Very ... Festive, by Temaris

by Temaris

It wasn't so much the way McKay kept on staring at him, as the uncomfortable awareness that he wasn't looking for the reasons John would have liked him to look. It was the way his mouth kept twitching as though only a tight grip on his annoyance was stopping him from breaking up into helpless laughter. Not even travelling through the Gate had broken that steady, deeply amused stare.

He could ignore him though. Him, and Teyla, who was at least trying not to smile, and Ronon, who was sulking. Oh, and the muffled snorting sounds from the rest of the gate room.

"Colonel Shepp--" Weir stopped, and he turned slowly, squishily, material fluttering around him, to face her. There was a moment when she nearly made it and she clapped a hand over her mouth, rubbing to conceal the smile that was defeating all her attempts to conceal it. "How, how was the mission?" she tried, determinedly. The fact that she choked and had to start again kind of defeated the whole thing.

"Oh, *fine*," McKay stalked past, and John narrowed his eyes at him. There was something deeply unfair that he was the one who'd ended up soaked to the skin, his clothes plastered to him, wet seams chafing uncomfortably. "Colonel Sheppard performed a spot check on local gravity, and determined that it was fully functional while successfully also checking for the material properties of the large body of water handily next to him. Fortunately, he floats."

"And the, the flowers, and the ribbons and--?" She waved a hand at his decorated uniform. "It's all a little non-regulation, isn't it, Colonel?"

John's hand twitched self-consciously towards the garland slipping precariously over one eyebrow before he stuck his thumbs in his belt and gripped it firmly. He was not embarrassed.

"The flowers are where the Onanians crowned him Day King," Teyla said. John would have been seriously impressed at her demure expression if he hadn't known it was all a lie. Inside, she was crying with laughter, just she had when they led him ceremoniously up to the line. "For his prowess and range in the --"

John cleared his throat and she stopped, a small, very amused smile clinging to her lips.

"Yes, and then they all danced around his Day Pole," McKay sniped. John winced. Well, yes, but could they not talk about it here? Please? Or better yet, *ever*?

Something of this must have shown in his face, because Weir's face convulsed for a second and then she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and looked carefully at a point somewhere above the team's heads. "In my office, perhaps?"

McKay stomped up the steps and the rest trailed after, John surreptitiously adjusting the garland so it didn't cut off his vision.

He wondered if he could escape, and hesitated, only to discover Ronon standing behind him, smirking. An expression he must have learned from McKay.

"Hurry up, Colonel," McKay called back, as though thinking about him was to call his attention to you. "You might still be able to convince me not to talk about the bondage thing with the ribbons."

He could feel the tips of his ears redden. "It wasn't bondage," he said sharply, and wished he hadn't as he felt everyone looking thoughtfully at the colourful ribbons waving gaily from every hook, button hole and loop his uniform afforded. P-90s just weren't the ominous tools of war they were meant to be when festooned in bright bows and furbelows.

McKay smirked. "But you won, Colonel, I'd've thought you'd be--"

"McKay!" he said desperately. McKay's smirk broadened into a grin and he disappeared into the briefing room.

"I'd move before McKay starts in on the bit with the measuring sticks." Ronon had a point. John picked up the pace. But on the plus side, John *had* beaten all the rest of them.

Seemed that being on the run for seven years, or being in Siberia didn't get you the kind of wrist action that a two year TDY in Antarctica did...

And by special request: The Official Version:

AAR: P7X-982

On arrival SGA-1 discovered a local fishing festival in progress. Male team members were invited to participate in competitive events celebrating the opening of the fishing season. Colonel Sheppard won several events, and was assured of a welcome as an honored guest should he choose to return.

Planet has advanced cloth industry, and a strong agrarian economy. Some luxury items available. Freshwater fishing industry thriving.

Further investigation re: trading recommended, esp. fish.

May be suitable for R & R. Applicants should be strong swimmers.