It Ain't Easy Being Green
SUMMARY: A fruit causes some problems for John and Rodney.
SEASON/SPOILERS: Season One. Nadda.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay it's 5,000 words of gratuitous banter, puking, infirmary scenes, fever-induced stupidity, and some off-key singing. Not sure why I wrote it. Probably 'cause I'm sadistic and like seeing our favorite two guys in the infirmary. Yep, that's probably pretty much it.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Stargate: Atlantis or anything associated with it. I'm simply borrowing, but I promise to return all in one piece. Eventually.
Even ten feet away, he could hear the laughter.
"You know, you could at least try and not laugh."
"Why? I think it's pretty funny."
"Well, forgive me if I fail to see the humor."
Shaking, his head, Carson Beckett pulled the curtain aside and was greeted by John Sheppard and Rodney McKay once again occupying two of his infirmary beds. This time, however, no one was bleeding. One of them was trying to stifle laughter and not succeeding. The other one was green.
At least his face was. And his hands. As to the rest of him, well, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.
"Thank God. Carson, help."
Stifling his own smirk, Carson turned to Rodney, chart in hand and calmly asked. "What seems to be the problem, Rodney?"
"What seems to be the ..." Hands flew up in the air. "Can't you see? I'm ..." His hands gestured to his face. Carson bit his lip to keep from laughing. "Oh, no, not you too, Carson. This could be serious. This could be an allergic reaction." A pause and the laughter seemed forgotten. "Oh God. If I'm like this on the outside, who knows what this could be doing on the inside. We can't even begin to know what kind of allergic reactions I could develop here and I can be quite susceptible to-"
Carson held up a hand. "Rodney. One thing at a time. How exactly did this happen?"
"It's his fault, really."
"What? Geez, McKay, I'm not the one shoveling foreign fruit down my throat as fast as he could."
"I didn't even want to eat it. You know how I am around fruit. Citrus-"
"Could kill you. Blah, blah, blah. It wasn't a lemon. It tasted like watermelon. And you're still alive."
There was a slight pause in their bickering. "For now."
"I didn't force you to eat it."
"No, Major, I think your words were, 'It tastes good, McKay. It won't kill you. Just shut up and eat the damn thing.' And look where that got me."
"It didn't kill you."
"Major, I swear-"
This had to stop. Carson took both McKay and Sheppard's medical files and dropped them onto the floor. Despite the short time they had all been occupying Atlantis, both John and Rodney had racked up enough injuries that the files were large enough to make enough of a sound that both men jumped. Satisfied, Carson picked up the file.
"Now if we could quit bickering like five-year-olds, maybe one of you could fill me as to how you got into this predicament? And why, you, Major Sheppard, are still taking up space in my med lab when Doctor Aters was supposed to have cleared you ten minutes ago."
"He's just here to bask in my unfortunateness." Rodney leaned back against the gurney, arms crossed.
"I am not. I'm concerned."
A snort erupted from Rodney's direction.
"Well since you are here, Major, why don't you start from the beginning. Unless you'd like to do the honors, Rodney?"
Rodney opened his mouth to speak, but Sheppard spoke faster.
"I'll give you the abbreviated version, Doc, before McKay launches into a novel. Shipped out. Met the locals. No ZPMs, but they had some great food possibilities, so we began negotiating a trade agreement. Things were going great, they even invited us to a feast of theirs. Celebrating the harvest of this special fruit. We tried it. Like I said before, it tasted like watermelon."
"I beg to differ."
"Of course you do. Half an hour later, McKay's suddenly, well, green. He seemed to be okay."
"I don't consider 'green' okay."
Carson picked up McKay's file and a pen. "Any other symptoms besides the obvious?" One thing about Rodney McKay was when it was non-life threatening, he was extremely forthcoming with how he felt. Maybe a little too forthcoming. It was when McKay said he was fine that Carson worried.
"Well, now that you mention it, I do have this headache. And I am sort of achy. And hot. And itchy. And a little nauseous."
"You're making me a little nauseous."
Carson gave a tight smile as he reached for his stethoscope, rubbing it before use.
"Damnit, that's cold!"
"Quiet and breathe." He listened for a moment before removing the earpieces. Reaching for a thermometer, he turned to Sheppard. "Did anyone bring me back a sample of this fruit?"
"Figured you'd want one. Here." Sheppard reached behind him to produce a perfectly round green fruit, about the size of a tennis ball.
