Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is not mine and I am in no way affiliated with the series …

A/N: It all started with the word "yellow" and got stranger and stranger after that; please don't flame me. However, reviews and constructive criticism are appreciated. Cheers!

"Yellow! Why must everything be yellow? Honestly, Rodney, it isn't my color." Doctor Elizabeth Weir was modeling her latest present from Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard for Doctor Rodney McKay.

"That's what I told him, Elizabeth. But you know Sheppard. He thinks he knows best," Rodney responded as if it pained him to even speak of the other man.

"Unlike some people I know," she said with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

"Right, fine. We can't all be correct about everything, I know that. I was just making a point," McKay responded with his usual sarcasm. "Now, what do you have that goes with yellow?"

Weir looked through her drawers. She pulled out multiple pairs of black trousers, one pair of jeans, and a flowery skirt she kept around on the off chance she would ever get to wear it. It did not, however, match with her brand new yellow shirt, which McKay openly frowned at when she looked at him questioningly. No one else knew about McKay's impeccable fashion sense, largely because his line of work did not exactly call for it, and, secondly, because everyone on the Atlantis expedition looked more or less the same in their uniforms. Occasionally he longed for his closet of clothes back on earth, mostly when he actually had a date, but it was one of the things he had to sacrifice in order to go to Atlantis. He could manage.

"Rodney? Any suggestions?"

"Huh? Oh," she had snapped him out of his daydreaming about closets full of fashionable clothes. "Um," he picked up the pair of jeans, "try these. I realize they may be a bit, um, informal. Given the nature of the offending object," he made a face as he looked at the yellow shirt that did not do anything for her figure, "jeans would be best."

Weir had followed his gaze and looked herself over in the mirror. Her reaction was much like his. "It's awful," she said, taking the jeans into the bathroom with her.

While she was changing, Rodney called out to her. "Lizabeth, why are you wearing that … thing? It's not like he'll care if you wear it tonight or not."

She came out, yellow shirt and all. "I know, but it's like a dare, Rodney. John gave me this shirt thinking I'd never in a million years even consider wearing it. The fact that I'm wearing it in public no less means I've beat him on this." He had been staring at her as she explained but he looked up when she finished. "What is it?"

"It's hideous!" Rodney exclaimed. "I can't let you out looking like this. Everyone will think you don't have any respect for the occasion."

She halted him mid-rant. "Remind me what the occasion is again." Weir took several steps closer to McKay to which he responded with some mild stuttering.

"Well, I-I, that is, I-I mean, I can't let you ou-out looking like, like this." He slowed down as she brought herself flush up against him, looking him in the eye. McKay was mesmerized by her, always had been, and that was how he found himself in his current, correction, their current situation. "It's, um, it's our engagement announcement. And I can't let you announce something like that wearing the hideous thing that Sheppard saw fit to give you as a present after his trip to Earth."

"I wouldn't have this 'hideous thing' as you call it if you hadn't told him a present would make me feel better after being stranded here, Rodney. And that's why I must wear it." She smiled and kissed him lightly on the nose. He was staring at her, wide-eyed. "Besides, this 'hideous thing' will allow me to keep you all to myself. Or did you forget no one else knows about your fashion sense?"

McKay was a bit bewildered. Elizabeth Weir being in his proximity was one thing. Elizabeth Weir being in his proximity, kissing him on the nose and talking about keeping him to herself was another thing completely. His brain function temporarily shut down. "We-well I, um," he swallowed hard, "you're right, of course." She was the only one who could actually get him to confess someone else was right about something beside himself.

Weir smiled and kissed him rather thoroughly before letting go. "Come on. We need to go. We're already fashionably late as it is."

"Did you have to use that word?" he groaned. "It's complete and utter torture."

"Come now, Rodney. You're not the one forced to wear it," she tried to reason with him.

He replied in his know-it-all-scientist tone of voice, "That's beside the point, Lizbeth. I'm the one who has to be seen with you while you wear the offending thing."

"Well, it's too late anyway. We're on our way to the mess, and we'll only be even later if we turn around now. And for some reason you're the only person I know who's immune to my diplomatic charm," she said, giving him her trademark grin with slight eye squint. "I don't know whether I should kiss you for it or cry over it."

She succeeded in distracting him a bit with the comment. "Well, if you're going to do one or the other, I'd prefer it if you kissed me." He stopped and puckered up for her. Weir kept walking.

"Not now, Rodney."

McKay rolled his eyes and followed after his fiancée. He quickly caught up with her since he took several longer strides. "And while we're on the subject of charms, you seem to be immune to my 'I'm right and you're not' astrophysicist speeches. I'd say it's a fair trade."

Weir smiled and took his hand in hers as they approached the mess. "Well, it's about time you started talking sense. You're about to be speechless for the remainder of the evening." With that she pulled him into the packed mess hall, hideous yellow shirt and all. Let it be said that Elizabeth Weir never backed down from a John Sheppard challenge, even if Rodney McKay protested against it citing irrefutably bad fashion sense.

End