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Looking For Something Dumb to Do

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Summary: This wasn't exactly what O'Neill meant when he said to foster connections with the Council...

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Stargate > GeneralJadedFR1513,6574306,77112 Jan 1212 Jan 12Yes
Author: Jaded
Story: Looking For Something Dumb to Do
Disclaimer: Joss owns Buffy, Stargate Atlantis and Stargate SG-1 are owned by SyFy. I write for fun, not for profit.
Summary: This wasn't exactly what O'Neill meant when he said to foster connections with the Council...
Warning: Kinda cracky! Hints (of the blink and you'll miss it kind) of non-canon slash
A/N 1: So, couple things about this. Basically, I was thinking out various possible pairings for a Woke Up In Vegas (Challenge #310) and for some reason, my mind got stuck on these two. Don't ask. Not really meant to be taken serious, just kinda fun. :D Enjoy!

Looking For Something Dumb To Do

“Whoever had the bright idea to have the super secret IOA meeting in Vegas is going to be shot,” John mumbled as he stumbled into the bathroom of the hotel room he'd been sharing with Ronon. His head was aching, the result of stupidly trying to out drink the lithe blonde from the Sineya Council. He vaguely recalled Ronon passing out and said lithe blonde laughing uproariously and not at all drunk, though she'd had more than he and Ronon combined. Thankfully, that guy from Global Dynamics hadn't been able to keep up either and John was fairly certain he'd managed to out drink him. He couldn't be 100% though—it was very confusing and everything pass Ronon's unwilling white flag waving was nothing more than a blur. He just hoped he hadn't made a complete ass of himself—Elizabeth was REALLY not going to be happy if he managed to destroy any chance they had of gaining a couple slayers for the city because he got drunk and was unable to control his mouth.

Once he'd taken care of his shouting bladder and had managed to hunt down some aspirin in the medicine cabinet—he found it somewhat amusing the hotel kept tiny bottles inside; they definitely knew what their clientele could get up to—he went back into the main room, intending on waking Ronon up. If he was going to suffer from a night of badness, he wasn't doing it alone.

He froze, staring at the figure on the bed he'd vacated.

“You're not Ronon.”

“No,” Dr. Dawn Summers said, tightening the sheet around her torso—her very naked torso. He scrambled to find some boxers. “I'm, uh, really not.”

“Where's Ronon?” he asked dumbly and she shrugged sheepishly.

“Buffy took him back to her hotel room—I think,” she admitted. “It's all very fuzzy.”

“Did we...”

“I'm assuming so,” she agreed. “At least I hope so—if we didn't, Buffy's gonna have a coronary trying to figure out who defiled her baby sister.”

John had enough brain cells (barely) to get the hint and he blanched. “You were...”

“Oh hell no!” she assured him. “Buffy just thinks I was. She's gotten pretty good about my life but when it comes to the sex, I'm pretty sure she still thinks I'm fifteen, not twenty-five.”

John had absolutely nothing he could possibly say to that. They fell into a semi-uncomfortable silence as Dawn looked around the room curiously. Her eyes stopped on a pamphlet for Hawaii vacations he'd been perusing just in case he could get the time off. Her lips quirked.

“I've never surfed,” she said. “Which is probably good, considering I may or may not have been responsible for the death of my mother's favorite vase.”

John snorted and almost immediately regretted it. He put a hand to his head, willing the jackhammers to shut up. She smiled, amused at him. “Hangover?”

“Why aren't you?” he almost but not quite whined. “I seem to recall you and Jackson being pretty drunk in your corner.”

She reached across the bed to where her jeans were, pulling out what looked like a tiny pill bottle. She took one out and held it to him. “Willow's Hangover cure,” she offered. She paused as he took it without hesitation—they'd been using some of Willow's healing salves in Atlantis and he knew how well those worked. She grimaced as he swallowed it dry. “Just don't ask what's in them.”

His headache was already receding and he looked down at the brunette. “She could make a fortune,” he said and she snickered.

“She sells them at the magic store the Crecent Coven runs,” she told him. “She just can't do it big cause then she'd have to admit to what's in it and no one would want it if they knew.”

He nodded, still amazed at the fact his headache was almost gone. He'd never gotten over a hangover so quickly.

“If you want to take a shower, you can—what is it?” he asked alarmed when she suddenly went white as the sheet that was slipping from her fingers. He was by her side in a flash. “Dawn?”

“Do you remember how we got here?” she asked in a tiny voice, staring down at her hands.

“No,” he admitted slowly. “Why?”

She held up her left hand and he felt faint when he saw what had caught her attention—there was a gold band on her ring finger that he knew shouldn't have been there. He looked down at his own hand, fearful of what he was going to find.

