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Wednesday, December 22nd, 2010 09:29 pm
I'm slowly working through my pre-Christmas to do list (laundry, check; cupcakes, check; wrap presents, check) and this is next, so: final batch of Christmas ficlets:

For gaffise, who asked for John/Ronon, Christmas with Dave

"Uncle Ronon, read to me." Denise, John's youngest niece, climbed onto the couch between the two of them and offered Ronon a brightly colored book.

Ronon looked over her head to John, who immediately reached in and took the book. "The Night Before Christmas," he read, turning it the right way up. "My mom read this to me and your dad when we were your age."

"Daddy?" Denise asked, looking over to where Dave was arranging gifts under a large pine tree.

"Believe it or not, your mother and I didn't spring from a rock this age," Dave teased without looking up.

Denise frowned over at him, then looked back to Ronon. "Read to me?"

She was like Torren – persistent. "Is it your book?" Ronon asked.

Denise nodded. "I know all the words," she said proudly.

"Why don't you read it to me, then?" he suggested.

"I want you to read."

"Denise," Dave said warningly. He straightened up, brushing the knees of his pants free of pine needles. "Be polite."

"Sorry," Denise muttered under her breath, and opened the book, tracing the words with her finger as she read.

"Read louder," Angela said after a page. "I can't hear over here."

"I'm not reading to you," Denise called back. She wriggled, getting a knee into Ronon's stomach, until she was leaning over him to look at her mother and sister, wrapping presents at the table in the corner. "I'm only reading to Uncle Ronon."

"Not even to me?" John asked, mock-offended. He looked different here, different than how he had at the funeral, tense and breakable. Like this, in Dave's home with a couple of years between the funeral and this, he looked relaxed, warm and happy. Ronon would have had a hard time believing John had been so nervous about bringing him back, if he hadn't lived through a month of it, however hard John tried to hide it.

"A little bit," Denise said over her shoulder. "But not to her."

"Denise," her parents chorused in a warning that made Ronon laugh, reminded of Teyla and John when Rodney needed reining in from a science rant. Apparently, John was thinking the same thing, since he was shaking his head, smiling.

"If I read that loud, Uncle Ronon's ears will hurt."

"I think I can survive," Ronon said bravely.

"Why don’t I help Mom finish wrapping the presents, and you can sit with your sister while she reads?" Dave suggested, already taking the roll of ribbon from Angela's hand. "Go on."

"You have to sit with Uncle John," Denise told her firmly as she approached the couch. Denise wrapped a hand round Ronon's wrist, over his tattoo. "I'm sitting with Uncle Ronon."

"Good," John said, hauling Angela onto his knee like she wasn't eight and all gangly limbs. "I was getting lonely with no-one to sit with me."

Angela patted John's hair in apparent comfort, then settled with her head on his shoulder. Denise wriggled back into place, half sitting on each of them, but leaning into Ronon, who slid one arm out to rest behind John, not quite touching him, even when John leaned back into it. He closed his eyes, listening to the halting words and the cadence of the lines in Denise's small voice, Angela occasionally offering help when Denise got stuck on a word, and thought about home.

For thady, who asked for Cam/Daniel friendship, with a more or less happy Cam, preferably with kittens

"Are we having a picnic?" Daniel asked when Cam appeared in his office doorway with a basket in one hand.

"Maybe in the summer." Cam seemed to take Daniel looking up from his notes as an invitation to come in, and moved to lean on the edge of Daniel's work table. "You had breakfast?"

"It's breakfast time?" Daniel checked his watch – he'd thought it was still the early hours of the morning. "Wait, did you bring me breakfast?"

"Something I picked up on my way in," Cam corrected. He put the basket on the table and carefully eased the lid up. To Daniel's more than mild surprise, the contents squeaked.

When he looked up at Cam, the guy was blushing. Daniel was pretty sure he'd never seen Cam do that in all their years of working together. "You brought me a kitten?"

