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vamp926 with: ncis, team, ice cream.“Why the hell are the air conditioners down again?! McGee?!” Gibbs growled walking into the bull pen with his ever present cup of coffee.
McGee closed his eyes, silently praying for salvation. “The heat wave overwhelmed the central compressors. I already called maintenance several times and they confirmed that the technicians are working on it,” he answered tiredly, barely able to open his eyes from the heat.
Gibbs stopped in his tracks and looked around at his team. Their computers were off, as was his own. “And the computers? You three could be doing reports while you sit there doing nothing,” he ordered taking a resounding sip of his drink, sparking Tony to speak up.
“How can you drink that stuff when it’s so hot?!” he asked as he was leaning back in his chair, the latest Maxim magazine open to its latest centerfold celebrity girl, covering and sticking to his face.
“It keeps me cool,” Gibbs said, narrowing his eyes. DiNozzo was lounging out. McGee was idly tapping keys on the dead keyboard while leaning his head on his hand. Ziva had her own head down on her desk, face flushed from the heat as well. Letting out a breath, he knew that if even his Mossad assassin was out for the count, the team was not going to work – at all.
Taking another sip, he silently walked out and headed for the elevator, pressing the button for the main floor.
“Tell me he wasn’t drinking his coffee again,” Ziva mumbled from her desk, face down.
“When isn’t he,” Tony responded, in his same position.
“You know, we could go visit Ducky…”
“NO!” Ziva and Tony replied together, still unmoving.
“It was just an idea. His temperature controls are their own network because of the morgue,” McGee tried insisting.
Abby, walking in and catching the end of the conversation easily picked it up, “Yea but suffer the heat? Or suffer through another one of his stories? At least it’s quiet up here!” She fell back into Gibbs’ chair, letting her head rest on the back as she swung around in half circles.
“You made your point,” McGee said grimly before letting his own head fall to his desk, continuing to play with the keyboard keys.
Fifteen minutes later, Gibbs returned, Ducky in tow with their hands full. They shared a knowing smile as they stepped out of the elevator, quietly placing cups on each of the desks in front of their friends. McGee and Abby were the first to lift their heads to see what surprise Gibbs had brought in.
“Boss?” McGee questioned, eyeing the recognizable cup.
“McGee?” Gibbs countered looking back at him, a ghostly smile on his lips.
“Thank you!” McGee said, speechless as he reached for the spoon and dug into his ice cream before matching Abby’s sigh of pleasure.
“This – is – good,” Abby said around a mouthful of vanilla ice cream and peanut butter cups.
All McGee could do was nod in agreement, as the smell of the peanut butter and sweet cream finally reached Tony and Ziva’s noses. Ziva’s head slowly picked up and her eyes grew wide at the treat awaiting for her. Glancing to Gibbs, she saw that even he had one and was smiling as he leaned against his desk while Ducky silently stood nearby enjoying his own.
Grabbing one of Tony’s little nerf balls that she eventually collected in her bottom desk drawer, she aimed for DiNozzo, causing him to jump.
“FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!” he yelped, jumping up, the magazine falling, one side still sticking to his face when his eyes fell on his desk. “Ooh ice cream!”
For the first time that Gibbs could think of, his team was conscious and in the same room, together, and quiet as they slowly came around and shared child like smiles around spoonful – or mouthfuls, in Tony’s case – of ice cream and friends.
He really needed to stop drinking when the team was on missions. Sure partaking in the local festivities is expected of them, but John Sheppard was soon finding that Pegasus alcohol was nothing compared to the Earth versions. His first clue should have been the ruuse wine that Teyla introduced him to. Thankfully she stood by his side his first time trying the stuff, because from what she told him later, he needed to be escorted back to his quarters before he started to ‘act out’ more.
Okay. He could do this. John narrowed his eyes as he leaned against the wall of one of the huts of this village they were to trade with. A village that just so happened to be holding their yearly harvesting celebrations. He could see the hut assigned to him and his friends…huts? Counting the buildings in his line of sight just didn’t make sense. Oh fuck it.
John stumbled across the empty dirt path before falling unceremoniously against the door to one of the multiple doors his eyes were tricking him with. So far so good. He had left his pack in his room and was starting to think that the Tylenol that he kept packed away in it was sounds really good about now. He managed to stay upright as he opened the door and peered in, eyes snapping shut at the brightness of the fire that was lit in the common area. Refocusing, he could see Ronon sprawled out on the people’s version of a couch. Tripping over his loosely tied boots, John went to pick up the bag that had been tossed in the corner and looked around for one of the more private rooms for some quiet sleep. Spotting the door that if he remembered correctly from their earlier tour, albeit brief, he headed for the bedroom.
Before he made it there though, he suddenly had an itchy sensation on his arms and across his chest. Yanking his shirt off, he could see the start of a light rash forming. Fuck! Something in the area he was allergic to, though thank goodness it was only an irritating rash at this point. Pulling a small pink bottle out of the bag – something Carson began adding to their packs after the last time the team came across poison ivy (or the like) on three consecutive planets, John started to rub it over himself to relieve the itching as he continued again for his target. The bedroom. Right. Over that way.
No sooner than he opened the door and took two steps in, his legs caught the edge of something hard and down John Sheppard went. Regardless of his position, he was out like a light before he even finished his fall.
The next morning, John winced, waking to flashes of bright lights and snickering. “Dammit McKay! Can’t a guy get some sleep?!”
“Oh Sheppard, we’d let you sleep, no problem, except the rest of us would like to umm use the facilities before we pack up and return to Atlantis,” the balding man laughed, and snapped another picture.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Sheppard asked, rubbing at his eyes, finding that his hands felt unnaturally oily. Huh??!
