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sga_flashficTitle: Pretty Pink Ponies
Genre: Gen
Length: 1090 words
Rating: PG-13
Season/Spoilers: Ronon’s in it.
Synopsis: It really was truly excellent wine.
Author’s Notes: For the Drunken/Alcohol Challenge
Disclaimer: Not mine, they belong to people with far more money than I have. I’m just borrowing them to play and making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
“John?” Rodney asked plaintively. “John?” he tried again, this time with a bit more frantic undertone.
Sheppard rolled his eyes and rolled over to face him, propping his chin up on his hand as he did so. “Yes, Rodney?” he drawled, wondering what incredible revelation awaited him this time.
“I can’t feel my legs!” he whimpered. “My whole body... there’s this warm, floaty feeling, like it’s there but not. I... What happened? I’m not sure I want to know, but please, just tell me how bad it is.”
John huffed out a laugh, looking down from where he lay on the carefully constructed rock ledge. “That floaty feeling? It’s because you’re in a giant tub of water.” He flicked some of the still steaming liquid at his friend’s face to prove it.
To be truthful, “tub” was an understatement. It was more like a giant stone bath carved out of the same super-conductive material McKay had been so ga-ga about when they got here. A separate, cooler type of rock formed the surrounding ledge and benches in the bathhouse the natives so graciously allowed them to use. It was actually quite impressive, both in practicality and aesthetics, the use of such an advanced material for something so common.
“Why am I in a giant tub of water?” his teammate asked reasonably.
“Because the server was cute,” Sheppard replied just as genially.
“And what was the server serving?”
“A rather powerful, yet tasty wine,” John grinned.
Rodney wiped a wet hand across his face before becoming entranced by the wrinkles lining his fingers. After a moment, he snapped said fingers, blinking back to awareness. “Wine! Yes!” he nodded enthusiastically. “It was very good wine.”
Sheppard nodded, watching him bob up and down amongst the steam, thankful of the herbs and salts the knowing mistress had added, assuring him that the increased buoyancy would aid him in his efforts to keep his friend from drowning. The bobbing settled for a bit, but that was only because Rodney was now studying the embroidery on the washcloth-like item left for him, comparing the stitches to the lines of his skin. If only Teyla had not hidden the camera, he would have prime blackmail material for years.
“Did I spill?” Rodney’s voice startled him out of his thoughts. “I must have spilled a lot to need a bath this big.” He stretched out his arms, fingertips brushing against stone. “Hey! That’s kind of cool. Also, I think I’m floating.”
John closed his eyes, committing it all to memory as well as trying to keep a straight face. When he opened them, he told him, “You only spilled a little, which is how we knew it was time to separate you and the cute server and get you some air.”
Rodney made a face. “If I needed air, why am I in water?”
“Because the air was outside, where the grass and dirt and horses were.”
“Did I fall into the dirt?” There was a pause. “Did I fall into the horse?”
John shook his head. “No,” he assured him. “You did not fall into the dirt or the horse. You liked the horse. You were very careful not to fall into the horse.”
“I remember! It was a pretty horse,” Rodney smiled. “Well, not really a horse, but kind of like a horse and it was pretty. It reminded me of the ponies my sister liked to play with.”
Figuring it explained why McKay wasn’t at all disturbed by the pinkish tinge to the thing’s mane, John shrugged. “You wanted to brush the pretty horse, only it was kind of upset at you waking it up to do so.”
Rodney frowned. “Did it spit at me? The horses that weren’t really horses were spitting earlier. It was kind of gross. It’d also explain why I’d need a bath.”
“No, it didn’t spit on you,” he promised him. He remembered the way the thing startled, scuttling to the side to get away. He remembered how Rodney had been leaning on it when it had. He remembered Rodney falling face first to the floor. He remembered how even pretty pink ponies still took a dump that looked and smelled like shit. Only theirs sparkled.