"Kind of." Cam huffed out a breath and sank onto a stool, nudging the basket close enough to Daniel that he could look into it. It held five small kittens: one black, two gray, a tortoiseshell and a ginger. They were curled up in a little pile on what looked like an old air force sweatshirt, and when Daniel reached a hesitant hand inside the basket, the ginger on nudged his finger with a soft nose. "I heard them out back of my apartment block a couple of days ago. They don't belong to anyone, and they don't have a mom."

"So you rescued them." Daniel didn't really know why he was surprised.

"It's cold out there," Cam said defensively. "I couldn't just leave them."

"You know, when I said you were the kind of person who'd rescue stray cats, I didn't mean it literally."

"Kittens. Wind chill below zero." Cam scooped the tortoiseshell kitten from the basket and stroked one finger over its head. It was cute, and Daniel wasn't sure if he meant the kitten or the picture Cam made with it. It would have been a lot weirder if he hadn't had years of working with Jack and Sam to get him used to the disconnect between them as military officers and them as takers-in of strays.

"What are you going to do with them?" he asked. The tortoiseshell curled up in Cam's palm and purred, surprisingly docile for what had been a wild kitten.

"There's a shelter near here," Cam said, looking down.

"You can't keep five kittens and lead SG-1," Daniel said, taking a guess that Cam's awkward shifting pretty clearly indicated was correct.

"I know that," Cam said, sounding like a petulant child. "They're just…"

"Small and vulnerable?" Daniel suggested. Cam nodded silently, and Daniel reached out to touch his wrist. "You okay?"

Cam nodded again, still not looking up. "I saw them and I thought… I don't know, they needed saving. Someone had to."

"And it had to be you." Daniel frowned, watching Cam's slumped shoulders and the way he was holding the tiny kitten. "Does your building allow pets?"


"So keep one." Cam looked up, surprised. "You're telling me you don't know at least one teenager who'd be happy to cat-sit if we had an extended mission?"

"Maggie. Her parents won't let her get a pet, her dad's allergic." Cam stroked the cat's back again, some of his vague distress lifting. "What about the other four?"

"No pets in my building," Daniel said firmly, before Cam could talk him into it. "But I'm sure you could give them away here."

"I bet Teal'c would take one," Cam said, grinning suddenly.

Daniel couldn't really argue with that. "Or Vala."

That made Cam laugh, and Daniel smiled. Nice if all problems were that easily solved, but it was nice to have one that was, occasionally.

"Hey," Cam said, replacing the kitten with its brothers and sisters. "You'll help me name him, right?"

"Of course," Daniel said. Not that he'd ever been asked to help name a kitten – and he suspected his responsibility wouldn't end there – but the SGC was all about new experiences, even if they were mundane.

For bruinsfan, who asked for Cam knew he had plenty of more important concerns, but all he could think about at the moment was how much ribbing he'd get from Sam Carter over, once again, managing to lose his pants on a mission.

Cam had always figured that, given the choice, he'd rather have to escape from a hospital than a prison cell – and yes, he really had thought about it, back when he'd been trapped in a hospital bed after the crash, and reading about SG-1's daring exploits. As it turned out, there were downsides to escaping a hospital instead of a prison.

Like, say, the lack of pants.

Or boots, a jacket, or weapons. Also that whatever they'd been giving him to keep him under wasn't wearing off all that fast, which meant the corridors were spinning, and it was really a matter of when not if he threw up.

All of which paled into insignificance against the fact that the Hammond was their back-up ship, Sam was the captain, and if she had to beam him out, which she probably would, he'd be turning up on the bridge without pants.

Which, knowing Sam, would probably be mentioned in his damn eulogy, though hopefully not for many years to come.

He turned left, walked into a wall, and barely stifled the sharp gasp of pain. Like hospitals everywhere, the place felt deserted at night, but there was no point tempting fate. Especially with his comm. missing, the rest of his team bounced back to Earth with the gate locked behind them, and little chance of calling for help.

He really hoped Sam was in the neighborhood, even if it did mean more pantslessness related teasing. At least they hadn't cut out his tracker. If he could make it out of the hospital, she should be able to lock onto him and beam him out.

