sorry... i didnt know how to continue this story... brain dead, did you know it took me 3 days to type it out? THREE DAYS! yikes... so, now onto the story... oh, this chapter is inspired by SG-1 Database Checkett supporters, namely HyperCaz and i think Ellymelly - thanks guys!

John brought out the biggest birthday cake one could imagine and Beckett's eyes filled with hunger. Come to think of it, he hadn't had breakfast or lunch. His stomach growled as he went to blow out the 38 candles. Out of empty silence laughter came Thirty-eight! He was getting old. Sheppard grinned at him. Yeah yeah yeah, so what if he was younger. It was apparent that Beckett had lost the bet of being younger than Sheppard.

A mental kiss imposed itself upon his cheek. It was undoubtedly from his lover Arynn. Someone started humming in his ear as John started to sing.

"Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you!" Everyone joined in to prevent Sheppard singing by himself.

"Happy Birthday dear Carson… Happy Birthday to you!" They all clapped and hooted.

"Carson, are you going to stand over your candles forever?" Weir asked politely. Carson smiled and blew them out. More clapping followed.

The candles relit.

"Did ye buy the relightable candles major?" Beckett said with a suspicious look in his eye. Zelenka, Sheppard, and McKay smiled brightly. "Uh huh…" murmured the amused doctor. Quickly he wet his fingers and put them over the wick, snuffing the candles. The grins of the three dropped away.

Another soft nuzzle startled him. My darling.

Ah, thanks fer th' party.

It was all Sheppard, I swear! He nodded partially to Arynn and partially to the kind people handing him presents. Happily he opened them while talking with Arynn.

Suuuure it was all Sheppard…

Okay fine, I had something to do with it.

Ah!

…

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Finally, the party was over and he could return to his duties of tending the ill. So far he had three people in the infirmary, two that were leaving soon and one… well… he fell off a balcony. He wasn't leaving soon in other words. He rushed… well, not rushed because that would be unprofessional, but after he was done he hurried off, covertly, to his favorite room in Atlantis. The Chair Room. He grabbed some implements of "destruction" from the make-shift janitor's closet. Grinning at his ingenuity, he scampered into the transporter.

Sneaking down the hallways, he ran smack into the Marines outside of the transporter in front of the Chair Room.

"Uh hi!" he said hiding his pail with his implements of destruction. He waved nervously. The marine gave him the queerest look in the world, well, at least in Atlantis. He tried to peer around Beckett to the bucket, the doctor hid it well.

"Hello Dr. Beckett, what are you doing out here tonight?"

"Well, as part of a dare, I have to clean the floors," he grumbled. The marine looked at him again and let him pass. Beckett inched by.

Relieved, he went on the Chair Room. He closed the door and locked it, a trick John had taught him with his enhanced Ancient gene.

"I'm here, meh love." Whistling happily, he set out his implements. A can of polish, his bucket, and a towel. Very carefully, he poured the polish into his towel and started to polish the Chair's seat and back. She loved it, the Chair glowed a warm blue color.

"I know… I know," he crooned softly.

come on... hit that little button that says review! no reviews, no more chapters and i mean it!