A/N - This will be six chapters.

Shot One

"I still don't get why we couldn't just have Ronon do this," Rodney hissed in Teyla's ear. "He's so much bigger than Sheppard. Sheppard is going to die."

"Rodney," Teyla hissed. This was not the first time they had had some variation on this conversation, and Teyla was getting tired of it. "Do not let John hear you. Now is not the time."

Rodney frowned, but subsided, to Teyla's relief. Both of them turned their attention back to John, who was staring straight ahead. His expression was one of carefully arranged determination, but it was masking scarcely-concealed delight.

They were on a planet called Kuwani, trying to negotiate a trade deal with the local settlers. Teyla had never formally met any of the inhabitants of Kuwani, but she had heard that they were a welcoming but very traditional people. When she, Rodney, Ronon, and John had first arrived on the planet, they had been shown to luxurious rooms and given plenty to eat, much to Rodney's delight. Everything had been going perfectly until the man who had been showing them around had asked which one of them was their leader, and, once they had pointed to John, informed them that he would have to participate in a specific ceremony, that, while not dangerous, might be uncomfortable. The details of the trade agreement would be determined based on John's performance. They had spent the next hour or so in a state of nervous anticipation.

That is, until they had shown up at what they'd expected to be nothing more than a small, informal gathering of Kuwani top officials and learned that the ceremony was, in fact, a drinking contest. The best situation for their trade agreement would be if John managed to consume more drinks than the Kuwani man, proving his fortitude and strength.

This was all well and good, and a faint smile had played on John's face ever since he had found out the news. But still, Teyla was worried. Rodney was right, Ronon would be much better suited to win this sort of contest than John was. John wasn't a big drinker - Teyla had only seen him consume more than a drink or two a small handful of times. He wasn't short, but he didn't have Ronon's bulk, and there was nothing to keep the alcohol from hitting him hard. Not only that, but he was recovering from a recent stomach bug. He had spent nearly the entirety of the last week in the infirmary, unable to keep down anything but the smallest sips of water. This was his first mission back, and it showed. While his coloring was better, he still looked bony and almost frail. Teyla wasn't at all sure that he'd even make it past the first shot.

Still, it was too late for second thoughts. If John didn't do this contest, then Atlantis likely wouldn't be able to make any sort of trade deal with this planet at all.

Teyla sighed and tried to look encouraging and supportive, and not as though she expected this to go very wrong, very quickly. At the contestants' table, John turned around and grinned at them, raising the glass of clear liquid in their direction. Then, he swallowed, and the contest had begun.

John didn't grimace, but Teyla caught the telltale stiffening in his back and shoulders and guessed that whatever he'd just swallowed was deeply unpleasant. Still, it had been about thirty seconds, and he didn't appear to be throwing up. That was a good sign.

Teyla waited for John to turn away and walk back to them, but instead he...began pouring another shot. Teyla sighed, heavily. The rules of the contest included that each contestant must drink at the end of a twenty minute margin, although the guest could choose to drink anytime before that endpoint, at which time the clock would be reset. The Kuwanese contestant would have to match the pace set by the guest. Teyla had assumed that John would take it slow, but she'd evidently given him more credit than he deserved.

Even from here, she could see the smirk on John's face as he raised the second glass. This had all the markings of a very long night.

Shot Two

The second one tasted even worse than the first. It burned going down, and tasted like gasoline smelled. The closest thing John could think of to compare it to was an unbelievably shitty bottle of vodka he'd stolen from a college party, but this was maybe a thousand times worse.

But John wasn't going to let on. He was calm, cool, collected. He was going to start off strong, and show the Kuwani people that he was someone to watch out for. Three shots should do it, that was a nice round number, a lucky number.

John began pouring shot number three, trying not to breathe in as the fumes coiled upwards. He was forcibly reminded of refueling F-302s. Bracing himself, John nodded at his opponent and raised his glass again.

Shot Three

John could almost feel Teyla radiating disapproval as the jet-engine moonshine scorched its way down the back of his throat. He didn't understand why she was so concerned. The guy he was drinking against was on the small side, not much larger than John himself. He wasn't fighting to outdrink some hulking man like Ronon. And while the shots themselves were truly terrible, giving him a broken-glass feeling in the center of his chest and coating his mouth with an almost painfully astringent taste, so far, they were settling just fine. He was a little worried - he had spent most of the past week leaning over the side of his bed to vomit into a trash can, and while he felt completely fine now, he'd been being careful not to push his system too hard.

But come on. So far things were going fine. He didn't even feel sick - in fact, he was kind of having fun. And anyways, it wasn't like he was doing this to annoy Teyla. He had to do it if he wanted to get Atlantis the trade agreement. He simply didn't have a choice.

John had hoped he could manage a fourth shot right in the beginning, before any of the alcohol hit his blood stream. But he was guessing from the awful taste that the stuff he'd been drinking was pretty strong, and the Kuwanese man had no reaction at all to putting the vile stuff in his mouth. John needed to pace himself, both to keep from being too drunk and to avoid triggering his gag reflex.

