This all started when I noticed how very pretty sloppycronkite's icon is. (Sooo pretty.) The offer was made to share Exit 57 episodes so I could enjoy more pretty and I made the counteroffer to write a prompted ficlet for each episode loaded. (You can see them in their original form in the thread.) These are the last three ficlety things that resulted.

Title: Standard Greeting
Characters: Jon/Stephen
Word Count: 336
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language.
Author's Notes: See above.
Summary: Prompt was "I thought maybe a military/soldier AU type thing might be cool, no?" (I went for a crossover/fusion with Stargate: Atlantis.)
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.


Standard Greeting

It was completely, totally, and unarguably Stephen's fault.

It was Stephen who had convinced the entire fucking TEAM to start using the Vulcan hand thing when meeting new people. Now the entire Pegasus galaxy seemed to be under the impression that it was a standard greeting among their people. Any Pegasus native who spotted an SGC uniform was almost guaranteed to hold up a hand, middle and ring fingers parted, and wish them long life and prosperity.

"You know the anthropologists are having a shit-fit about you...'corrupting the native cultures of this galaxy'."

Stephen snorted. "We corrupted that the day Colonel Sheppard woke the Wraith. I think this is just a bit less traumatizing."

Jon was silent for a moment, then he grinned. "Do the eyebrow." When Stephen obligingly raised a stern eyebrow, Jon giggled. "Less traumatizing I'll give you, but I think you're tied on intimidation."

"Those soul-sucking catfish-faced douchebags don't stand a chance," Stephen intoned.

Jon laughed again. "Quit distracting me from my exciting soil samples, man."

"Ooh," Stephen said sarcastically. "Dirt."

"Dirt with pH levels," Jon corrected solemnly.

"HIPPIES!"

Jon and Stephen both looked up sharply at the roar, then turned to each other and rolled their eyes.

"Kids!" Jon called. "Settle down!"

"And quit baiting Riggle!" Stephen added.

"Oh but Mum, Dad, he started it!" Dr. Oliver called back childishly.

"And I will come over there and stop it if you don't behave!" Stephen shouted, pointing at them.

"Ooh, Daddy's maa-aad," sing-songed Sam Bee, from the Canadian Forces.

"Hey, how come I'm the mom?" Jon complained.

Stephen opened his mouth to reply, then suddenly yelped and brought his hand to his mouth. "Ouch!"

Jon quickly stood up from his crouch, brow furrowed with worry. "Are you okay?" he asked, reaching for a vest pocket. "Hang on, I've got some band-aids and disinfectant."

Raising an eyebrow, Stephen smirked and held up his hand, completely undamaged. "And that, my friend, is why you're the mom."

Jon threw the tube of disinfectant at him.

-----

Title: Childbearing Hips
Characters: Joan/"Stephanie"
Word Count: 770
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language, genderswap, sexual situations.
Author's Notes: See above.
Summary: Prompt was "If you want to do another little piece on Raven/crossdressing, that would be more than OK with me." Ehhh, close enough?
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.


Childbearing Hips

"Maybe I could ask my Nation for potential sperm donors," Stephanie mused quietly. "At least then I'd know it was it-getter DNA."

Joan made a non-committal noise as she petted Stephanie's head, pillowed on her lap.

"I just don't have childbearing hips." She shifted to look up at Joan, frowning.

Obligingly, Joan reached over to pat Stephanie's hip. "You have very nice hips." It was true. Stephanie was quite an attractive woman. The ravages of middle age had yet to really find and visit their wrath upon her, despite her age.

Appeased, Stephanie shifted back and sighed. "But they're not childbearing," she said. "Nothing like yours."

"...Thanks," Joan replied flatly, then resumed petting. "Look, if you're worried about your figure, you could just adopt."

Stephanie frowned thoughtfully. "But then how could I pass on my amazing genes? Unless..." She shifted to look up at Joan again. "Is it possible to inject DNA into a child?"

"Uh...probably not," Joan said slowly. "And at best, it's ethically ambiguous."

"Hm, you have a point, so adoption's out." Stephanie sighed. "Looks like I have no other choice. If I want to have a child, I have to find an it-getter with good sperm, impregnate one of my eggs, and then put it into your womb."

"Well--What?!"

"I said you have childbearing hips, Joan," Stephanie said impatiently, frowning up at her. "Try to keep up."

