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“When is Weir going to clear us?” Ronon rumbled, throwing his fork down in boredom. John frowned. He understood the feeling of restlessness, but after the whole . . . retrovirus debacle, he also understood why they were grounded. Carson just wanted to make sure there weren’t any unexpected side effects.
And for that, John could wait. He definitely didn’t want to turn into a bug again.
“Oh, I think she said something about next week,” Rodney chimed in, popping a grape in his mouth.
“Too long,” Ronon growled.
John sighed. “Hey, I don’t like it anymore than you do, but I’d rather not put us in a bad place because we got a little antsy.”
“Yes, we would not want something to happen to Colonel Sheppard while out in the field,” Teyla added sagely.
Beside her, McKay started into his Jell-O. “I don’t see what you’re all so ticked about. I’ve been getting loads done.”
“Yeah, well, our work doesn’t happen inside a lab, Rodney,” John muttered, pursing his lips.
Teyla smiled shyly, looking around at her team. “Actually, I had a proposal. We will not be off-world for some time, and now that Colonel Sheppard is feeling better, there is something I would like to experience while we have . . . time.”
John’s eyebrows shot up. “And what would that be?”
“I was talking to Dr. Heightmeyer yesterday and she mentioned an Earth ritual called a . . . sleepover? Is that correct? An event where friends gather together and do various activities to get to know one another and share a room? She described it as a sort of bonding ritual.”
“Uhhhh.” John looked to Rodney, not entirely knowing how to respond, getting only a shrug in return. “I mean, that certainly sounds like a sleepover. But it . . . it’s usually for kids. And I’m not sure I’d call it . . . a ritual.”
“Yes, Dr. Heightmeyer did mention it was usually for children. But since Ronon and I have never had the chance to experience such an Earth custom, I thought it might be a lovely opportunity to understand your culture. And we are friends, are we not?”
John frowned. “I guess you have a point there.”
“Don’t we . . . kind of do that already off-world?” Ronon asked, genuinely confused.
Rodney rolled his eyes. “What Teyla’s talking about is different. Our sleeping arrangements on missions are a necessity. Sleepovers are a choice. More about having fun. Staying up late. Eating junk food. That kind of thing.” He looked to John. “Sheppard, help me out here.”
John was sat back in his seat, arms folded. “Don’t look at me. I get the concept, but I didn’t sleep over at friends’ places all that much.”
“What? You? Mr. Popularity?” Rodney chuckled. “I figured you were the type to spend sleepovers toilet-papering people’s houses.”
“Toilet-papering . . . ?” Teyla echoed.
“Nah, my dad was kind of strict,” John replied, looking elsewhere.
Rodney snorted. “With your level of discipline? I highly doubt that.”
John simply shrugged. “Okay, so who’s room?”
“We can use mine,” Teyla said, a thrum of excitement in her voice.
“Why not mine?” Rodney whined. “I have a specialized mattress for my back.”
“Too messy,” Ronon muttered.
“And Teyla has more pillows. Cozier,” John added. “Besides, you can just bring your mattress.”
With a huff, Rodney glared at John. “Bring my mattress? Do you know how far I’d have to drag that thing?”
“No problem. We can all help,” John countered. “In fact, everybody, bring your own mattresses and bedding. Rodney, I hope you have a body pillow or something because I am not going to be your unwilling cuddle buddy this time.”
Rodney looked around in disbelief. These people were serious. Grown adults, talking about a sleepover.
“Hold up,” he prodded, raising a hand. “As . . . heartwarming as this all is, I am not spending a night willingly with all of you. And I do not cuddle.”
Ronon smirked. “Yes you do. Full-body embrace.”
“Like a spider monkey,” John seconded with a slow nod.
Embarrassed, Rodney’s cheeks flushed. “Well at least I don’t mumble in my sleep, Colonel.”
With a dip of his brow, John looked to Teyla. “Do I talk in my sleep?”
“Often,” she answered with a slight smile.
“Hm.”
“Yeah, so don’t go making fun of me for my sleep habits,” Rodney said accusingly, folding his arms defiantly.
Ronon shrugged. “Nah, I’d rather have Sheppard’s mumbling.”
“Regardless, I am not having a sleepover. I’m a grown man, and this is weird.”
“I think it’s weird that you’re getting so worked up about it,” John countered. “It’s just friends hanging out.”
“Yes, with Ronon’s handsy . . . ness and excessive drool,” McKay replied heatedly.
“I am not handsy,” Ronon grumbled.
John winced. “Mmm, you can get a little frisky.”
“It is nothing so inappropriate,” Teyla clarified. “You merely like to wedge your hands in warm places.”
“Between thighs,” John answered with a grimace.
“In armpits,” Rodney added.
“And sometimes you tend to . . . snuggle? Is that the word? Snuggle up to the nearest body.”
“But usually not quite as tightly as McKay,” said John.
“Huh,” Ronon responded, looking wholly unbothered. “Never knew.”
“I had always assumed you were unconsciously seeking out warmth,” Teyla replied smoothly, completely unconcerned. “I think John is most bothered by it.”
“Nothing against you, big guy,” John clarified casually. “I just don’t really like people . . . touching me while I’m sleeping.”
Rodney cleared his throat loudly. “Anyway, I’m not doing this. I have important work to do, and I don’t have time for something so dumb.”
“Hey, hold on now, McKay,” came John’s reply. “Teyla presented this idea respectfully, and she seems excited about it.”
“Yeah, way to be a team player,” Ronon subtly shamed.
Rodney looked at Teyla, finding her open, accepting gaze.
God, why did she have to be so nice?
“Fine. Fine. But I’m bringing the snacks.”
“Ooh, yeah, you got any of those ketchup chips left?”
“Sheppard, I’m not sharing my private stash with you. Or Ronon. Especially Ronon.”
“Oh, come on. Like you don’t have twenty bags in that dumb cupboard of yours. And we don’t get them in the U.S.”
“Fine! I will bring them if you’ll try not to be so insufferable.”
“Look who’s talking,” Ronon snickered.
“Boys,” Teyla admonished. “Let us stay focused. We will meet at my quarters after dinner with our bedding. Dr. McKay will bring snacks. How else do we prepare for this ritual?”
“Not a ritual,” John muttered.
“We need activities. Something we will all like,” Rodney supplied grumpily.
Ronon sat up straighter. “Sparring.”
“Nah, not quite the vibe,” John corrected. “Not Truth or Dare. Hate Truth or Dare.”
Rodney scoffed. “Everyone hates Truth or Dare. That’s what makes it fun, watching people squirm.”
“Oh, we should definitely play Truth or Dare,” Ronon agreed with a feral smile.
“Okaaaaay, definitely not playing Truth or Dare,” John muttered, narrowing his eyes at Ronon. “We could watch a movie.”
Teyla tilted her head thoughtfully. “I was hoping we could instead bond with discussion or some kind of verbal interaction.”
“Movie with commentary?” John suggested pitifully.
“We can figure that out later,” Rodney griped. “Right now, I have to meet Zelenka for a pointless test.” He stood abruptly with his tray, puffing out his chest. “I will see you idiots at dinner. And I am so looking forward to this ridiculous evening.”
