Title: Bowmore versus Jack
Author: Kazlynh
Claim: Table 3/Ronon Dex
Prompt: #5 Breakfast
Fandom:SGA
Rating: U
Word Count: 799

Summary: The morning after the night before

 

John Sheppard surfaced, reluctantly, from post-alcoholic sleep into the parched mouth, head-pounding torture of a hangover. He groaned softly, trying to remember who he had been drinking with: and what, exactly he had been drinking.

Ronon… and Carson… He’d been drinking whisky with Ronon and Carson… Rodney had been there too, briefly, before being called away because of some glitch with the Stargate. And Teyla… She’d been there…

It had started over a friendly discussion about the merits of whisky as opposed to bourbon. When the argument had become a little more heated, Carson and John had enlisted Ronon’s help to make a final decision. Having tried neither, he was an ideal judge… or so John had thought. Much to his disgust Ronon had finally chosen Bowmore over Jack.

Which was how they had all ended up in Carson’s quarters, drinking until the wee hours of the morning…

A loud snore broke the silence sending a thump of pain through John’s head. He winced then peeled an eye open and turned his head in the direction of the sound. Ronon… wrapped in a blanket, lying on the floor beside him.

The Satedan snored again, then grunted and turned over…

John closed his eyes, thankful for the returning silence, wondering just how bad he was going to feel when he finally found the courage to sit up.

The outer door opened then closed.

“Wakey wakey! Rise and shine!”

John winced again and groaned at the cheerfulness in Carson’s voice. Then the smell of fried food sent him struggling to his feet and heading for the bathroom as his stomach rebelled.

On the floor, Ronon grunted, opening his eyes. Running his hand across his face, he sat up then looked over at Carson. “Smells good…”

“Aye, well,” Carson told him, putting down the two, covered trays he was carrying. “You two sleeping beauties obviously weren’t going to make breakfast, so I thought I should bring it back with me…”

“Thanks,” Ronon acknowledged, untangling himself from the blanket and climbing to his feet. He stretched, leisurely, looking round the room, and then frowned, scratching his hair. “Two?”

“Aye, Big Man,” Carson supplied, not quite able to keep the smile from his face. “I doubt John will want to eat, though…”

Ronon quirked an eyebrow. “Bathroom?”

“Bathroom,” Carson confirmed.

“Lightweight,” Ronon quipped, rolling his eyes and scratching his head as he walked across to the table. Pulling off the cloche, he picked up the cutlery, spearing a slice of bacon with the fork. He paused, glancing across to Carson’s bathroom. “He going to be okay?”

“He,” John told him, from the door, “is going to be fine… in a few hours…”

Ronon grinned. “You look like crap…”

John sighed, making his way carefully across the floor, “I feel worse…”

Chewing on the bacon, Ronon grinned at him. Then he skewered a sausage patty, offering it to Sheppard as he sat down. “Want some breakfast…”

John groaned, closing his eyes, waving away the food.

Carson lifted the cloche from the other tray. Rummaging in his pocket, he pulled out a small packet. Then he pressed the two tablets into the glass of water on the tray. “Here,” he told John, holding out the now-fizzing liquid. “Get that down you…”

John took the glass, draining the contents. “Whose idea was last night?”

“Yours,” Carson and Ronon chorused together.

“Here,” Carson offered, “I brought some toast as well. You’ll feel better if you eat something…”

“Toast sounds good,” John confirmed. “Got any coffee?”

“Aye, but not from the mess hall,” Carson told him. “Give me two ticks and I’ll have some fresh stuff brewing…”

John took a bite of the toast, glowering at Ronon as he tucked into his fried breakfast. “Why am I the only one with a hangover?”

“Because you drank almost all the Jim,” the Satedan reminded him.

“Jack,” John corrected. “Jim is completely different…”

“Whatever. Still preferred Carson’s stuff…” Ronon grinned.

John glared at him, deriding, “Wookiees never did have taste…”

“Technically,” Carson quipped, switching on the coffee pot, “That makes you Solo or Skywalker, you know…”

Ronon looked from one to the other, completely at a loss as to what they were talking about.

“No contest,” John was saying, “Definitely Solo…”

“Aye,” Carson quipped, “I can just see you as a wall-hanging, too.”

“Wall-hanging?” Ronon asked, totally confused.

John and Carson exchanged looks.

“He’s not seen it…”

“Think we need to remedy that…”

John was suddenly feeling a little better. Grinning at Ronon, he told him, “Eat up, buddy. Have we got a treat for you!"

Ronon paused, forkful of sausage half way to his mouth, “What kind of treat?”

“Well, you see,” Carson told him, “It all begins a long time ago…”

“In a galaxy far, far away…” John finished.