Shall get to comments on Monday's story, ...last week's snippets...uh--well, everything as soon as I can. Posting something new despite this. *g*

Title: It Stops Being Funny At Skirts
Summary: John walks a mile.
Pairings: A (sadly) brief interlude of Girl!John/Ronon, Girl!John/Rodney, Regular!John/Rodney
Notes: Well. eliade had a cat icon and was sick, and wanted Girl!John which I thought, "Self, you can so do this!". Now, I don’t know Eliade especially well or anything, so I’d feel kinda bad about blaming this on her. Except in that I don’t, because the 4,500 words of "comment fic" this turned into last night is completely her fault. rageprufrock, vylit and lyra_sena egged me on and shouted THIS IS SO WRONG; YOU MADE JOHN A GIRL, HEY KEEP GOING, mostly, and z_rayne had a rough day and managed to beta this sucker anyway. *adores her* Um. The ending she is completely absolved from, as she said, "Maybe change it!" And then I did. And there we are with that.



Day One

“This isn’t happening.” John looked down for the sixth time in so many minutes.

“It has, it is, it’s *going on as we speak*.” Rodney tried enunciating really very slowly, in the hopes it would penetrate this time around.

“John, maybe you should rest in your quarters for a little bit,” Elizabeth suggested, adding, “And Carson will contact you as soon as he has some answers for you.”

“But--but I’m a *girl*,” John protested, and to his horror, it came out in a high-pitched squeak.

“I know, we know,” Elizabeth said gently, her hand on the small of his back, slowly leading him to the door.

“I can’t go outside like this!” John hissed. “They’re all going to see me!” He’d made Rodney clear the gateroom before he’d agreed to even walk back through the gate from Mevigian.

“Oh, for God’s--” Rodney sighed. He opened up the door and walked out to stand just outside the conference room. He stuck his fingers between his lips and let out a piercing whistle.

“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” John said, rushing after, trying to pull away from Elizabeth’s suddenly iron-tight grip on his arm.

Rodney completely ignored him and addressed everyone now staring up at him from their positions. “Okay, everyone, something weird happened to Colonel Sheppard on Mevigian. He is now a girl. It’ll get reversed, but if any of you traumatize him in any way, shape or form and hit on him like this, you won’t have hot water for two months. Are we all clear?”

Everyone nodded, and shifted around uneasily—and then milled and went right back to work. John blinked. “I thought there would’ve been more of a reaction than that.”

“This is Atlantis,” Elizabeth and Rodney sighed.


“But--but I’m a *girl*,” John repeated, pointing--down. At--at them. Those things that had looked so nice from a distance, but in reality, were just plainly freaksome.

“And what a girl you are,” Rodney said pleasantly. “Now, let’s get you to your quarters, before Cadman gets wind of this and decides to paint your nails or something.”

John let himself be steered out at this.

Day Two

The damn things wouldn’t *flatten*. John frowned down at his chest, and he was trying not to touch them as he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around touching his own breasts. Cadman had thoughtfully sent along a bright blue bra with a note saying that “If you’re having any trouble, you know, with the whole being a girl thing,” to go knocking at her door.

He managed to get it clasped quickly enough, even though it was a little disconcerting to be doing it the opposite way than he was used to, but it just looked wrong, so wrong under his shirt. And uneven. Oh, God, he was stuck in a woman’s body, and he had uneven breasts. He rested his forehead against the mirror for a few seconds, gathering strength.

He faced down the door, checking one more time to make sure his thigh holster was featured prominently in case anyone got lippy, and proceeded into the great outside.

***

“Elizabeth, do I get sick days?” Somehow, it’d never come up, but John was really feeling like taking a few so he could hide out in his quarters until Beckett figured this all out.

Elizabeth reached over across the desk and patted John’s hand. Then she seemed to recall that he was still John, and that they did not do this ever.

“Well. This is a little awkward,” Elizabeth said.

“Might help if you let go,” John pointed out. Elizabeth dropped his hand like it was on fire.

