I get it. If I hurt Teyla, I answer to you."

"Not exactly," Ronon smirked, "If you hurt Teyla…I'll know where to inflict pain on you."

The blade twitched. John tried to swallow a gulp before it became noticeable. He managed to croak "no problem" while discreetly backing further away from the door. Ronon tilted his head to one side and gave his prey one last glance over. This time, his smile was truly wicked.

He offered casually, eyes resting downwards, "You should not disappoint her. Although, with that you'll have to work hard not to."

The door way was suddenly clear as though nothing had ever loomed there. John Sheppard stood frozen with his mouth hanging open. The stray traitorous drops that remained in his hair slithered down his back, evoking shivers. He cleared his throat nervously.

"Yes, my intentions are honourable," John muttered to himself, "And I am well endowed, thank you very much!"