Title: Of Snarks and Weredogs
Author: Normative Jean
Rating: PG
Category: humor/team "bonding"/John humiliation
Pairing: none, but a bit of John/Elizabeth friendship and a bit of UST at the end
Disclaimer: not mine, oh so totally not mine.
Spoilers: nothing jumps out at me, so just general knowledge of the show
Author's Notes: This is mostly just some silly fun, but I tried to make the character's voices somewhat realistic. Totally un-beta'd, though, so all mistakes are mine.

"Major Sheppard, why aren't you wearing any pants?"

It had most certainly not been a typical offworld mission. It hadn't even been one of the cool action-y ones, John mused. Instead, it had been one damn thing after another, and John just wanted to lock himself in his quarters and not come out for a few days. Or until everyone who was presently in the command center had died. Whichever came first.

First there there had been the rainstorms that came and went with more frequency than he had ever seenincluding that one time he had been in Melbourne.

"I don't understand. It was sunny a minute ago. Literally. I looked at my watch."

"This planet likely has more extreme weather conditions than Atlantis does, or even Earth."

"Thank you, Rodney. I wouldn't have figured that out on my own."

"There's no need to get snarky, Major. Just stay where you are, or else I'll get pushed out of this delightful little five by five alcove we've found and into the torrential downpour."

"What does 'snark' mean?"

"This is really what you want to be discussing right now?"

Then there were the planetary natives who chased them with sticks while hurling such random invectives that the French a la Monty Python would have been proud.

"I don't understand. What the hell is a 'sluck-footed plurmont?'"

"Well, Lieutenant, it's obviously something of great cultural hatred to them, isn't it?"

"You know, Dr. McKay, is there some biological reason you're always such a"

"Ah! Lieutenant! There's no need to resort to that."

"Thank you, Major Sheppard."

"Do you really want to sink to his level?"

"Hey!"

He and his team had escaped the natives, only to come across a sleeping pack of what John was going to officially name Pegasus Weredogs From Hell.

"They are...quite large."

"Yes, Teyla, they are."

"I have never seen such creatures as these on any planet I have visited, Dr. McKay."

"Oh. That's...not at all encouraging."

"I am sorry."

"Hey, Major, take a look atACK!"

Naturally, as was befitting the sort of luck they had (and further illustrating why Rodney McKay should not be allowed to touch anything, ever)they found the one loose stone on the entire ledge when McKay stepped on it and went down the ravine with the rest of the rockslide.

"We should probably go down after him."

"Yeah, probably."

"Y'know, Ford, it looks kind of dangerous..."

"Yes, sir. We're pretty safe up here."

"Major Sheppard! Lieutenant Ford! He is a member of our team!"

"...Right."

After John, Ford, and Teyla maneuvered down to reach McKay, they also found seven wide awake, incredibly pissed Weredogs, all growling, salivating, and looking ready to tear McKay into little Canadian bits. And, of course, the rest of the unfortunate humans who had invaded their den.

"Oh...nice doggies."

"McKay, I just want to let you know, in case we die a horrible and painful death in the next few minutes, that I hate you."

"Yeah, I kinda figured that."

In their one stroke of luck the whole afternoon, Ford located a relatively smooth ascent back up to the main ground and, being the smart, if somewhat unfortunate people that they were, they turned tail and ran.

"Major! Over there!"

"Run away! Run away!"

With two of the Weredogs following them.

They reached main ground in record timeJohn assumed so, at least; he couldn't imagine that even Kenyan Olympians ran that fastand continued their brisk pace back to the Stargate. It was only by chance that John turned around to see if they were being followed that he saw the dog jump into the air.

"Oh, shi!"

He shouted out, and the rest of the team had turned with weapons ready.

Only to find one of the Weredogs pinning John to the ground, licking his face, and whining like a happy Labrador puppy.

"I don't get it. Now they're friendly?"

"It is not uncommon for creatures to be vicious when protecting their home and to be quite docile everywhere else."

"Look, this is an interesting discussion of animal behavoh, YUCK!"

John had been trying to ask for help up when the Weredogevil creature from Hell that it wasslobbered right into his mouth in an attempt to "kiss" John.

Then came the sniffing. That horrible event had led to his currently pants-less state of being. The Weredog sniffed, learning its new friend's scent. And licked. And nipped at his clothes.

"Ew."

"Yes. Thank you, McKay."

He really should have seen it coming, then, John mused, that the Weredog's "nips" would have been like cloth-ripping bites to the smaller, more delicate human species.

So the Weredog nipped, and in trying to get its new friend to stand up and "play" with it, there was a moment when John felt he could escape. He thought things might actually start going his way.

Then, the team heard a very unfortunate sound.

"Uh...did the dog just...?"

"I believe it did, Lieutenant."

"What is it doing...oh my! I should not look at this, Major Sheppard!"

"I hate my job."

The Weredog, for its part, looked slightly contrite as it sat a foot away from John, the tattered remains of his pants in its mouth. Really, John thought bitterly, wasn't military-issue clothing supposed to be, you know, durable?

Standing with as much dignity as he could muster given the circumstances, John took stock of the situation: he had about six inches of frayed cloth attached to his belt, and random strips stuck to his leg holster. A long piece of what he assumed had been his left pant leg flopped pathetically over his boot. And his bright red boxer shorts allowed him to take in the pleasant afternoon breeze.

Surely no one would blame him if he just shot the damn animal, right?

"I think it's a lost cause, Major."

"Shut up, Rodney."

"Maybe you'd better just get rid of the rest of your, um...pants, and call it a draw, sir."

"Shut up, Ford."

"Perhaps we should just return to Atlantis, as there is nothing you can do in your current state of dress. And please do not be rude, Major Sheppard."

"Sorry, Teyla."

"I think she's right, sir. The Stargate is less than a click away now. We should just go."

"Uh, oh. I don't think that's a healthy shade of purple he's turning."

"Shut. Up. Rodney."

So now, here he stood, letting all of Atlantis know a great deal more about him than he had ever wanted them to. Except for one woman, and John didn't think (if he were to judge by the shaking shoulders and forcefully tightened mouth) that she was especially impressed with him right now.

"Major, you didn't answer my question. Weren't you wearing pants when you left on this mission?"

Why, why couldn't this have been one of the missions where they took a Puddle Jumper? At least then, he'd only have to suffer the stares of a few techs, instead of giving a free show to the entire command center!

"Dr. Weir, I promise I'll give you a full report during mission debrief"

He took a deep, cleansing breath as Elizabeth had no choice but to snicker at his words.

"But please, I beg of you, let me go to my quarters first."

Elizabeth made no move to come down the stairs and talk to him quietly. No, she intended to do this for all to hear.

"Fine, Major. Just be properly attired when you come to the, ah, debrief." Oh, no, she was having way too much fun to be kind. John fully acknowledged that laughter was hard to come by under the constant threat of Wraith attack, but dammit, did it have to be at his expense?

John sighed, but quickly turned and scurried (with as much pride as one can have when scurrying in their underwear) and had just reached the doors when he heard a call for him.

"Oh, and Major?"

Oh, God. He knew Elizabeth could be positively wicked when she wanted to be, and he knew that she was going to have to have the last word. Still, he was a major in the United States Air Force, and they had trained him to take his attacks like a man. He turned and looked up at Elizabeth, who was leaning on crossed arms against the balcony raining. "Yes, Doctor?"

She was smirking. "Nice legs."

The doors closed behind John as he heard everyone's laughter (including his own team, those traitors) fade away. God, he was never going to live this down.

But hey, if she thought he had nice legs...

The End