Title: Bottoms Up!

Author: Dr. Dredd

Spoilers: None

Season: 1

Genre: Humor

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis, characters, concept, etc, aren't mine.

Summary: John and Elizabeth find themselves in a compromising position.

A/N: Challengefic. First line had to be "So, what exactly were you two doing that got you in this position?"


"So, what exactly were you two doing that got you in this position?" John could hear from his voice that the physician was attempting to keep a straight face, but the Scottish burr couldn't quite conceal his amusement.

"It's an interesting story, and I'd love to tell it to you, but could you possibly get us out of here first?" John asked. A muffled female voice concurred with him.

"Elizabeth? Are you sure you're not hurt, lass?" Then, "Why didn't you call Rodney or Zelenka? They surely know the jumpers better than I do."

John snorted. "Are you kidding? It's bad enough that you're seeing us in this position, but at least you're bound by doctor-patient confidentiality. Rodney would have a field day with this, and Zelenka would videotape it."

Although they couldn't see him, Carson grinned. "If neither of you are hurt, then you're not patients." But they could hear him cracking his knuckles. "Let's see what I can do, then, shall we?"


One hour earlier

"What the hell is wrong with this thing?" John muttered to himself. He was trying to power up a puddlejumper using his Ancient gene. The display panels flickered weakly and the engines emitted a grinding noise. "Crap." He was supposed to fly to the mainland, but the only available jumper was not cooperating.

"What would McKay do?" he wondered. "He's always playing around with some of these panels." But after trying to figure out what to do with the circuits he saw, John realized that he was more likely to blow himself up than to actually fix anything.

Surely there had to be some mechanical parts, not just these circuits! When he was still flying choppers, he'd done some of his own maintenance. John thought it might be worth seeing if the mechanical parts on the jumper were even remotely similar.

In the rear of the jumper there were several spots in the bulkheads that looked like they could be pried open. John grabbed a screwdriver from a toolkit someone had left in the jumper bay and went to work on the largest one. It opened to reveal a crawlspace that could probably accomodate someone taking a peak inside.

"This looks like a possibility," muttered John. He put a small flashlight between his teeth, got down on his stomach and wiggled inside, stopping when his head and arms were fully immersed. He then grabbed the flashlight out of his mouth and swept it around the small area. Seeing nothing, he pushed himself further in.

John stopped again when all of him down to the lower back was inside the bulkhead. But when he tried to turn over to look above him, he found that he couldn't. Similarly, he was unable to back out now. He was stuck.

"Oh, this is great. I would get wedged so that the only thing sticking out is my ass." He tried for several more minutes to extricate himself, but was ultimately unsuccessful.

Now what? Calling for help was not an option. He was not going to let any of his men see him in such a ridiculous predicament. But he didn't see too many other options.

John was saved from further speculation by Elizabeth Weir's voice calling his name. He didn't want her to see him like this either, but at least it was better than Sergeant Bates or Ford. "Here!" he called reluctantly.

A minute later John heard Elizabeth's footsteps approach him and stop. He could imagine her raising one eyebrow as she said, "If you like, I can go away and come back at a better time."

"That's funny," John growled. "I'm stuck. Can you give me a hand?"

"Sure," she said smoothly. Inwardly John groaned. No doubt she would make him pay her back for this.

First Elizabeth tried to pull him out by his feet, but only succeeded in almost pulling his legs out of their sockets. Then she tried to ease him out by wiggling his legs back and forth while pulling. That didn't work either. "I can try to pull you out by your hips," she said doubtfully, "but..."

"It's okay," joked John. "I'll know you're patting my butt for strictly professional reasons."

"Or I could just leave you here," she replied, her voice dripping ice.

"Sorry. Guess that wasn't as funny as that sounded in my head."

"No, it wasn't," Elizabeth sniffed. But she grabbed his hips and yanked.



"Uh, I'm fresh out of ideas," said John. "How about you?"

"How did this happen, anyway? Never mind. I'm going to stick my head in to see if I can find what you're stuck on." It wasn't immediately obvious, though, so Elizabeth inched ahead. She'd only go a little further... After a few minutes, though, she said, "Oops!"