“Colonel Sheppard,” Teyla’s serene voice spoke up. It was like the sound of an angel to John in comparison to Rodney. That was at least until her next words… “I believe you have mistaken my belongings for yours when you returned from the harvest last evening.”
“Again…what the fuck are you talking about?” John repeated, pushing himself up, but his hands were slippery and kept sliding back down a smooth surface that seemed to enclose him. The light was still too bright for him to bare, so he was working with barely squinted eyesight.
“Your bag? What the …” John started saying again.
Rodney interjected with another flash and smirk, “Yes, what the fuck again. We know you have no clue what happened last night. I’m making a rule that you are not to drink any more off world liquors. Whatsoever. Let Ronon or Teyla deal with the locals in for those erm traditions.”
“Rodney,” John groaned, wanting a freaking answer already.
“Colonel, you obviously developed another reaction this past evening, and in your – confusion – acquired my bag and used a bottle of infant oil that Dr. Beckett gave me, mistaking it for your people’s calimi? Calami…” She glanced at Rodney for help.
“Calamine lotion,” he finished for her. “You rubbed baby oil all over yourself, and passed out in the tub, shirt off, and pants nearly around your legs,” Rodney continued, thoroughly amused. “Just wait until Chuck gets a copy of these babies!”
The words of his two friends slowly began to register as John’s head began to sober up. Oh Fuck! “Rodney – if you give those pictures to anyone, I’ll be making sure that you’ll be spending a lot of bonding time with Ronon in the gym for the next three months!”
Ronon appeared behind the two others, his taller stance easily looking over them down at Sheppard who was still dazed and sprawled in the tub. “Don’t worry, I got my own shots last night as he was taking Teyla’s bag to begin with,” he grinned, nudging Teyla to the side and turned on the cold water.
The second the drops hit John, he was up and out of the tub, tripping over the side crying out in surprise and anger at his team. “Why the fuck would you do that?!” he exclaimed, before turning to a nearby pail and began to vomit whatever alcohol was remaining in his stomach.
“Just get me home and to Beckett. He can stick me with all the needles he wants for all I care. I just want to get the hell outta here before they decide to invite us for another night,” John moaned as his face flashed various shades of green and yellow. It was quite fascinating really.
Teyla and Rodney exchanged a look. One that wasn’t missed by their leader. “Oh no fucking way!” he said again, stumbling past them, pulling up his pants and slick upper body brushing against their clothes in the tight space that was the place’s restroom.
“I’m going to bed. Wake me when it’s time to leave!” he said, looking around again for the other door he had really wanted the night before. Making a beeline for it, he quickly locked himself in and promptly passed out on the bed that Teyla had claimed the night before. Now – he’d pull rank. Screw their games.
“How much we gonna get for these shots?” Ronon asked as the three continued to mingle in the bathroom.
Rodney thought for a moment, “At least a month’s supply of chocolate and maybe two months of decent porn.”
Ronon nodded, “Good deal.” He patted McKay on the shoulder firmly, shaking the man as Teyla only rolled her eyes at the two as she followed them back out, prodding them to the village. The colonel was going to have one hell of a story to explain to Woolsey when they return home the next morning.
John had been slouching from his position on the bench, his arm cuffed to the metal bar above it as he looked around. Ronon, arms hanging on the bars of the cell, and Teyla, quietly in the next block watched the proceedings of the police precinct they were currently in. A smirk slipped onto John’s face before he began laughing.
“What’s so funny Sheppard?” Ronon echoed through the room.
Teyla stood as she peered back at her friend. “I don’t understand what you find amusing in our situation. We were supposed to relax, and instead we end up in a jail.”
John pointed back at her with a grin, “THAT is what is so funny! How many times have we found ourselves in this situation? At least we don’t have to worry about the locals wanting to sacrifice us or eat us for dinner.”
Ronon finally catching on, started to laugh himself. “At least your jails are cleaner and have toilets,” he added.
Teyla frowned, narrowing her eyes. Shaking her head she went on to scold the men. “This is ridiculous. We do not belong here. John, you did call Rodney and General Landry, yes?”
“Yea, calls were made. They said they’d work on our release,” he answered, hoping himself that they weren’t <i>too</i> mad.
“Well, I gotta say this is going to be my favorite trip here,” Ronon shared earning curious glances from both John and Teyla.
“Why is that?”
Grinning, Ronon avoided looking at Teyla, “This time no one can blame Sheppard or me for starting the fight.”
Teyla glared back, fighting a smile. “Did I not warn that man that his advances were unwelcome? How was I to know he was part of the law enforcement?”
The trio was saved by a livid scientist, “New rule. Teyla isn’t allowed at Colorado bars anymore!” Rodney exclaimed as he breezed past them on his way to make their bail.
Title: Welcome
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Genre(s): Gen
Character(s): Original Character
Warning(s): None
Author Note: Written for LJ's SGA LFWS challenge.
As an officer, coming up for reassignment can sometimes be like opening a present. Where will I go this time? What country will I get to see? The Air Force came to my house and escorted me to Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado. I couldn’t help but wonder what NORAD would want to do with me, a simple Air Force lieutenant with decent combat skills.
Next thing I knew, I was sitting at a table, being told about Stargates, wormholes, and aliens of other worlds. Okay. I think I could handle this. At least I’m still on American soil, right? Wrong.
Two weeks aboard the Daedalus and cabin fever was beginning to set in. Spending time in the gym helped, then we were told we’d be beamed down into the city.
I thought it might hurt, just little tingling sensation though. I had squeezed my eyes shut for it, and when I opened them, I found myself standing in a large colorful room. Turning, I saw a man, a colonel based on his wings, standing next to a woman. As I took in the scene, my ears were barely able to register the words that were being spoken.
“Welcome to Atlantis.”
