NOTES: Written for a friend who wanted to see me try Ronon/Keller. This was written shortly after 'Doppelganger' screened.

A Doctor's Hands

Jennifer had time to yelp. That was all.

Then she found herself dragged into Ronon's bed, half-pinned beneath a muscled body that was in a fiery fever's grip.

Across the room, Major Lorne started towards her. Jennifer shook her head quickly. It had been difficult enough bearding Ronon in his quarters anyway - the man had a decidedly stubborn streak when he chose to exercise it.

She regretted the action a moment later as Ronon's mouth traced her throat, the bristles of his beard tingled on her skin, and his hand slid up her side, perilously close to her breast.

Her cheeks flamed into incandescence as her hands covered his. He seemed so large, so fierce, but his every movement was innately gentle.

"Doc?" Lorne had started across the room towards her, speaking in soft undertones. "You need help?"

A thumb brushed the curve of her breast, but she forced a smile to her lips and hoped that Lorne didn't know it was fake. "No, Major. Stay there." A panic was setting into her - not for what Ronon was doing, but for what he thought he was doing.

The fever had hit him hard - harder than just about anyone else in the city except Teyla. And Colonel Sheppard had carried Teyla up to the infirmary, her protests weak but steady. There wasn't anyone in the city who could carry Ronon.

"Mr. Dex..." Jennifer began, trying to breathe calmly as he shifted against her, heated muscle and terrifying strength.

"You're so cool," he rumbled, the words reaching her ears as he pressed his skin to hers, burrowing into her, as though he could bury himself - Oh, bad choice of words, Jen - in her.

"I need you to do something for me, Ronon." She kept her voice light and calm, even as his lips caressed her earlobe and sent shivers down her spine.

"Anything."

"I've got something for you to drink."

He lifted his head from her skin and his eyes were hazy, lost in a vision of something or someone who was no longer there. "It's going to taste horrible, right?"

"They usually do," she admitted. "Let me up?"

The question was cut short as his tongue stroked just behind her lobe. But he let her up. "Sure."

He watched as she handed him the antibiotics and the bottle of water. She sat by him as he swallowed the pills with suspicious obedience. And when she set the glass down on the side table and he reached for her again, she let him pull her back into the bed.

"Missed you, 'Lena" he muttered against the top of her head, growing drowsy.

Jennifer sighed, feeling a twinge of regret and disappointment - for him and for her - and let herself brush her fingers over his hair. "I know, Ronon."

Then she waited for him to fall sleep.

- fin -