Placing the thermometer in Rodney's ear, Carson turned to study it. "Looks a wee like an apple."
Sheppard looked at it again, thoughtfully. "Really? I was thinking a green peach."
"Well, it does appear to be fuzzy-"
"Apple, peach, who the hell cares!" exclaimed Rodney.
"Rodney, I'd expect you of all people to be interested in how this fruit could produce such a reaction. Finding the proper Earth comparison could help us avoid future problems." Carson's voice held an undertone of amusement.
"I don't care about future problems. I care about now. Fixing this now."
Sheppard and Beckett exchanged a look. "Somebody's a bit cranky," Sheppard remarked, absently moving the fruit between his hands. The thermometer beeped. Beckett frowned.
"Oh great, now what's wrong with me?"
"You're running a fever. A slight fever," Carson amended. "I'll have to draw some blood." Rodney paled a bit when Carson advanced at him with the needle.
"Are you okay, Rodney? You're looking a little," Sheppard grinned, "green."
"Very funny, Major. I wouldn't be so quick to laugh - you ate that fruit, too." He flinched. "Ouch, watch it, Carson."
"If you'd hold still this would be much easier."
"If anyone had listened to me, I wouldn't have to hold still." He watched as Carson filled another vial. "Hey, that's your fourth one! I'm not a blood bank here."
Carson sighed. "It's hardly enough to make a dent, Rodney. You're a scientist, you should know that."
"Scientist? Carson, you know as well as I do that medicine and science are two words that do not belong in the same sentence."
Sheppard took that as his cue to leave. "Well, I have a briefing. I'll let Weir know you won't be there." He started to walk out, fruit still in hand. Turning, he shouted, "McKay! Think fast." He gently tossed the green object toward Rodney.
He walked out as he heard the splat as Rodney ducked to avoid the fruit and it crashed to the floor.
Two hours later, Rodney was still green, still miserable, and letting anyone and everyone five feet within range exactly how he felt.
Sheppard stared down at the green stain on the floor. Apparently the fruit packed quite punch when it landed on a hard surface. Weir stood next to him as Carson looked from the microscope he'd been using.
"Well, the sample was slightly tainted," a slight glance toward Sheppard, "and I'm sill working on the initial data. But whatever it is it that's affecting Rodney, it doesn't appear to be life threatening."
"Well, that's relief." Elizabeth mulled this over. "But I thought you said he was running a fever."
"Aye. A slight one. Fevers are not common with most allergic reactions, especially hives, which is closest thing I can compare Rodney's symptoms to. They usually indicate a virus, but we're not exactly dealing with your typical earth fruit here. To be honest, though, I'm not sure what to make of this yet. But the major was right about one thing."
Sheppard looked up. "I was?"
"The fruit's consistency is similar to a watermelon. It's made of mostly water."
Elizabeth looked puzzled. John shrugged. "I said it tasted like watermelon."
"There's also traces of something else I can't quite identify, but I'm sure it's the answer to Dr. McKay's-"
"Kermit impression?" Sheppard input. Elizabeth glared. He looked at her. "What?"
"-skin issue. I'm hoping comparison with Ford's, Teyla's, and the Major's blood work will reveal something."
"Good. Keep me updated." Weir turned to Sheppard as she moved toward the door. "And Major Sheppard, I believe you owe me a mission report?"
"I'll get right on that," Sheppard promised half-heartedly. He hated mission reports. Beckett had turned back to his microscope.
"Anything else I can help you with, Major?" John realized he hadn't made any attempt to leave. He glanced in Rodney's direction. The physicist was currently quiet; a strange occurrence Sheppard figured was only the lull in the storm.
"Major?" Carson was staring at him now. "He'll be fine."
"I know that," he defended, leaving the doctor to his work. He walked toward Rodney's bed. McKay had his arms crossed and wore an expression of discontent.
"Back to play some of taunt-the-green-scientist, are we, Major?" Rodney's voice was deadpan and far from amused.
Sheppard smiled. "Good to know your personality hasn't been effected."
"I'm glad you still find this amusing."
"Oh come on, Rodney, lighten up. At least you're making a fashion statement by matching." John pointed to the light green blanket covering him. Rodney groaned.
"Are you ever going to run out of puns?"
Sheppard shook his head. "Nope."
"Great. I'm stuck with-" Rodney abruptly trailed off and bolted up. If it were even possible, Sheppard would swear his complexion turned even greener.
