blue flamingos

A Christmas Colby and Lorne spend together

Fandom: Numb3ers/Stargate SG1

Category/Rated: slash, PG

Year/Length: 2009/ ~493 words

Pairing: Colby/Lorne

Disclaimer: No, I don't own them, for which I should think they're profoundly grateful.

Summary: A Christmas Colby and Lorne spend together

Author's Notes: Christmas ficlet for bergann

Feedback: Yes please. Even if it's bad. Especially if it's bad.


When Colby gets back from a five day patrol that's turned up a whole lot of nothing and left him with sand everywhere he doesn't want it, there's a small brown postal box sitting on his cot.

Shoving down the – totally rational – urge to get EOD to come take a quick look, he approaches cautiously until he can read the label: To: Any Soldier, and then the camp's address.

"Already?" he asks, rhetorically, since there's no-one in the tent but him, then pops out his knife and slits it open. The contents are well packed with newspaper and, at the bottom, blue cloth like someone ran out and resorted to an old shirt. They're worth the newspaper print all over his hands, warm and sticky,: chocolate, shower gel, two $5 phone cards, deodorant, a CD of the Rolling Stones Greatest Hits, a pack of cards, and, folded on top, a postcard of the Statue of Liberty.

Hi, it says when he flips it over. I feel sort of weird writing to you when I don't even know who you are, but I hope you like this. Take care, be safe, and have a good Christmas. Love, Amanda.

She's about a week early, but that's okay. Colby's family mostly pretend Christmas isn't happening – his dad died three days before, and it's never been the same since.

Lorne's already in the mess tent when Colby gets there, sitting alone, but with a couple too many empty mugs on the table for that to have been the case for very long.

"Hey," Colby offers, sitting opposite him.

Lorne blinks at him, then smiles. "Thought you were out until Tuesday," he says, pleased.

"It is Tuesday," Colby says mildly. "What've *you* been doing?"

Lorne rubs his eyes, looking tired. "Long story. Tell you later. Everything go okay?"

"Boring but fine," Colby says. Lorne doesn't look injured, so he figures he can let the rest go till later, when they can maybe snatch a few minutes alone together. They're getting pretty good at that. "Oh," he says, remembering, and digs in his pocket. "Here. Happy Christmas."

Lorne takes the chocolate bar slowly, turning it to read the label and seeming more confused that it really warrants, even if he has been deployed for six months longer than Colby already, long enough to lose track of American holidays in the desert. "You're early."

"Care package," Colby says. "Anonymous one. Apparently someone thinks I'm lonely and unloved."

He'd vaguely wondered if Lorne had picked him out, but the answer's obviously no from the look on his face. "Don't know how you can be lonely with a couple hundred soldiers and airmen to keep you company," Lorne says.

"Me either," Colby agrees, digging into his food.

"It's your package, though," Lorne says, nudging the chocolate bar back over. "You should keep it."

Colby pokes it back with the handle of his fork. "It's good to share," he says.

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