Remix: Cycles (The Hormonal Fluctuations Remix) [Sam, Jennifer, Rodney/John, 441 words, rated PG], by trascendenza
Sam looked quizzically at the closed door that John had just slammed behind him. She turned to Jennifer. "What's up with that? Do you know?"
"Oh, just that time of the month," Jennifer replied absently, not looking up from her notes.
Sam blinked. "Come again?"
Jennifer slammed her hand over her mouth, her eyes comically wide, and Sam started grinning. "Oh, this is going to be good, isn't it?"
"Problematic Marine Stupidity," Rodney mused, tapping his index finger against his chin. "Hmm, no, it has a nice ring to it but surprisingly not accurate in this case. Perforated Manliness System? Ooh, that's good. Oh, wait, wait--I have it--Paternal Mating Susceptibility!" Rodney cackled.
John scowled, scooting farther onto his own side of the bed. "I hate you."
"He can what?"
Jennifer shrugged. "The King of MG8-659 thought it was... a gift. I guess their scientists figured it out a couple thousand years ago and the men love being--love that they can... Well, anyway. John really didn't want me to put it in the official report, and we haven't figured out how to reverse it, so..." She flushed crimson from her neck to her hairline. "We just make sure that he's abstinent that one week a month, because even, with, um, precautions, it's just too--too--"
"Weird to even consider." Sam finished.
Jennifer nodded. "Exactly."
Rodney ticked off words finger by finger. "Generative, producing, plentiful, gravid--gravid!--fecund, fertile..."
"Nails in your coffin," John promised, punching his pillow under his neck and turning off the light with an angry thought.
Rodney continued cackling in the dark.
"Well." Sam sat down, her face caught somewhere between amusement and confusion.
"Make sure you don't tell Rodney you know. Otherwise he'll send you a..." Jennifer shuddered, "really unfortunate .png of what his and John's love child would look like."
Sam leaned forward, patting her on the wrist. "I think it's time I introduced you to a time-honored SG-1 tradition." She opened the bottom drawer of her desk, pulling out a bottle of whiskey big enough that it needed two hands. "According to my records, the Head of Expedition and Chief Medical Officer are long overdue for a little leave."
Jennifer grinned. "Yes, ma'am."
Off-key strains of "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" could be heard outside Jennifer Keller's door well into the early hours of the morning, and anyone walking through the next corridor would have seen Rodney, curled in a ball with a pillow in the hallway outside his quarters, muttering angrily about stupid hormonal fecund majors and how this floor was just going to be hell on his lumbar.