This was written as comment fic in a yin_again's journal and, as appearances from my muses have been scarcer than hens' teeth, I figured I'd better make that flash of inspiration count. So here it is. :D

Author: darkhavens
Title: How SG-1 Found Out About Rodney's Tattoo
Pairing: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Prompt: #040 - Drink - in my slash_100 Big Damn McShep Table
Rating: PG
Words: 253
Spoilers: Tiny passing mention of events in 3x04.
Feedback/Concrit: darkhavens @ slashverse.com
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Summary: Rodney spends some time at the SGC and shares a little more than he planned to.
Notes: In answer to the 'Five Things' meme, yin_again wrote several sets, including one entitled 'Five ways SG-1 folk figure out that John's claimed Rodney for himself (whether Rodney knows it or not)'. #3 was a tattoo. A bunny bit.



Although Rodney has developed a tolerance for Russian vodka (the stuff you can actually use as rocket fuel in a pinch), Radek's most potent and unnervingly bluish brew, and can down Athosian ale like it's water and drink his body weight in whisky without passing out or throwing up even once, he has a teeny tiny problem with rum - two shots and he's a very friendly drunk, and he completely loses what few filters he usually has in place between his over-active brain and his equally active mouth.

To be fair, he hadn't meant to flash the tattoo. He was actually trying to show off his arrow scar while telling the heroic tale of 'How we saved Ronon from the hunt - again', but his pants slipped a little bit lower than he meant them to and there it was in all its glory.

Someone noticed, of course. He did try to lie, but Sam was there (and there's a point there where he kinda freaked out because Samantha Carter was looking at his ass!) and she could read enough to be able to figure out that it said 'Property of John Sheppard' in tiny Ancient glyphs in a neat little ring around a colourful Naquadah molecule.

Rodney wakes up the next morning, half on top of John, with absolutely no memory of anything past the second round of 'thank God we're still alive' drinks in Sam's lab, but with an impending sense of doom that he knows better than to ignore.