"What do you mean, oops? Don't say oops in my jumper!"

" 'Oops' meaning that I'm stuck, too. What next, smartass? No pun intended, of course."

John sighed. The fewer people that knew about this, the better. There was one person he could probably be sure wouldn't talk. He moved his hand around until he could tap his earpiece. "Carson? Remember how you said you would make house calls if you could? Can you come down to the jumper bay for a minute?"


Carson hummed to himself as he assessed the situation. The sight before him was ridiculously funny. He wasn't really going to tell anyone, but that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun first. Elizabeth in particular needed to loosen up a bit. Otherwise the poor woman was going to give herself an ulcer.

"So, Major, whatever possessed you two to snuggle up like that? It's got to be awfully uncomfortable, and there are better places."

"CARSON!" shrieked two voices simultaneously.

"Oh, relax. I'm just kidding ye. But the question of why you're in there still stands."

"I was trying to see what was wrong with the jumper," said John petulantly. "It wouldn't start up."

"Can you be a little more specific, son?"

John was obviously beginning to lose his patience. "It was acting like my old car when it finally bit the dust. Electrical systems flickered and the engine gave off a grinding sound, but nothing happened."

Elizabeth sounded thoughtful. "If it were a car, I'd say it was the alternator."

There was dead silence. Then John said, "I didn't know you knew anything about cars... OW! Quit punching me!"

"Then quit being a male chauvinist."

"I was not being a male chauvinist!"

"Was too!"

"Was not!"

Carson cleared his throat. There were times to keep one's mouth shut and times to idiotically get in the middle of an argument like this. Unfortunately, this was one of the latter times. "Can I interrupt for a minute? Major, was any power getting through at all?" He then muttered under his breath about them sounding like General O'Neill and Dr. Jackson at their worst.

"A small amount, doc."

"Hmm..." Carson sat down in the pilot's seat and looked at the array of panels in front of him. There, that button might be the one. He pressed it, thought about the problem, and then read what came up on the display. "Are either of you wearing any metal?"

Both John and Elizabeth thought that there was some metal in their belts. "I thought so," said the doctor. He leaned over and hit another button. "Try getting out now."

With unseemly haste, the two leaders of Atlantis shoved their way out of the bulkhead. Carson couldn't help snickering at the sight of them. If possible, John's hair was sticking up even more than usual. Even Elizabeth's normally perfect hair was disheveled, and she was blushing bright red. "Thank you," she mumbled.

As always, John came straight to the point. "How did you do that? And what do we have to do to keep you from talking about it?"

Oh, the possibilities! "I made a deal with Sergeant Stackhouse. I can't tell you much about it because of confidentiality, but suffice to say he gave me a few piloting lessons. The "help" function I used was one of the things he showed me."

Elizabeth smacked John's upper arm. "Why didn't you know about that?" He shrugged.

"You accidently activated a magnetic lock, which held you fast by your belts. Next time don't pry the bulkhead open, use the computer to unlock it." The physician's eyes twinkled. "Now, as for my "hush money," I want the two of you to take a vacation. Doesn't have to be long, just a few days or so, but you will both relax unless you want this to hit the grapevine."

"Together?" squeaked Elizabeth.

Carson patted her on the shoulder. "That's entirely up to both of you, love. I'll give you a day or two to organize it, then I want to hear your plans." He gestured that they should precede him out of the jumper. "Now that you won't be embarrassed, you can call Rodney or Radek to fix this."

John looked thoughtful as Carson left to return to the infirmary. "He's a sneaky bastard, but it's really not a bad idea. Not much is going on, and we'll need to be at peak performance for when the Wraith eventually get here."

"I know," Elizabeth sighed. "But it's still blackmail!"

"Yup!" agreed John cheerfully. "What say we grab some of Zelenka's 'secret' whiskey and figure out what to do about it?"

"Fine. But John... if you say 'bottoms up,' I'm going to kill you."


FIN (or is it?)