With that, he walked away, the team staring after him.
“I think he’s excited,” John said with a smile.
-0-0-0-0-0-
“We should move Rodney’s mattress first,” John announced, taking a slow sip of water.
“He is the furthest away,” Ronon agreed, shoveling a mouthful of combined slop into his mouth.
Rodney stared, disgusted. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Mix your whole plate together.”
Ronon looked down at his tray, then back to Rodney. “It’s good this way.”
“You cannot tell me that it all goes together.”
John looked over. “I mean, with today’s menu, it’s basically shepherd’s pie.”
“Don’t encourage this.”
“Wanna try it?” Ronon offered, holding up a forkful of mush.
“Oh, God, no. I do not want to try it.”
Ronon chuckled and returned to his food.
“For a guy that can eat frozen meals without thawing them, you’re pretty damn picky,” John teased.
“Gentlemen,” Teyla cut in, voice soft but admonishing. “Let everyone eat however they wish. But we have yet to select tonight’s activities. What are the traditional customs for this ritual?”
“Not a ritual,” John muttered.
“Traditional? That’s . . . an odd way to put it,” Rodney replied, frowning. “But if we’re going with cliché, there’s a handful of games kids play at sleepovers—like Truth or Dare, the one I mentioned earlier. Let’s see . . . “ He paused, giving it some thought. “There’s also Never Have I Ever, Would You Rather, MASH . . .” More thought, a bit of silence. “And games like Spin the Bottle and 7 Minutes in Heaven.”
John choked on his water, spraying the inside of his glass as he coughed and spluttered.
“What is it? What has Rodney said?”
“We are—” Cough, cough. “—not playing—” Cough. “—the last two.” Cough, cough, cough.
“Why? What do they entail?”
“Erm . . . well, they’re kind of . . . inappropriate?” Rodney tried.
“Inappropriate games for children?”
“What? No! No. Some of these are for adolescents. Spin the bottle is a kissing game. And Seven Minutes in Heaven is basically . . . two people going in a closet or something for seven minutes and doing . . . whatever they want together. I mean, it’s assumed you’re making out or-or something, but you could just, I dunno, talk to pass the time.”
Teyla looked increasingly alarmed. “Perhaps I have misunderstood what these sleepovers are.”
“What?” Rodney squawked. “No! No, they are mostly appropriate, um, things. God, Sheppard, help me.”
“Sleepovers take many forms,” John explained, still coughing. “Most of them are pretty mild and harmless. Promise.” He cleared his throat one last time and pushed his water away.
“Can you imagine being in a closet with Rodney for seven whole minutes?” Ronon whispered to Teyla, and she laughed into her hand. Rodney tossed them a glare.
“You know, we could make it a little interesting. Never Have I Ever is a great drinking game,” John proposed, smirking.
“Do your adolescents participate in drinking games?” Teyla asked, again alarmed as she remembered some of the wild tales from expedition members.
“No, no,” John answered with a wave of his hand. “Well, I mean, they shouldn’t, but some do anyway. Adults still play these games sometimes. Usually when you have time to kill.”
Ronon shrugged. “I’m always down for a drinking game.”
With a smirk, John looked to Rodney. “We could save it for last.”
“I don’t—what if something happens to Atlantis?”
John rolled his eyes. “Rodney, we’re not getting blackout drunk. Just a little to make the game interesting.” His gaze softened. “But I’m definitely not going to force you to drink if you’re not into it.”
“No, I . . . I’m in,” Rodney sighed. “I might regret it, but I’m in.”
John smiled. “Then it is on.”
“Well, we can’t just play the one game. I feel like we have to do Truth or Dare and maybe one other game,” Rodney insisted. “It’s quintessential sleepover material.”
“God, Rodney. Why?”
“Hey, Teyla asked for the traditional experience.”
Teyla nodded. “Indeed, I did, Colonel.”
“Fine.” John stood, staring at Rodney sourly as Ronon scarfed down the last of his food. “Well, let’s get this thing going. Everybody go change, and we’ll meet at Rodney’s in ten.”
“Sounds excellent, Colonel,” Teyla confirmed, taking hold of her tray with a sparkle in her eye.
-0-0-0-0-0-
Ronon was already tugging Rodney’s mattress off the frame when John arrived, Rodney yelling about . . . whatever seemed to concern him in the moment.
“Don’t forget your toothbrush, McKay,” John said smoothly with a crooked smile. “But I can share my toothpaste if you want to keep it simple.”
“You are enjoying this,” Rodney harumphed, folding his arms.
John took hold of one corner of the mattress, helping Ronon tug it the rest of the way off the frame. “Do you ever clean your room?”
“Well, I—you—!” Rodney spluttered, red in the face.
“And you thought you could host a sleepover.”
“You said you were going to behave!”
“No, you asked, and I never agreed.”
“Goddamn you, Sheppard.”
John was laughing with a breathy huff, dragging Rodney’s mattress into the hallway with several bewildered stares from passersby. “This is going to be great. I can just feel it.”
“Wait!” Rodney shouted, hastily gathering what he needed as John and Ronon continued to drag the mattress along.
Rodney caught up just as they made it to the first intersection, arms full of various items with a backpack slung over his shoulder as he sucked in oxygen.
“I told you to wait!” Rodney whined breathlessly.
John shrugged. “I knew you’d find us.”
They were halfway to Teyla’s when she met them in the hallway. “I am sorry! It took longer than I expected to tidy up my quarters.”
“Nah, you’re all good. It’s a loose schedule,” John assured her with a lopsided smile.
“Let me help,” she insisted, getting behind the mattress to push from the back. The three of them tugged and pushed, sliding the mattress through the hallways and forcing people to step out of their way. All while McKay followed with an armful of his nightly necessities.
Once his mattress was situated in Teyla’s room, they did the same with John’s and Ronon’s, each of them grabbing whatever they needed and piling them on the back end of the mattress as they moved them. People were starting to whisper in the halls, confused. But the team hardly noticed, too focused on their task as they joked and chuckled along.
Finally, the three mattresses were shoved side-by-side in the empty space of Teyla’s room, and Teyla turned to pull her own off the frame.
“Ah, you don’t have to do that,” John told her, putting his hands on his hips as he caught his breath.
“I would like to be part of the experience,” Teyla grunted, tugging at the mattress. Ronon quickly swept in to help, and soon, her own mattress was pressed up against Ronon’s on the very end.
“Well, if there’s four, maybe we should rearrange,” John suggested. Ronon nodded. Rodney groaned.
And they pushed them around into a two-by-two rectangle.
“I do like that better,” Teyla confessed, smiling some. “I must admit, I am looking forward to this evening.”
“Well, that is good,” John said slowly, “but also maybe don’t get your hopes up.”
She shot him a doubtful smile and shook her head.
Ronon was first to drop to his mattress, sheets and blankets askew in a wild swirl of fabric. “Okay, teach me these weird Earth games.”
Rodney slumped onto his mattress, looking miserable and annoyed, while Teyla tossed her spare pillows onto the combined mattresses and moved to sit cross-legged on hers. After climbing onto his own neatly made bed, John carefully retrieved two six-packs of beer from a black backpack, setting them aside on the floor.
