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Title: It's The Firewater That Gets You
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard (friendship/pre-slash/established, pick your poison)
Rating: G - Humor
Word Count: 574
Spoilers: None
Prompt: Rodney/John - tipsy
Summary: “Admit I’m right,” John said, slinging an arm over Rodney’s.
“Never in a million years,”
This fic was written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thepouncer
“I’m not drunk.”
“How come only drunk people say that?” Rodney looked John critically up and down, noting his more-than-usually rumpled appearance, heavy lidded eyes and the fact that there was a definite lean to him.
“I protest,” John said huffily and Rodney grunted.
“Protest what?”
John blinked blearily, listing further to the right to the point where Rodney had to reach out and correct him, and then snorted. “I forget,” he said, and then actually giggled.
“Okay, that proves it. You’re drunk.”
“Okay, maybe just the tiniest bit,” John allowed, holding up his thumb and index finger and squeezing them together to indicate the tiny scope of his drunkenness. Rodney reached forward and circled the air around John’s fingers with his own hand.
“This is the space that indicates your drunkenness I hope you know,” he said and John scowled.
“How come you’re not drunk?” he asked, pulling up short so he could lean on the wall because the floor had gone and started moving and that just wasn’t right.
“I don’t know, better constitution? Plus, I’m bigger than you.”
“Are not,” John snapped, his tone grumpy.
Rodney stopped John who had stumbled forward again, grasping both his shoulders. “Ah, yes I am.”
“Are not,” John insisted, crouching down.
“What are you doing?” Rodney squeaked but John just squinted up at him and grinned.
“If I can lift you, I’m bigger than you because I can’t bench-press my own weight so I certainly couldn’t lift you if you were bigger.”
“That’s just ridicu-- hey!” Rodney flailed when John grasped him around the thighs and heaved upwards, smacking Rodney’s head on the low roof of the corridor.
“See?” John gasped, his face going red and the tendons standing out on his neck.
Rodney landed awkwardly on his feet and stumbled back a step when John simply let go, so he could cross his arms and lean against the wall, his smug expression giving way to one of concern when he slid to the left and hit the floor.
“Floor’s a lot closer than I thought,” he observed groggily.
“Okay, fine, come here,” Rodney grumbled, grasping John under the arms and hauling him to his feet.
“Admit I’m right,” John said, slinging an arm over Rodney’s.
“Never in a million years,” Rodney snapped, managing to frog march them the few remaining steps to John’s room. He grasped John’s wrist and slapped his palm against the door control and manhandled him inside.
“Go on, admit it,” John sing-songed, sagging in the chair he’d been dumped into.
“I will never-“ In the middle of his sentence, Rodney collapsed face-first on John’s bed and began to snore loudly.
Ronon, passing by with Lorne slung over his shoulder, who was singing a fairly disturbing rendition of a Britney Spears song, paused to eye the collapsed Rodney and then look at John.
“How many times do I have to warn you all about the Firewater? You feel fine until you’re too drunk and then it’s too late.”
John snorted. “They never learn, do they?” he agreed, nodding and then catching at the back of the chair when he began to slide off.
“How’d you get him in here anyway, he’s bigger than you are,” Ronon asked.
John blinked at him. “I’m deceptively solid!” he shrilled and Ronon snorted, wandering down the corridor, accompanied by strains of “Oops, I did it again.”
“Ha!” Came the muffled retort from John’s bed.
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard (friendship/pre-slash/established, pick your poison)
Rating: G - Humor
Word Count: 574
Spoilers: None
Prompt: Rodney/John - tipsy
Summary: “Admit I’m right,” John said, slinging an arm over Rodney’s.
“Never in a million years,”
This fic was written for
thepouncer“I’m not drunk.”
“How come only drunk people say that?” Rodney looked John critically up and down, noting his more-than-usually rumpled appearance, heavy lidded eyes and the fact that there was a definite lean to him.
“I protest,” John said huffily and Rodney grunted.
“Protest what?”
John blinked blearily, listing further to the right to the point where Rodney had to reach out and correct him, and then snorted. “I forget,” he said, and then actually giggled.
“Okay, that proves it. You’re drunk.”
“Okay, maybe just the tiniest bit,” John allowed, holding up his thumb and index finger and squeezing them together to indicate the tiny scope of his drunkenness. Rodney reached forward and circled the air around John’s fingers with his own hand.
“This is the space that indicates your drunkenness I hope you know,” he said and John scowled.
“How come you’re not drunk?” he asked, pulling up short so he could lean on the wall because the floor had gone and started moving and that just wasn’t right.
“I don’t know, better constitution? Plus, I’m bigger than you.”
“Are not,” John snapped, his tone grumpy.
Rodney stopped John who had stumbled forward again, grasping both his shoulders. “Ah, yes I am.”
“Are not,” John insisted, crouching down.
“What are you doing?” Rodney squeaked but John just squinted up at him and grinned.
“If I can lift you, I’m bigger than you because I can’t bench-press my own weight so I certainly couldn’t lift you if you were bigger.”
“That’s just ridicu-- hey!” Rodney flailed when John grasped him around the thighs and heaved upwards, smacking Rodney’s head on the low roof of the corridor.
“See?” John gasped, his face going red and the tendons standing out on his neck.
Rodney landed awkwardly on his feet and stumbled back a step when John simply let go, so he could cross his arms and lean against the wall, his smug expression giving way to one of concern when he slid to the left and hit the floor.
“Floor’s a lot closer than I thought,” he observed groggily.
“Okay, fine, come here,” Rodney grumbled, grasping John under the arms and hauling him to his feet.
“Admit I’m right,” John said, slinging an arm over Rodney’s.
“Never in a million years,” Rodney snapped, managing to frog march them the few remaining steps to John’s room. He grasped John’s wrist and slapped his palm against the door control and manhandled him inside.
“Go on, admit it,” John sing-songed, sagging in the chair he’d been dumped into.
“I will never-“ In the middle of his sentence, Rodney collapsed face-first on John’s bed and began to snore loudly.
Ronon, passing by with Lorne slung over his shoulder, who was singing a fairly disturbing rendition of a Britney Spears song, paused to eye the collapsed Rodney and then look at John.
“How many times do I have to warn you all about the Firewater? You feel fine until you’re too drunk and then it’s too late.”
John snorted. “They never learn, do they?” he agreed, nodding and then catching at the back of the chair when he began to slide off.
“How’d you get him in here anyway, he’s bigger than you are,” Ronon asked.
John blinked at him. “I’m deceptively solid!” he shrilled and Ronon snorted, wandering down the corridor, accompanied by strains of “Oops, I did it again.”
“Ha!” Came the muffled retort from John’s bed.