“Yes. I apologize. It was just this--impulse,” Elizabeth confided, sounding just as mystified as John felt. She sat still for a moment and then pulled open her bottom desk drawer and rummaged around in the back. She held out a handful of Hershey’s kisses and John thrust out his hand awkwardly when he realized he was supposed to take them. “When the going gets rough, chocolate is a good friend,” Elizabeth imparted, with the aura of someone who felt as though she were sharing the wisdom of the universe with the unenlightened.

“Do they ship that by the crate for you?” John asked, only half-joking.

“I wish.” Elizabeth smiled, looking so wistful that John made a mental note for Christmas. He probably wouldn’t have to even barter anything, really, just mention it to Caldwell. He knew the Colonel would probably fall over himself to help with something for Dr. Weir. It was one of his more endearing, and nicely exploitable aspects of his character.

Day Three

John had forgotten he was a girl, and that’s what had led to this horrifying and traumatic moment he was sure he’d be able to repress if he could just get the hell out of here.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he assured the marines all standing in various states of undress in the training locker room.

“Yeah, but you’re not giving as well as taking, sir,” Lieutenant Reed piped up, just a few feet away. The chatter died like someone had pressed a mute button.

John couldn’t help it, he busted out laughing. The relief in the room was palpable, and Reed’s flush was brighter than the tomatoes they were growing in hydroponics.

Day Four

“You’ve already taught me how to meditate,” John whined.

Even though she kept her eyes closed, John could tell Teyla was rolling them. “You have experienced a significant shift in both your lung capacity and your physical ability. I thought perhaps you may benefit from acclimating yourself your new vessel.”

John frowned. “I don’t want to acclimate, and I don’t have to. Besides, Beckett’s going to have a cure anytime now.” And the doctor would, too, even if John had to stand outside and block anyone from going into the infirmary and distracting him.

Teyla held out her hands lightly, and John knew this part of the routine at least. He pressed his palms to hers, and leaned in, pressing their foreheads together.

It was a lot less awkward now, and he let himself drift off a little bit and hope that the rumors were true, that there would be chocolate pudding in the mess tonight.

When Elizabeth was right, she was really, really right.

Day Five

He just wouldn’t stop *talking*, and he wasn’t nearly as fascinating as Rodney was when he went off on wild tangents.

“Whoa, whoa,” he held up a hand to stop Dr. Corrigan. “I’m sorry, biological anthropology just isn’t my strong suit.” Well. He could hold up his end of a conversation if push came to shove, but he suspected if he let Corrigan know that, he’d keep talking through lunch and they’d still be here when they started serving dinner.

Corrigan ran a finger along the top of John’s outstretched hand, and John was too surprised to say anything. The doctor smiled shyly. “I’ve just had so much fun talking to you. Maybe—maybe you’d like to go out this weekend? Dinner? I have some great slides I could show you, really ease you in to primate morphology.”

John withdrew his hand as subtly as he could manage and finally understood why Corrigan had even approached him and asked to sit with him in the first place. “You must’ve been buried in your office for the past five days or so,” he chuckled, “I know it’s weird, but I’m Colonel Sheppard.”

“Oh, oh, I know.” The hopeful expression was still firmly fixed in place, even if the hands wrapped around the edge of the table were turning a sickly white.

John looked around, praying people weren’t watching this. He tried to think of something to say, some kind of cool, gentle let-down a pretty girl had said to him sometime, but all that would come out was a strangled, “No!”

Corrigan sat there uncertainly, a mildly confused look on his face.

“No! Just no!” John repeated.

Day Six

John told Elizabeth that yes, yes he did qualify for sick days, and hid out in his room all afternoon.

He did catch up on a lot of paperwork though.

Day Seven

John knocked on Cadman’s door. She’d *offered* to help, and even though everyone thought she had a big mouth, he knew he could trust her with this one.

She rubbed at her eyes, and John felt a little bad about waking her up, but this was *important*, and it just couldn’t wait.