“For later,” he explained.
McKay’s mouth flattened, then he looked to Ronon. “Maybe Would You Rather would be a good one to start with.”
“Okay, then let’s play already.”
“Ronon, he has to explain the rules,” Teyla chuckled, tugging her pantleg down to her ankle. She felt incredibly cozy—surrounded by teammates in relaxed clothes, possessions pressed together in a community arrangement. She was beginning to understand the custom.
“Okay,” McKay sighed, holding his hands up, palms out and fingers splayed, as he formulated his explanation. “So there is no winning or losing. It’s really about presenting two equally bad decisions. You choose a person, then present them with the two horrible options, and they have to choose which one they’d rather have. So for example, Sheppard,” Rodney looked to John, “would you rather bite into a moldy sandwich or eat a cup of dirt and worms.”
“Damn,” John muttered, looking down as his brow furrowed. “Probably would have to go with the dirt and worms, I think.”
Teyla crinkled her nose, smiling. “Neither option sounds particularly appetizing.”
“Exactly.”
John leaned back on his hands, legs crossed. “Yeah, you learn a lot about what grosses people out and what their fears are. Kind of a messed up get-to-know-you game.”
“Okay, Sheppard, you go.”
“Alright. Uh, Teyla—”
Teyla sat up a little straighter.
“—would you rather be mute for a year or taste nothing for a year?”
“Oh, I would very much rather be mute,” Teyla answered quickly.
John’s brows shot up. “Really? That into food, huh?”
“A good meal can be more of a bonding experience than a conversation,” Teyla explained, then a smile graced her lips. “But I do not necessarily need company to enjoy a meal.”
“Fair, fair. Okay, you go.”
“Ah, Ronon, would you rather . . . um . . . be stranded on a desert planet or eat the flesh of an Obisi Lizard?”
John and Rodney looked at each other, lost.
“Desert planet. For sure,” Ronon replied, grimacing.
“Ronon, I believe it is your turn.”
“Okay . . . Sheppard, would you rather have your fingernails ripped out or your toes broken one by one.”
“Jesus Christ, Ronon.”
“—what kind of messed up—”
“—incredibly alarming inquiry—”
“Hey, you said between two bad things. Those are two bad things.”
The team quieted, Rodney and Teyla looking to John. And he stared at the wall, squinting. As if trying to decide.
“I think fingernails were worse.”
“Were worse?” McKay exclaimed, horrified.
John ignored him. “Okay, McKay, would you rather be stranded in a jumper in space without the ATA gene or be stranded on a forest planet with just a knife?”
“Oh, God,” Rodney mumbled. “Maybe the jumper in space.”
Teyla looked surprised. “Really?”
“Yeah, I could maybe figure out how to fly it without the gene, but I was never a very good boy scout.”
-0-0-0-0-0-
“Okay, I think we’ve gone down this path long enough,” Rodney announced, frowning as he tugged at the bag he’d brought with him. As he dug into the contents, he started pulling out a variety of snacks, tossing them toward the center of their combined mattresses. “No more Would You Rather.”
“That was quite enjoyable,” Teyla decided, smiling gracefully. “It is as you said: I learned much about your fears and disgusts.”
John handed her a bag of ketchup chips, smirking. “Yeah, our get-to-know-you games can be pretty weird but effective.”
“Please, what is next?” she asked with a delighted grin, quickly ripping open the chip bag and offering it to John first.
“Truth or Dare,” Rodney demanded around a mouthful of gummy worms.
“McKay, I said no Truth or Dare.”
“We have to play Truth or Dare for the authentic, stereotypical experience.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Yes, we do.”
“Don’t.”
“Do.”
“Don’t.”
“Do.”
“Don—”
“I say we play,” Ronon announced, popping a cheese puff in his mouth. “I want to see Sheppard and McKay squirm.”
Teyla frowned. “Not me?”
“Nah. You won’t squirm.”
She smiled proudly, sitting up taller with a confident line to her shoulders. “How does one play this game?”
“Okay,” McKay began with a giddy smile. “When it’s your turn, you ask another person, ‘Truth or dare?’ Then they choose one or the other. If they choose truth, you can ask them a personal question that they have to answer. If they choose dare, you get to dare them to do something embarrassing or uncomfortable, like eating a piece of dog food or kissing someone they don’t want to. You know, something bad but not too bad.”
“Yeah, nothing like breaking thumbs or whatever,” John added, looking pointedly at Ronon. The taller man shrugged, looking innocent. “And may I add that we keep this still somewhat . . . mild. We do have to function as a team, and that won’t work if there’s . . . weirdness between us.”
“God, Sheppard, no wonder you were never invited to sleepovers,” McKay huffed. “You are a real stick in the mud.”
John looked immensely offended, mouth open but lost for words.
“I am inclined to agree with Colonel Sheppard.”
“Guess Teyla’s boring too,” Ronon muttered, shooting a smirk at McKay. “Okay, let’s get to the squirming already.”
Rodney smiled, looking at John. “Alright, Sheppard. Truth or dare?”
John closed his eyes, sighing irritably. “Goddammit, I hate this game.”
“Truth or dare?”
“Dare, I guess.”
“Okay, uhhhh,” Rodney sat for a moment, thinking. “I dare you to . . .” His face lit up, pure glee on his face. “I dare you to do everything Ronon does for the next five minutes.”
“Goddammit,” John groaned, eyes to the ceiling.
Ronon grinned. “Wait. He has to do whatever I do?”
“Yep.”
Ronon immediately looped his arm around John’s, pulling him close. And John reluctantly pressed up against Ronon, wincing. Delighted, Ronon rested his free hand against John’s forearm, and John did the same to Ronon, grimacing further.
“That looks rather cozy,” Teyla observed with a barely contained smile.
“I hate this,” John muttered.
“I like this,” Ronon replied with a shit-eating grin.
Rodney laughed, finding incredible joy in John’s deep discomfort. “Okay, Sheppard, you go next.”
John sighed. “Uh, Teyla. Truth or dare?” Beside him, Ronon stretched out his leg. After a few seconds, John noticed and did the same in a mirror image.
“Um, truth?”
“What was the most embarrassing moment of your life?” John murmured, sliding an annoyed gaze to Ronon. Undaunted, Ronon curled his leg around John’s, and John had no choice but to do the same, effectively linking their legs together.
John scowled.
Smiling, Teyla thought on her answer. “Perhaps it was when I was a child. I was so confident I could climb a certain tree and even bragged to my friends. But halfway up, I became frightened of the height and froze. I then lost my footing and fell, splitting the seam of my pants and showing my undergarments to all.”
“Wait, that is your most embarrassing story?” John asked, momentarily distracted from Ronon’s progressively touchier teases.
“Well, what could we expect from Teyla?” Rodney chuckled.
Ronon slapped his free hand against John’s face, leaving it in place, and John returned the act with an even harder slap.
“Do people from Earth have more embarrassing stories?”
“You could say that,” John growled, glaring at Ronon. Ronon smiled back. “But yours is pretty mild.”
