“What’s this?” Rodney demanded, eyeing the object on his desk like it was an unstable naquadah generator instead of a small gold-colored gift box.
“It’s a present, McKay,” drawled John, leaning against the workbench. “I was sure you’d be able to recognize one.”
“I mean,” said Rodney. “Why are you giving me a present? I keep reminders on my computer, you know. It’s not my birthday or your birthday – although why you would be giving me a present for that, I don’t know. It’s not our anniversary, not the day we met, or when we started dating, or the first time we had sex—”
“You keep a reminder of that on your computer?” John asked, laughing, but Rodney ignored him.
“And you haven’t done anything, that I know of, that would warrant groveling with the really good chocolate.”
“How do you know that’s what this is?”
“Oh, please,” said Rodney. “Like I wouldn’t recognize that box.”
“Then what’s the problem?” John asked.
Rodney narrowed his eyes. “Why are you giving me the good chocolate, Sheppard?”
“What day is it?”
John leaned closer, across Rodney’s lab table. “And do you love me?”
“Of course I do,” said Rodney. “Even when you’re being a ridiculous, cryptic, crazy-haired weirdo.”
“That’s why,” said John.
“Because you’re a weirdo?”
“Because it’s Tuesday and you love me. Because the morning I did the paperwork for supplies from Earth, you kissed me.”
“I kiss you every morning,” said Rodney.
“Because you like them,” John continued. “Because I like it when you taste like chocolate. Because sometimes I look at you and my stomach feels like I just hit the top of a Ferris wheel.”
“Just because, Rodney,” said John. “Happy Tuesday.”
Rodney snorted a laugh and pulled him in for a pre-chocolate-flavored kiss.