He tried not to think about how much his hip burned with every step; how they'd showed him the pins that should have been holding the bone together, and talked about replacing it with something else, something better, and his mind had gone to replicators, nanites in him… He had to stop, one hand on the wall, taking deep breaths to keep from throwing up.

Out, out, out. Get out, get home, and Carolyn would make it better. She'd fix whatever they'd done to him. He blinked, trying to stop the corridor from spinning – had it been that long before? He'd thought he was nearly at the end, had he turned around?

Cam frowned, looking both ways. The corridor seemed to stretch forever in both directions, spinning slightly. No help there. He turned in the direction he thought he'd been going, and put one foot in front of the other, not looking up.

The door under his hands was so unexpected that he was pushing it before he even registered what it was. He felt cold air for a moment, then the wash over a transporter beam over him. Then he was on the Hammond, the bridge warm under his feet, Sam's face swimming in front of him as she caught his arm and called for medical, and the drug swept over him and the last thing he felt was Sam holding on as he fell.


The first thing Sam said when he woke up was, "I can't believe you managed to lose your pants again."

"I didn't lose them, I know where they are." Cam pushed himself into sitting, and nothing even twinged. He must been on some good drugs.

"Do you know where your boxers are as well?" Sam asked, her face cracking into a brilliant grin, even though she was clearly trying to hide it.

"I'm just going to pretend you didn't say that," Cam decided after a minute of contemplating all the bad ways that line of thought could be about to end. He looked around for an IV, couldn't see one.

"You okay?" Sam asked, most of her amusement fading.

"Yeah, I – They, at the hospital, they put something – they replaced the pins in my hip."

"What are you talking about?"

"They showed me," Cam said, hearing his voice rise in panic, because if he wasn't feeling fine because of drugs, it must be something else, and that couldn't be anything good. "They took the pins, they replaced them with something else."

"That's –" Sam's head dropped in – relief? "Dr Ferguson couldn't figure out why they'd cut your hip open, she couldn't find anything, even with the scans."

"I don't understand," Cam said stupidly. Except he did, maybe.

"She said you were muttering something about them putting something inside you, so she checked the reference codes on the stuff in your hip against the database. They must have been –"

Looking. They'd cut him open just to look at what was inside. It was better than having had something freaky put into him, Cam guessed. He smiled, and Sam smiled back, obviously relieved. It was enough to make Cam decide he could hold off on freaking out until he got somewhere more private.

"So, tell me again about running around rescuing yourself without pants," Sam said, grinning.

Or maybe he wouldn't need to freak out at all. Not with Sam there.

For skieswideopen, who asked for John & Sam on Atlantis (holiday themed or just chatting or handling the daily business of running Atlantis, and feel free to throw in Lorne if he fits)

"So," Sam said when they got to the end of the agenda and the pot of coffee. "What do we do for Christmas around here?"

Sheppard and Lorne looked at each other, then Lorne sighed and dug a roll of candies out of his pocket, handing them over to Sheppard.

"Gonna share?" Sam asked, amused.

"Lorne and I had a bet on how long it would take for Christmas to come up," Sheppard explained.

"I meant share the candies," Sam corrected. "Give. I like the red ones."

"Yes, ma'am," Sheppard said, obliging, then offered the roll to Lorne as well, who took a yellow one.

"Is it a non-denominational thing?" Sam asked, tapping open a new file on her laptop.

"Tried that. Decided to stick with Christmas," Sheppard corrected. "The marines do their thing down in the barracks."

"And our office," Lorne put in with a grimace.

"Ah, come on, Lorne, you liked the tableau of Santa in a puddle jumper destroying the Wraith."

"Which Christmas story is that?" Sam asked.

"The marines do their own thing, ma'am," Lorne said. "Including Christmas stories."

Sam shrugged. There was nothing to be done with marines, as a general rule. "What about the rest of the city?"

Sheppard and Lorne looked at each other, then back to Sam. "Elizabeth started it," Sheppard said, his tone of voice implying that he thought this would make whatever came next sound better. Sam nodded for him to keep going. "There's a secret Santa. Everyone in the city buys into it, and then Santa and his elves give out the presents."

"Should I ask who gets to play Santa?" Sam asked.

