TITLE: Educating Ford

AUTHOR: Demon Faith

CATEGORY: Romance, Humour

SPOILERS: The Storm/The Eye, reference to earlier parts

SERIES: Tenth in the Domesticity series

RATING: PG

WARNINGS: One idiot lieutenant being put in his place. :)

SUMMARY: Rodney’s never liked military lectures, but things change…

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the lovely Rodney McKay or the equally lovely Carson Beckett, nor the fantastic duo of David Hewlett and Paul McGillion. I definitely do not own Lieutenant Aiden Ford, nor would I particularly wish to. Rainbow’s another matter. :D

NOTES: I used to like Ford, really I did. Then I discovered that he’s only cute, funny and flirtatious when within five foot of John Sheppard. At all other times, he can be a right ass, especially to Carson, and when he hits ‘military mode’, he’s no fun at all. Therefore, I shall mock him, for I like to mock and he seems a prime target for mockery.

Thanks go to my chemistry teacher for telling me all about Kevlar – not sure how she’d taker my (ab)use of such knowledge.

I was planning to just collapse after my Christmas shopping, but my dear Mags is feverish and in need of fic. Obviously, I must oblige. Get well soon, hon!

“I don’t understand why I have to attend some military training session. It’s not as if I plan to go through that great vaporiser anytime soon.”

Rodney grinned at the grousing Carson and subtly brushed his fingers against Carson’s wrist. “Because I have to go and you’re good company. Besides, we don’t know when the Wraith might attack Atlantis. It’s best that everyone’s prepared.”

“Oh yes, that’s very comforting, Rodney.” Carson moved his arm away and shot Rodney a glare. “I know you just want to inflict this on someone else.”

“Good company,” Rodney repeated, rolling his eyes. The soldiers and civilians who passed them shot Carson sympathetic looks and tried to avoid eye contact with Rodney. No one wanted to be shot down today – Rodney sighed under his breath, and reminded himself once more that it was just easier to be prickly. He had Carson and that’s all the effort he chose to expend on the art of relationships – Elizabeth was incidental, and that he didn’t mind, but being close hurt, and he was sick of hurt.

Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs of melancholy – idiot – he smiled at Carson and pulled him into the cleared Jumper bay. There were various military personnel around Teyla, who was idly twirling her sparring staff and waiting for silence. Rodney carefully looked away; he had no desire to be shown up by the pretty Athosian today. //Just remember// he told himself //your IQ outstrips hers by a mile// He glanced at the woman again. //Maybe// One could never be sure with Teyla.

“Dr McKay, Dr Beckett – glad you could join us. Would you like to take a seat?”

Rodney mentally groaned, as Lieutenant Ford smiled at them both and gestured towards the front row of science types already seated. Peter Grodin smiled in greeting and they sat awkwardly next to him, realising they were the last to arrive. Ford cleared his throat.

“As I was saying, the key to military strategy is organisation. From preparing your equipment to…time management,” his eyes fell on Carson before skittering away, and Rodney clenched his fist. Oh no, not again. Just because the Major had dumped Ford in favour of an apology picnic with Elizabeth didn’t mean the boy had to get all snotty with Carson – a common occurrence of late.

“…we’ll start with a simple cadet lesson.” Rodney tuned back in and watched Ford pick up a weapon. “The P-90. Standard issue field weapon for Stargate personnel and so we use it too. It’s a sub-machine gun, weighs about three kilos loaded and is effective up to two-hundred metres. Today, we’re going to disassemble and rebuild it, to get an idea of the function.”

Rodney was bored already. He amused himself by dancing his fingers over Carson’s arm, his thigh, gently prodding his side and even creeping up to his neck. The good doctor became increasingly flustered before finally hissing: “Rodney, you’ll get us both thrown out!”

“That’s the idea, Carson,” he said, pleasantly, and slipped cold fingers under the hem of his shirt. Carson gasped and tried to glare, but the clearing of a throat from the front stopped them both short.

“Dr Beckett? Is there a problem?”

Carson smiled pleasantly, pushing Rodney away slightly. “No, Aiden, no problem.”

“Then, would you mind reassembling the P-90?”

Rodney closed his eyes. Carson would’ve had it down in two minutes – if Rodney hadn’t been such a distraction. As it was, the doctor just gaped.

“Oh please, Aiden, let someone else do it.”

“I asked Beckett, McKay,” Ford said coolly, and Rodney knew they’d been caught.