"Rodney? Uh, Doc, I think you better-" was all Sheppard got out before McKay puked on his feet.
Yep, he supposed as he shook his foot, payback was a bitch. Beckett had arrived and he and a nurse were busy taking care of Rodney. Still shaking his feet, John headed toward the shower before he turned a bit green himself.
"Major Sheppard, in order to get accurate vitals you need to be at least sitting on the bed."
"Wait a minute! I'm fine. I don't understand why I'm here."
Currently, John stood in front of the exam bed. He'd escaped to his quarters, cleaned himself off and had even contemplated starting his report for Weir when he'd been paged by Beckett to return to the infirmary. Which brought him to the present. He stood his ground and the nurse threw her hands up, exasperated. She pursed her lips. "Dr. Beckett simply gave me orders, sir. And they are orders I intend to carry out. Any issues will need to be discussed with him. It's a simple request, Major." She patted the bed.
"No way. I'm not sick."
"Is he giving you problems?" Beckett appeared, arms crossed.
"He doesn't want to sit," the nurse replied, tight-lipped. John maintained his ground, not willing to be intimidated by her or Beckett, for that matter.
The doctor gave her a small smile. "That's all right, lass. I'll take care of him from here." She bolted.
"I'm not sick," Sheppard insisted, tired already of sounding like a broken record.
"I just got back Rodney's blood work, Major. It shows a slight white blood cell elevation, Not enough for me to suspect that the fruit is carrying any kind of seriously detrimental virus or contamination. However, since this is Atlantis and not Earth, it is enough for me to keep an eye on it."
"Again - I'm not seeing why this requires me to be here."
"Both Lt. Ford and Teyla's blood work is clean. Yours, however, shows the very same slight elevation." Beckett patted the bed. "So while you may not think you're sick, I'd like to take a second look just in case."
Sheppard sighed before conceding and hopped up, sitting as close to the gurney's edge as he could get without falling off. The faster he proved his point, the faster Beckett turned him loose. He may outrank the doctor in every other matter, but when it came to anything medical, especially when it came to okaying gate travel, Beckett always got the last word.
"I'm not really trying to make this difficult," Beckett insisted as he slipped his stethoscope under John's shirt. John shivered; McKay was right, that damn thing was cold. At that thought, John turned his gaze toward the corner of infirmary he knew Rodney currently occupied. Currently he was sleeping and puke-free, probably to the relief of the entire medical staff and anyone else that opted to stop by.
"How's he doing?" He nudged his head in McKay's direction.
Beckett looked up. "About the same. Breathe in." He shifted the stethoscope. "Breathe out. I gave him something for the nausea. He's sleeping." He took the tips of the stethoscope out of his ear. "Been short of breath, lately?"
Sheppard frowned. "No. Why?"
"You're a little congested," the doctor replied, picking up a thermometer as he spoke.
"I'm not sick."
"Uh huh," Beckett said noncommittally as he waited for the instrument to beep. It did a moment later. Beckett raised an eyebrow after glancing at the results. "Not sick, eh?" He turned the display toward John. 100.2.
"It must be broken."
Carson sighed. "It was working perfectly the last time I used it, Major."
"Try it on someone else."
"Major, I don't have the time-" Carson sighed again. "Fine." He removed the plastic cover and snapped another one on before sticking it in his own ear. When it beeped a minute later, he turned the display again toward Sheppard. This time it read 99. "See?"
"Hey, 99 is a fever, too."
"A person's normal temperature can fluctuate anywhere between 98 to 99 degrees. And a slight rise can happen due to many factors, including when someone is getting slightly annoyed." The doctor was lightly tapping his foot. "Would you like another go, Major?" He held the thermometer up.
"No," John quickly replied, wincing at Beckett's stern tone. He swore that tone was one they required all doctors to master before they earned their M.D. He slumped down on the bed.
Beckett softened. "Shelly will help you get settled. I'll be back to run some more tests." He gave a small smile. "I don't you don't like it here, Major, but hopefully I'll have some answers soon. You know that we can't chance anything out here." He turned to leave. "Besides, you can keep Rodney company. I know you two are secretly competing for the most infirmary time prize seeing as you both keep ending up here. Either that or you just enjoy my company."
Across the room, John heard the sounds of someone getting sick. He winced, knowing that Carson only had one other patient at the moment.
Great. Just great.
