Keraha (keraha) wrote in keraha_fic,


Rating: PG
Warning: SPN/SGA crossover, an utter lack of background, cliches, oh, and cosmic herpes. Also, no plot whatsoever.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis and Supernatural
Notes: Written only because darkeyedwolf has the WORST BUNNIES IN THE WORLD. :O !!!

The first time Dean volunteered to do the sex ritual, John had raised his eyebrows and said, "Have fun." He probably should have felt a little guilty, foisting off the deed, but Dean was just asking for it.

"This might take a while," Dean said with a cocky grin. He waved one arm, then followed the shiny waxed manslaves up the enormous temple stairs.

For the first half hour, John lounged against the massive column, keeping an eye out for stray bad guys. After that, he'd check his watch at approximately five mnute intervals. The rituals normally took about an hour. He'd done it once but had learned enough to know that between the awkwardness and the onlookers, it wasn't a spurt-and-go job. After about two hours, he glanced at Ronon and asked, "Do you think, uh, he needs help?"

Ronon gave him that slow smile that really said, "Your people are so stupid, Sheppard." Out loud, he said, "I think he can manage."

"But what if this is because he can't--" John made vague gestures around his hips. "You know, get it up."

"I think he can manage," Ronon said again, that same smile on his lips.

Rodney, who had crept closer and closer as the sun went down, snorted. "Do you think Dean Winchester needs help getting it up? What do you think he is? It's a temple of beautiful, scantily clad women." He pierced John with blue eyes of all-seeing accusation. "Unless there's something you need to tell us, Colonel?"

Rodney had done the ritual twice. John decided he didn't want to think about it.

"Okay," he said slowly. "But just in case this takes any longer, I'm going to check in with Weir."

By the time he got back from a tricky conference with Weir ("Dean is-- negotiating. The Kum'ins needed him for a ritual and he agreed. It shouldn't take too much longer. -- Yes, it was completely voluntary. No, we haven't inhaled anything. Or ingested. No, Elizabeth, we didn't smoke anything either."), Rodney was talking in furtive whispers with Ronon.

John could hear him from a good twenty feet away. "She had these enormous--" Rodney gestured at his chest, then nodded. "Enormous. The size of melons. You could just take them in your hands--"

Ronon had a peculiar smile lurking on his face. "I like the ones with--" he put his hands out in front of him and flexed his fingers.

Rodney stared for a few moments, then enlightenment shone from his face. He snapped his fingers twice, then said, "Yes! Yes! I love those!"

John coughed. He glanced at Teyla, who was sitting at the other end of the stairs with a serene smile on her face. "McKay, Ronon, let's not talk about this right here and now."

"Why?" Rodney asked. "It's not like we don't know what Winchester is up to." He got that disturbing glazed look in his eye again. "I hope she wasn't--"

"McKay," John hissed. He glanced at Teyla again, rolling his eyes a little bit harder. "Not now."

"What? Oh." Rodney looked up at Teyla. "Ohhh." He looked speculative. "I'm sure they have alien sex priests somewhere in this galaxy."

John checked his watch. Three hours. The sun was almost down. It shouldn't be long now.

Except that it was. At four hours, it was completely dark, and the only light came from their flashlights and the torches on the top of the stairs. Five hours found McKay chewing nervously at a powerbar, snapping his fingers and saying, "How long has it been, Colonel? Eight hours? Ten?" Six hours started with Teyla coming down the steps and saying, "I do not believe I have ever heard of the ritual taking this long."

At last, at six hours, twenty-three minutes, the temple doors opened with a creak. John looked up at saw Dean strutting down the stairs, the same two glistening manslaves in tow.

"You said you needed more grains, didn't you?" Dean said, straightening the collar of his damnable leather jacket. John could see a hickey on his collarbone.

"Yes," Teyla said, walking up to him. "We hoped to get--"

The bigger manslave walked up to her and bowed. "Take as much as you need. The priestess was very pleased with your offering."

Rodney's jaw dropped. "What?" he said, face turning red. "I only got us--"

"Right," John said. "Let's take our food and go. I think we've been here long enough."

If anything, John thought privately, Dean's smirk just got-- smirkier.

The manslaves led them to the food storehouse, then watched as Teyla monitered the amount of wheat stuffed into each enormous sack.

Back at the stargate, Ronon dragging a veritable silo of food, the priestess had stopped them. She looked distinctly wobbly on her feet (which John rationalized away by glancing at her high heels), and breathed at Dean, "Come visit us again. We would love to-- become closer friends with your people."

John didn't stay long enough to see what Dean's reponse was. He walked into the gate, Rodney close behind.


The second time Dean volunteered was at PX3-485, where Rodney had sniffed in jealous displeasure.

"But she's a blonde," he had said pitifully, as if it explained everything.

"I like 'em blonde," Dean had said, then walked off with a particular jauntiness to his step.


The third, four, fifth and sixth time Dean volunteered (M4R-852, P5R-995, M6D-892, and M7D-915, respectively), John felt a strange sense of déjà vu. The man was insatiable, clearly.

As were these alien priestesses. They were just coming out of the woodwork.


The seventh time they came across an alien priestess, John rolled his eyes and said, "Alright, Dean, you can stop doing that thing with your eyebrows. Go and sex 'em up."

Dean smiled innocently, then disappeared as rings dropped around him and took him up to the priestess's shuttle.

Seven hours.


At the eighth sex ritual planet in three months, John had to draw the line.

"Excuse us," he said to the priestess, who was definitely eyeing his team.

"Of course," she said, licking her pink painted lips.

John hustled his team to the corner. "Is it me, or have there been a lot of these recently?" he asked. He added, just to be safe,"More than usual?"

Rodney's lip turned downwards. "Only, you know, eight times in the past three months." He frowned at Dean. "What are you? Some alien sex god?"

Dean smirked. "Most people just call me Dean."

"But seriously, do you emit liquid sex? What is this? Why you? Why them?" Rodney looked horrified. "You must have cosmic herpes! Does Carson know? Is that why you guys are always in the infirmary together?"

"No, we're--"

"Oh god," Rodney said, turning pale. "You're sleeping with him! I bet he slept with you guys, too!" He made wild eyes at Ronon, Teyla and John.

Ronon coughed.

"You did!" Rodney shrieked. "You so totally did. I can't trust you guys anymore! Teyla! Please tell me you had some modicum of dignity! And you-- Colonel, what happened to 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell'? Winchester, you're an epidemic. You're taking over everyone!"

Times like these, John wished the coin had landed tails. He nodded at Dean. "Make this one quick, okay? Before McKay's head explodes."

One hour, and the priestess still gave them more than they had needed. John was beginning to think Dean had become the local Pegasus call boy.

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