Rather unfortunately, there is a distinct lack of sex rituals in this sector of the galaxy.
Of course, this is ignoring the people on MXS-193, but really that was just a handshake that involved more penises than normal. John's had similar things done in broom cupboards before. It's not among the most impressive things to ever happen and it barely registers on his new improved Pegasus Galaxy Embarrassment Scale, so he writes it down in his report anyway. And then tries to ignore the growing number of teams who request a mission on that planet afterwards.
But no, this string of worlds is one of the most conservative places John has ever been. Teyla's enemy-distracting tops get severe frowns; Ronon's affinity for leather invokes a lot of averting of eyes; and once Rodney removes his tac-vest to fumble for something in an awkward pocket, John reckons he hears a few shocked gasps. Nipples, for god's sake, they're just nipples; and while John is happy to admit they're extremely nice, they're not particularly shocking. After all, everybody does have a pair of their own.
John gets the entire spectrum of reactions; which he doesn't think is very fair, because someone had gifted Teyla a Victoria's Secret catalogue recently and there was a lot of lace on show. It's still John that accidentally makes someone burst into tears though. He had only smiled at the man!
They beg and plead and threaten to perform spontaneous strip shows in various town centres in order to get away from this series of planets. They would have rather gated to somewhere with food, technology, drink and open-minded locals with a penchant for outdoor sex.
No matter what they do or say, Elizabeth stays firm, and soon they get sent off to MXS-158.
The first thing John notices is the open space. Wide continuous stretches of lilac coloured grass, punctuated by occasional boulders. Then he turns, notices something entirely different and says, "Jesus. Are you trying to piss off the locals?"
His teammates all look in different directions; John stares at Teyla until she meets his gaze. She looks innocent and bemused, casually gripping her P90 with one hand and raising the other to swipe her hair behind an ear. "No, John. Why would you think so?"
"You can nearly see your – " John cuts himself off before he says anything he'll regret. "The top?"
"Yes?" She glances down and smiles at him.
"It's practically not there," he finishes, mentally calculating how quick he'll need to run if she leaps at him.
"I am afraid all my others were in the laundry."
He gives up, because he likes living, and turns to Ronon, eyeing the extra tight leather pants with apprehension.
"Laundry?" he says glumly, not even starting for the exact same reason he gave up on Teyla. They are going to be lynched, he can tell. And then hung up by painful bits.
"Laundry," smirks Ronon and John sighs and goes to pick on Rodney even as they start walking.
"Now, I know you have six other shirts, McKay," he says conversationally, "Cause I washed them all myself."
Rodney busies himself with his scanner in sulky silence.
"And the pants-" John pauses, unable to come up with anything suitable – cause, yeah, Rodney knows he has a nice ass and he really knows how to show it off. If John can make a man cry with his smile, Rodney can make a whole planet explode from unbridled sexual desire with those pants and that ass.
"Eyes front and centre, Colonel," snaps Rodney, "And don't pretend you put on that shirt for our benefit only."
John sighs again – fine, whatever. Seeing how far he can get up these people's noses is fun – they get progressively politer the more you offend them. And, anyway, they all kinda remind him of his father. But all four of his team together look set to go so far up their noses they will come out the back of their skulls.
"This is going to be one of those missions that ends in near-death and pain, isn't it?" says Rodney suddenly.
John makes a non-committal noise and trudges on through the lilac grass.