He motioned for her to sit back down on the bed, and he put his foot right next to her and slowly rolled up his pants leg. “Look at this! It’s really, really disgusting,” John said, pointing up and down wildly at all the hair. It was starting to drive him nuts.

Cadman inspected his leg, grimaced, and wordlessly padded off to her bathroom. She returned with a bright pink razor, weirdly curved around the handle.

“Nice, slow, even strokes, with lots and lots of soap or shaving cream or whatever you’re going to use,” Cadman directed, motioning with the razor in her hand. “Do you need me to show you?”

John shook his head and took the razor.

“Okay, then. There shouldn’t be a problem with nicks or anything; it’s a Venus.”

Nicks? Dammit. “Hey, wait. If I do this, do you think I’ll be hairless when I get my body back?”

Laura stared at him. “No. No, I don’t.” He could tell she was lying, but was grateful for the consideration.

“Thanks, Cadman,” he said, pocketing the razor and leaving her quarters. What the hell a ‘Venus’ was, John kind of hoped he’d never, ever know.

Day Eight

John had gone to Cadman’s quarters under the pretense of returning the razor, but in actuality, he wanted to go down to the mess hall, and he didn’t want to go alone. She’d agreed readily to accompany him for breakfast, and when a couple of Athosians John didn’t know lingered a little too long in the line at John’s elbow, Cadman pointed over her shoulder and said, “Hey, get lost.” Then she looked pointedly down at her own side-arm, and John’s thigh holster.

They got lost.

“They just never stop!” she exclaimed. “Men, I mean.”

He plucked one of the fruits out of the bowl and nodded vigorously.

“Oh, sorry, sir,” she said belatedly.

“No, no, don’t even,” he dismissed, “I totally and completely understand.”

Day Nine

“I’m not wearing a skirt,” John said darkly. He missed his voice. It was so much easier to sound pissed off.

Cadman frowned. “Look, all my pants are in the laundry, and I don’t think there’s anyone around with your size.”

“Someone has to have a belt!”

She pursed her lips. “If you’re worried you don’t have the legs for it, don’t be. And you even shaved yesterday, so really, you don’t have an excuse.”

John held out the skirt like it was going to turn into a Wraith before his very eyes. Cadman looked at him, sighed, and turned her back. “You happy now?”

“No,” John whispered, and tugged on the skirt. He stopped in front of the mirror and froze up.

“See, you look great!”

“I’m not going out like this,” John said, firmly.

“Colonel Sheppard, please report to the control room,” Colonel Caldwell said over the headpiece.

“Kinda sounds like you are,” Cadman grinned.

John couldn’t quite make himself go out the door, but Cadman solved that problem quickly enough by shoving him out with two hard pushes.

John set his shoulders and gave himself a little pep talk on the way. It’s okay. Skirts are perfectly normal things to wear. Lots of women wear them. You like women who wear them. These thoughts calmed all the way to the control room, but just as the doors opened of course, You have the legs for this, started replaying in his head, and he got self-conscious and tripped a little on the way in.

Rodney was reaching for his coffee, looked up, and his hand paused mid-air, like he was having a delayed reaction in realizing that what he was seeing was actually happening.

John coughed a little, straightening. “Sir,” he greeted Colonel Caldwell.

To his credit, Caldwell didn’t even miss a beat. “We’d like you to run through the defense parameters on the Alpha Site with Major Lorne and Dr. McKay. When you’re—yourself again, we’re going to have some training sessions there.”

John nodded happily. God, anything to get everyone’s minds off the skirt.

***

“Are you wearing nail polish?” Rodney asked, noticing three hours later.

John felt himself flush. “Someone did it while I was asleep,” he muttered.

“And it’s still on because--” Rodney prompted.

“Because no one will lend me *nail polish remover*,” John told him, his jaw clenching. Lorne hiccupped, and covered the noise by shuffling some papers.

“Well, if that’s all, sir, I’ll be on my way.”

John nodded, sliding down into his seat.

