By meekobb · Stargate: Atlantis
Rated T · 1 chapter · 1,212 words · Complete
You got a pudgy scientist with a bright camera, a giant monkey with a photographic memory, and a concern, hardly dressed mother of the team that is forced to check up on her tall spikey hair man for trouble was be on the horizon...
He really needed to stop drinking when the team was on missions. Sure partaking in the local festivities is expected of them, but John Sheppard was soon finding that Pegasus alcohol was nothing compared to the Earth versions. His first clue should have been the ruuse wine that Teyla introduced him to. Thankfully she stood by his side his first time trying the stuff, because from what she told him later, he needed to be escorted back to his quarters before he started to 'act out' more.
Okay. He could do this. John narrowed his eyes as he leaned against the wall of one of the huts of this village they were to trade with. A village that just so happened to be holding their yearly harvesting celebrations. He could see the hut assigned to him and his friends…huts? Counting the buildings in his line of sight just didn't make sense. Oh fuck it.
John stumbled across the empty dirt path before falling unceremoniously against the door to one of the multiple doors his eyes were tricking him with. So far so good. He had left his pack in his room and was starting to think that the Tylenol that he kept packed away in it was sounds really good about now. He managed to stay upright as he opened the door and peered in, eyes snapping shut at the brightness of the fire that was lit in the common area. Refocusing, he could see Ronon sprawled out on the people's version of a couch. Tripping over his loosely tied boots, John went to pick up the bag that had been tossed in the corner and looked around for one of the more private rooms for some quiet sleep. Spotting the door that if he remembered correctly from their earlier tour, albeit brief, he headed for the bedroom.
Before he made it there though, he suddenly had an itchy sensation on his arms and across his chest. Yanking his shirt off, he could see the start of a light rash forming. Fuck! Something in the area he was allergic to, though thank goodness it was only an irritating rash at this point. Pulling a small pink bottle out of the bag – something Carson began adding to their packs after the last time the team came across poison ivy (or the like) on three consecutive planets, John started to rub it over himself to relieve the itching as he continued again for his target. The bedroom. Right. Over that way.
No sooner than he opened the door and took two steps in, his legs caught the edge of something hard and down John Sheppard went. Regardless of his position, he was out like a light before he even finished his fall.
The next morning, John winced, waking to flashes of bright lights and snickering. "Dammit McKay! Can't a guy get some sleep?!"
"Oh Sheppard, we'd let you sleep, no problem, except the rest of us would like to umm use the facilities before we pack up and return to Atlantis," the balding man laughed, and snapped another picture.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Sheppard asked, rubbing at his eyes, finding that his hands felt unnaturally oily. Huh??!
"Colonel Sheppard," Teyla's serene voice spoke up. It was like the sound of an angel to John in comparison to Rodney. That was at least until her next words… "I believe you have mistaken my belongings for yours when you returned from the harvest last evening."
"Again…what the fuck are you talking about?" John repeated, pushing himself up, but his hands were slippery and kept sliding back down a smooth surface that seemed to enclose him. The light was still too bright for him to bare, so he was working with barely squinted eyesight.
"Your bag? What the …" John started saying again.
Rodney interjected with another flash and smirk, "Yes, what the fuck again. We know you have no clue what happened last night. I'm making a rule that you are not to drink any more off world liquors. Whatsoever. Let Ronon or Teyla deal with the locals in for those erm traditions."
"Rodney," John groaned, wanting a freaking answer already.
"Colonel, you obviously developed another reaction this past evening, and in your – confusion – acquired my bag and used a bottle of infant oil that Dr. Beckett gave me, mistaking it for your people's calimi? Calami…" She glanced at Rodney for help.
"Calamine lotion," he finished for her. "You rubbed baby oil all over yourself, and passed out in the tub, shirt off, and pants nearly around your legs," Rodney continued, thoroughly amused. "Just wait until Chuck gets a copy of these babies!"
The words of his two friends slowly began to register as John's head began to sober up. Oh Fuck! "Rodney – if you give those pictures to anyone, I'll be making sure that you'll be spending a lot of bonding time with Ronon in the gym for the next three months!"
Ronon appeared behind the two others, his taller stance easily looking over them down at Sheppard who was still dazed and sprawled in the tub. "Don't worry, I got my own shots last night as he was taking Teyla's bag to begin with," he grinned, nudging Teyla to the side and turned on the cold water.
The second the drops hit John, he was up and out of the tub, tripping over the side crying out in surprise and anger at his team. "Why the fuck would you do that?!" he exclaimed, before turning to a nearby pail and began to vomit whatever alcohol was remaining in his stomach.
"Just get me home and to Beckett. He can stick me with all the needles he wants for all I care. I just want to get the hell outta here before they decide to invite us for another night," John moaned as his face flashed various shades of green and yellow. It was quite fascinating really.
Teyla and Rodney exchanged a look. One that wasn't missed by their leader. "Oh no fucking way!" he said again, stumbling past them, pulling up his pants and slick upper body brushing against their clothes in the tight space that was the place's restroom.
"I'm going to bed. Wake me when it's time to leave!" he said, looking around again for the other door he had really wanted the night before. Making a beeline for it, he quickly locked himself in and promptly passed out on the bed that Teyla had claimed the night before. Now – he'd pull rank. Screw their games.
"How much we gonna get for these shots?" Ronon asked as the three continued to mingle in the bathroom.
Rodney thought for a moment, "At least a month's supply of chocolate and maybe two months of decent porn."
Ronon nodded, "Good deal." He patted McKay on the shoulder firmly, shaking the man as Teyla only rolled her eyes at the two as she followed them back out, prodding them to the village. The colonel was going to have one hell of a story to explain to Woolsey when they return home the next morning.