A matching ring winked up at him.



Watching his wife have a meltdown would have been funny in any other occasion. She kept alternating between staring at her hand horror struck and waving it around erratically as she cursed him, her, Buffy, the government, the wraith, O'Neill, vampires, Jackson, and the universe at large in more languages than he could identify (though one of them, which he knew and was never admitting to anyone that he did, was Tolkien Elvish).

Having McKay as a best friend, he knew better than to try and interrupt yet—she needed to get this out of her system before they could talk and/or deal with this.

And the longer she continued her own ranting, the more time he had to put off dealing with it himself. He'd sworn off marriage again after he and Nancy had imploded.

“I'm supposed to be the smart one,” she finally sighed (and somewhat pathetically, he noticed). “Buffy's never going to forgive me.”

“You know,” he said easily. “There is a little thing called annulment...”

“You honestly think my sister's gonna let us?” she asked skeptically and he frowned. “Oh no, see, my sister? Instigated a new rule in the Council after Xander accidentally got himself married for the third time—no annulment for a year.”

“No annulment...”

“For a year,” she confirmed. “She, and Giles, thought it would curb all the one-night marriages happening...and it did. For Xander, at least. Though to be fair, he did end up eloping with a wizard and they ended up falling in love so...”

“Dawn...I can't stay married to you,” he said, heart pounding. “I'm Military CO of Atlantis. I can't leave my post.”

“Did I say you have to leave the city?” she asked, hands going to her hips a moment before the slipping sheet forced her to grab it again. “Buffy's little rule never said anything about the couple remaining together--just married.”

“What exactly are you proposing?” he asked, headache coming back. He rubbed at his forehead as she grimaced.

“For a year, we remain married on paper,” she said. “You come back in a year and we divorce. Easy peasy.”

Divorce was really NOT as easy as she was making it out to seem; he had firsthand knowledge of that. The phone rang then and he winced, reaching past her to pick it up. “Hello?”

“Sheppard? It's Daniel,” a familiar voice said in the background. “Are you in your hotel room?”


Jackson must have heard something in his voice because the anthropologist paused. “You're not alone, are you?” he finally asked, amused. John sighed and Jackson chuckled. “This explains the piece of paper I found in my coat this morning.”

“Piece of--”

“You realize marrying into the Council wasn't exactly what the SGC and Jack was thinking when they asked us to foster relationships with them, right?” John resisted the urge to try and reach through the phone and strangle the SG-1 member. It wouldn't work and he'd look really fucking stupid.

“It was O'Neill's idea to have this meeting in Vegas, Jackson,” he pointed out with a great sigh. The linguist laughed.

“Would it help to know you weren't the only one?” he asked and John straightened. “Mitchell proposed to Buffy last night.”

“Neither of them got drunk,” he said, frowning.

“No, no they didn't,” he agreed. “The way Vala keeps telling it, Mitchell proposed as a joke and Buffy refused to back down on a matter of principal—and Mitchell wasn't about to lose to a tiny blonde, no matter her mystical destiny.”

“Are you telling me they got married so they wouldn't have to be the first to back down?” he asked with no small amount of amusement. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dawn start and stare at him, eyes narrowed.

“That's exactly what I'm telling you,” Jackson agreed and he didn't need to be in the same room to know the other man was grinning. “They're currently arguing with Willow and Xander about whether they should be allowed to get an annulment. They're not winning.”


He'd been concerned about having to explain what had happened but the moment she understood who it was who'd also eloped the night before, Dawn cracked up laughing. Suspecting he wasn't going to get anything more substantial out of the brunette for the time being, he went back into the bathroom for a shower. It was short, just enough to scrub himself down and hopefully get the smell of sex off his body, but by the time he got back, she was still hiccuping as she rummaged around in his duffel bag.

“What are you doing?” he asked, frowning, as she turned around. The sheet was still held up to her body but it didn't hide nearly as much as she seemed to think. He swallowed heavily and averted his eyes. Wife or not, he was gonna be in enough trouble as it was; he didn't need to oogle her, no matter if he didn't remember last night or not.

“My shirt smells like beer,” she wrinkled her nose. “My jeans are fine but...I need a shirt.”

He nodded, not wanting to admit he was lost. Dawn had seemed terrified before but now that she knew what had happened to her sister, she seemed much more at ease. He wasn't sure that was a good thing—particularly for him. She disappeared inside the bathroom, leaving him to get dressed and pack up—if he knew the SGC, they'd probably be recalled to deal with him and Mitchell's...predicament.

