A/N: Written for the word prompt 'bath' over at Stargatedrabbles on tumblr
Mr. Clean
"This is not a good idea."
For the past four days they've been wandering through uncharted wilderness searching for a gate, skimming by on rations and hardly any sleep, when over a mountain ledge a small town offered them hope.
Only…
"Mitchell, it's part of their custom." Jackson, the one who sat and had a powwow with the town elder, and got them amnesty with some minor stipulations—they all have to bathe in a communal bathhouse to be spiritually cleansed.
His spirit doesn't need cleaning.
"Considering some of the things we've had to do to gain favor—" he can tell Sam's still apprehensive, but more tired than anything. "This is pretty low on the list."
"Doesn't anyone else think this reeks of a bad idea?"
Vala pushes by him, her jacket already peeling down her arms. "Well, I for one would rather reek of bad ideas than whatever it is you smell like right now."