A ficlet and some fandom lurve.
Cam's first Thanksgiving with the team. S9. PG.
Cameron sprawled in the grass that grew, lush and soft, around the broad stone platform the Gate sat on. Two suns (and seriously, he'd never get over how cool that shit was) hung high in the lavender-tinted sky (Sam had said something about the suns' light interacting with a gas in the upper atmosphere) and right now all he wanted to do was lay there and let it all soak in.
Until somewhere to his right came a sound that reminded him of his grandma's cat throwing up a hairball in his shoes. Cam rolled onto his side; a few feet away Jackson was gagging as he pulled something out of his mouth. His glasses hung off one ear, and Cam figured he'd have one hell of a shiner by the next morning. Jackson coughed, spat out a clump of feathers, and said, "Did we just get run down by a stampede of alien turkeys?"
"Giant alien turkeys." Later, in the briefing, Sam would describe them as "birds, two meters in height, weighing approximately 200 pounds, with coloring and vocalizations reminiscent of Meleagris gallopavo, the North American wild turkey," but right now she sat on the hewn stone steps up to the gate, her hair a riot of grass and feathers, a deep scratch on her chin, and reiterated, "Giant."
A few feet behind her lay Teal'c. His vest and boots were intact, but Cam got an eyeful of his red boxer briefs through the shredded remains of his pants. He lay still enough that Cam, concerned, said, "Hey, Teal'c, you alive, buddy?"
"I am not."
They had only just come through the gate when it happened - the only warning they had was a rising wail of warbling that deafened them before the alien turkeys burst from the treeline. Teal'c had been taking up the rear, and while Cam, Jackson and Sam had been able to use the steps of the platform for some cover, Teal'c had been just feet from the gate when the turkey front line bowled him over.
"Well," Cam said, "how 'bout we call this one a wash, go home and eat some-" Suddenly the centerpiece of the planned feast for his first Thanksgiving with the team didn't sound so appetizing.
"Ham," Sam offered. "Or a roast. I'd like a nice roast."
"Roast is good." Jackson said as he straightened his glasses and got up, holding out a hand to Cam.
Cam rolled to his feet with the assist, and the two of them pulled Sam up. Jackson started to brush the debris from the tangled mess of her hair, but had to quickly concede defeat. She'd been wearing it a little longer these days, though Cam figured that wasn't going to last much past tomorrow.
The three of them gathered around Teal'c, who hadn't moved, laid out on the stones in silent repose. Cameron poked him in the ass with the toe of a boot. "Come on, big man. What do you say to a nice rump roast with all the fixins."
Teal'c opened one eye. Three hands reached for him, and with a grunt, he let them haul him up, dignified even though Cam now saw his shorts had "Hot Stuff" written across the back. "I believe that will suffice, Colonel Mitchell."
THE END.
I'm feeling incredibly maudlin and sentimental this holiday season (dude, I teared up watching Little House yesterday), and even though there are days it makes me batshit crazy and kind of hateful, I want to give fandom a great big hug, because more often than not fandom makes my day. Fandom had given me laughter, shiny things, stimulating conversations, confidence, new perspectives, wonderful storytelling, an audience for my own storytelling, support, opportunities, ideas, outlets, and some fabulous people who deserve all the *smooches* in the world. As corny as it sounds, it's been a crazy three or four years, and fandom has been a big part in keeping me sane and making me the person I am today.
You are awesome, fandom, and I'm thankful I found you.