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Beds and Desks

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John stood in the room Dr. Weir had given him as his office and took a look: two of the dead trees decorated the room which looked like every other non-bedroom room in the city he had seen so far. Apparently the Ancients had been so sophisticated that they all had had the same taste in architecture, furnishing, decoration and colour schemes.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with an office anyway?" He muttered to himself.

"How about paperwork?" Peter walked into the room to stand next to John and eyed John's desk appreciatively.

"What paperwork?" John asked. "We're several billion lightyears from home. There's no one I would have to give any purely hypothetical paperwork."

"Technically it's only 3.3 million lightyears and if we ever make contact with Earth again you're going to have to do it retroactively, which would be a waste of life." Peter pointed out but didn't tear his eyes away from the desk.

"It's a waste of life to do it now, too. Especially since we all could be eaten by hungry aliens tomorrow." John argued.

"The more reason you have to do it. So that they find something of us here."

"Okay, so in an uncertain amount of passed time someone comes to this city to find it deserted of life again and instead of any moving last messages to our friends and families they only find a stack of paper full of duty rosters and supply inventory. Nice." John said dryly and for his efforts got a smile from Peter, who still stared at the desk.

"You could always crawl "They're coming..." onto the top sheet."

"You know what would be funnier though? Putting post-it's all over the city to commemorate all the crazy things that happened here. Easier than proper paperwork, too." Peter grinned at John's idea. "Can you imagine McKay? "I invented this...I invented that...I rewrote the laws of physics on that chair...."

"Zelenka would probably stick his own post-it comments onto them in Czech full of insults and mistakes McKay didn't see." John added gleefully. Maybe with Peter's help they could persuade Dr. Weir that post-its were a good idea.

"What would yours read?" Peter asked with an ironic voice. "Don't answer that, I can imagine it: every step in the gateroom would be covered with "Defied a Wraith here" and the Stargate will have tons of photos of beautiful maidens you rescued."

"Including a Green Skinned Space Babe?" John wanted to know.

"I think the only green skinned people in this galaxy are the Wraith." John made a face. "Ew. You made my mind go to a very bad place. Also, do you want some time alone with my desk?"

"Not with your desk." Finally Peter looked away from the desk and his expression left nothing to imagination.

"No. Way." John told him flatly. There were children running around and maybe the smoke monster from last week had a brother left here...

"Come on. I mean look at this desk, hell, look at any desk in the city and then compare it to the beds: either the Ancients hated sex or they were a kinky race of desk-sex enthusiasts."

"Sounds like a question for Dr. Weir." John said only to see Peter pout. "Besides we're still at work."

"That was your excuse for the last two weeks."

"Okay, okay." John gave in: "I'm coming over tonight, alright? But we're not going to have sex in my office."

"Okay." But before he left Peter added with an evil smile: "But according to McKay you're going to want to have sex on that desk, soon..."

"Why does McKay...No, I don't want to know. See you later."

"I'll tell Elizabeth that you're doing your paperwork." Peter grinned as a goodbye.

John, left on his own, stared at the desk and couldn't help himself but imagine Peter naked and flushed and sprawled all over it.

"Damn." He muttered and reached for his radio.