Teyla smirked, watching Ronon and John stare at each other. “Is it then my turn?”
“Yeah, you go,” Rodney prodded.
“Ronon, truth or dare?”
Ronon crossed his other leg to lay it across his and John’s legs. With a growl, John crossed his free leg over as well. “Dare,” Ronon rumbled.
“I am really uncomfortable,” John mumbled.
“Um . . .” Teyla looked to Rodney, not entirely sure what to say.
“Just pick something he has to do that he wouldn’t like,” Rodney explained gleefully, looking back to John.
“Uh, Ronon, I dare you to . . . kiss McKay on the cheek.”
“No, I said something he wouldn’t like! What he wouldn’t like!”
Ronon’s grin widened. “C’mere, McKay.”
“God, why?”
Untangling himself from John, Ronon moved toward Rodney as the scientist leaned away in disgust. As soon as he was in range, Ronon planted a sloppy kiss on Rodney’s cheek.
“Ugh, why was it so wet?” Rodney whined.
“Now Sheppard has to do it, right?” Ronon asked, thrilled. Rodney and John locked eyes, both horrified.
Teyla winced. “Oh, I am sorry, John. I did not think of that.”
“Play Truth or Dare, they said. Piece of shit game,” John mumbled, hesitantly moving toward Rodney. They both looked at each other, their faces a foot apart. “We never speak of this again, McKay. Never.”
Rodney stared at him for a while, breathing deeply. “Agreed.” Then he leaned his cheek toward John, and John gave him a chaste, quick, disgusted kiss to his cheek before scrambling away and wiping furiously at his mouth.
“I hate this Goddamn game!” John growled.
Pawing at his own face, Rodney frowned. “I’ll have you know I just washed my face, and it is quite clean.”
“It’s not about washing your goddamn face, Rodney.”
Ronon wrapped a tight arm behind John and around his middle, forcing John to copy him. “My turn, right?” Ronon asked, enjoying himself immensely.
“Yes, it is your turn,” John snarled.
“McKay, truth or dare?”
“Truth. Definitely truth,” Rodney answered, eyeing Ronon suspiciously. Ronon cupped John’s neck with his other hand. John mirrored the action.
“If you had to kill one of us, who would you choose?”
“Jesus, Ronon,” McKay hissed.
“I find this question intriguing,” Teyla admitted, leaning in with interest.
Ronon again linked a leg with John’s. John’s scowl deepened.
“Uhhh, well, at this rate, I guess it would be you, Chewie. You are certainly not winning yourself any points here.”
Ronon smiled darkly. “Harsh, but I like it.”
“Has it been five minutes yet?” John huffed.
Rodney looked at his watch. “Not yet. Just another, say, thirty seconds.”
“Go, McKay,” Ronon urged, eager for more.
“Fine. Teyla, truth or dare?”
“I am feeling adventurous. Dare, if I may.”
Rodney opened his mouth, already grinning.
“If you dare her to switch clothes with me, McKay, I will shoot you,” John threatened.
Smile dropping, Rodney closed his mouth.
Ronon moved the hand from John’s neck to settle on John’s thigh, and with a mighty eye roll, John rested his own hand on Ronon’s thigh.
“Oh, time’s up, I think,” Rodney announced, glancing down at his watch. Relieved, John pushed Ronon away, the larger man chuckling warmly as he fell against his mattress.
“Rodney, do not forget my dare.”
“Right, yes. Um . . . I dare you to . . . to . . . imitate Sheppard’s talking for thirty seconds.”
“Imitate?”
“Yeah, you know, talk like him. For half a minute.”
John glared. “What did I do to you, Rodney? Clearly you have a vendetta against me.”
“Ronon thrives with this kind of discomfort. Of course I’m going to pick you,” Rodney explained with a smug smirk.
“I shall try my best,” Teyla said decidedly, sitting up a little taller.
John sighed. “This is—”
“—so not good,” Teyla finished, attempting his lazy drawl.
Rodney erupted in laughter. “Ohoho! He does say that a lot!”
“Teyla,” John grumbled, frowning.
“Oh, it’s harmless fun,” she continued, still sticking to his aimless ramble. “And we’re a team, so you gotta do it.”
“I do not sound like that,” John countered, a huffy chuckle bleeding through. “I do not sound like that!”
“I mean, it’s not that off,” Ronon said with snort.
Teyla nodded slowly, raising her eyebrows with hooded eyes. “He’s got a point.” Ronon broke into roaring laughter, sharing a look with an equally elated Rodney.
“Oh, hey now,” John chuckled.
“She’s got the look down,” Ronon said through laughter, Rodney nodding vigorously.
Still chortling, Rodney looked at his watch. “I think that’s time.”
“I am only teasing, John,” Teyla explained with a wide smile.
He shook his head, a smirk stretching his own lips. “Nah, that was pretty good. Even I can admit that.”
“Okay, my turn,” Teyla announced, looking between her teammates. “John, truth or dare?”
John blew a breath through his lips, eyes on the ceiling. “Dare.”
With a frown, Teyla looked at him. “If you do not enjoy dares, perhaps you should try a truth. They seem more harmless.”
“Eh, I don’t like personal questions,” John replied quickly, looking away. “Dare.”
Frown deepening, Teyla glanced at Ronon. Then Rodney. “Alright. I dare you to do—what are they called? Pushups? I dare you to do fifty pushups.”
“Oh, now that I can do,” John sighed appreciatively, sliding off his mattress and dropping to the floor and right into rapid pushups. Five. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty.
“I thought you were lazy,” Ronon muttered, brow dipping.
Thirty. Thirty-five. Pause. Forty.
“I feel like it’s a military thing,” Rodney observed.
“I admit, I did not realize you could do so many so quickly, John,” Teyla admitted.
Ronon shrugged. “He does have skinny arms.”
Forty-five . . . forty-eight . . . fifty.
“You know I can still hear you,” John mumbled, getting off the floor and back to his mattress as he caught his breath. “I may be lazy, but I still have to stay in shape.”
“That does make sense,” Teyla agreed.
“Gotta haul Rodney’s ass out of trouble,” Ronon seconded, shooting a smirk at the scientist.
“Okay,” John sighed, inhaling steadily to gather more oxygen. “Ronon, truth or dare?”
“Truth this time.”
“Uh . . . what is the most disgusting thing you’ve ever eaten?”
Ronon grimaced. “Probably these grubs I had when I was on another planet. They were kind of . . . stringy and bitter, and they smelled pretty bad. Really meaty, black things. Kind of sinewy and stuff, but you know, you gotta eat.”
Alarmed, Rodney gagged, eyes watering. “Oh, God.”
“Yeah, not my favorite,” Ronon added with a shrug. “Teyla, truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“If you could only choose one of us, who would you take with you to a hostile planet?”
“Ooh, that is a very interesting question.” She stopped, letting her thoughts swirl around. “I am afraid I would have to say Colonel Sheppard. I think we could use his tactical skills, ease of making friends, and quieter approaches.”
John beamed. “Well, would you look at that.”
