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His hours spent in Heightmeyer's office were the worst part of his day. He couldn't charm her out of actual conversation--she'd known him for too long. And for someone that looked so sweet and harmless, she was pretty mean. "Just tell people how you really feel," she'd said, all wavy blonde hair and dazzling smiles. "What do you think would happen if you told your friends how you really feel about them?"
He wasn't sure how to answer that, but he was pretty sure that "Death, destruction and total chaos" wasn't what she was looking for.
***
He decided to start with Elizabeth. Elizabeth would be easy. She was nice, and caring, and she wasn't able to beat him to death with sticks.
Well, as far as he knew, anyway.
"So..." John trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. "Um. Hi?"
Elizabeth gave him a look that was half-amusement, half-confusion. "John?"
"Yeah?"
"Is there something on your mind?" She set down her planner and gave him her full attention, hands clasped in front of her.
For some reason, Elizabeth's full attention felt like the equivalent of five or ten people dropping everything just to stare at him. "...yeah. I."
She frowned. "Are you okay?"
He didn't actually turn and run. It was more like a brisk walk.
Okay, that didn't go very well.
***
For some reason, Teyla was very amused by him pouring his heart out. She always had been, which was why he'd written "NO MORE SERIOUS CONVERSATIONS WITH TEYLA, EVER EVER EVER" on a Post-It and left it on his mirror. He wished that he'd remembered to look at that Post-It before starting this conversation.
"I'm just saying, that I...you know. Love...you guys. You...all. All you guys," John said weakly.
She raised a brow, circling him slowly, one stick raised. He probably should've picked a better, less painful time to do this. "May I say something, John?"
John nodded warily. If she was busy talking, she probably wouldn't be able to knock him down at the same time.
"I am...flattered," Teyla said slowly. She sounded anything but. "And you should know that I am very fond of you as well. We are all very fond of you."
He didn't actually see what happened, but one minute he was on his feet, and the next minute he was on the floor, Teyla's foot on his chest.
"And I love you as well, John." She paused, removing her foot. "Like a brother."
John winced, slowly pushing himself to a sitting position. "I didn't mean I loved you like that." He rubbed his shoulder, making a face. "Do you always have to knock me on my back? Can't you make me fall down in different ways, for variety?"
Teyla just tapped her foot, waiting for him to stand. The look on her face was remarkably similar to the time Rodney had tried to explain feminism to her, with Elizabeth talking over him and trying to apologize for him at the same time.
Yeah, he definitely should've waited to have this conversation.
***
John was very proud of himself for managing not to limp as he walked into the infirmary. The last thing he needed was Carson trying to examine him while he was trying to be...whatever he was trying to be right now.
"Hey, Carson?" John held up a hand, giving him a tentative wave. "You busy?"
"Something wrong, Colonel?" Carson frowned, eyes narrowed as he took in John's appearance. "Did Teyla beat you up again?"
"No! And not again." John crossed his arms, giving his best impression of a military commander.
Carson rolled his eyes. "Well, if you're not here for a band-aid, then how can I help you?"
John shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I just wanted to say hi and things," he mumbled, inching toward the door.
"What?" Carson gave him a blank look. "I couldn't hear you."
"I...uh." Well, at least Carson couldn't beat him with sticks. "I love? You guys? All you guys? Just...wanted to say that."
"Colonel, are you feeling all right?"
John found himself wishing that Carson had just decided to beat him with sticks after all.
***
Rubbing his arm, John banged on Ronon's door, determined to get this over with. There was absolutely nothing else anyone could do to him today. Nothing. What kind of person gives out shots for declarations of heartfelt friendship?
Ronon opened the door, leaning against the frame. "Sheppard."
"Ronon," John said, taking a step back. It was best to be out of reach for these types of things. "Just wanted to say that...uh. I love you guys. You're all...good guys. Really good guys. Something like that. Yes. And, hey, I'll see you later."
He turned to make his escape, which was cut off by an undignified "oof" as Ronon tackled him. At this rate, his bruises were going to have bruises.
***
"Hey," John said cheerfully, pulling up a chair. "I love you, McKay. Can I have that muffin?" This was definitely getting easier as he went on. At least Rodney's idea of torture wouldn't involve knocking John down or tongue depressors.
"No, you can't--what?" Rodney looked up from his tray, eyes wide. "You what?"
John tried to grab it anyway, taking advantage of Rodney's shock. Rodney swatted his hand away, giving John a concerned look as he cradled his muffin protectively against his chest.
"Okay, can I have half of it, then?" Even half a muffin would count as a win.
Rodney shook his head slowly. "Are you feeling okay?"
John tilted his head, giving Rodney a lazy smile. "I'm a little dizzy, I think. I probably need food. Maybe a muffin."
Wordlessly, Rodney shoved his tray in John's direction, watching him with horrified fascination.
John grinned, picking up the muffin and taking a bite. He knew there was a reason he'd saved Rodney for last.
***
"Stop following me," Rodney hissed. He looked around frantically, making sure that no one could overhear them. "And stop saying that."
"But I love you," John said, his voice woeful. He gave Rodney his saddest look, the one that said that his puppy had just died and he had to walk uphill in the snow--both ways--just to visit the grave.
"What is wrong with you?" Rodney pressed his wrist to John's forehead, giving him a worried look. "Do you have some kind of strange Athosian flu? Wait a minute, are you contagious? Why are you following me if you're contagious?" Rodney jerked his hand away, his look rapidly changing from worry to full-out panic.
"Nothing's wrong," John said, putting his feet up on Rodney's desk. "Just love you, that's all."
"Okay, okay, fine, you love me, can you stop?" Rodney gave him a dirty look. "You keep saying that, and people are going to think we're--you know."
John sighed. "You're ashamed of me, aren't you?"
"For Christ's sake!"
John sighed again--this time drawing it out and accompanying it with another dead-puppy look.
Rodney threw his pen at John. "Fine." He glanced around again before speaking rapidly. "I love you, okay? You love me, I love you, everyone's happy and stop saying it!"
John grinned. "Wow, McKay. I never knew you cared."
"I hate you so very much," Rodney said with feeling.
John stretched, uncurling himself from his chair with a grin. "Love you too, Rodney," he said loudly, causing several heads to turn. He took advantage of Rodney's wordless outrage to blow him a kiss before he made a run for it.
***
"It wasn't that bad," John confessed, shrugging his shoulders. "There were a few rough patches, but...I guess it wasn't worse than the Wraith."
"Well, that's a good sign," Kate said, her voice dry. "I'd be a little worried if you'd rather face the Wraith than tell your friends that you care for them."
John rubbed his arm. "Hey, don't underestimate those guys. They've got big sticks. And needles."
Kate raised a brow. "Needles?"
John held up a hand, forestalling her. "Don't ask."