In the two weeks that John had been pregnant, nothing major had changed other than being grounded from missions. He ate a little more than usual, but there were no strange cravings, and he didn’t get morning sickness. Ronon was more annoying than usual, hovering when he wasn’t needed, but John cut him some slack since it was his kid, too. He did need more sleep than usual, but that made sense, since his body had basically kicked into overdrive.

He spent more time in the infirmary than he wanted, but allowed how it was necessary, since they didn’t know what to expect. On his way in for yet another leeching, as he’d taken to calling it, John whistled cheerfully as he walked, nodding to the people he passed. When he wound up in the commissary, he stopped short, confused. It was a couple of hours after lunch, so the place was empty other than the few people working the kitchen area.

Thinking about it, he realized that he could do with a snack and walked over to the counter. Larry, a bright-eyed corporal with more freckles than not and very blond hair, grinned at him from behind the divider and greeted, “Afternoon, Colonel, what can I get you?”

“You got any maraschino cherries back there?” John asked hopefully.

Larry’s eyebrows rose and he shook his head. “No, Sir, sorry.”

John scowled. “Damn. Hmm. Okay, how about some chocolate chip cookies?”

“Those, we have,” Larry confirmed. “How many, two?”

“Make it worth my while, Larry, give me six,” John ordered.

Nodding, Larry agreed, “Okay then. I’ll be right back.”

Before he got too far, John called out, “Hey wait! You have any jalapeno peppers?”

Larry gave him a curious look. “We have a local pepper that’s close, why?”

“I’ll take a jar of them,” John said.

Lips pursed, Larry asked, “You sure, Colonel? I know you have a, ah, no offense, but a very limited range of spice tolerance.”

John waved off the concern and said, “A jar would be great, thanks, Larry.”

“All right, Sir.”

And then John had an even better idea. “No wait! Hey, I know! You have any mayo back there?”

Larry’s eyebrows went up as he confirmed warily, “We do.”

“Great! I’ll take that, too.”

“Sir, are you feeling okay?”

John nodded. “Fit as a fiddle. Put all of those in a bag for me, will ya?”

Larry nodded and went to fill the order.

Moseying along the counter, he picked up a piece of local fruit and bit into it, savoring the sweetness. It looked like an apple, and was hard like one, but tasted like a melon. He ate it all down in a rush and then burped comfortably, tossing the core in a neat arc through the air to the barrel across the room. “He shoots, he scores!”

“I’ve got your order, Sir,” Larry called.

John picked up a few more of the fruit and carried them down to Larry, putting them in the mesh bag. He immediately pulled out the jar and opened it. After shaking the vinegar off, or whatever the local equivalent was, he bit into it, flavor spiking across his tongue and sweat instantly breaking out. Groaning in pleasure, he said, “Thanks, Larry. Oh hey, if you’re making lasagna any time soon, make some with these peppers for me, okay?”

Larry nodded wordlessly, eyeing him with something like worship. “Sir, no one’s ever been able to eat one of those things raw!”

John tossed the rest into his mouth and screwed the top back into place as he answered, “It’s not raw, they pickled it or something. It’s really damn good, though! You should try it.”

Pulling one of the melon apples out of the back, he crunched on it on the way to the infirmary and thought, This pregnancy thing is a piece of cake.