Sheppard was really good at hiding his emotions, but the glee on his face was unmistakable. "The city's commander. No-one told you?"

"You're kidding," Sam said, somewhere between disbelieving and hopeful.

"Ask him who plays the elves," Lorne said.

"Some second-in-command you are," Sheppard grumbled.

"You?" Sam asked, surprised, turning to Sheppard.

"Elves, plural," Sheppard corrected, looking at Lorne. "And, hey, we have Major Hatsford this year as well. She'll make an awesome elf."

"Assuming she doesn't inflict serious damage on you for suggesting it," Sam pointed out. Hatsford was a marine, and tough.

"Good point." Sheppard grinned at Lorne. "You tell her."


Sam had been having terrifying visions of a sexy Mrs Claus outfit, but of course Dr Weir had been the one to dream it up, and she had too much professional pride to do anything like that. Plus, from the look of it, the Santa costume was a holdover from their first year, since it consisted of black pants and shirt with something red and fluffy stitched to the collar and cuffs of the shirt, and the cuffs of the pants. Though the Santa hat helped, she supposed.

"You make a good Santa," Sheppard teased, adjusting the bells on his own black pants and shirt – apparently, the marines had designed an alternative, which Sheppard, and then Lorne, had absolutely refused to wear.

"I think we should make this the standard Atlantis uniform," Sam agreed. "Where's your co-elf?"

"Dealing with a couple of marines who got too into the Christmas spirit." Sheppard nodded to the door of Sam's office and they headed out into the city. "It's been brewing for a while, we were talking about moving them to different patrol teams, but it's complicated."


"Dennison is part of Huddersfield's team, and Smith is part of Stackhouse's, so working them into the patrol schedule is pretty complicated to begin with. If we move them, we pretty much have to rewrite the whole thing from scratch, and I'm a little afraid Lorne will kill me if I suggest it."

"Does he regularly threaten murder over the paperwork?"

"Depends how recently I've been captured off-world and he's had to do my share as well," Sheppard said dryly. "But we did pretty much rework the whole thing after…" He trailed into the awkward silence that still finished every sentence referring to Dr Weir's capture by the Replicators.

"What about putting Dennison on training for a while?" Sam suggested. "You said you were a person short still."

Sheppard nodded. "He's got plenty of experience – he was two years on a team for the SGC before we got him."

"Whatever the two of you think best," Sam said.

"Thanks," Sheppard said as they stepped into the mess. "Hey, Lorne, where're your bells?"

For lady-anarial, who asked for Cam/John + Sam friendship, no angst

"So you two must be pleased," Sam said, sliding into the vacant side of their booth and handing out beers.

"We're always thrilled to see you," Cam teased, ignoring the way both she and John rolled their eyes. Sam was pretty much the only one who knew about them, since she'd spent a year on Atlantis, and he still loved being able to say 'we.'

"Who wouldn't be?" Sam agreed. "But I actually meant the senate vote."

John made a neutral noise and took a swallow of beer.

"I can't believe it actually passed," Cam said. "I always thought I'd be retired before it happened."

"Cynic," John said fondly.

"Right, that's your job."

"Good timing though," Sam put in. "With Sheppard on Earth."

"I guess," John said slowly. "Lorne's going to be pissed at me for not being in Atlantis when the news gets in though."

"He's in charge of city systems now," Cam pointed out, not missing the way John still brightened at the reminder of Lorne's promotion, even if it had been the better part of a year. "Wouldn't it be mostly his area anyway?"

"I'm pretty sure "city-wide response to repeal of don't ask don't tell" comes under joint responsibility." John looked at Sam. "Any announcements on-board the Hammond yet?"

Sam tilted her head thoughtfully. "Does Sergeant Harris putting photos of her civil partnership on her locker door count?"

"Yes," John and Cam said in unison. "I could do that," Cam added.

"We're not married."

"Oddly, I do remember that. I meant I could put up pictures of us. See how long it takes for the rumor mill to distort it completely."

"Do you have any pictures of the two of you?" Sam asked.