Great. Just great.
A few hours later, he was repeating the sentiment a thousand times over. John was miserable. He'd been poked and prodded with enough needles and other sharp object he'd swear Beckett was running some sort of torture camp in disguise. Then the nausea had hit. Currently he and Rodney alternated, each getting sick on the half-hour and hour respectively. This earned another needle stick and an IV friend. He'd been given something for the nausea, but it didn't appear to be helping. After this, if John stepped foot in the infirmary anytime in the next six months it would be too soon.
It was the top the of hour now, and his turn for his stomach to made its presence known. He didn't have anything left at this point, although he was sure his stomach had somehow found a way to escape and taken a field trip through Atlantis.
"Great. Just great," he muttered again.
"All your fault," Rodney muttered from the next bed over. "I didn't want to eat it for a reason."
Great. Even sick, a cocky Rodney McKay was still a cocky Rodney McKay.
"You really got a kick out of saying 'I told you so' as a kid, didn't you?"
"Of course. I'm always right, you know. My sister hated that."
"I'll bet." There was a moment of silence. "Hey, McKay?"
"You're still green." A pillow weakly hit his head, and he swatted at it.
"Thank you for that oh so important news flash."
"Anytime." He snatched the pillow from his face and settled into it.
He was boiling. And something was in his ear and he didn't like it. He moved his head to dislodge it.
"No. Stay still," a voice commanded.
"What's his temp?" A different voice, accented this time. He tried to come up with a name to match the voice but his mind drew a blank.
"One-oh-four-five." That wasn't good, John's brain supposed.
"Major?" The accent again. He should answer he supposed. He tried to open his eyes, but they wouldn't cooperate. Neither would his mouth. Or did it? He was so confused he had no clue. He was so tired.
"...cooling...medication...McKay...same..." The words started to run together. He gave up trying to follow then and gave in to exhaustion.
Elizabeth stopped by the infirmary just as a weary Carson was re-examining Ford.
"You're all clear, son. Why don't you send Teyla my way." Ford hopped off the exam table.
"Will do, doc. Dr. Weir," Ford acknowledged, nodding before he headed off to find Teyla.
A sigh. "Good and bad news, I'm afraid."
"Okay. Good news first, then."
"Their fevers spiked, but we got it under control," he said. "They're both stable for now."
She opened her mouth to ask why that was the good news, but Carson beat her to it. "I don't think it's the fruit. While it tends to stain," he gestured down to the green spot still inhabiting the infirmary floor, "I'm not finding anything linking it to the fever or a virus. I've almost been able to identify the unknown substance, and preliminary results suggest that the skin irritation should fade with time."
"That's good. The bad news?"
Carson gave a tight smile. "Both Rodney and the Major have become a bit combative the last couple of hours. I've been having trouble keeping them still. They haven't been extremely lucid the last few hours. I've had to sedate them both for the time being. But I'm certain they'll recover as long as we can keep the worst of the fever down. They are starting to show a slight improvement." Elizabeth nodded, her gaze turning to the two beds. The men slept soundly for the moment.
"At least Lt. Ford appears to be symptom free. I'm about to do a re-check on Teyla. But Aiden told me that he and Teyla ate far less of the fruit." He sighed tiredly. "I'm working on it." At that moment, Teyla entered with Ford, glancing at her teammates before heading toward Weir and Beckett. Ford lingered at Sheppard's bedside.
"Doctor, Lt. Ford said you were looking for me?"
"Aye," Carson answered and pointed to the exam bed. "Have a seat and I'll be with you in a moment, lass." He turned back to Elizabeth. "Again, I'll keep you updated." Elizabeth gave another nod as he headed back toward Teyla.
She sighed herself. All this trouble for a fruit that still remained unnamed. She made a mental note to cross out fruit in the trade agreement they were currently negotiating. They could get more grain instead.
/ He ran as fast as could, but no matter what he lost ground. He stumbled and knew he had no chance. The Wraith had him, and stopped to peer at him, before reaching out and... /
John woke up bathed in sweat. A dream. It was a dream. Or was it? He rubbed his forehead, not registering the high fever that still burned.
John cracked open his eyes to see Rodney sitting up. The infirmary's lights were dimmed. In the very corner of the infirmary, Sheppard saw Beckett slumped across a cot, sleeping. A nurse sat at the desk, but seemed not to notice the two were awake. John flopped the blanket off. He was hot. And McKay wasn't shutting up.
