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Well he's a mourning star with a champagne heart

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"Radek," Rodney humphed, peering closely at the photo on Zelenka's bedside table, "you never told me you had a child." He looked up just in time to see Zelenka roll his eyes. 

"And how do you know he is not my nephew?" 

Rodney snorted at that. Really, and he'd actually believed that Radek thought quickly on his feet. "Because I've heard you gripe about your destructive nephew too many times to think you'd bring a picture of him here." He raised an eyebrow expectantly. "Well?" 

Zelenka scowled at him. "Well?" he echoed, and shook his head. "Is none of your business, McKay." He reached out and snatched the photo from the bedside table before Rodney could get a second look.

Rodney frowned, trying to picture the boy in his mind. Rodney'd never been good with children's ages but he figured the boy was about ten or twelve, with large blue eyes that took up most of his face and scraggly hair that had to have been inherited from Zelenka's side of the family. "Well, now I'm curious, which means it is my business."

It was Zelenka's turn to snort. "Oh, I see. So you think just because this mystery is interesting, I am obligated to tell you all about my past. I do not think so, McKay." He paused, muttering something that was probably the Czech equivalent of 'This is the last time I invite you to my quarters,' and added, "It is not your concern." 

"Oh, come on!" Rodney whined, unable to believe Zelenka would just dangle this fascinating revelation in front of him and then refuse to elaborate. "What, was it some marriage off the Lifetime channel, where you got her pregnant and married her out of some crazy sense of--" 

"McKay." At Zelenka's sharp, almost dangerous tone and the dark scowl twisting his lips, Rodney knew he wasn't going to get any more information out of him. Well, at least not tonight. Maybe in a few days, when Zelenka had mostly forgotten about the conversation. As though Zelenka could read his mind though, he added, "It will not be your business tonight, or tomorrow, or three weeks from now." 

"Fine," Rodney muttered. Maybe he could check Radek's records, see if they mentioned a son. And maybe Zelenka had gotten zapped by some mind-reading machine, because his eyes narrowed to slits. 

"If you hack my records, I will hurt you, McKay." 

"All right, all right," Rodney said and raised his hands in defeat. "Just as long as you realize how much I'm dying of curiosity--"

"I am certain you will survive, Rodney," Zelenka said dryly, but the sharpness had dulled. A hint of amusement had even lightened the scowl on his face into something resembling an exasperated smile. He clapped Rodney on the shoulder. "So. Now we shall watch those hockey DVDs I won off Kirkpatrick and you will sulk for the rest of the evening, yes?" 

"Pretty much," Rodney muttered, but cheered up a little at the thought of hockey. Besides, it was always a good thing when Zelenka didn't look like he was trying to kill Rodney with his thoughts. He sat down on Zelenka's couch (and how had Zelenka managed that, anyway?) and watched Zelenka set the photo face-down on his bedside table. 

"So, what did you want to watch first?" Zelenka asked, beginning to quickly set up the laptop and shift through the handful of DVDs. "We have Olympic games and World Championships." 

When Rodney just shrugged, Zelenka shrugged as well and selected an apparently random DVD. He sat down next to Rodney, slumping down in the seat and running a hand through the bird's nest he called his hair. Rodney mentally dimmed the lights, watching the laptop's screen cast Zelenka's face in shadow. 

There was a moment of silence, save for the sounds of hockey, and then Zelenka said, unusually solemn, "Do not ask me about this, Rodney."

Rodney frowned in the dim light and mentally sighed. Damn it, he really was never going to find out about this kid, was he? "All right," he said at last and didn't dare to look at Zelenka's expression.

"Thank you," was all Zelenka said, tone undefinable. They spent the rest of the evening in silence.