His opponent watched him with narrowed eyes, waiting to see if he would dare take a fourth drink. John could feel the eyes of his team drilling into his back as well. John carefully set his glass down on the table in front of him, and did not reach for the bottle.

Instead, he stood, and there was a collective murmuring of surprise and relief from the gathered crowd. As soon as he was vertical, a feeling of warmth bloomed in his chest and behind his eyes. He wanted...water, he supposed, or even another, less strong drink. Something to wash the taste of the...super vodka, or whatever it was, out of his mouth. He wanted to see his team. He wanted to wander around, talking to everyone he could from Kuwani and learning about their culture.

Yeah. This was a good mission. The best one in a long time.

Ronon watched Sheppard walk away from the table, back into the crowd. He was met by Teyla halfway, and together they vanished into the mingled gathering.

"Well, I think that went rather well." McKay appeared at his elbow, holding a drink of his own. Ronon shrugged and took a sip from his own glass.

"For now."

"What, you don't think he can do it?" Rodney sounded offended, like Ronon's lack of faith was some kind of personal attack.

"Sheppard's not a big drinker, is he?"

Rodney sputtered. "Well-?"

Ronon looked around, noting the intrigued looks on the faces of some of the Kuwanese people nearby.

"How 'bout we make this interesting? I'll lay odds that the skinny guy with the scruffy hair goes down after ten."

Rodney looked horrified, and one of the bystanders snorted. "After ten? I'll give him six."

Ronon grinned, and soon enough money was changing hands and his new friends were pressing more drinks into his hands.

"I can't believe you're betting against John," Rodney hissed at him. Ronon grunted, hoping the nonverbal response would discourage him and the man would go away, or at least stop bothering him. No such luck. "You want him to win, don't you?"

"Course I do," Ronon answered. "Doesn't mean he will. Sheppard's a tough guy, but this is strong stuff."

The scientist huffed disapprovingly. "I think he's got a chance. Have a little faith."

Ronon grinned again. "Wanna bet?"

Rodney considered, then nodded. "You know what, I will. Money on Sheppard to win."

"Yeah, I'll give you ten to one on that," Ronon answered, starting as John and Teyla suddenly rematerialized from a knot of people. He reminded himself sternly that there was no need to feel guilty, and there wasn't anything wrong with making things a bit more fun. Still feeling a little off-kilter, he drained his drink as John wandered up and cleared his throat, hoping that he sounded natural.

"Hey, Sheppard," Ronon said. "How are you feeling?"

"I am feeling good!" John said, just a little too loudly. The room wasn't particularly full - there were the four of them, plus perhaps fifteen various members of the Kuwanese government. It wasn't very loud, even with everyone talking, and several heads turned to look at John.

Ronon saw Teyla and Rodney exchange a glance. Rodney looked bemused, but Teyla looked worried. Ronon was firmly on Rodney's side. John wasn't nearly to the point of embarrassing himself, he was just having a bit of harmless fun. Same way Ronon was with the bets. They'd had a rough few months, they all needed this.

Ronon glanced at the hourglass nestled against the far wall. They had a little over half the time left before John would be forced to take his next drink, assuming he didn't do it earlier. Even though John was clearly already feeling the effects of his first three shots, Ronon wouldn't put it past him. He was small, but, at least in his own mind, clearly in it to win.

But still. Even if John started drinking a little early, there was definitely enough time for Ronon to collect a few more bets.

"How is your stomach?" Teyla asked, eyeing John nervously. He kept trying to strike up conversations with Kuwanese officials, a move Teyla wasn't sure she was in favor of. It was a drinking contest, so she was sure they would not be expecting John to act completely sober. But John's opponent seemed unaffected by the first three drinks, while John himself was already grinning, movements sloppy and gestures too big.

"I m feeling fine, Teyla. Perfectly okay. Don't worry about me."

"Colonel-"

"This stuff is good. Strong. I'm just relaxing here. This is the...it's the best mission we've been on in a while."

He seemed to think he was convincing Teyla that he was more sober than she thought. It was not working.

"Alright," Teyla said dubiously. She had already had a rather large drink herself, and while she knew what she had consumed wasn't as strong as the homebrew liquor John was drinking, she was still worried that she was feeling nothing and John clearly was.

"We're gonna...we're gonna get the best trade agreement ever," he informed her solemnly. He patted her gently on the shoulder, which made her soften slightly.

"I know we are, John."

John dragged Teyla over to a knot of Kuwanese officials, and then forced Teyla to stand there in relative silence while he explained in great detail all the ways in which the Kuwanese people could make the uninhabited field where they'd landed the jumper more suitable for pilots. It was clear that no one was enjoying the conversation aside from John himself, although Teyla thought perhaps some of the officials were charmed by John's unproblematic exuberance.

