blue flamingos

Christmas traditions

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis/Stargate SG1

Category/Rated: Slash, G

Year/Length: 2009/ ~824 words

Pairing: John/Cam

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

Author's Notes: Christmas ficlet for gaffsie

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

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Emails sent by Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard to Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell, Christmas 2006:

0630: Happy Christmas. For last week, since this won't go through till New Year's. But anyway. Better late than never.

0830: Why was the milk at breakfast green? I thought Christmas was green *and* red. Also? Green milk is just strange.

0832: And yes, I realize that strange should be relative when I live in the lost city of Atlantis. Apparently it's not.

1008: When I find out who rigged the radios to play Christmas songs when it's dead air, there will be punishment. KP. Swamp planet missions. *Lab* duty. With McKay, and Kavanagh.

1214: If the turkey's green, I'm having MREs instead. Bad enough that it was three-headed.

1442: Green would have been better. They gave all three heads Wraith hair and made Elizabeth, McKay and I decapitate them. I think it was Ronon's idea.

1738: Mistletoe is officially banned in this city. There are some things I never need to see (please don't ask. I plan to scour the memory from my brain before I see you again).

2001: Note to self: McKay and candy canes do not mix.

2224: Why oh why do I have Marines? What's wrong with a nice squad of Airmen? Or Sailors. We're an island city, after all. Going to bed – Lorne's always saying he wants to take on more responsibility.

2358: Happy Christmas, again. Hope you like your present.

Emails sent by Colonel Cameron Mitchell to Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, Christmas 2007:

0515: My brother would hurt me if I gagged his children, right? This is not a time of day I like to see when I'm not working. Guess you're still sleeping – and won't get this for a week – but happy Christmas. Try not to get invaded.

0830: Aunt Jessica just gave me a twenty minute lecture on why email-enabled cell phones are the work of the Devil. Or something like that – I'm paraphrasing slightly. Who knew?

1003: Court's kids say hi and merry Christmas. Told them you're an Air Force friend deployed a long way away – they say: poor you, hope you're not lonely; are you anywhere near Santa; and can they have a postcard to take into class? Thought they were a bit young to understand the Official Secrets Act and how that gets you thrown in jail. Anyway, they'd probably just have asked if you'd send a postcard from there.

1516: Too much food. No three-headed turkeys. Grateful for small mercies (and less small ones)

1628: Should have said earlier – Sam has mince pies. If you decide to steal one, don't mention my name.

1658: Think Jackson's planning to ask to transfer out to you again in the new year. Please say no. I've got enough people in another galaxy.

1817: I am the king of Ludo. How come we never find a planet with ritual board games? Surely that's not weirder than ritual rabbit racing (though less alliterative).

2351: Peace at last. I'm sure Court and I didn't used to stay up this late, though Mamma disagrees with me. Happy new year, even if I'm early. See you in 2008? Couch is always free,

Emails sent by Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard to Colonel Cameron Mitchell, Christmas 2008:

0856: Any day that starts with unexplained fire alarms is not good. Though the science team are ecstatic – apparently they didn't know the city had fire alarms, though since it has sensors and alarms for pretty much everything else, I'm not really getting why this is such a surprise.

1020: Also banned: creating an ice rink at the bottom of Tower 12. Keller's not impressed, and Woolsey's not thrilled either.

1117: Oh good. Music's back.

1428: Sergeant Mehra is leading my NCOs in a round of Jingle Bells, complete with dance routine. I'm not sure whether I hope that they're drunk or hope that they're sober.

1547: Christmas is vastly improved by the addition of a small child, even if he can't understand what's happening. Rodney's pretty put out that Torren's more interested in the wrapping paper than the contents.

1701: So much for a quiet day – on way to the Haptrans, Wraith cruiser just showed. Happy Xmas, I'll email when I'm back.

(Two days later): This holiday sucks, and so do doctors. And Wraith. And pain killers. I'm fine. Tell Carter hi and the Haptrans miss her.

Christmas 2009:

Cam woke up to the feel of something dragging across the skin over the top of his spine. When he opened his eyes and twisted his head, John was sitting across his hips, applying a green Sharpie to his skin.

"S'it say?" Cam mumbled.

"Happy Christmas," John said, capping the pen and setting it on the nightstand, then draping himself over Cam's back. "Felt like I should write it down."

"Mm," Cam agreed, closing his eyes again. "Tradition. Better like this though."


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