John and Cam looked at each other. "Someone must have taken one in Afghanistan," Cam suggested.

John shook his head. "Did you keep any from then?"

Cam shrugged, conceding the point. That hadn't been a good time for either of them. "Vala had her camera when we went to the carnival, the first time you all came home."

John shook his head again. "She forgot the memory card, didn't save anything."

"When Atlantis was on Earth?" cam was pretty sure he already knew the answer to that one, and wasn't surprised when John shook his head again.

"You really don't have any pictures of the two of you together?" Sam asked.

"Until three days ago, they would have been evidence in getting us thrown out of the air force," Cam pointed out helpfully.

"Still," Sam argued. "I have pictures of me and Rodney, and I don't even like him."

"Yeah, but he thinks you're his dream woman," John said, like that made any sense to the discussion.

Sam made a face. "I think I got replaced by the younger, more medically-minded model."

"You're upset about that?" Cam asked.

"Well, a woman likes to be wanted."

"By Rodney McKay?"

"Fair point," Sam conceded. John laughed, and she grinned back at him. "Here," she said, pulling out her cell and fiddling with it, then holding it up.

"What are you doing?" John asked.

"Cell phone camera," Cam said. Weird the things that didn't make it out to another galaxy; John's cell was four years old, bought when the expedition had been thrown out and never replaced, and even then, it was a cheap, simple model. "We can really live without any pictures of the two of us."

"No, let her take it," John said, to Cam's surprise. Then, to Cam's even greater surprise, leaned his head on Cam's shoulder. He waited for Sam's cell to bleep its confirmation of the picture, then looked at Cam. "Hey, if we're going to do this, might as well do it in style."

"Are we?" Cam asked. "Going to do this?"

John's eyes were soft and warm, all of his usual protective shell wiped away. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I want to. If you do."

"I do."

For icarus, who asked for Rodney-centric, with Rodney failing at being a Scrooge

When Jennifer chimed Rodney's door at eight pm on the day the Daedalus had arrived, she expected to find him surrounded by physics journals, coffee, and chocolate. Maybe a letter or two from Jeannie and Madison, maybe even a gift for her – he liked to buy her sexy underwear, and she wasn't exactly averse to wearing it, especially when she figured out how good the sex was when they got into the fantasy.

Instead, she found him surrounded by –

"Are those gift boxes?"

Rodney didn't say anything, which meant he was thinking disparaging things about her, or at least her comment; this was the compromise they'd reached between her being constantly offended and him straining something trying to be nice. She changed the question. "Why do you have gift boxes?"

"For gifts," Rodney said.

"I got that far." Jennifer toed off her boots and went to sit on the bed, turning a red box in her hand. "Who are you giving gifts to?"

"Christmas is only two months away." Rodney took the box from her and replaced it in its original position – apparently, he had a system. Then he leaned in and kissed her. "Hello."

"Hi." She kissed him again, letting the long day slide off her. "You've bought Christmas presents already?"

"It's never too early, especially when I'm relying on the Daedalus to bring everything. Honestly, the US postal service would be more reliable, and they've lost nearly twenty percent of my gifts, worked out over the whole time I've been relying on them."

"" Jennifer hadn't even started thinking about Christmas yet; last year, she'd gotten Carolyn Lam to help her out with gifts to her family. "You've got a lot of boxes."

"I've got a lot of people to give gifts to."

"Oh." Jennifer had never really thought about it, but she would have assumed that Rodney would turn up his nose at any kind of celebration of Christmas, especially when they were in another galaxy. Though he had bought Teyla a gift for her baby, even if it had been a weird gift, and he was surprisingly insistent on commemorating all the milestones and anniversaries of their relationship that she didn’t usually bother with.

"So," she said, picking up another box just to get his annoyed frown. "What did you buy me?"

For averzierlia, who asked for Cam/John + Sentient!Atlantis, When the IOA sends someone out to 'inspect' and see how Cam and John are running Atlantis, she protects them from reappraisal, because they're really horrible at keeping their relationship a secret

Atlantis has always liked John, since he first set foot on her and she felt his wonder and awe. She liked him when he came back without Marshall, who she also liked, who felt familiar; then, she felt how much John hurt, how he was scared and alone, and wanted to protect him, keep him safe.

