nny | this is what you get when I mix with phones, see.

"I took one of your shirts. One! This is hardly -" Rodney gestured angrily, vocabulary deserting him but Angry Hair completely intact. "Where the hell are my clothes, you vindictive little troll?"

Zelenka shrugged serenely, then carefully folded back the cuffs of the oversized shirt once more - they kept slipping over his hands.

"Hand over the coffee and we will discuss your wardrobe."

"Don't you think you're taking this revenge thing a little far?"

Radek stared at him narrowly.

"This from the man who piped Proclaimers into Carson's room for three weeks after he missed hairline fracture in your toe? Besides," he continued, stretching his arms out in front of him and wriggling a very little, "is not only revenge now I know how comfortable your clothes are, Rodney. You have been hiding fabric softener, perhaps?"

Rodney's mouth thinned a little, but he made no other response apart from refolding his blue dressing gown a little tighter around himself.

(Which had nothing at all to do, of course, with the boxers he was wearing - striped thinly in blue and white, they were a little more conservative than his usual tastes - it was just... cold in the lab. That was all.)