He watched, somewhat fascinated, when Dawn finally came back out. The black shirt was several sizes too big but she'd tucked it loosely into her jeans and rolled up the sleeves and it didn't look nearly after as he'd been half expecting.

“So, did Jackson say where they were?” she asked and he finally realized she must have calmed down while in the shower. He nodded, glancing down at the pad of paper on the bedside table.

“It's a small diner about a mile from here,” he said. “Do you have everything?”

“I couldn't find the certificate,” she said after a moment. “Do you know...”

“For some reason, Jackson has it,” he said, frowning. “I intended to ask why but got distracted by your sister marrying Mitchell.”

His lips quirked as she snickered. Despite the fact she'd done the same thing—sort of—John had a feeling Dawn wouldn't be forgetting her sister's gaff anytime soon. At least they had the excuse of alcohol.

Making sure he had his key-card and wallet, the two of them left the hotel room. They were quiet as they made their way to the diner, walking around the people stumbling and doing the tourist thing. It didn't take them long to find it. At first, the only group he could see was a group of civilians in a booth, but Dawn tugged on his sleeve and he found the two groups more towards the back, laughing as Buffy swatted at the redhead.

“I am never, ever letting you live this down,” Dawn announced once they were in hearing distance. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the unknown group all look over curiously. Dawn plopped down next to her sister. “Seriously, who was the one who kept ordering us all not to get married while we were here?”

The table erupted in laughter as Mitchell and Buffy both ducked their heads, blushing. “Cam kept saying that too,” Vala announced. She paused, a bright grin on her face. “He seemed to think I would drag Daniel to one of the chapels. Either me or some other poor woman.”

O'Neill almost snorted coffee out his nose as he laughed. “It would happen to the monkey,” he agreed.


“Daniel, who was the one who got married during our first mission?”

“That was a cultural misunder-”

“Who was it, Daniel?”

“Kasuf was--”


“It was me,” Jackson finally, grudgingly, admitted as the table all laughed. “That doesn't mean I'd end up chained here--”

“Chained?” Dawn interrupted. “Is that what we're calling it?”

“And where were you last night?” Buffy interrupted in a not so subtle way to get the attention off of her miss-step. “And why'd Jackson say you were with Colonel Sheppard when he called?”

“I'm twenty-five, big sister,” she reminded her. “Do you really want to know what we were doing?”

Buffy blanched and John hoped he didn't look nearly as uncomfortable as he actually was.

Dawn seemed to have taken pity on him and smirked at her sister. “So, Buffy, you took Ronon to your hotel room,” she stated. John glanced at Mitchell, who was looking resigned. Buffy stared back defiantly as everyone got quiet. They may have only been here a few days but most had noticed that when Dawn got that particular tone in her voice when speaking to Buffy, they were in for a show.

“Yes,” the blonde agreed as the man in question straightened in his seat—John took a moment to thank the stars that it wasn't Ronon who'd eloped with the blonde. Rodney would have killed him.

“You took Ronon to your hotel room,” Dawn repeated slowly. “So how the hell did you end up married to Colonel Mitchell?!”

Buffy turned pink as Mitchell looked up at the ceiling, the tips of his ears red. The rest of the table snickered.

“I wasn't about to let him win!” Buffy burst out. “He proposed and even flagged down a walking marriage guy...”

“Oh my god,” Dawn breathed out, wide-eyed, and John was torn between concern and amusement—Mitchell's neck was now red, a sure sign he was embarrassed. John hadn't seem him like this in years. He focused on his wife, absently playing with the ends of her hair. “You didn't think it'd be legal!”

Mitchell snapped his head toward his wife, an incredulous look on his face. Buffy had the grace to look sheepish. “You didn't think it was legal?!” he asked, voice strangled.

“The guy was walking around and announcing marriage certificates!” she argued as the table burst into loud laughter. “How was I supposed to know he was fully licensed?!”

“Oh my god,” Mitchell groaned as Dawn giggled. “Seriously?”

“Oh, like you're any better, Mr. I Think I'll Propose To The Girl Who Never Gets The Guy!”

“And they're off,” he murmured as the newly married couple started bickering. He smirked. Buffy might actually be good for his friend; she certainly understood his duties better than anyone else he could probably date.

“At least you two get along,” Jackson said, motioning at them as the waitress came over with cups of coffee the others must have ordered for them. “I'd hate to see what would happen if you didn't.”

“I'd win,” Dawn smirked.

“No, you wouldn't,” he argued almost on instinct. She stared at him. “You wouldn't.”


John opened his mouth, fully intending to argue the point, when Buffy seemed to have realized what they were talking about. “Dawn Marie!” she yelped. “What did you do?!”