“It doesn’t chip off, you know,” he said defensively. “You’d think it would, but they must’ve put a lot of coats on or something.”

“Well. I have a few minutes. We can find—I’m sure I have something that’ll work.” Rodney told him, still staring at John’s hands.

“Really?”

Rodney looked at him, mouth a little loose with his light smile. “Sure.”

Day Ten

“Okay, I’ve been really patient with you,” John said, fists clenching into the sheets.

“It’s just not going to be that easy to reverse this!” Beckett protested, shoving a clipboard into a stack on his desk.

“My *men* stare at my *breasts*,” John told him, wanting to paint a full picture of the horror of the situation.

“Oh.”

“Yes, *oh*. Do you have any idea how hard it’s going to be to get back to normal around here? I feel like a piece of meat!”

Carson stared.

“And things like that keep coming out! There’s—I have *hormones*, and I keep saying things and I just want it to stop.” To his horror, John felt a little wetness in his eyes. He stood up abruptly and fled the infirmary.

***

“I’m hiding out in your room,” John announced, flopping on Rodney’s bed and burying his head in the pillow. He looked up at hearing the pad of Rodney’s feet.

Rodney rushed out of his bathroom, toothbrush still in his mouth, toothpaste foam dribbling down a corner of his chin. He took one look at John, rolled his eyes, and went back to the bathroom. John heard him rinsing, and tried to relax into the mattress.

“I was actually planning on turning in,” Rodney said. “Simpson and I are going to the mainland tomorrow, and you know how hyper she gets. I wanted to be a little awake for the trip.”

“Oh,” John said, oddly disappointed.

“But I mean, you can still stay,” Rodney rushed on. “I can crash on my couch, and you can just—get a little sleep.”

“Nah. I know you’ve got your back problems. I just thought maybe we could watch a movie or something,” John sighed.

“Sure,” Rodney agreed easily, grabbing his laptop from his desk. He motioned for John to roll over and eased himself underneath the blankets. “We can throw something on, and if I pass out, I pass out. Okay?” He handed John a pillow with an air of supreme generosity.

John felt the odd wetness thing happening again, so he punched the pillow in to make it a little more comfy, and settled down on the bed. Rodney commanded the lights to dim and started rummaging through his files, stretching his legs under the covers.

“Hmm. Something with guns?” Rodney murmured, their shoulders bumping.

“Lots of guns,” John agreed, getting comfortable next to Rodney’s arm.

Rodney had Rambo on his computer, and John decided then and there that Rodney was the best friend he’d ever had.

Day Eleven

“So how are you holding up?” Kate asked brightly in the mess hall.

“How am I holding up. How am I holding up? My back hurts, my legs hurt, I have cramps, and I swear to God, if what I think is about to start actually starts…” John trailed off at Kate’s wide-eyed expression.

“Maybe you shouldn’t ask if you don’t actually want to know,” he said stiffly, walking over to where Ronon was sitting.

“Don’t say anything at all,” John instructed.

Ronon nodded and continued wrapping noodles around his fork.

John really, really liked this guy.

Ronon made a couple of gestures a few minutes later that John took to indicate he’d like to talk. He narrowed his eyes and nodded.

“Want to go fuck?” Ronon asked, biting off a piece of his roll.

“…what?” John asked, managing, but only just, not to choke on his muffin.

Ronon shrugged. “I don’t know. You look kind of pissed off. Might take the edge off.”

John’s fingers completely crumbled the muffin. “I don’t think that’s the way to go,” he said, brushing off the bits and pieces.

“I’m good at it,” Ronon told him. “Sex, I mean.”

“I got what you meant!” John leaned in. “Are you insane?”

“I think it’d be interesting.” Ronon said simply.

Huh. John turned that around in his head. If—and. Hmm.

Ronon smiled slowly. “I’ll walk out first?” he asked, calmly getting up from the table, and walking out the mess, completely confident strides.

John couldn’t stop watching the play of muscles underneath the man’s leather and felt his mouth dry up. ‘Interesting.’

