John's phone was blowing up with people bugging him about the holidays.

It was weird.

He'd never really given any thought to making plans or going anywhere. Atlantis wasn't an option, family was awkward, and crashing with friends was more fun when done at random. And with alcohol and sex, not egg nog and sleepy old people. Rather than call anyone back, John would just hang out at the gym front desk and play solitaire on the computer, phone tucked far from reach in a back pocket.

At least he had a special snuggie gift thanks to the island. Blanket with sleeves? Best idea ever.

[OCD eaten by the mass destruction that plagued my dreams.]