The door to the private room opened, allowing in a still very amused Ronon, who settled comfortably at the water’s edge. “He remembering how he redefined the term ‘shit-faced’ yet?” he grinned.
John smiled back; even without a camera they could get some mileage out of this one. He turned to see if Rodney had come up with some great rebuttal, but found the man intently studying the washcloth once again, this time apparently attempting to trace the stitching. “Not yet, but the morning should be awesome.”
Ronon chuckled. “Teyla’s still smoothing it over with the Habrins, explaining he’s got no head for the stuff.”
“How’s she doing?” Hopefully she could turn a potential diplomatic incident into a minor concern. It would not be the first time.
“Pretty good,” Ronon replied, pulling a stone flask from his pocket and offering him a draught. “She’s already drunk one magistrate under the table and is three up on the other. They’re taking it pretty well.”
John took a sip, careful not to take too much and end up joining McKay in the tub. “Good. So we should be able to go in the morning?”
Instead of asking for it back, Ronon took out a second, larger flask and took a much longer pull. “Not sure if they’ll want to, but yeah,” he replied.
“Hey, if nothing else, we’ll find out if their magical cure for hangovers really does work, right?” Sheppard tried, rolling onto his back and using one of the towels as a pillow.
“It better,” Ronon retorted. “McKay needs to be sober by sunrise ‘cause I’m not dragging his ass out of another stable.”
Fair enough, John decided. He propped himself up enough to take another sip from the flask. It really was truly excellent wine. “You don’t happen to know where Teyla hid the camera, do you?” he asked, earning him the expected grin while Ronon dug in the packs beside him.
Lying back once more, he listened to the waves lapping gently against the side, lulling him gently into a state of comfort. He felt his eyes drift close for a moment, only opening them reluctantly when he heard the plaintive wail of, “Hey! I’m totally pruning here!”
The flash followed by the indignant splash was totally worth it though.
End.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
Genre: Gen
Length: 1090 words
Rating: PG-13
Season/Spoilers: Ronon’s in it.
Synopsis: It really was truly excellent wine.
Author’s Notes: For the Drunken/Alcohol Challenge
Disclaimer: Not mine, they belong to people with far more money than I have. I’m just borrowing them to play and making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
“John?” Rodney asked plaintively. “John?” he tried again, this time with a bit more frantic undertone.
Sheppard rolled his eyes and rolled over to face him, propping his chin up on his hand as he did so. “Yes, Rodney?” he drawled, wondering what incredible revelation awaited him this time.
“I can’t feel my legs!” he whimpered. “My whole body... there’s this warm, floaty feeling, like it’s there but not. I... What happened? I’m not sure I want to know, but please, just tell me how bad it is.”
John huffed out a laugh, looking down from where he lay on the carefully constructed rock ledge. “That floaty feeling? It’s because you’re in a giant tub of water.” He flicked some of the still steaming liquid at his friend’s face to prove it.
To be truthful, “tub” was an understatement. It was more like a giant stone bath carved out of the same super-conductive material McKay had been so ga-ga about when they got here. A separate, cooler type of rock formed the surrounding ledge and benches in the bathhouse the natives so graciously allowed them to use. It was actually quite impressive, both in practicality and aesthetics, the use of such an advanced material for something so common.
“Why am I in a giant tub of water?” his teammate asked reasonably.
“Because the server was cute,” Sheppard replied just as genially.
“And what was the server serving?”
“A rather powerful, yet tasty wine,” John grinned.
Rodney wiped a wet hand across his face before becoming entranced by the wrinkles lining his fingers. After a moment, he snapped said fingers, blinking back to awareness. “Wine! Yes!” he nodded enthusiastically. “It was very good wine.”
Sheppard nodded, watching him bob up and down amongst the steam, thankful of the herbs and salts the knowing mistress had added, assuring him that the increased buoyancy would aid him in his efforts to keep his friend from drowning. The bobbing settled for a bit, but that was only because Rodney was now studying the embroidery on the washcloth-like item left for him, comparing the stitches to the lines of his skin. If only Teyla had not hidden the camera, he would have prime blackmail material for years.
