Since a great deal of William’s unhappiness in life is because of a certain rat bastard Marine corporal, William assumes the whole mess is Lacey’s fault. This is only cemented by the fact that Asher – sexy Asher, with her shapely calves and breasts – answers Lacey’s door in his t-shirt and boxers.

“I’m very disappointed in you, Corporal Asher,” William says, because he is. That rat bastard Lacey is a sneaky son of a gun, undeserved of her attentions.

Asher arches an eyebrow. “Did you need something, Dr. Beckett?”

William is all set to spout a pithy remark when Lacey appears behind Asher’s shoulder, naked as a jay, and while on the surface Lacey is an attractive specimen, William must remember that underneath the skin Lacey’s some sort of crab demon, with extra legs and eye stems.

William says, “You’ll not tempt me with your devil ways,” and Asher tilts her head in question. Lacey just scratches his balls and grins really, really evilly. William swallows hard, because Lacey’s evil grin has none of the endearing qualities that Gabe’s has. “Have either of you seen Captain Gabe?” he asks.

“I imagine he’d be in his own quarters, Billy,” Lacey says, still unabashedly naked, and William has to admire his complete lack of a social conscious. Polite company dictates some sort of dressing, yet there Lacey is, in all his rat bastard glory. Lacey’s evil grin dips into an evil smirk, and he says, “You’re staring.”

William’s cheeks heat. “Of course I am,” he says, all false bravado, really, because William is staring, and Lacey will never let him live it down. This abstinence business is messing with William’s head, not to mention the fact that his body thinks he’s fourteen, and fourteen had been a perpetually horny year for William – horny, clumsy, and growing like one of those capsules that insta-expand into a dinosaur or a washcloth when soaked. Under normal circumstances, a bare-assed Lacey would make him want to vomit his last four meals.

Asher leans up against the doorjamb, cocking a distracting hip. “Is that all?”

There is really something fabulous about Asher’s legs. William’s no slouch in the limb department - and he’s a boy besides – but he’s just the slightest bit envious.

“I’ll just, uh, go find Gabe, then,” William says, and when the door slides closed, he applauds himself for keeping cool. He’d lost entirely too much money to the swear jar the day before.

“Are you kidding me?” Rodney stares Way and Wentz down, but Way just looks bewildered, and Rodney can’t even see Wentz’s eyes, hiding behind the truly hideous fall of his fringe.

Finally, Wentz says petulantly, “We didn’t even touch it,” and Rodney, for a brief, fleeting moment, considers retirement. Blissful, tropical retirement, far far away from Dr. Peter Wentz in all his distracting forms.

“Oh,” Ivarsson exclaims, hands clasped in front of her chest. “Oh, how precious.” Ivarsson, of course, is completely unhelpful, and Rodney has no idea why she’s even in the infirmary, and he certainly doesn’t want to know, even though he suspects it has something to do with the mini Major Toro that’d trudged in with Wentz, Way and Bryar.

Ivarsson hugs Way – and oh god, Way’s possibly even more big-eyed and helpless looking than usual; the labs are going to be anarchy.

William is not exactly sure what’s going on, but he’s feeling very fifteen. Very awkward with his limbs, very sore, and he does not like it.

“I do not like this, Sisky,” he says, and Siska’s practically an amoeba, he’s so baby-faced, and if William’s bones didn’t actually hurt – he’d almost entirely forgotten that tremendous growth spurt he’d suffered through during the summer of 1995 – he’d probably appreciate that more. “Also,” William goes on, “your hair is frightening.”

Sisky’s hair is beyond frightening, actually, and William’s used to Major Toro’s wild mop, as well as Joe’s.

Sisky pushes his curls off his forehead. “Bill.”

“No. No, really, I hope you realize it’s never the right time for a semi-permanent.”

“Bill,” Siska says, and he’s as pink-cheeked as Smith at this point – and Smith’s another one that William would love to bundle up and eat, if his hands could be trusted to do anything but grasp a pencil, and even that’s sort of pushing it.

If William remembers correctly, the summer of 1995 had been the summer of oops. It’s where his drunken dropsies originated from, he’s sure of it.

So, ridiculously simple bandslash primer?

[part i]

( [part ii] )

[part ii]

( [part iii] )

Jon bites his lip to keep from smiling. Ryan as a sullen teenager is pretty much the most adorable thing ever. Except maybe for Spencer, because holy shit those are some chubby cheeks, the grin he flashes Ryan nearly gorgeous, if gorgeous was ever a term that could be applied to a bumbling fourteen-year-old. Approximately. It’s hard to judge their exact ages, since Brendon’s roughly the size of Jon’s pre-teen niece.

“Oh my fucking god,” Brendon says, looking down at himself. Then a slow grin breaks across his face, evil at the edges, and he tugs on the hem of Spencer’s shirt. “Hey there, pretty girl.”

Spencer sweeps long, long hair out of his eyes and sort of fails at glaring at Brendon. It’s a total fail, Jon can tell, pink blooming on his pale skin, until Brendon goes on with, “You’re totally a pudge, Spencer,” and Ryan punches him in the back of the head.

Maja is all legs, and William can appreciate that. He also appreciates the way she’d probably eat him if he got overly handsy – she’s very particular with who she lets in her personal space – so he sticks to leers and lip-licking and hopes, one day, all his prettiness will lure her closer.

“This is cozy,” William says, and from the other side of Maja, Captain Gabe gives him one of his huge, evil grins and asks, “So we got a plan?”

Gabe’s team had been dispatched before they’d even missed check-in, mainly because Nolan had gotten overexcited about the readouts Travis had sent back through to Patrick a few hours earlier, so now there’s nine of them wedged in the little cave, Lacey puffing away at a cigarette, Nolan blinking at them behind coke-bottle glasses, datapad hugged to his chest, gorgeous Maja taunting William with her perfect, BDU encased ass, and Captain Gabe with a gash on his arm that seems to have made Pterry more irate than she had been, scent of blood thick and metallic as it steadily seeps through the hasty bandage Vicky had wrapped around it.

“Wait until Atlantis tries to hail us,” Kennerty says.

Wheeler - who is seriously adorable, William has always thought so, and he can’t imagine him in the Marines, really, but he’s got the patches to prove it – rubs a hand over his chin. “You sure we can’t just blast it?”

“Fuck, yeah, we can,” Gabe says, but Kennerty just stresses, “Babies,” and Maja cocks her head and asks curiously, “So you would like there to be more of these monsters?”

“I just.” Kennerty waves a hand. “Whatever, my mission, no killing the giant flying dinosaur, okay?”

Gabe can technically overrule Kennerty, but he only shrugs, tugs the cigarette out of Lacey’s mouth and sucks it down to the fiery orange end.