Title: "Happy Hour"
Author: Little Red
Category: Humor. Funfic. Sheppard/Weir UST, McKay/Weir UST. Mention of Ford/Teyla.
Summary: Why he'd chosen to get wasted with McKay was, of course, the real mystery.
Blame: Nike made me do it.
There was alcohol.
Of that much, John Sheppard was absolutely sure. Why it had seemed a good idea to drink so much of it, however, had become hazy over the past few hours.
"You know... it really does start to taste better after a while. But the aftertaste doesn't go away. Huh. Must be something in the fermentation process."
Why he'd chosen to get wasted with McKay was, of course, the real mystery.
"It's booze, McKay. You're not supposed to care about the taste after a certain point."
And they were definitely past that point. John didn't blame Ford and Teyla for ducking out of this team bonding event early with faked excuses -- this really was pretty depressing. At least, he assumed they were faked excuses... it couldn't really be that important that Ford teach Teyla a better way to clean her P-90 in the middle of the night...
... oh. John scrubbed one hand over his face and then took another swig of the radioactive-green-colored liquid. Damn.
"Ford and Teyla are having sex," he announced.
"... What? Yes, I know." McKay was holding his glass up to the light and studying it with the same intensity he gave sensor readings. If a little woozier. Maybe he was considering it as an alternate power source -- the brew certainly had enough kick.
"You know? Since when?"
"Since..." Apparently having uncovered whatever scientific data he needed from examining the liquid, McKay started drinking it again. "I found Teyla's... undergarments in a puddle jumper."
"What!? In a puddle jumper?" John did his best to sound horribly violated, but really, he was just pissed off. Even the kid was having more sex than he was.
"It was an embarrassing situation, Major, and I'd rather not get into it," McKay declared definitively -- or, as definitively as he could with a notable slur. He then chugged down the rest of the radioactive green stuff in his glass and coughed a few times.
So far, the scientist had been matching John drink for drink. He was a little worse off, maybe, but not much.
And damn. In a puddle jumper.
All in all, this evening wasn't doing great things for John Sheppard's sense of his rightful place in the world. He was the alpha male, technically -- wasn't he? Shouldn't that mean he got more women and... well, more booze probably wasn't part of the equation in the animal kingdom. He really should have paid more attention to those documentaries that might have explained these things to him.
"Hey, McKay, did you ever watch those... nature channel special things?"
McKay didn't look like he was listening. He was staring into his empty glass like he was expecting it to spontaneously shatter.
Maybe it wasn't more women. Maybe the alpha male was supposed to get his choice of women, that might have been it.
He could settle for that, John thought with a guilty sigh he immediately smothered with throat-igniting moonshine. Yeah. That would be nice.
Damn. He usually wasn't this... maudlin about things. Because he was pretty damned sure he could arrange himself some sex in a puddle jumper if he put a little effort into it. The problem was, he hadn't been trying hard enough, except in one specific case... where, really, his efforts were meeting with a brick wall.
A funny, kind, even flirty brick wall that never lost her edge of professionalism and that had him conjuring up more ridiculous naked fantasies in the shower than he had at fifteen years old. It was bad. Really bad.
His only saving grace was that, so far, she seemed to have no idea. That, or she was kindly ignoring his pathetic inability to keep his sexual, emotional and professional agendas separate.
It was a crush. That was all. Wasn't it? He'd get over it soon enough.
That, or go completely freaking insane.
Damn it all to hell.
"I am hopelessly and understandably in love with Doctor Weir," McKay announced suddenly, still staring at the glass.
John's head shot up so fast he almost fell off his chair. For a horrifying second, he thought the genius had secretly developed an ability to read minds. And then... "Wait, what?"
McKay shot him a one-eyed glare. "You don't think she's attractive? Elizabeth might be a little high-brow for your usual taste in women-"
Drunk off his ass and still keeping up with the insults. The best John could do was cough out, "You!?"
"What, I'm not good enough for her?"
"No!" John exclaimed. And then, checkpoint charlie rearing its head a second too late, he retracted, "I mean... sure... you're a good guy and all, but..."
McKay actually scoffed, coughed again for a moment. "Well, maybe not all women are impressed by just... swinging a gun at everything you meet."
"I do not just swing a gun at everything! And... women like a man who can protect them." That had been in the nature special, too. Tigers, or something.
But McKay!? And Elizabeth?
"See, Elizabeth hates that kind of... of... of posturing."
If he wasn't drunk, John was sure he could have come up with something better than, "And how would you know?"
"Well, I happen to make a habit of making friends with women first. You know. Friends? She says something, you say something..."