"Shhh..." McKay cocked his head. Even in the faint light, there was no mistaking the fever-bright and heavily drugged eyes. His posture spoke of a mission. John noticed then that he'd already taken it upon himself to yank out the IV. Rodney was hastily covering the bleeding site with a hand.
"He's gone." He recited the line like an eight-year-old trying to escape timeout. Which, John supposed, in his own fevered mind, was exactly like what they were trying to do. He sat up and glanced toward the nurse. She had her back to them as she walked toward another patient that had summoned her. It was perfect, he realized.
Wait a second - what was perfect? He was confused and groggy. He pushed the blanket away again as if it was a snake. He was hot.
"They're going to kill us." John heard the voice, but wasn't sure if it was McKay or his own fevered brain. It didn't matter, really. Whoever the voice, they were right.
"We have to go. They'll get us." He grabbed toward Rodney, faltering when he missed, almost falling flat out of bed. Another glance toward the nurse. She was still busy and didn't seem to notice. He put his arms forward and steadied himself. He reached toward the IV and yanked, the pain not registering.
"Rodney?" he whispered.
"This way." The physicist had already begun to sneak toward the door.
Carson started as someone shook him.
"What?" he mumbled. He was exhausted. Between Sheppard and McKay's spiking fevers and getting them stable, he could have sworn he'd only laid down a few minutes before. He opened his eyes and blinked at the nurse who'd been shaking him. She was concerned. Immediately he was up. If medical school had taught him anything it was how to go from groggy to wide-awake in five seconds or flat.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"What?" He was confused as he patted his bed for his com link. He'd had on when he'd lain down. "Who's gone?"
"Major Sheppard and Dr. McKay, sir."
"Lovely. They're running around fevered and drugged to the gills." One hand rubbed his face while the other continued searching. It finally hit something. Yes, he found it. Slipping it on, he thumbed it immediately. He'd need backup for this one.
"Dr. Weir. We have a situation."
Fever bright eyes peered around the corner. "It's clear." John motioned and he and Rodney crept out into the hallway.
"We made it." John beamed with pride at the announcement, like a five year old that just had the training wheels taken off his bike. Of course, he was as steady as that five year old riding that bike at the moment, and drugged up the gills to boot. He plopped onto the floor.
Rodney lifted a hand to look at it as if he hadn't noticed that fact. He giggled a little. "I am." He giggled again. "It ain't easy being green," he started to sing, slightly off-key. "Having to spend the day the color of leaves..."
John giggled as well, prompting Rodney to sing louder. A short giggle fit ensued. When it subsided and Rodney decided he was through singing, John looked up.
"Rodney?" he asked again.
"Yeah." The physicist plopped down next to him and to a non-fevered individual the sight would have been quiet humorous as both men sat Indian-style like it was story time at after school.
"What do we do now?"
Rodney leaned against the wall. "Don't know." He swiped his face. "It's hot."
Pause. Above them they heard Weir calling over the radio alerting the staff to their disappearance and to be looking for them.
"Uh oh. That's not good." John shook his head and Rodney mirrored the action.
"Outside is cooler." Rodney's shake turned to a nod.
"Water is too." John's turn to nod now. Suddenly he heard footsteps.
/The Wraith approached him.../
"They're after us!" He was frantic and jumped up. "We have to go." He stumbled, but managed to stay upright by grabbing a wall.
Rodney jumped up as well, dizzy. He nodded in agreement and staggered for a moment before dragging John up and leading him down the hall in their fevered daze toward the nearest exit.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth met Carson in the hall.
Elizabeth shook her head. "I have everyone on the lookout for them. Hold on," she countered, reaching her hand up to her earpiece. "Zelenka saw them heading for the west pier."
"The west pier? Elizabeth, it's bloody winter out there! I'm going to have hypothermia on my hands." Elizabeth didn't say anything, just headed toward the nearest transporter.
"Lovely," muttered Carson as he struggled to keep up.
The wind blew as the two escapees slide open the door. Atlantis' winter wasn't as harsh as Earth, but wind across the water was not forgiving. The two men seemed to notice nothing but the ocean in front of them. Rodney approached the edge and stared down.
"Rodney!" He stopped and turned toward the voice. Elizabeth and Carson stood in the doorway.
