"'I never realized you were capable of doing something that stupid.' "
Rodney paced frantically back and forth, attempting to balance a rather large box in his arms. "Oh, yeah, I can hear it now: 'I mean, seriously, what were you thinking? How's Sheppard going to react to this?' "
"React to what?"
Startled, Rodney dropped the box with a loud crash. He let out a pained groan, his lips thinning to near invisibility. "Terrific, now look what you made me do!" he snapped.
John's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You didn't answer my question, Rodney. And what's in that, anyway?"
Rodney fidgeted, wishing he had the ability to teleport himself out of there. "That's two questions, actually—"
"Alright, fine!" Rodney opened the box, and stepped aside. "Just remember, Elizabeth won't be too happy if you kill me."
John rolled his eyes, and looked inside the box. He stared at it for almost a full minute, which just made Rodney more nervous. Finally, he straightened up, his face a blank mask.
Oh, crap, he thought. "Sheppard," he squeaked.
Still expressionless, John asked, "Are you responsible for this?"
This definitely did not bode well. Steeling himself, Rodney pasted on what he hoped was a brave look, and replied, "Yes, okay? Are you happy now?" He crossed his arms defiantly, trying his best not to tremble.
John stood there, silent as a tomb (ack, don't go there). He then took a deep breath, and in a quiet voice that sent shivers down Rodney's spine, he said, "Don't ever do that again."
Swallowing hard, Rodney shook his head. At that, John left the room.
Rodney exhaled in relief. That went better than he thought it would. But still, he'd learned his lesson:
Never order a case of light beer again.
Summary: It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now, not so much.