He could work with that.

Day Twelve

“Okay, if someone had told me about the multiple orgasms in two minutes deal, I’d have been on board with this whole thing a little sooner,” John told Rodney, settling in next to him for breakfast.

Rodney spat out his coffee.

“Hey!” John yelled, wiping frantically at the sleeve. “This is Cadman’s! She said she likes this sweater! She’s one of the best shots on this base.”

“Who?” Rodney asked loudly, settling the cup back on his tray with a rattle.

“Who what?” John asked, still wiping. Dammit, he should’ve gone with the black sweater.

“Who did you have sex with?” Rodney asked, his voice going up an octave on the last two words.

John set the napkin down slowly. “Does it matter? For the first time, it wasn’t—*this*,” he gestured down violently, “was just so not bad.”

Rodney’s mouth turned down a corner. “Oh.”

“Hey, is something wrong?” John asked finally, when nothing else seemed to be forthcoming.

“Huh? Oh, oh no. I just have some things I was thinking about in the lab.”

“You want to maybe watch a movie tonight?” John asked hopefully.

“Aren’t you going to be busy with your new playtime friend?”

John blinked at him, and was still blinking at Rodney’s retreating back as he left the mess hall.

Day Thirteen

“You were avoiding me all afternoon yesterday, and all day today!” John yelled, letting the doors to Rodney’s room close first before he really launched into it.

“I have no idea what you are even talking about! Chief Scientist here, remember? I have this thing, you remember, called *work*?” Rodney threw back the covers on his bed and crawled under. “And now, in order to do more *work* at some eventual juncture, I do occasionally have to sleep.”

John marched over to the bed and smacked Rodney in the arm. “What is your *problem*, McKay?” he asked, staring down. Rodney’s hand grabbed John’s wrist, and John still wasn’t exactly used to the proper balance in this body just yet, so he completely toppled and fell on Rodney with a soft oomph.

John straddled Rodney with his legs, holding his chest in place with a hard hand. “Start talking.”

Rodney’s jaw worked for a full ten seconds before he managed a “No!”

“McKay...” John started warningly.

“No, no, I’m not doing this while you’re--get off of me.”

John narrowed his eyes. “No, not until you tell me what the heck is going on here. Because, you know, I’m kind of going through an ordeal and there’s not all that many people I’m actually comfortable with these days. So if one of that handful has a problem, I need to know about it.” John would’ve continued, but his thighs had just brushed over something…

Well, to put it in Ronon’s terminology, ‘Interesting.’

McKay was biting his lip so hard John suspected he might have permanent teeth marks. John shifted experimentally over the blanket.

Rodney’s eyes widened and he seemed to try to draw himself up further toward the headboard.

“Hey, hey, hey,” John soothed. “Give me a second here. I’m still kinda new to how I’m supposed to move.”

“Okay, that’s enough out of you,” Rodney said, voice breaking just the slightest fraction. “I think you should probably leave now.”

John let a little more of his weight fall on Rodney’s hips, and smiled to himself at Rodney’s soft sigh. “Why, McKay, you’re saying all the right, gentlemanly things, but somehow, I just don’t believe you actually mean them.”

“I mean them. I totally do. God, what the hell happened to you? Did whoever put the nickel in you yesterday just make you go all arbitrarily fucking people now?”

“…the nickel? Well, that’s a new word for it,” John drawled, letting his nails dig ever so slightly into Rodney’s t-shirt.

“The way I figure it, if I’m temporarily experiencing how the other half lives, well, I should definitely run a full volume of tests, right? I’ve developed a hypothesis, you know. Want to hear it?” John asked, inching his way down Rodney’s chest, and pressing a light kiss to Rodney’s throat.

“I--I’m always up for a good scientific analysis,” Rodney swallowed.