Although Teyla thought this whole process was a little backwards, and was especially worried about how copious amounts of alcohol would affect John's already-fragile system, she had to admit that she was somewhat intrigued by the idea of drunk John. Before the arrival of the Daedalus, alcohol on Atlantis had been both limited and carefully rationed. She had never seen John consume more than two drinks in a single night. Even after contact with Earth increased and drinking became more commonplace, John himself rarely drank. There were too many unexpected emergencies, and John was too important to have many nights where he put himself completely out of commission. When they traveled to other planets, John was always careful to never drink so much that he would be unable to handle a sudden change of plans.

But now, John drinking was unavoidable. He was actually expected to consume a large quantity of alcohol, and Teyla supposed she couldn't blame him for enjoying it. It wasn't as though John were really able to take days off. Even when he was supposed to be relaxing, something always seemed to come up. Perhaps he really did need this.

Shot Four

Had it already been twenty minutes? Rodney glanced at the hourglass in surprise as John tipped his glass to his opponent and drained it.

Rodney wasn't about to say this to John, at least not until he'd had a few more drinks himself, but he was impressed. Rodney had caught a whiff of the stuff John was drinking as someone had walked by to replenish the contestants' supply, and it smelled absolutely horrifying. If someone had asked him to drink it, Rodney was fairly sure that he would have thrown up instantly.

But John had taken four shots, and seemed to be perfectly fine so far.

"Rodney!"

Okay, maybe he was a little drunk. Still, Rodney wasn't losing faith. Besides, he'd laid money on this.

"What?" Rodney asked John.

"This...is a GREAT trade agreement." John gave Rodney a huge, goofy smile. "Probably the best trade agreement."

"I can't argue with that," Rodney replied, snickering a little.

"Whatcha laughing about?" John asked, sounding suddenly very suspicious.

"You," Rodney giggled. "You're drunk."

Come to think of it, he might have been starting to feel it himself. No matter, this was the time off that he never got, and he intended to enjoy it.

John's goofy smile reappeared, and he nodded contentedly. "Yep. I'm drunk."

Rodney giggled again (no, it was a laugh) and finished his drink. "I've never seen you get drunk. Not really."

John shrugged, a little lopsidedly. "No time. I'm glad about this, though. It's good to relax." He grinned again, then reached out and rubbed the top of Rodney's head.

Rodney froze while he tried to decide whether or not he liked that or not. It certainly wasn't his favorite thing that Sheppard had ever done, but John was drunk, and Rodney was a little drunk too, and the expression on John's face was hilarious.

John took his hand back and chuckled. "Your hair is dumb."

Rodney dropped his empty cup and frantically combed his hair back. "What, like yours?"

John shrugged and scrubbed a hand through his own hair, causing it to stick up in even more inconvenient ways than usual. Despite himself, Rodney laughed again. Rodney cared for and respected John, but his hair was quite dumb, that was simply an unavoidable fact. The idea of John criticizing anyone else on the matter was pretty funny.

"Are you...have you been drinking too?" John asked.

"A little," Rodney said. He had had two drinks, although neither of them were even close in content to the vile moonshine John had been consuming.

John narrowed his eyes, and then nodded sagely, seemingly in agreement that Rodney had, in fact, been drinking a little too. He pointed at Rodney's chest.

"You don't drink very often either!" John exclaimed.

Rodney shook his head. "I don't. This is the first time in a while." Drinking was less of a passtime on Atlantis than one would expect, especially from a group of people in their thirties and forties. There was simply usually too much going on. Rodney wouldn't say he was exactly letting loose tonight - they were, after all, still on a mission, and it would not serve Atlantis well for any of them to make a fool of themselves. But Kuwani seemed safe, the people kind, and it was nice to let his guard down a little. He was glad to see that Sheppard had done the same.

"Have you been talkin' to anyone?" John asked.

"What do you mean?" Rodney had been talking to plenty of people. This was as much a chance to get to know the Kuwanese people, to make sure they could be trusted by Atlantis and vice versa, as it was a traditional ceremony. Rodney didn't love small talk, but even he could recognize that, and he had made it a point to have conversations with at least half the people in the room.

"There are some pretty girls," he said, swaying gently forward until his shoulder bumped into Rodney's. "Some pretty...yeah. You should talk to them. Have you thought about that?"

Rodney grinned again. The fact that there were several attractive Kuwanese girls here certainly hadn't escaped his notice, although he was rather surprised it had registered for Sheppard. He had not, however, really considered talking to them. It simply didn't seem like the time.

"I wasn't planning on talking to them, no," Rodney said, curious to see how Sheppard would respond.

"You should go up to them," John said wisely, straightening up, sounding for all the world like he was about to start a TED talk on how to talk to women. "Or actually...I'll go up to them. Here's how it's going to go down. I'm going to go up to...mmmm...that one, and I'm going to say 'Have you talked to my friend Rodney? He's pretty cool.' And then it's all you, buddy."

Rodney was, thankfully, saved from responding by the sound of the timer going off again, signaling that it was time for John to take his next drink.

"Ooh. Gotta go. Talk to some girls," John hissed, and made a beeline to the table in the center of the room.

"Maybe I will," Rodney announced to John's receding back, smiling at no one in particular. He could use another drink, too, he thought. This really was a great mission.