“Did I spill?” Rodney’s voice startled him out of his thoughts. “I must have spilled a lot to need a bath this big.” He stretched out his arms, fingertips brushing against stone. “Hey! That’s kind of cool. Also, I think I’m floating.”
John closed his eyes, committing it all to memory as well as trying to keep a straight face. When he opened them, he told him, “You only spilled a little, which is how we knew it was time to separate you and the cute server and get you some air.”
Rodney made a face. “If I needed air, why am I in water?”
“Because the air was outside, where the grass and dirt and horses were.”
“Did I fall into the dirt?” There was a pause. “Did I fall into the horse?”
John shook his head. “No,” he assured him. “You did not fall into the dirt or the horse. You liked the horse. You were very careful not to fall into the horse.”
“I remember! It was a pretty horse,” Rodney smiled. “Well, not really a horse, but kind of like a horse and it was pretty. It reminded me of the ponies my sister liked to play with.”
Figuring it explained why McKay wasn’t at all disturbed by the pinkish tinge to the thing’s mane, John shrugged. “You wanted to brush the pretty horse, only it was kind of upset at you waking it up to do so.”
Rodney frowned. “Did it spit at me? The horses that weren’t really horses were spitting earlier. It was kind of gross. It’d also explain why I’d need a bath.”
“No, it didn’t spit on you,” he promised him. He remembered the way the thing startled, scuttling to the side to get away. He remembered how Rodney had been leaning on it when it had. He remembered Rodney falling face first to the floor. He remembered how even pretty pink ponies still took a dump that looked and smelled like shit. Only theirs sparkled.
The door to the private room opened, allowing in a still very amused Ronon, who settled comfortably at the water’s edge. “He remembering how he redefined the term ‘shit-faced’ yet?” he grinned.
John smiled back; even without a camera they could get some mileage out of this one. He turned to see if Rodney had come up with some great rebuttal, but found the man intently studying the washcloth once again, this time apparently attempting to trace the stitching. “Not yet, but the morning should be awesome.”
Ronon chuckled. “Teyla’s still smoothing it over with the Habrins, explaining he’s got no head for the stuff.”
“How’s she doing?” Hopefully she could turn a potential diplomatic incident into a minor concern. It would not be the first time.
“Pretty good,” Ronon replied, pulling a stone flask from his pocket and offering him a draught. “She’s already drunk one magistrate under the table and is three up on the other. They’re taking it pretty well.”
John took a sip, careful not to take too much and end up joining McKay in the tub. “Good. So we should be able to go in the morning?”
Instead of asking for it back, Ronon took out a second, larger flask and took a much longer pull. “Not sure if they’ll want to, but yeah,” he replied.
“Hey, if nothing else, we’ll find out if their magical cure for hangovers really does work, right?” Sheppard tried, rolling onto his back and using one of the towels as a pillow.
“It better,” Ronon retorted. “McKay needs to be sober by sunrise ‘cause I’m not dragging his ass out of another stable.”
Fair enough, John decided. He propped himself up enough to take another sip from the flask. It really was truly excellent wine. “You don’t happen to know where Teyla hid the camera, do you?” he asked, earning him the expected grin while Ronon dug in the packs beside him.
Lying back once more, he listened to the waves lapping gently against the side, lulling him gently into a state of comfort. He felt his eyes drift close for a moment, only opening them reluctantly when he heard the plaintive wail of, “Hey! I’m totally pruning here!”
The flash followed by the indignant splash was totally worth it though.
End.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
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Date: 2009-04-25 05:09 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2009-05-04 08:09 am (UTC)This was so precious. Thanks for sharing. *g*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-04 06:17 pm (UTC)Thank you for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2012-02-17 07:33 pm (UTC)And of course John and Ronon gently mocking him and eagerly awaiting the next morning's teasing!