"But-But I don't--"

"Of course I wouldn't exclude you from participating in my child's life after the birth." Stephanie paused, eyes flicking away for a moment before meeting Joan's, a rare vulnerability stealing onto her features. "After all, you would, sort of, in a technical sense...also be the mother."

Joan froze, understanding suddenly hitting her over the head and squeezing her heart. "Um..."

Huffing softly, Stephanie muttered, "Why couldn't you have been a man?"

Startled and still reeling, Joan took longer than usual to answer. "Because no man could possibly have a laugh as girly as mine?"

"People would just find it adorable," Stephanie scoffed. "Besides, everything would be so much easier if you were a man."

"Right, I might be tall enough to look my guests in the eye without a step stool."

"We could have a normal, heterosexual marriage and-and you're permissive and unconventional enough that you wouldn't make me give up my show, or my Nation," Stephanie continued, oblivious. "I know you're a godless, liberal heathen, but we could make it work!"

"But...I'm not a man," Joan reminded her gently. Her heart suddenly ached for the woman, who was at times caught in the cognitive dissonance of believing women should be submissive and not be in positions of power and being a loud, opinionated woman in a position of power. Stephanie was good at ignoring things she didn't want to think about, but the fear still lurked that she would have to give up the job she loved to become a stay-at-home mom who deferred to a good Catholic husband and was told not to worry her pretty little head about anything, her thoughts and feelings dismissed as silly female prattle.

Stephanie sat up suddenly, staring at Joan with wide, hopeful eyes. "You could be," she said. "The surgery can't be that expensive. And it would totally be worth it!"

Staring at her in disbelief, Joan said, "You're kidding."

"You've already got pretty butch hair."

Joan lifted a hand to self-consciously touch her greying hair. Stephanie's hair was longer, professional yet feminine and shoulder length. Joan usually just went for practicality and convenience, which for her meant less hair for her to somehow mess up. (She had tried growing it out once but, despite the best efforts of the show's hair and makeup people, it had always been messy by the end of the show.) Something suddenly occurred to her. "Wait, is this before or after I have your baby?" she asked.

"Good point." Stephanie rested her head on Joan's shoulder as she pondered it over. "Ideally it would be before, that way the baby wouldn't be born out of wedlock."

"Naturally," Joan muttered, hoping this was an idea Stephanie would quickly grow bored with.

Lifting her head, Stephanie slipped her hand into Joan's and asked softly, "Joan, you would want to help raise my baby...wouldn't you?"

Joan sighed and brought her free hand up to cup Stephanie's cheek. "Of course. I wouldn't want to be a bad, uh...co-mother."

The delighted grin Stephanie gave Joan, before leaning forward to kiss her, almost made up for the fact that Joan had a sneaking suspicion she had just agreed to rent out her womb.

-----

Title: Safe
Characters: Jon/"Stephen"
Word Count: 282
Rating: R
Warnings: Sexual situations, bondage.
Author's Notes: See above.
Summary: Prompt was "maybe bondage (including ties)."
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.


Safe

His glasses were already put away safely and his breath was rapid as he closed his eyes against the blindfold. He could hear his tie rasp against the material of his shirt as it was slowly pulled off.

A gasp was startled out of him as a warm body pressed against his front, and a moment later he could feel warm breath against his left ear.

"What are you afraid is going to happen?" Jon murmured gently, hands running up and down Stephen's arms. "It's just you and me here, and I won't let anything happen to you. You're safe, Stephen."

Another gasp, deep and shuddering, escaped him at the flood of arousal that washed over him at Jon's words. "I--"

"Shhh..." Jon kissed him softly as he looped the tie around one of Stephen's wrists. "I've got you, Stephen. There's nothing to be afraid of."

Stephen wanted to argue that of course there were things to be afraid of. There was plenty to be afraid of. They couldn't all be oblivious, optimistic liberals in denial about the dangers lurking within their very borders!

But Jon was so warm and solid against him and he said. Jon said Stephen was safe with him. And Jon, Stephen acknowledged with a shuddering breath as the cloth was drawn tighter against his wrists, was very clearly in charge right now.

So Stephen nodded, whimpering as Jon kissed him again, slow and gentle.

When Jon broke the kiss and carefully pushed, Stephen didn't fight it, and affection fluttered through his chest when his knees crashed down onto a cushion. There was a nearby sound of a zipper, and when Jon guided him forward, Stephen went willingly.

-----