“Oh, like he wasn’t full of himself enough,” Rodney said sourly, folding his arms.
“Rodney,” Teyla said. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
“I dare you to . . . to hug Colonel Sheppard.”
John smirked, shaking his head.
“Oh, this is weird. This is weird. Can I do a do-over?” Rodney complained. “Nobody hugs Sheppard. It’s weird to hug Sheppard.”
“People hug me, McKay.”
“No they do not. Ronon hugs people. Teyla will hug people if the situation calls for our cultural norms over hers. But you do not hug people, Sheppard.”
“Weir’s hugged me.”
“Yeah, and you looked incredibly uncomfortable!”
“I did not.”
“You do often look uncomfortable while hugging. But so does Rodney. Regardless, I have dared you, Rodney, and you must do it.”
“Ugh, fine. Fine.” Rodney stood with a sigh as John did the same, then they walked around the mattresses until they met. With a huff, Rodney abruptly reached out and embraced John.
Playing it up, John embraced him comfortably, going so far as to rest his cheek on the top of Rodney’s head. “Mmmm. This is nice, isn’t it, McKay?”
“God!” Rodney pushed away, shoulders up in anxious discomfort. “You only did that to get a rise out of me!”
“And it worked, didn’t it?” John drawled with a crooked smile. “It made it less terrible, honestly.”
“You are insufferable.”
“Some would call it endearing.”
“Go—ugh!—go sit down,” McKay growled, moving back to his own mattress irritably. “Ronon, truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
“Okay. Hm. Uh . . . I dare you to . . . lick the floor.”
Without even the slightest pause, Ronon leaned off his mattress, licking the floor.
“Wow, did not hesitate,” John muttered, features twisted some in disgust.
“My floors are quite clean.”
“No one’s floors are completely void of germs. I mean, that is where feet go. Feet.”
“McKay, calm down. It was your dare.”
“Well, I thought he’d at least be grossed out for a second!”
“Rodney, he completed the dare, no matter how he did it. Ronon, please continue.”
“Yeah, okay. Truth or dare, Sheppard?”
John sighed. “Dare.”
“Choose truth.”
“No, I don’t like personal questions. Dare.”
“Choose. Truth.”
“No.”
“You don’t want to choose dare. Trust me.”
“Christ, Ronon. Okay. Truth. I choose truth.”
“What’s the most pain you’ve ever been in?”
John huffed, thinking. “I think it’s gotta be the Iratus bug. You know . . . the first time around. Wasn’t exactly a walk in the park.”
Sitting up straighter, Rodney paled.
Ronon’s brow furrowed as he looked over. “You good, McKay?”
“Yeah, just . . . hadn’t thought about it in a while,” Rodney admitted quietly, shaking his head.
Teyla took a deep breath. “It was not . . . a pleasant experience. For any of us.”
“You said Sheppard almost died, right?”
“Yeah, something like that,” John answered uncomfortably. God, he hated personal questions like this. “Let’s move on, huh? McKay, truth or dare?”
John stuck to dares after that, suffering through a very determined bout of his teammates flattening his hair with water and touching foreheads with Teyla for two minutes straight. The others flip-flopped between truths and dares, Rodney choosing based on the asker while Ronon and Teyla tried one or the other just for the experience.
Ronon had to stuff as many gummy worms in his mouth as possible, and Teyla had to wrap her blanket around herself like a cloak, looking like a cozy child under her handmade quilt. Rodney even had to eat one of each snack all in one mouthful, which he strangely enjoyed. Questions were asked, answers were given, and they found out a little more about each other, like Teyla did not like Earth meatloaf—to Rodney’s shock.
“Okay,” Teyla laughed from underneath her quilt, after listening to Rodney’s rather raucous story of how he was left naked in a high school locker room and had to find alternative clothes to sneak out without too much embarrassment. “I think we have played this enough, and John is starting to look rather irritable.”
“He’s been irritable,” Rodney chuckled. “Except for that weird hug.”
“Then let us not torture him any longer,” she insisted with a small smile.
John sighed in gratitude. “Thank God.”
“Let us take a break between activities to chat and eat these delicious snacks.”
With a huff, John sat back. “Well, what do you think of Earth sleepovers?”
“I find them quite enjoyable,” Teyla replied happily, letting her quilt hood fall to her shoulders. “I am learning so much about you all, and this is so very comforting to share a sleeping space like this among friends."
"Yeah, I like your weird Earth games,” Ronon added, stuffing ketchup chips in his mouth with a cascade of crumbs down his front.
Reaching forward, Teyla grabbed the bag of chips, dipping her hand into it while looking at John. “You mentioned that your father was strict. Did he not let you participate in these sleepovers?”
“Uh, no,” John answered quietly. “It was more . . . I chose not to. So I wouldn’t have to deal with it. With him.”
Rodney stopped what he was doing, gaze snapping to John. Seeing the way John’s gaze found the edge of his military bedding while his fingers picked fuzzes off his blanket.
And Rodney found he didn’t like it.
“But we don’t have to talk about that,” John said quickly, moving the conversation along. “I still had a social life, and I still played most of these games. So it was fine.”
“Even spin the pot?”
“Bottle,” Rodney corrected.
“Yeah, I went to business parties with my dad. And it’s not like the teenagers hung out with the adults,” John replied cheekily, a mischievous smile twisting his lips. “And in high school, I found better ways to sneak around and do what I wanted. I managed to get to a rager or two.”
“Oh. So you wanted to play a drinking game because you can drink us all under the table,” Rodney said accusingly.
“Nah, I don’t drink that much,” John replied. “Plus, I’m pretty sure Ronon can drink anyone under the table, no matter how high their tolerance is.”
“Hell yeah, I can,” Ronon confirmed proudly.
“And Teyla’s probably got a higher tolerance than both Rodney and I combined.”
“I would not disagree. My people do brew a strong drink.”
Rodney slumped bitterly. “Great. So you and I will be well on our way to alcohol poisoning before they even feel buzzed.”
With a crooked smirk, John pulled the beer onto their mattresses. “I think you’re overestimating how eventful your life has been, Rodney.”
“Well, what would you call this! Atlantis!”
“Uh . . . fifteen months of excitement in an otherwise cautious life?”
Rodney paused, staring. “You may have a point.”
“Don’t sweat it, Rodney. It won’t go that far,” John chuckled. Spotting a need, Teyla stood, abandoning her quilt as she snagged a wooden tray she used for candles and tea while sitting in bed. After she set the tray at the center of the mattresses, John silently thanked her and put four beer cans on the tray, each one pushed toward whoever they were meant for. “Okay, Never Have I Ever.”
“This title perplexes me,” Teyla muttered, frowning in confusion as she grabbed the chips again.
“This might be a good time to carb up,” John advised, looking to Rodney. Catching his meaning, Rodney grabbed at the pretzels, shoving them fearfully into his mouth.
John continued. “With this game, you go around in a circle and each person has to say something they’ve never done. But anyone who has done that thing has to take a drink—at least they do in the drinking version of the game. So for example, if I said, ‘Never have I ever lived on Athos,’ then Teyla would have to take a drink and the rest of us don’t. It doesn’t have to be that targeted, but some people like to do it that way.”