“See, I think I really enjoy sex like this. I mean, I liked it before? But you know, twenty some years of doing the same sorts of things, it can get a little old every now and again. But—here? There’s all these new places. New things to see and do.” John grinned, and tugged off his sweater. “Not a fan of the under wire, so Cadman had to get someone to trade her for her regular bra, just to get me a sports bra,” he told Rodney, but he didn’t think anything of what he’d just said had permeated remotely, judging from the glazed expression on Rodney’s face.

“John,” Rodney rasped.

“Look. I like this. I’d like to try this with you. Can you just—work with me here?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so,” Rodney said, and suddenly, John was on his back, and Rodney’s fingers were pulling off his bra—dear God, his *bra*, that was never going to stop being just *wrong*--and running his thumb down John’s chest.

“This is--different.” Rodney breathed, head bending to suck on a nipple so lightly that John bucked up on the bed, hoping for some more pressure. Rodney’s hand reached up to weave lightly into his hair, and John could just barely make out “...hair still is such a mess.”

“I’m glad you’ve decided to help me with the scientific process here.” John gasped as Rodney hooked his finger around his underwear and in one neat motion, had twisted them down and off.

“Oh, data collection is the most important step, you know,” Rodney told him, lining up their hips.

***

John woke up a little disoriented in the middle of the night, legs tangled with Rodney’s heavier ones. He liked the sensation, the weight, so he pulled Rodney’s arm around his chest, letting his hand fall on his breast—okay, the breasts were growing on him again now, and fell back asleep.

***

John woke up a second time to the sound of Carson’s excited voice in his headpiece, telling him to get to the infirmary right away.

Day Fourteen

John bounded into the conference room with a bright smile and a penis again.

Elizabeth returned the smile unreservedly. “Good to have you back in order, Colonel.”

Ronon smirked around his glass of water. “I don’t know. That other version—it had its good points.”

Rodney looked up sharply from his laptop, and John could tell he’d put it together. He hurriedly sat down between Rodney and Ronon and placed a hand on Rodney’s knee under the table.

Rodney looked only slightly mollified.

John was distracted through the whole meeting because he just wasn’t used to being able to cross his arms over his chest anymore.

***

Rodney could move *fast* when he really wanted to. John had to jog after him just to catch up.

“Hey!” he said, touching Rodney’s arm.

“Yes, Colonel?”

“And what’s wrong now?” John queried. “I could get whiplash from you, you know.”

Rodney stopped still and dropped back into a hallway corridor. “*You* could get whiplash?” he asked incredulously. “Excuse me, excuse me?”

“What the hell are you even talking about? Is this about Ronon? Because—that was just—well, he asked!”

Rodney stared dumbly. “He asked.”

“I--I was curious, okay! I wanted to take the equipment for a test run! It--”

“It’s not even about Ronon, but God, you’re pathetically easy.”

John frowned. “If it’s not about Dex, then what—oh.”

“Oh,” Rodney parroted. “Yes, *oh*.”

John leaned against the wall right next to Rodney. “Hmm. You know, I’ve never taken a test drive of this version with a guy.” He moved a little closer into Rodney’s space and wrapped his fingers loosely around Rodney’s wrist, stroking the soft skin with his once-again callused thumb. He dropped his voice, just for Rodney: “But I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that this one is just as bendy.”

John pressed his thumb in once for a few moments, feeling the thud of Rodney’s heart through the pad of his finger, and moved back into the main hallway, leaving a disoriented Rodney in his wake.

John soaked in the sight and called over his shoulder, “You know, if you wanted, you could help me out with a little more data collection later tonight.”

Rodney collected himself at the last second and yelled back, “I’ll be sure to bring the right instruments!”

He grinned and walked off, waving happily at everyone who hadn’t stared at his breasts before, but scowling actively at the other seventy percent, and it all reminded him he should probably return Cadman's bra.

But then he decided that it was going to get "lost" in his bottom drawer because this was Atlantis, and one never could be too sure that a situation wouldn't come up.

And really, John didn't want to be the guy going up and asking for a bra loan ever, ever again.

ETA: Sequels and snippets can be found on my website, linked in this story over there.