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"Stop laughing, Sam. It's not funny," Daniel moaned.
She tried, but failed, to contain her amusement, and when her teammate sighed and placed his hands on his hips – his new stance only made her laugh harder. He quickly let his hands fall by his sides when he realized what he looked like.
"I'm – sorry – Daniel," she spluttered.
"It's fine." He frowned. "Well, it's not fine, but it's…" He trailed off with a shrug.
"If it's any consolation," Sam supplied, "You look very –" She waved her arm around in a vague gesture, "– in character."
Seemingly failing in her quest to find the right word, Daniel rolled his eyes and moved to the far side of the tent SG-1 had been delegated for the duration of their stay. The team had arrived on PXV-726 two days previously and received a warm welcome from the locals. Having been involved in trade negotiations since their arrival, tonight marked the conclusion of the initial talks. Essentially, it involved the locals throwing a large feast in the team's honor.
Well, some of the team anyway.
Sam held back another laugh. She was actually looking forward to the evening's celebration. For once, the inhabitants hadn't taken a particular interest in her. Rather, it was the male members of the team who had been put on a pedestal, and the celebration, or féile, as the locals referred to it, was for the guys. It also meant that while Sam could still wear her BDUs, her teammates had to wear more the traditional dress appropriate to the occasion. She bit back a grin as she recalled the official title for the evening's feast.
The Feast of Fabulous Wild Men.
Just as she started laughing again, she watched Daniel reluctantly place the hat he had been given on his head. He looked just like a young Indiana Jones – shirtless, and complete with a leather whip. A snort of amusement quickly turned into a cough.
"Don't even –" Daniel warned, and Sam threw her arms up in surrender, but she was stopped from saying anything further when a large shadow fell over them. She looked up and had to swallow hard at the expression on Teal'c's face. She knew it was because he was also unhappy with his clothing choice, but Sam had only seen that expression on her friend's face a couple of times before – and she was suddenly worried about how the night would actually end. She tried not to stare at the leather pants and waistcoat ensemble Teal'c wore, but when her gaze slid to the long leather coat he had on over the outfit, she vaguely thought he looked like Shaft.
"Teal'c! You look – uh – you look – good?"
Met with silence, she cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Umm, where's the colonel?"
"The colonel is right here," came the low, dangerous voice from behind the tent's inner partition.
Sam closed her eyes and winced. Oh boy.
Daniel also seemed to pick up on the tone. "Uh, I'm going to wait outside. Teal'c?"
"Indeed, Daniel Jackson."
Sam’s eyes widened in disbelief as she watched her two teammates disappear out of the tent to leave her alone with her commanding officer.
"Oh, for cryin' out loud!"
Slowly, Sam turned to the source of the frustrated cry. The colonel was still behind the partition.
"Sir?"
"What?!"
"Are you OK?"
"Just peachy, Carter."
Pursing her lips, she debated whether to continue the conversation, when she heard him sigh.
"Carter?"
"Yes, sir?"
"I need a hand here."
She frowned. "With what? Exactly? Sir."
"My… outfit."
Pulling a face, Sam could feel her cheeks redden. "Do you need me to come back there, sir?"
A heavy silence fell between the two officers before another sigh came from behind the curtain.
"No. I'm coming out. But I swear, Carter, if you so much as smirk…"
He left the sentence unfinished, but Sam heard the warning. "Yes, sir."
Moments later, the colonel emerged from behind the curtain – and anything Sam had planned to say was promptly forgotten as she took in the sight before her. He was wearing a short brown leather-pleated kilt similar to those worn by Roman soldiers… and not much else. Unless you counted whatever it was he was holding in his left hand.
"Sir!" she squeaked. "You, ah –"
"Save it, Carter," he grumbled and Sam snapped her mouth closed. "Can you help with this or not?” he asked as he held, what looked like a leather strap, up in the air.
She stepped closer and frowned. "Uh, what is it, sir?"
"It's supposed to clip onto this thing," he shrugged and gestured towards the kilt. "And joins onto this… or something," he explained as he held up an ornately decorated collar with leather shoulder pads.
"Ah."
"Yeah."
Sam cleared her throat uncomfortably. She took the strap and quickly found the loop on the band of the kilt and clipped it, but as she did, her fingers brushed against the colonel's lower abdomen. He inhaled sharply and Sam's gaze snapped to his.
"Sorry, sir," she whispered, receiving a slight nod in return.
Next, she took the collar and placed it over his head, then hooked the shoulder pads around it, all the time trying to ignore how the colonel’s focus was on her face.
"I look ridiculous, Carter."
The comment made her falter slightly. "No, you don't, sir."
Even as the words left her lips, she grimaced, and the look she received in return only served to prove that it was a stupid comment.
"Well, I mean it's not your… usual attire, but it could be worse."
"How's that?"
"Have you seen Daniel's outfit?"
Jack met her smirk and tried not to fidget as she reached around him to hook the strap over his shoulder.
"I'm getting a draft in this thing," he commented after a few moments and Sam couldn't help but laugh.
"Don’t worry, I'll make sure you're not wearing it for long."
She caught her commanding officer's shocked, then suspiciously smug, expression and felt herself blush.
"Uh, I just meant – the feast – it’s – it’s only for a few hours. Sir."
"Yeah, about that," Jack answered as he tried – and failed miserably – to hide his amusement at her ramble. "What is this 'fairy' thing, they keep talking about?"
"It’s féile, sir," she automatically corrected. "And it's just a feast."
"Just a feast? So, no sacrificial offerings in the form of an Air Force Colonel?"
This time, Sam couldn't hide her chuckle. "No, sir. You're safe."
He nodded, his gaze darting back and forth around the tent.
"I hate this stuff."
"Hmm?" Sam answered idly as she worked to fasten and buckle the remainder of his outfit.
"This," he repeated as he gestured to his clothes.
Sam glanced up and if she looked closer, she'd swear he was pouting. She suddenly had a flashback to one of the team's very first missions and grinned.
"Oh, I don't know, sir."
With renewed focus, she fastened the final buckle and ran her hands along the shoulder pads, smoothing out any invisible creases. Without stepping back, she met his gaze.
"It kind of works for me."
"Carter?"
"Uh... Jack? Sam? Is it safe to come in?"
The two officers shared a look and Sam put a little distance between them. "Yeah, Daniel."
Almost immediately, the archaeologist’s head emerged between a gap in the tent flap. "They're waiting for us. The celebration is about to begin."
He disappeared and Jack groaned when he heard music in the distance.
"Let's get this over with," he mumbled as he tugged at his kilt.
Sam gave him a sympathetic smile and gestured towards the entrance of the tent. "After you, sir."
She hung back as the colonel slowly made his way to where their teammates waited outside. She took in his broad shoulders and the way the muscles on his back flexed and rippled as he walked, and then her gaze fell lower, to the kilt which just about covered his ass and she grinned.
Yes, something told her she was going to enjoy tonight's celebrations.