John opened his own beer before setting it back on the tray, everyone else doing the same. “Okay, I’ll go first. Never have I ever eaten an . . . Obisi Lizard or whatever.”
Teyla and Ronon promptly drank, Ronon taking a massive gulp while Teyla gave it a middling effort.
“You don’t have to go so hard, Ronon,” John drawled with a frown. “Let’s go clockwise. So Ronon, you go next.”
“Cool. Uh . . . never have I ever . . . ridden in a car or whatever you guys call it.”
With a growl, Rodney took a drink, John silently doing the same across from him while Teyla drank her own quietly.
“Never have I ever,” Rodney began, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Kissed a guy on the lips.”
Immediately, the other three took a drink.
“Oh my God. Oh my GOD. Sheppard?” Rodney squawked, eyes wide. “Chewie and Xena I get. But you?” Ronon chuckled as Teyla looked on with a small smile.
“Yeah, I have. No big deal,” John replied, setting his can back on the tray.
“Oh. My. God. How did I not know this?”
“I don’t know why you’re freaking out so much, McKay.” He quirked a brow at the scientist, frowning. “And you have kissed a guy, remember? Carson? When you were sharing a body with Cadman?”
“Ohohoho, he’s right, McKay,” Ronon chuckled, grinning wildly. “You gotta drink.”
“That doesn’t count! It wasn’t me!”
“Eh, you were present for it,” John countered.
“I am inclined to agree,” Teyla seconded.
Wincing, Rodney picked up his beer and swallowed a mouthful. He set the can down with low whispers of, “oh my god.”
“My turn?” Teyla asked, still smiling. John nodded in response. “Never have I ever . . . had an allergic reaction to food.”
Rodney took a drink. And so did John.
With a cough, Rodney stared at him again with wide eyes. “Sheppard? What the hell are you allergic to?”
“Kiwis,” John answered nonchalantly.
“How come you never said anything?” Rodney demanded, brow dipping in prickly surprise.
John shrugged. “Never came up.”
“Never came up? Never came up? How many times have I told you about my allergy?”
“I dunno. A lot of times.”
“And you never thought to mention you were allergic to kiwis?”
“It’s not like we have a lot of kiwis here. Didn’t seem important.”
Bewildered, Rodney stared wide-eyed at John, baffled. “Who are you?”
“Anyway. Moving on,” John sighed, smirking at Rodney. “Never have I ever killed anyone with a sword.”
Teyla and Ronon both drank, cans back on the tray.
The larger man stared at the beers, narrowing his eyes in thought. “Never have I ever . . . flown a jumper.”
With a growl, Rodney flung back his beer, John close behind.
“Alright, McKay, choose something this time that doesn’t apply to you,” John teased.
With a mighty exhale, Rodney drew his shoulders up, giving it some thought. “Never have I ever . . . had an inhaler.”
Ronon took a drink, remembering the time he inhaled some poisonous gas on another planet.
And then John took a drink.
Rodney frowned. “What? When?”
John shrugged. “Childhood asthma. It happens.”
“How did none of this come up in everyday conversation?”
John shrugged again. “It just didn’t.”
“My turn,” Teyla announced proudly, looking at each of her teammates devilishly. “Never have I ever been reprimanded for my work.”
All three took a gulp.
John frowned appreciatively. “That was a good one, Teyla.”
“Thank you. I thought it was quite clever,” she remarked with a grin.
-0-0-0-0-0-
“I’m starting to feel it,” John muttered, blinking harshly as he set his nearly empty can back on the tray.
“Lightweight,” Ronon teased, clapping him on the back.
John smirked, reaching for the pretzels.
“Don’t know if I’ve ever seen any of you drunk,” Ronon observed, grinning.
“Oh, God. This was a terrible idea,” Rodney panicked, staring fearfully down at the cans.
John smiled. “Maybe this’ll be good for you, McKay. Maybe it’ll help you relax.”
“I don’t want to relax,” Rodney hissed, folding into himself uncomfortably.
“Perhaps you need not worry. It looks as if there are only two beers left,” Teyla observed, glancing at the two lonely cans beside John’s mattress.
“Oh, no,” John shook his head, “there’s two more packs in my backpack.”
“Did you bring anything you actually needed? Or did you only bring beer?” Rodney asked, exasperated. “Also, how big is your backpack?”
“I mean, it gets the job done,” John answered with a frown, tugging uselessly at his backpack. “And I brought my toothbrush. Was I supposed to bring anything else?”
“I dunno, a comb, maybe? Some extra clothes? Toothpaste?”
“Oh, yeah, no. I don’t really comb my hair. And I figured I could just use your toothpaste when I saw you grab yours.”
“What? No! You can’t use my toothpaste.”
“I’ll be careful—I won’t even touch it to my toothbrush.”
“That’s not—what? You really didn’t bring anything other than your toothbrush?”
John shrugged. “Nah.”
“It’s your turn, McKay,” Ronon interrupted pointedly, munching on a pretzel.
With a sigh, Rodney shifted on his mattress. “Fine, fine. Uh, never have I ever . . . played a sport.”
“They don’t know what that means, Rodney,” John said patiently, taking hold of his beer and gulping down the last bit. He set the empty can aside, cracking open a new one. “Hm, still cold,” he muttered to himself.
“Oh, yeah, sports—it’s just physical games. Football, for example. And if you play sports, you’re usually on an organized team or play the same game . . . repeatedly? I guess?”
“Ah, I think I understand,” Teyla replied, nodding.
“Yeah, me too,” Ronon seconded, taking a swig of his beer. “Played some games like that.”
“John, did you play this . . . football that you like so much?” Teyla asked.
John shrugged. “When they let me on the field, sure. I was a wide receiver—but I only played when one of the usual guys was out.”
“Huh. Thought you’d be, like, quarterback or whatever it’s called,” Rodney commented, brows dipping in puzzlement.
“Yeah, I dunno. Turned out to not be my thing,” John answered. “Okay, Teyla, you’re turn.”
“Oh, yes,” she said excitedly. “Never have I ever had a sibling.”
Rolling his eyes, Rodney took a drink.
But then so did John.
The other three looked at him, each frowning in their own distinct ways.
“What?”
“You have a sibling?” Rodney asked loudly, expression split between angry surprise and concern.
“Yeah, I’ve got a brother,” John answered nonchalantly, setting his can back on the tray.
“Is he . . . younger? Older?” Teyla asked.
“Younger,” John replied simply, frowning. “I don’t see how this is such huge news.”
“Well, you do not speak much of your family. You have not spoken of your father until tonight,” Teyla explained.
“Neither does Ronon,” John pointed out.
Ronon shrugged, nodding. “Guess that’s true.”
John gestured toward Ronon in a silent, “see?”
“Yeah, sure, okay,” Rodney huffed. “But Teyla and Ronon don’t, uh, talk to their family anymore.”
“Yes, our families have passed,” Teyla agreed.
“And my parents are gone, but there’s still Jeannie,” Rodney continued, trying to find the right words to convey what he meant. “So obviously, she’d come up in conversation.”