"Not going back." Behind him Sheppard had already begun backing up. Unfortunately this only pushed Rodney closer to the edge. Rodney shook his head, as if trying to clear it. The cold air had started to make it past the fever.
"'lizabeth? Carson?" he muttered. "What am I doing-"
Unluckily for Rodney, the cold air did no such thing for Sheppard. He took another step back, sending Rodney's left foot off the edge.
"Whoah!" It took all his balance to not fall into the water. "Major, what are we doing?"
John looked at him. "It's hot in there, Rodney," he countered, his eyes still fever-bright and confused.
"It's cold in there!" Rodney countered, having a hard time maintaining his balance. The immense achiness and sense of vertigo he felt were doing nothing to help the situation. John took that moment to look down. The water below seemed to clear his head. Fast.
"Shit," he muttered, shaking his head back and forth. "McKay?" he asked uncertainly.
Carson took that opportunity to approach them. John squinted. "Beckett?"
Carson hugged himself as the wind picked up. John realized it was cold. Very cold. "I'm here, lad." The doctor extended a hand out. "Why don't we go inside?" John nodded. He reached out. However, his slight movement jarred the already very shaky Rodney. John gripped Carson's hand just as Rodney lost his footing again.
They teetered on the edge for a moment before Rodney completely lost his grip and sent all three of them into the water.
Two days later, the two were still in the infirmary, but finally feeling better.
"Three more days of this?" Rodney's whine could be heard clear across the room.
"Aye." Carson nodded before letting out a huge sneeze and grabbing another tissue from the box he balanced between John and Rodney's charts. Thanks to his dip into Atlantis' waters, the doctor had caught a miserable cold. He sniffed.
"Judging from the initial bond breakdown, it will be able be at least that long till it fades." At least that's what he tried to say. Between his thick brogue and clogged sinuses, it was anyone's guess.
"But he ate the same fruit. So did Ford. And Teyla. Why am I the only one suffering?"
"Hey, I wouldn't call my situation 'not suffering,' McKay," John shot back from his own bed.
Carson sighed and sniffed before heading for the chair between his patients' bed and sat down heavily, grabbing another tissue. "The best explanation I could come up with in your case is lemons."
"Lemons?" Pause. "I'm a dead man."
"I wouldn't go a far as that. The compound does have a structure not unlike citrus on Earth. However, there are slight differences. So you aren't going to suffer repercussions like anaphylactic shock, but you will and did experience symptoms not unlike hives." Another sniff. "Thankfully, however, the antihistamines should help correct the problem."
Rodney didn't catch the last part. "Huh?"
"Fine," Carson sniffed. "You'll be fine."
"What about me? Why was I affected?" Sheppard asked, propping himself up from his pillow.
Beckett shrugged. "You are not affected, Major. Someone's," he directed his gaze in the astrophysicist's direction, "sleeping habits leave much to be desired. That alone is enough to compromise a person's immune system. But whatever the cause, an off or even on world germ morphed into what I can now diagnose as a severe case of the flu."
"You've got to be kidding. McKay gave me the flu?"
"Be grateful that's all you have." He set the tissues aside to scribble something across Sheppard's chart. "Of course, you didn't make it any better by -" He sneezed again, loudly. "-going outside." The chart was forgotten as he reached down for the tissue box and placed it across his knees before grabbing another tissue and leaning back in the chair. "You are both still highly contagious and since I don't want to be treating an Atlantis flu outbreak, you are both confined here for a couple more days."
"What about Ford and Teyla?"
"No symptoms. I had them both come in again while you and Rodney were napping. Hopefully that is how it will stay." The doctor closed his eyes, his face pale aside from his bright red nose.
"Maybe you should lay down, Doc," Sheppard countered, but the doctor seemed to have fallen asleep. Sheppard looked at Rodney. "It's your fault."
"What? You made me eat that fruit."
"You got the flu."
"You're the one who suggested we take a field trip outside."
"I had a very high fever."
"It's both your bloody faults." Rodney and John turned to see Carson's eyes cracked open. "Now could you be quiet?"
McKay and Sheppard looked from Carson to each other.
"Guess I should be a little easy on you, McKay," John admitted.
"You should?" Rodney didn't hide the surprise in his voice.
"Yep. Cause-" Sheppard smiled. "It ain't easy being green," he sang. "Having to spend each day the color of leaves..."
Carson ducked as Rodney managed to launch a pillow straight for Sheppard's head. He simply sighed and sneezed again.
Some things never changed.