She still fells that, and she still likes him, and some of the other people in the city, who don't realize that she hears them, say that they think she must love John best.

She doesn't. She loves best the man who came to Atlantis after Elizabeth was gone. He is calm and amused and sweet and tolerant, and John is the only one who calls him Cameron, even though he says 'Cam' to everyone. He and John are well matched, partners in their work and their lives. She loves them both, though they don't know she knows of them, and she loves how their poorly kept secret makes their friends happier.

What she does not love is the way that they speak, low and worried, when news arrives.

"As long as we're not making out in the control room," Cam says – she wants to call him Cameron, like John, but it is a term of affection that she has not earned.

"The leader of Haptra knows about us, and I don't remember any making out when we were there." John thinks that he is more worried than Cam, though he is wrong. She feels Cam's worry, late at night, how his mind spins with trying to solve the problem.

"It'll be fine," Cam says.

It is not fine. The leader of the IOA, a man she does not like, asks many questions about John's relationship with his troops, with his team, with other women, and John says, "I'm not involved with any women in this galaxy. Not that it's any of your business."

"No women?" the man says, and John says, "No," with a smirk that tries to cover his fear.

"You've never married?" the man asks Cam, who goes wide-eyed and says, "What bearing is that supposed to have on my ability to run this city?"

"Questions get asked, Colonel."

"I'm sure they do."

She watches the man write a report that evening. She does not understand that words - in breach of fraternization policies, as well as violating don't ask don't tell, and openly displaying… - but she understands his feelings as he writes.

His email shows itself waiting to be transmitted back to Earth, but never gets there. Atlantis feels joy and pride and pleasure, and turns inwards, making more plans to protect her commanders. She has not always been able to do all it would take to protect her citizens, but this time, she will.

And, because I totally misread gaffsie's prompt the first time and thought it said John/*Cam*, Christmas with Dave, a bonus ficlet

Dave had emailed and said, "If you're still around for Christmas, you should come out to Virginia and spend it with us. Unless you have other plans." Which John hadn't, not really, and he wasn't scheduled to return to Pegasus until February – part of the deal they'd come to, in order to get Atlantis back – and so he'd emailed back, "Sure," and, before he could talk himself out of it, "Can I bring someone?"

Which was why he was watching Cam stare at Dave's house and wondering what the hell he'd been thinking. Dave didn't even know Cam existed; John wasn't even all that sure that Dave knew John was bisexual.

"We going in?" Cam asked, pulling his duffel out of the trunk and handing over John's.

No. "Yes." John hesitated, trying to remember what he'd done the first time he'd taken Nancy home. He wasn't sure he actually ever had. He took Cam's hand, and ignored the surprised look Cam gave him.

John's youngest niece, Denise, dragged the door open as soon as John rang the bell. She'd grown – God, it must have been two years since John had seen her. He'd seen more of Cam's nieces and nephews in that time. "Hi, Uncle John."

"Hi." The house behind her was quiet. "Is you dad home?"

She turned to yell for Dave and Andrea over her shoulder, then back to John and Cam curiously. "You're not Ronon."

"No," Cam agreed gamely, crouching down to her level. "My name's Cam."

"I like Ronon," Denise told John accusingly.

"Cam's nice," John said stupidly, which at least made Cam laugh, even if Denise kept glaring.

Fortunately, Dave chose that moment to put in an appearance, and Cam got hastily to his feet. "John, you made it," Dave said warmly, reaching out to shake his hand. And John had clearly been spending way too much time with Cam's family, because it actually felt weird not to be greeted with a hug.

"Yeah, um…" He reached for Cam's hand again, hoping it didn't look as nervous as it felt. "This is Colonel Mitchell. Cam. My, um, my partner."

"Oh." Dave looked between the two of them, down to their hands, then at John. "I'm – it's nice to meet you."

"You too," Cam agreed, taking Dave's offered hand.

"Daddy." Denise tugged at Dave's hand. "You said Uncle John was bringing Ronon."