John frowned, sending a flat look to Rodney. “What does this have to do with anything?”
“If you’re family’s alive, you still talk to them, right?” Ronon questioned.
John took a deep breath, pulling pointlessly at the sleeve of his black t-shirt.
And Rodney found he didn’t like this behavior either.
Because it meant John was uncomfortable. And John wasn’t often uncomfortable. At least, not like this.
“No, I don’t talk to them. Can we move on? It’s really not that big of a deal.”
Pursing his lips, Rodney huffed. “Fine. It’s your turn.”
“Skip,” John muttered.
Rodney huffed again. “You can’t sk—”
“Nah, I got it,” Ronon replied quickly, sensing John’s tetchy discomfort. “Never have I ever eaten . . . what’s it called? A pineapple?”
-0-0-0-0-0-
“Think I’m gonna . . . need to take a break,” John mumbled, eyes closed as he frowned.
“You good, Sheppard?” Ronon asked.
“Yeah, i’s just . . . been a while,” John muttered, swaying some.
“Is Sheppard actually drunk?” Rodney asked excitedly, feeling his own pleasant buzz against his normally frenetic brain.
With a laugh, Ronon slapped John on the shoulder as if congratulating him on some achievement, and John nearly toppled over. Yet he didn’t seem to mind.
“Problem is, I get sleepy way too early,” John explained, his drawl heavier.
“You must’ve been a hoot at those ragers in high school,” Rodney teased, clearly pleased with himself.
John rubbed at his cheek, eyebrows raised over half-open eyes. “Nah, I was plenty fun.” He blinked slowly.
“You’re always fun, Sheppard,” Ronon muttered in gravelly support, feeling an alcohol-induced warmth himself as he patted John on the knee.
John didn’t seem too bothered, patting Ronon’s hand affectionately. “Thanks, buddy. Tha’s really nice.”
“Oh, God. Maybe I don’t want to know what drunk Sheppard is like,” Rodney confessed, looking to Teyla.
She frowned, quickly discovering she was the most sober of them all. “It does not change who John is.”
“No, but maybe I won’t—”
“Rodn’y, you worry too much,” John slurred, his frown deepening. “How m’ny did I drink?”
Ronon reached over to John’s can, shaking it enough to slosh the liquid inside. “Looks like five and a half.”
John slid his gaze to him. “Were you keepin’ count?”
Ronon shrugged.
“I’s not a competition, big guy,” John replied, leaning heavily on one hand.
“In fact, I think you actually lose if you get drunk,” Rodney pointed out, watching the way John blinked slowly. “And we should probably stop. Sheppard’s too far gone.”
“It is alright if you would like to go to sleep, John,” Teyla assured him. “You do seem to be quite weary.”
John frowned. “No.” He shook his head loosely, closing his eyes as things spun just a little too much. “Don’ wanna be the first.”
“You just said it wasn’t a competition,” Rodney griped.
“Well, if we aren’t playing anymore, I’m having another beer,” Ronon announced, stretching across John’s lap to grab another can. John sluggishly realized what was happening, batting Ronon away tiredly.
Finally taking hold of his prize, Ronon straightened, cracking the can open with an alcohol-warm grin. “Sleepovers are fun.”
“I admit that I, too, am enjoying this,” Teyla agreed.
“I say we make it a team tradition,” Ronon proposed, raising his beer triumphantly.
“Hm?” John hummed, completely losing track of the conversation. With a quiet chuckle, Ronon headed toward the bathroom, filling a glass with water before returning to their joint bedding to coax John to drink it.
“Why do I feel so warm?” Rodney snickered, the beer buzz sinking further in.
Teyla smiled. “Do you drink often, Rodney?”
“Nah,” he replied before chuckling at nothing in particular.
“It is quite possible it is a reaction to the alcohol.”
Ronon took another drink, grinning. “And you’re giggly as hell, McKay.” He offered John the water again, pouring half it down John’s shirt as John drank. Feeling wet fabric against his chest, John dizzily looked down to investigate.
“I am not—” Rodney stopped to laugh quietly, “—I am not giggly.”
Still grinning, Ronon looked to Teyla, sharing a moment of humor before glancing back at their teammates.
“Hm?” John hummed again, eyes fully closed as he leaned back more heavily on his arm. Ronon grabbed the pretzels, shoving a couple into John’s mouth, who obediently chewed and swallowed.
“Chewie, you’ve poured water all down his shirt,” Rodney laughed.
Teyla rolled her eyes playfully. “Perhaps we should change his shirt.”
“The idiot didn’t bring a change of clothes, remember?”
“I bet you did, though,” Ronon muttered, shoving another couple of pretzels into John’s mouth.
Rodney shrugged. “Of course I did. I always bring two changes of clothes just in case.”
“Then he could use one of your shirts.”
“What? No way. It’d be way too big for him anyway—the stick of a human.”
“Rodney, you certainly do not want John to sleep in a wet shirt.”
“It was his own fault!”
“Actually, it was mine, I guess.”
“And just like that, my buzz is gone. Should’ve known it wouldn’t last with you all around.”
“Just give me one of your shirts, McKay.”
“No!”
“Rodney,” Teyla admonished in a low tone. Rodney stared at her, trying to withstand her expectant eyes as long as possible.
But he caved.
“Alright, fine,” Rodney huffed, snatching his bag and digging around the bottom. Finding what he was looking for, he tossed a shirt in Ronon’s direction.
Ronon offered only a nod of thanks before manhandling John out of his own shirt—Teyla joining the efforts when Ronon nearly pulled John’s arm out of his socket. They wrestled Rodney’s shirt over a mostly unresponsive John, Ronon finishing it all up by putting two more pretzels between John’s lips.
But seeing the image on the shirt, Ronon shot Rodney a look. “Really?”
Rodney looked at the blocky lettering of “I’m with genius,” with an arrow pointing upward, only to shrug. “You asked for a shirt, and I gave you one.”
“Hm?” John finally hummed, drifting temporarily into a shallow moment of wakefulness.
“John, perhaps you should sleep,” Teyla advised with a chuckle, finding the whole situation comical.
He frowned.
“Sleep. You should sleep,” Ronon pressed with a smirk.
Teyla gently rested a hand on John’s shoulder. “Perhaps I should help you.” Ronon joined her on the other side, the two of the carefully moving John to lay down before pulling the covers from under him and draping them over his prone form.
“It is rather late,” Teyla observed. “We started later in the evening and played games for quite some time.”
“Hand me one of those,” Rodney demanded, pointing at the remaining cans against the head of John’s mattress. Teyla reached over to grab one before handing it to Rodney.
“Didn’t expect you to drink more,” Ronon said with a smirk, taking another swig of beer.
“Well, if I’m going to be stuck here for the night, I might as well take the edge off,” Rodney grumbled.
Ronon chuckled, leaning toward Rodney. “Come on, McKay. You like this.”
Taking a modest sip of beer, Rodney narrowed his eyes toward his teammate. “Well, I can’t say it’s the worst way I’ve spent an evening.
“You are all ridiculous,” Teyla commented warmly, eyes drifting between her teammates.
