fic: Of Hats and Trade Agreements, by Scarlet_Gryphon (AMTDI Challenge)
Title: Of Hats and Trade Agreements
Author: scarlet_gryphon
Words: ~540
Rating: G
Warnings: Pure and utter crack. Don't drink or eat while reading this 'fic.
Summary: "Oh, God. I can't take you seriously in that hat."
Sam couldn’t quite believe her eyes when John strolled through the ‘Gate, cradling his P-90 and looking for all the world like nothing unusual was going on. When Ronon came through wearing a similar expression (Though it was hard to tell with him- at times, he could give Teal’c a run for his money in the “Weird? I have no idea what you’re talking about” bland facial expression category), she began to worry. Teyla came home next, looking serene as always. Rodney followed soon afterwards, and Sam couldn’t help herself. She burst out laughing, her vain attempts to smother the noise in her coat sleeve going unnoticed.
‘Colonel,’ She managed, wiping her eyes as SGA-1 divested themselves of their weapons and handed them off to the waiting security team. ‘I expect you have a good reason for being out of- Oh, God. I can’t take you seriously in that hat.’
John just raised an eyebrow at her as they approached her. ‘What, you’ve never come home in native garb?’
Rodney gave a snort. ‘You look like Carmen Miranda, Sheppard.’ He said, crossing his arms over his chest; his upper limbs were festooned with brightly colored ribbons tied all around them.
‘You’re one to talk, McKay.’ Ronon noted, idly pulling the garlands of flowers out of his hair. Teyla declined to say anything, and Sam could see that she had gotten off lightly, with only a few daubs of paint here and there that accented the graceful curves of her bare arms and face. The men of SGA-1, however- well, that was a different story entirely. All members of Atlantis’ premiere ‘Gate team were missing their BDUs, though had been allowed to retain their underclothing. Teyla had been supplied with a skirt that accentuated her lithe figure, and she moved as though she was merely wearing her bantos-fighting practice outfit. Ronon, Rodney, and John had been given what Sam could only describe as grass skirts, similar to those used in traditional hula dancing.
‘The hat?’ Sam asked, staring at a nearby window; if she even looked at John, she knew she’d lose it again, and then there’d be no hope for her.
‘It’s given to those the Westarii deem to be great fighters. John won it after defeating one of their best warriors in combat.’ Teyla said, a smile quirking her lips.
‘And the…other parts of the costumes?’
‘The grass kilts- kilts, mind you, were part of the trade deal.’ Rodney said grumpily. ‘The ribbons, flowers, and paint were to honor the creation of a new trade partnership.’
‘I see. Well, I’m glad you’ve made such a good impression on the Westarii,’ Sam said, risking a glance at John. She bit her lip, coughed, and then waved them off. ‘Go get cleaned up, and then see Doctor Keller for your post-mission checkups. I’m sure you want to get… properly dressed.’
‘You have no idea.’ John muttered; was that the hint of a blush Sam could see in his cheeks? She watched as the team trooped off, and then turned to Chuck.
‘The security cams were on, right?’ she murmured, pretending to check on one of the panels of the DHD control center.
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Chuck replied softly, a slight grin on his face.
‘Fantastic.’
Author: scarlet_gryphon
Words: ~540
Rating: G
Warnings: Pure and utter crack. Don't drink or eat while reading this 'fic.
Summary: "Oh, God. I can't take you seriously in that hat."
Sam couldn’t quite believe her eyes when John strolled through the ‘Gate, cradling his P-90 and looking for all the world like nothing unusual was going on. When Ronon came through wearing a similar expression (Though it was hard to tell with him- at times, he could give Teal’c a run for his money in the “Weird? I have no idea what you’re talking about” bland facial expression category), she began to worry. Teyla came home next, looking serene as always. Rodney followed soon afterwards, and Sam couldn’t help herself. She burst out laughing, her vain attempts to smother the noise in her coat sleeve going unnoticed.
‘Colonel,’ She managed, wiping her eyes as SGA-1 divested themselves of their weapons and handed them off to the waiting security team. ‘I expect you have a good reason for being out of- Oh, God. I can’t take you seriously in that hat.’
John just raised an eyebrow at her as they approached her. ‘What, you’ve never come home in native garb?’
Rodney gave a snort. ‘You look like Carmen Miranda, Sheppard.’ He said, crossing his arms over his chest; his upper limbs were festooned with brightly colored ribbons tied all around them.
‘You’re one to talk, McKay.’ Ronon noted, idly pulling the garlands of flowers out of his hair. Teyla declined to say anything, and Sam could see that she had gotten off lightly, with only a few daubs of paint here and there that accented the graceful curves of her bare arms and face. The men of SGA-1, however- well, that was a different story entirely. All members of Atlantis’ premiere ‘Gate team were missing their BDUs, though had been allowed to retain their underclothing. Teyla had been supplied with a skirt that accentuated her lithe figure, and she moved as though she was merely wearing her bantos-fighting practice outfit. Ronon, Rodney, and John had been given what Sam could only describe as grass skirts, similar to those used in traditional hula dancing.
‘The hat?’ Sam asked, staring at a nearby window; if she even looked at John, she knew she’d lose it again, and then there’d be no hope for her.
‘It’s given to those the Westarii deem to be great fighters. John won it after defeating one of their best warriors in combat.’ Teyla said, a smile quirking her lips.
‘And the…other parts of the costumes?’
‘The grass kilts- kilts, mind you, were part of the trade deal.’ Rodney said grumpily. ‘The ribbons, flowers, and paint were to honor the creation of a new trade partnership.’
‘I see. Well, I’m glad you’ve made such a good impression on the Westarii,’ Sam said, risking a glance at John. She bit her lip, coughed, and then waved them off. ‘Go get cleaned up, and then see Doctor Keller for your post-mission checkups. I’m sure you want to get… properly dressed.’
‘You have no idea.’ John muttered; was that the hint of a blush Sam could see in his cheeks? She watched as the team trooped off, and then turned to Chuck.
‘The security cams were on, right?’ she murmured, pretending to check on one of the panels of the DHD control center.
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Chuck replied softly, a slight grin on his face.
‘Fantastic.’