“I was drunk,” Dawn answered calmly as John mentally asked the universe to swallow him at the looks he was getting from Ronon, Mitchell, and O'Neill. His wife smirked. “Which is more than I can say for you.”


Elizabeth had been having a good day. Teyla and Rodney were on standdown since half their team was back on Earth. Teyla had taken the chance and been visiting with the Athosians and Rodney was finally getting through some of the paperwork that had been piling up. So far, they'd gone through almost a week of nothing blowing up, attempting to eat and/or kill them, or having to fear for their lives. She thought she might actually be able to get all her own paperwork finished before the next scheduled dial-out without having to pull an all-nighter.

What she didn't count on, however, was Sheppard still managing to give her a headache, especially as he wasn't even in Pegasus.

“Incoming wormhole!” Chuck announced as the gateroom went on alert. “It's from Earth.”

She frowned, coming to stand behind the gate-tech. It wasn't unusual to get an early data-burst—if something happened that the IOA or the President thought they needed to know, they'd go ahead and send it through ASAP. And given the continuing Ori threat, early data-bursts were more common now than they'd been the year before, as Landry kept them updated whenever something major happened in the war.

So, though she was concerned, she wasn't full out alarmed—if it was something very worrisome, there would have been visual contact from Walter, SG-1, or Landry himself, not just a data-burst. That was the regulations.

“It's short,” Chuck said, looking at the file unlock on his screen. He paused. “It's seven emails; three are for Major Lorne, Dr. McKay, and Teyla, and the others are for you.”

“Send mine to my computer Chuck,” she ordered and he nodded, fingers typing rapidly over his keyboard as she went back to her office. She was hoping like hell this was the results of the conference on Earth she'd sent two of her men to.

Since the initial debrief on the HST threat and the group that dealt with them, she and John had both been hoping they could get a few of the slayers, or hok'tar as the Earth government kept referring to them as, on Atlantis. When O'Neill had contacted them about a meeting between the SGC, Atlantis, the Council, and a few other government projects on that very issue, she'd chosen two of their own to travel to Earth; Sheppard on behalf of the Atlantis military (the man needed a break, whether he wanted one or not) and Ronon for the Pegasus natives. Technically, Ronon hadn't been her first choice, but Teyla had been severely ill at the time with the local version of the flu and he knew the situation for the natives better than anyone else they had, given his history.

Sitting down, she took a long swallow of her coffee before clicking open O'Neill's email.

Subject: Conference Thing

Dr. Weir,
So, the meeting between the us and the Council went well. Officially, we're getting four civilian specialists for the SGC, including Buffy Mitchell. It took more talking to get people for Atlantis but ultimately, the Council agreed to send four slayers to you as well, if only to keep an eye on Dr. Sheppard.

In case you didn't catch that, I'm no longer allowed to schedule where our conference meetings are going to be held, as Mitchell and Sheppard accidentally eloped with the Summers sisters while in Vegas.

Elizabeth took a moment to just gape at her computer screen. Colonel Sheppard did what?!

Before you panic about losing your military CO, General Hammond and I have come to an agreement with the Council—they'd like to have someone in Atlantis to see first hand what's going on with the wraith. As Dr. Sheppard is now stuck with the colonel due to Council policies on elopement and the Presidents sense of humor, she will be coming as an observer and unofficial member of the linguistics department for a period of one year—minimum, as she kept saying as this was hammered out. Do me a favor and try and find the happy couple a nice little apartment or something okay? Maybe something with a view.

The rest of the email detailed the bullet points of the meeting and the strict rules involved with having the slayers in Atlantis—such as no medical testing beyond the normal guidelines for off-world travel. The PDF file attached was the Council paperwork on those who'd be coming to Atlantis—four slayers, a full-time watcher, and the newly minted Dr. Sheppard. If she hadn't known about the slayer life expectancy and calling, she'd have been concerned at the ages of the four slayers—one of them wasn't even old enough to drink!

The other files were the paperwork needed for Sheppard to live in Atlantis with his wife—relatively normal military stuff. Thankfully, the Sheppard's wouldn't be the only married couple in the city—they had a husband-wife medical team and two of the scientists from the original expedition had ended up married to two Athosians. Performing the ceremonies with Teyla and Halling had been one of the greatest joys she'd had as leader thus far.

Two of the other emails were from Colonel Carter and Dr. Jackson—Carter had suggestions on how the Slayers could be best placed in Atlantis and Dr. Jackson wanted to tell her the full story of the conference—particularly his admittedly drunk involvement in her military CO getting married. By the time she got through Sheppard's own email, she could barely breath, she was laughing so hard.

The End

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