“. . . egotistical maniac of a scientist . . .” John mumbled, as if on cue, igniting a bubble of low laughter from both Teyla and Ronon. Rodney simply rolled his eyes.
“Did you give him enough pretzels?” Rodney asked sharply, looking to Ronon.
The larger man shook his head. “Nah. Might still get a headache.”
“Perhaps we went on too long,” Teyla sighed.
“Listen, it’s not our fault that Sheppard has lived a full, well-experienced life,” Rodney replied, grabbing at the bag of ketchup chips.
Teyla couldn’t help the smile pulling at her mouth. “Perhaps you are right.”
“Anyway, tell me about this Obisi lizard. It sounds gross, and I’m intrigued,” Rodney ordered, shoving a healthy handful of chips into his mouth.
-0-0-0-0-0-
Teyla laid on her mattress, staring up at the gray ceilings as she listened to her roommates slumbering quietly. Rodney had been the second to fall asleep, Ronon following shortly behind. And that left Teyla to turn off the lights, pack up the snacks, and ensure they were all blanketed properly.
“. . . violent giant of a man . . .” John mumbled, and she allowed herself a quiet chuckle. Only for Rodney to suck in an incredibly loud snore, startling her into a louder giggle.
They were all ridiculous. But this was home.
-0-0-0-0-0-
John woke slowly, his head full of cotton. The first thing he saw was the end of a standard Atlantis bedframe. Confused, he shifted his gaze, finding a very familiar hand-woven rug.
Hm.
Oh. Right. Sleepover. Teyla’s quarters.
But then it finally registered that there was something warm and certainly not a pillow between his thighs. A strong arm around his shoulders.
“Goddammit, Ronon,” he croaked, trying to slip from the Satedan’s hold. But at the slightest movement, Ronon pulled him in tighter, his stray hand curling around John’s thigh in an attempt to keep him there.
John sighed, trying to move his head away at least. He groaned.
God, what a headache.
Nothing too bad—he’d definitely had worse. But it was enough to be bothersome.
Who knew a sleepover could end in a mild hangover?
With another huff of irritation, he tried to break free from Ronon’s hold, only to be crushed against the Satedan’s chest with a wheeze.
“Ronon,” John rasped, flailing some to wake his teammate. “Too tight, buddy.”
“Hm?” Ronon hummed sleepily.
“Too tight!” John coughed, wriggling against the hold.
“Mm, sorry,” Ronon muttered, only awake enough to pull away from John and roll back to his own mattress.
John inhaled deeply, rubbing at his chest. Satisfied he’d live, he moved to slide from his bedding, sitting on the edge of the mattress.
Why did his shirt feel so . . . big? He looked down, frowning at the “I’m with genius” that stared back at him.
“What in the actual hell?” he whispered, tugging at the worn fabric. Clearly, it was Rodney’s. “This has got to be the most screwed up post-sleepover . . .”
Damn, sitting up made his head hurt even more.
“John? Are you awake?”
He waved Teyla away. “Go back to sleep.”
“No, it is alright. I usually wake at this hour,” she pressed, extricating herself from Rodney’s tangled limbs before sitting up with her usual grace. She stretched her arms in front of her with a grounding inhale. “How do you feel?”
“Terrible,” he muttered, rubbing at his head. “Why am I in Rodney’s shirt?”
“Ah,” she replied with a smile. “Ronon tried to give you water after you had begun to fade, but he spilled much of it on your shirt. We did not want you to sleep in wet clothing.”
John stared back down at the shirt. “Huh.”
“What do you remember?” she asked gently.
“I remember ending Never Have I Ever,” John said thoughtfully, “then maybe just a few things after that.”
“Not much happened after, other than the regrettable fate of your shirt,” Teyla supplied. “Although, Ronon did try to get you to eat pretzels.”
“Well, isn’t that nice of him,” John replied with a slight smile that morphed into a wince.
“Why don’t you rest a little more—I will retrieve some breakfast.”
John moved to get up, “I’ll go with you.” Then he stared down at his shirt. “On second thought . . .” He could only imagine what kind of speculations the expedition would cook up if he was found wearing Rodney’s shirt. He sat back down.
Teyla chuckled warmly. “Perhaps that is a wise decision. Do not worry. I will take care of it.” She pushed up from her mattress, still dressed in her pajamas as she slipped into her sandals and tread carefully through the door and down the hall.
John sighed.
He sat in the silence for a long while, trying to settle into a semi-comfortable state of being. Maybe he should get some water. But then again, breakfast would probably do wonders.
So he waited, unmoving in the quiet of the morning.
“Whazzat?!” Rodney yelled, sitting up suddenly to John’s startled surprise.
“Jesus, Rodney,” John admonished, rubbing at his aching head while Rodney blinked owlishly around the room. “What the hell kind of dream were you having?”
Rodney rubbed at his eyes, peering at John through a narrow squint. “Dunno. Forgot.” He looked down and around himself. “Why am I on Teyla’s bed?”
John huffed. “Like a spider monkey,” he replied flatly, still massaging his forehead.
“No, because I do not snuggle.”
“I literally watched her get out from your forceful spooning,” John huffed irritably. “Arms and legs in a full embrace.”
“Did not.”
“Absolutely did.”
“Did not.”
“Then explain how you’re on her bed!”
“Could you guys keep it down? Some of us are trying to sleep,” Ronon muttered groggily.
“No, not some of us,” Rodney griped. “Just you, Chewie.”
“Okay. So then I am trying to sleep.”
Rodney and John startled at the sound of the door sliding open, eyes snapping toward the opening as Teyla came in with a full tray of food.
And behind her was Dr. Elizabeth Weir.
“Well, would you look at that,” Elizabeth chuckled. “When Teyla told me you four had a sleepover, I admit I didn’t quite believe her.”
“I ran into Dr. Weir in the early morning breakfast line,” Teyla explained with a beaming smile. “So I invited her to join us.”
“Very cool,” John sighed.
“I am not here to crash a party,” Elizabeth answered warmly, setting her own tray down before turning to hand a mug of steaming coffee to John. “But I must say, it does seem like you all had fun last night.” She turned a sparkling eye toward John’s shirt, a silent laugh nestled snugly behind her smile.
“I liked it very much. I can see why it is a popular custom among your children and adolescents,” Teyla admitted as she offered coffee to Rodney, receiving a muttered stream of thank yous.
“I still feel like we should make it a team tradition,” Ronon seconded.
John swiped a hand over his face. “Oh, God.”
“Next time, we will ensure you have had adequate shares of water and food before going to sleep,” Teyla assured him as she piled up a plate to give to Ronon.
“Yeah, you went down pretty fast,” Ronon mumbled, thanking Teyla for the food before digging right into it. “Didn’t even react when I was changing your shirt.”
John shot a look at Elizabeth, who simply smirked humorously.
“I’ve gotta say, that was a pretty good time—sans Sheppard stealing my shirt,” Rodney confessed.
“Well, if you’re all thinking of doing this again, do you have room for another?” Elizabeth asked.
John smiled, shaking his head good-naturedly. “How heavy is your mattress?”
Fin.