SPOILERS: No Man's Land (series 3)
Summary: Lorne, Radek and alcohol.
Disclaimer: If they were mine, I'd keep Radek chained to the bed.
Major Lorne was ready to sleep for a good, long time. He’d had a strange couple of days; hell he’d had a strange couple of years. But captaining a ‘starship’, for lack of a better term, was without a doubt one of the highlights. Watching it destroyed, as he stood around helplessly, the direct opposite.
A chime at the door bought him out of his self-pity. He half-heartedly thought the door open, maybe if he delayed it enough whoever it was would just go away. Couldn’t be an emergency anyway, they’d have used his radio.
“I was saving this for a special occasion. I think surviving Rodney’s doom and gloom odds is very special.” Zelenka deadpanned, standing at the door, holding out a bottle of Becherovka.
Lorne snorted and let him in, finding a couple of military issue mugs and flopping down on the one chair.
A few drinks in they were sharing their misery over the destruction of what would undoubtedly have been the best ship they could possibly ever hope to get.
A few drinks after that Lorne was bitching about the unfairness of it blowing up on his watch when Colonel Sheppard always managed to keep the really cool pieces of technology in one piece. Radek was drowning in the knowledge that if Rodney had been around, he’d have managed to miraculously find those extra few kilowatts of power for that last shot.
Halfway though the bottle, they sat silent, both of them lost in their own contemplations. The mugs long since abandoned, they took turns swigging from the bottle, their fingers lingering slightly longer than necessary as they handed the bottle to each other.
Two thirds of the way through the bottle, Radek was leaning on Lorne’s marginally more stable form, against the foot of the bed, their legs entangled as they stretched out in front of them.
By the time the bottle had finished, Zelenka’s tongue was down Lorne’s throat and Lorne’s hands were fondling his bare ass.