Carson sighed under his breath, and Rodney sank into the chair, not meeting his eyes. Oh, he’d be for it later. The good doctor stood and approached the table of random metal pieces and Rodney could see him attempting to puzzle it out. After a minute or so, he shook his head and looked up at Ford.

“Look, son, I can reassemble a human body just fine – yours included, if I recall – but as for this mess o’ bits ‘n’ bobs, I haven’t got a chance.”

Ford barrelled on. “Would that be because, Doctor, you weren’t paying attention?”

Rodney watched as Carson squared his shoulders, a surge of pride mixed with the distinct feeling a fight was about to break out. “Aye, perhaps.”

“Then, why am I wasting my time, Beckett? Major Sheppard has given me responsibility for ensuring Atlantis is defensible – and that means training all you scientists,” he practically spat the word, “in military defence. How am I meant to do that if you don’t listen? There is nothing more important than this!”

Carson just stood there, lips pursed, but Rodney wasn’t going to have him take the fall for this. Oh no, if it was a fight Aiden Ford wanted, Rodney would give him one.

“Oh, I beg to differ, Lieutenant.”

Standing calmly, Rodney stepped up to the table and fished the Ancient AirPen from his pocket (For the record, Zelenka was now also banned from naming things).

“McKay, this is my lecture…” Ford glowered, but Rodney just shot him a look.

“No, Ford, I think it’s you who needs the lesson. Let’s take, oh I don’t know, this.” Rodney reached out and pulled the Kevlar jacket from its stand. “Carson, hold this please.”

Carson took it, meeting Rodney’s eyes curiously, but Rodney just carried on before Ford tried to interrupt again. “Want to tell me what it’s made of?”

“Kevlar,” Ford said; the ‘duh’ was silent. Rodney resisted shaking him.

“Oh yes, bravo, Ford. And what exactly is Kevlar?”

Ford’s eyes widened slightly, but he persisted. “It’s a bullet-proof, fire-resistant polymer,” was his smug reply and Rodney sighed.

“Yes, as any five year old with the Internet can tell you. What is its formula, Ford?”

“Formula?” Ford finally seemed to sense the catch.

“Yes, the atoms, the bonding – the formula! What chemicals made it, why does it stop the path of bullets, why, indeed, do you wear it instead of a tin hat?”

There was scattered laughter amongst the assembled scientists but Ford didn’t seem amused. “What? That’s…it doesn’t matter! This is about…”

“Oh but I think you’ll find, Lieutenant Ford, that is does. Carson, what’s Kevlar made of?”

Rodney met his eyes squarely, and the doctor thought a moment, before smiling. “I think…a benzene diamine, probably 1, 4 and another phenyl-based compound – uh, benzene 1, 4 dicarboxylic acid, most like.”

“Draw it,” Rodney said softly, holding out the pen. Carson set down the jacket and took it. The pen lit up in Carson’s hand and, scrunching up his nose adorably (in Rodney’s expert opinion), Carson proceeded to carefully draw hexagons with circles, carbons, oxygens, hydrogens and nitrogens, neatly bonded across the molecules of the air.

“Perfect.” With a sweep of his hand, the drawing vanished and ignoring Carson’s pout, he turned to Ford. “Your turn.”

Ford snorted unattractively. “I don’t do science.”

“And Carson doesn’t do guns. Draw the formula.”

Ford just stood still, eyeing the air where the red symbols had hung but a moment ago. “What is it, Ford? Weren’t you paying attention?” Rodney sneered

The lieutenant opened his mouth but Rodney just kept going. “That formula saves your life every other day, and you don’t even know it. You know who made it? Scientists, us, the people you don’t have time for. Carson learned it because he’s a military scientist, like all of us.

“So what if Carson can’t put a P-90 together in under a minute? He can shoot it and he can save your ass on a regular basis – you want to ask for more? Think about it.”

Rodney stepped away from the table, taking Carson’s arm and leaving the Jumper bay to the enthusiastic applause of his peers. He dreaded to think what Elizabeth would say when she found out, let alone Carson.

He didn’t stop walking, silently powering their way to Carson’s quarters, where he locked the door and let out a deep breath. He looked up at Carson warily to meet a gaze that could cremate Kevlar.

“Do you know how sexy you are when you lecture?”

Rodney grinned, as Carson pounced. //Note to self – send Ford flowers//