"Dammit, Rodney, I know how to talk to women." He was being lectured on social etiquette by Dr. Rodney McKay, president emeritus of his high school chess club, and it was officially the low point of the evening.
"I'm sure you do."
"I do! And... given the choice, there's just no way Elizabeth would pick you over me."
It was ridiculous. Unthinkable!
It was terrifyingly possible, and for the next few drunken minutes of escalating insults John was so preoccupied with the idea that he didn't even notice the scientist winding up until he was getting punched in the face.
It was at that point that things got very definitively out of control.
Elizabeth Weir had worried about a lot of things before taking command of this mission. Discipline -- her ability to maintain order on an expedition populated with military officers, civilian scientists and aliens they might pick up along the way -- had been one of them.
The particular case before her, however, had definitely been on the bottom of the list.
"A drunken brawl?"
Her charges in front of her -- her senior military officer and the senior scientist on the expedition, no less -- shuffled their feet like little boys.
Hungover little boys.
"Not... exactly a brawl," John hedged.
"More of a scuffle, really."
John Sheppard and Rodney McKay -- bruises, scrapes, bandages and all -- looked so much like her two brothers back on Earth once did after a slugfest over the new GI Joe action figure that Elizabeth found herself channeling her mother more than a little bit.
"A scuffle," she repeated, slowly, raising an eyebrow. "And what, exactly, precipitated this scuffle?" Elizabeth crossed her arms and patiently stared them down.
Surprisingly, despite the special ops training on his resume, John caved first, and in less than ten seconds. "A disagreement," he said. Elizabeth fought down a smirk. Her mother would have been proud. "A... small... difference of opinion."
"Not even a disagreement," Rodney chimed in. "And 'scuffle' really is the wrong word to use here. See, Major Sheppard fell down-"
"I fell down?"
"-and, in trying to help him, I also... lost my footing..."
"Really, we both slipped. Accidentally."
Elizabeth raised her other eyebrow. "And then Doctor McKay just... slipped over a table."
"Erm. Yes." Rodney looked at John, scratched his cheek under the row of butterfly bandages, and then fixed his gaze on her desk.
"Accidentally," John added. He actually attempted to look her straight in the eye, which gave her a little more confidence about sending this man out to the front lines to deal with the enemy, but not much.
She raised the other eyebrow.
"It really was nothing, Elizabeth," John assured her.
"An isolated incident. Never happen again." The two men in front of her exchanged guilty looks, but didn't offer any further confession.
"All right. You don't want to tell me what this was all about? Fine." She would have laughed at how ridiculously relieved they both looked, but that would have ruined her stern appearance. She wondered if her mother had the same problem when she and her brothers were young.
"Thank you, Elizabeth, I promise you that-" McKay started to babble, but John cut him off with a glare.
"It will never happen again. Elizabeth."
It occured to her that it was more than possible both these men used her name in attempts manipulate her. She would have to watch out for that in the future.
"Good. And, to make sure of that, both of you are grounded from the remainder of that alcohol shipment, or any other for the rest of the month." There was probably a more official-sounding word for grounded to be used with adults, but they didn't really deserve that at that point. "And consider yourselves responsible for repairing that table."
McKay looked indignant. "But, Elizabeth, they've just uncovered a new laboratory of-"
John winced. "Can we at least get some sleep first?"
One eyebrow again. "Today. Dismissed." McKay muttered something about there being plenty of other tables in the city, but shuffled toward the door. John hesitated, and McKay turned around to glare at him.
"We're... sorry, you know," John offered, with an especially guilty look that pricked her curiosity. "That things got out of hand."
"Yes, thank you." She refused to budge, not even in the face of that well-practiced look he had. "You're dismissed as well. And get that hand looked at in the infirmary." He had been holding it at too careful an angle since he walked in.
They both slinked out, and Elizabeth rubbed a hand over her eyes. It wasn't until after they were both out of her office that she realized that all eyes in the control room had been glued to her glass office to watch their senior officers get chewed out. Heh. No wonder they both seemed so on edge.
It was only a few seconds before Grodin tapped on her door, so she suspected he'd been hovering outside and waiting to pounce.
"So, did you get out of them why they were fighting?" He looked, disturbingly, a lot like she probably had when she was a little girl and about to rat out her brothers and then hang around to celebrate their punishment.
"No, Peter, they didn't say. Sorry."
"Well... Mary overheard them."
Elizabeth set herself the task of rearranging the stacks of reports on her desk rather arbitrarily to keep from looking too interested. "She did, did she?"
He was openly grinning by this point, gossip probably burning a hole in his tongue.
He leaned over her desk conspiratorily. "It was about you."
She lost all semblance of disinterested maternal composure. "What!?"
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