Good Ideas
Author: Jennifer Allen
Fandom: Andromeda
Pairing: Dylan Hunt/Seamus Harper
Rating: PG13
Status: new, complete.
Archive: If you want it, take it, just let me know.
Feedback: would be most appreciated at movigrrl@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: All things Andromeda-y belong to Gene Roddenberry's estate, and 
Tribune Entertainment.

Notes: Scenario #31: Dancing the Tango in underwear only. 
Summary: "This isn't a good idea, Harper." "All my ideas are good, Dylan."

Warnings: Slash. And, not beta'd, so all mistakes are definitely mine.



"Rommie, where's Harper?"

"Harper is in his quarters."

"What's he doing?"

Dylan watched as the hologram frowned a little.

"He's… dancing."

"Dancing."

"Yes, sir."

"By himself?"

"Yes, sir."

"Does he do this often?"

"I don't know. Since the Magog eggs were removed, I haven't been monitoring 
him."

"Do you think he's drunk? No, no, never mind, don't answer that," Dylan said. He 
felt bad enough about getting Andromeda to monitor Harper when he was infested. 
Getting Rommie to check on Harper now, even though he was still worried about 
him, would smack too much of impropriety.

"Do you want me to let him know you need to speak to him?"

Dylan gazed down at the list of items he needed Harper to check over before the 
next supply stop. "No, no. I think I'll just stop by in person."

Dylan blinked. Had Rommie smirked before her hologram blinked out? Dylan shook 
off the thought and headed to Harper's quarters. 

As he walked down the hallway near Harper's door, Dylan became aware of a 
rhythmic thumping that got louder the closer he got to his goal. Dancing, right. 
And if you're dancing, usually you need music. Dylan stopped in front of 
Harper's door and stared at the door, trying to discern if it really was pulsing 
with the bass of whatever song Harper was listening to, or if it was just his 
imagination. Deciding finally it was his imagination, he pushed the announcement 
button beside the door.

"Harper? Can I come in?"

If there was an audible answer, Dylan couldn't hear it over the flow of music. 
The door slid open, allowing a wall of sound to crash over Dylan. Sensual, deep, 
throbbing sound, that seemed to move to his groin and hips and take up residence 
in his bones. It might be said that Harper had horrendous taste in clothes, but 
he obviously had excellent taste in music.

Although his clothing choice today was a definitely a step in the right 
direction. Or maybe that was a non-choice? Because Harper wasn't really dressed, 
not all the way. He seemed to have stopped the whole getting-dressed process at 
underwear. Really nice, tight fitting, black boxer-briefs. Dylan realized he was 
staring and blinked, twice, before dragging his eyes from Harper's nicely clad, 
rhythmically moving hips to his bare, slightly sweat-sheened chest, then up to 
his flushed face.

Dylan watched Harper move for a few seconds, and blinked again. Harper was 
dancing all right. He was dancing the tango. With an extended force lance. Dylan 
walked over to stand in front of Harper, then had to pace him as he moved 
through the steps to the dance.

"Harper?"

There was no response from Harper, he still seemed to be gazing intently into 
the eyes of the, umm, force lance. Although to be fair, while Dylan knew he had 
spoken, he hadn't heard himself over the music, so chances were Harper hadn't 
either.

"Andromeda, turn the music down, please."

Dylan sighed as the music attacking his eardrums modulated to soft background 
noise.

"Harper?"

Harper's movements paused, then he was blinking owlishly at Dylan.

"Dylan! What are you doing here?"

"I, um…" Why was he here again? Right. "I want you to check over the list of 
supplies and see if we needed anything else."

"Oh, okay, just leave it somewhere." Did Harper sound disappointed about 
something?

"Harper, what are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm dancing. Do you want to?" Harper's eyes brightened up again.

Dylan blinked. Again. "Do I want to dance?"

"Yeah." Harper tossed the force lance into the corner and moved up close. Really 
close. So close his soft, flushed skin was brushing against the front of Dylan's 
uniform. Dylan took a shallow breath, trying not to lean into Harper's heat.

"I don't think that would be…" Dylan gasped as he felt Harper's hands creep up 
his sides to circle around his back. He most definitely did not moan when Harper 
started to sway against him. Unbidden, Dylan's hands slipped around Harper, 
resting at the small of his back. He felt Harper's 'mmm' of appreciation vibrate 
through his chest.

"This isn't a good idea, Harper."

"All my ideas are good, Dylan."

Dylan suddenly realized he was swaying along with Harper and that his hands were 
rubbing small circles on Harper's smooth skin. Harper responded by nuzzling his 
chest.

"S'nice," Harper murmured. Dylan couldn't help but agree. Especially when he 
looked down, Harper looked up and they both leaned into a soft kiss. A kiss that 
quickly deepened when Dylan's hands slipped to cup Harper's oh-so-squeezable ass 
and Harper's tongue nudged at Dylan's lips. Dylan moaned, his lips parting to 
allow Harper's tongue free reign. 

Hot. Harper was so hot. 

Too hot. Dylan broke off the kiss with a gasp, panting for breath. He quickly 
slipped his hands up to Harper's back, supporting him as he sagged against 
Dylan's chest.

"Rommie! What's wrong with Harper?"

"He has a high temperature but that's all I can detect. You should get him to 
medical."

"I can do that."

Dylan shifted his grip on Harper and slipped an arm under his knees, scooping 
him up into his arms. Harper wasn't completely unconscious; he was awake enough 
to loop his arm around Dylan's neck and snuggle a bit as Dylan carried him to 
med-deck. Rommie met him there and quickly performed an exam on the mumbling, 
dazed Harper.

"What's wrong with him, Rommie?"

"He has a cold."

"A cold?"

Dylan looked at Harper's flushed face, smoothing a hand over his cheek to soothe 
Harper's murmur.

"A cold did this?"

"It's a virus he's never been exposed to before. Harper must have picked it up 
from one of the Bodarian ministers we had onboard last week. Even though it is 
much better than when he first came onboard, his immune system is still not in 
the best of shape. And when the virus activated, it made short work of him."

"Will he be okay?"

"He'll be fine. I've programmed nanobots to destroy the virus and given him 
boosters to reinforce his own immune response. Harper will be fine in a day or 
so."

"Good."

Dylan stayed with Harper, watching as his temperature slowly went down and he 
slipped into a natural sleep pattern. And Dylan was there when Harper woke up, 
blinking in the dim light.

"Hey, sleepy head."

"Dylan. Hi," Harper murmured, turning onto his side to face Dylan and snuggled 
into the pillow.

"How are you feeling, Harper?"

"Tired. And kind of stupid."

"I wouldn't call you stupid. Maybe foolish for ignoring the symptoms."

"Yeah."

"Do you, umm, do you remember what happened before you collapsed?"

Harper groaned and pulled the pillow over his head.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'."

Another groan was his only reply. Dylan sighed.

"Harper, I want to apologize."

"What?" Harper's head popped out from under the pillow. "What for?"

"Well, for, umm, kissing you and, umm, fondling you," Dylan said, staring in 
fascination at the deck.

"Dylan. Dylan, look at me." Harper smiled slightly at Dylan when he looked at 
him. "I don't regret what I did. I'm just embarrassed that I was so, umm…"

"Blatant?" Dylan supplied.

"Yeah, that works. Anyway, the only thing I regret is being too sick to fully 
appreciate what we did."

"Really?" Dylan asked, his face brightening.

"Really," Harper replied, the beginnings of a grin on his face. "And I wouldn't 
mind trying it again when I'm back on my feet."

Dylan leaned closer to the bed, and covered Harper's hand with his. "I wouldn't 
mind that either."