It only takes a quick glance out over the sea of cold, miserable students and professors to find Rodney, his trademark hat and flailing arms making him an easy pick. John stifles a wild grin and leaves his own students to do as they please - they're adults, they can manage not to blow themselves up or cause a national rift if he lets them alone for five minutes. There's just no way he's letting the convenient pile of leaves beneath the tree by Rodney go to waste.

The first one to see him is a small Asian girl in a gray pea coat and a loud, lime green scarf. She covers her mouth with one hand, eyes wide, when John puts a finger to his lips.

"- and, Johnson, if you ever, ever touch something under the chemical hood without my permission again, an F will be the least of your worries," Rodney fumes. "Surely you're a junior and you should know better by now. Not that any of my collegues are competent enough to train you properly, of course, but that is neither here nor there. Did I or did I not tell you that I was working with mercur - John!"

John cackles, delighting in Rodney's indignant squeal of protest, and carries him bodily over to the mound of leaves.

"What are you - no. No no nonono, John, don't you dare, I am going to kill you!" Rodney yells, trying to squirm around in John's arms and punch him in the gut; his knee connects with John's side, but it's too late because John's already tipping them over. They go down with a whumph, dead leaves crackling under their weight, and - wow, totally not as cushy as John expected.

"Ungh," Rodney says.

"Mrph," John agrees.

"No sex. Ever again," Rodney adds.

"Yeah right," John snorts. "You love my ass."

Rodney's sullen silence speaks for itself.