Dave gave John a look that very clearly said, Kids, what can you do? Apparently, Denise and Angela were still emailing with Ronon, who they'd both taken to when they'd met him briefly after the funeral. "I said that Uncle John was bringing a friend, not that he was bringing Ronon. Sometimes grown-ups find new friends. Like Aunty Sandra and Aunt Jemima."

"I like Aunt Jemima better than Aunt Sally, though," Denise said, pouting.

"That's not polite," Dave said firmly. "I'm sorry, why don't you come in? Andrea's picking up Angela from drama club."

"Ronon's still my friend," John felt compelled to point out, since it was the only part of the conversation that actually made sense.

"No, of course," Dave said. "I just meant – well, clearly you're happy with Cameron."

John looked at Cam, who was looking back at him. It was sort of reassuring to know John wasn't the only one finding this whole thing weird; Denise, apparently, was finding it boring, as she disappeared up the stairs. "Yeah."

"I suppose it's easier, with you both being in the air force."

"Easier," John parroted.

"Than with Ronon," Dave clarified, with an apologetic look at Cam.

"Ronon." And then the proverbial penny dropped. "I wasn't – Ronon's a friend. Just a friend."

"I thought…" Dave frowned at him in evident confusion. "You brought him to Dad's funeral, I just assumed."

"Wrong," John said, too loud, feeling his face flush red. "You assumed wrong, Cam is – we've been… I was already with Cam then. Shut up," to Cam, who had one hand half-pressed across his mouth, ineffectively stifling his laughter. Even Dave was starting to smile at John's expense. "Yeah, okay. Let's… Hi Dave, happy Christmas. You've met Cam?"

"Sure." Dave and Cam shook hands very solemnly, Cam biting at his bottom lip in a failed attempt to hide his grin. "Happy Christmas."

"You too."

Further down the hallway, Andrea's voice called, "Dave? Is John here?"

"Oh thank God," John said softly. Cam, the traitor, was still laughing at him.

"Uncle John!" Angela barreled into him for a hug – she'd always been more open with her affection than anyone else in John's family. "Mom, Uncle John's here."

"I see that," Andrea agreed, reaching over her daughter to kiss John's cheek. "I thought you were bringing Ronon again."

John seriously wondered if he shouldn't have accepted Cam's offer to go to Kansas again.
Wednesday, December 22nd, 2010 10:35 pm (UTC)
"You know, when I said you were the kind of person who'd rescue stray cats, I didn't mean it literally."

Ahahaha! Cam is *so* the kind of guy who rescues stray kittens. Love all of these, especially Sam putting on Elizabeth's Santa costume, bless them both. Love the warm, happy friendships and families. Thank you for doing these!
Wednesday, December 22nd, 2010 11:08 pm (UTC)
Ahhh! Thank you so much, it is lovely!
Thursday, December 23rd, 2010 12:27 am (UTC)

<33333 Silly IOA, don't mess with Atlantis' boys!
sid: (Cam golden boy)
[personal profile] sid
Thursday, December 23rd, 2010 02:11 am (UTC)
Oh, I love all of these! But most especially the kittens, and the last, accidental one. *g*
Thursday, December 23rd, 2010 03:17 am (UTC)
Oh, ha!

"Oh." Jennifer had never really thought about it, but she would have assumed that Rodney would turn up his nose at any kind of celebration of Christmas, especially when they were in another galaxy. Though he had bought Teyla a gift for her baby, even if it had been a weird gift, and he was surprisingly insistent on commemorating all the milestones and anniversaries of their relationship that she didn’t usually bother with.

Me, too. And yet ... he does do that, doesn't he?
Thursday, December 23rd, 2010 04:38 am (UTC)
I love Sam-as-Santa! And the image of Santa slaying wraiths from a puddlejumper is hilarious. Fantastic! Thank you!

John & Ronon reading to John's nieces is very sweet. And John & Cam visiting Dave for Christmas, with all the attendant confusion over John's relationship with Ronon (which is totally what Dave was thinking at the funeral) is both hilarious and touching. I love all of the happiness you managed to fit in!