Title: Road Trip

Sub-title: Part Three: Vegas…Baby

Author: stella_pegasi

Rating: K +

Genres: Slice of life, action, hurt/comfort, friendship, humor, and !Whump, of course

Word Count: Part Three…Day Two: 5,356

Spoilers: Post-Season Five

Warnings: Language

Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Carson Beckett

Summary: The boys take thirty-days leave and set off to see the sights. What could possibly go wrong on vacation?

Disclaimer: I do not own them; I would have treated them better.

Author's Notes: Well, their first day in Vegas was certainly eventful; Sheppard not giving into his injury, and Rodney and Carson getting into a 'wee' mess, as Carson would probably describe it. This segment is shorter, transitional, as the guys enjoy Vegas, but will the fun last?

I never intended on the Vegas leg of their trip being quite this long, but I am working on day three of Vegas…wonder what they are going to get into?

Enjoy, I'd love to hear from you!

Road Trip

By stella_pegasi

Part 3 Vegas…Baby

Day 2

John Sheppard moaned as he rolled onto his back, cursing himself for sleeping on his side. Opening his eyes, he slowly adjusted to the dim light in the nearly darkened room. A slight opening in the heavy drawn drapes allowed a streak of shimmering light to penetrate the darkness. Glittery dust danced along the narrow beam of light, mesmerizing him.

He completely lacked the aspiration to get out of bed, which was extremely abnormal. Most mornings, even on a rare day off, he rose by 0500 hours, usually meeting Ronon for a long run. Today was different, today, he felt like remaining in bed.

Still staring at the dancing speckles of dust, he pondered the events of the last few days and what they had experienced. It already seemed like an eternity, since they pulled out of the warehouse lot in San Francisco, heading for wine country. Sheppard was beginning to believe they were jinxed, so much for a lazy, fun, uneventful vacation. The purpose of the trip was to give them time to relax, allow some of the past five years of endless conflict slip away. In addition, Sheppard and Woolsey wanted to keep Rodney away from the scientists of Area 51. There would have been definitely been bloodshed there.

Bloodshed, there had certainly been bloodshed on this excursion. As usual, the preponderance of shed blood belonged to one Colonel John Sheppard. Sheppard scoffed, reminding himself, 'what did he expect?' They rarely sought trouble; trouble always seemed to track them down.

Sheppard felt anger building inside; anger directed at himself. As irrational as he knew it to be, he felt he should have avoided being stabbed. He should have protected himself better when that biker lunged at him. If he had not been knocked out by pain medication, he would have been with Carson and Rodney last night. He could have prevented the danger they had stumbled into.

He laughed aloud, then yelled at the world, "Who the fuck are you kidding, John? You really think you can keep bad things from happening." His thoughts were racing, "You are not omnipotent; you are a fucking, screwed-up, Air Force jet jockey. People think you are special because you have a freaking abnormal gene; you are so far from special. You're the freaking opposite of special." He tossed back the duvet, sitting up abruptly. A move he very quickly regretted.

Severe pain radiated through his side, nausea overcoming him. He struggled to get out of bed, afraid he was going to throw up, but as the pain faded, the nausea did as well. He sat on the edge of the bed for a while, until he began to shiver from the air conditioning blowing over him. Glancing at the clock by the bed, he was stunned to see that it was 10:14 AM. He never slept for that long, unless he was injured; then he remembered, he was injured.

Standing up cautiously, Sheppard padded across the bedroom toward his open suitcase. He tugged a pair of track pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt out, slipping them on. Wandering into the suite's living room, he noticed a tray holding a pot of coffee and a plate of bagels and pastries, resting on the dining room table. Alongside the tray was a note scribbled in Rodney's hand.

"We're headed to the pool, and don't even think of asking me which pool. This place has too many of them; Garden of Gods…really, how excessively gaudy and pretentious. Carson ordered the food and said for you to eat before you join us, and to take the pills he left. When you wake up, call me."

'Call me'...crap, that meant Rodney found his phone; Sheppard was really hoping he hadn't been pestering Atlantis. He poured a cup of lukewarm coffee, warming it and a bagel in the microwave. He sat on the couch, flipping on the TV. Ten minutes of news, then he changed the channel until he found a rerun of Criminal Minds, watching until it ended. Grabbing more coffee and a cinnamon roll, he noticed the pills still lying next to the tray. He hesitated, then decided he really didn't want to hurt as he had the day before; reluctantly, he swallowed the pills.

Retrieving his phone from his jacket pocket, he dialed Rodney, surprised when Carson answered. "Carson, why are you answering Rodney's phone?"

"A good morning to you, too, John, and how are you feeling this lovely morning?"

"Uh…sorry, Carson; let me rephrase that, good morning to you. To answer your question, I am feeling better, and before you ask, I took the pills."

"Good, lad; now to answer yourquestion, Rodney must have taken his phone from your room this morning, when we delivered the coffee and food for you. I took one of your room keys last night, so I could check on you without disturbing your sleep. When we got to the pool, Rodney immediately started to call Atlantis. Ronon snatched the phone from him; let's just say Rodney was a bit miffed. Ronon then gave it to me when he decided to jump into the water. Wait 'til you see him, laddie, Ronon's having a wee bit of fun."

"Which pool are you at?"

"I believe it's called the Neptune…we're on the far side from the entrance, Rodney rented us a cabana."

"OK, I'll join you guys shortly."

Sheppard hung up and debated on whether to take a shower, but decided it would sap too much energy out of him. Rummaging for his swim trunks and sandals, he stripped out of his clothes, put on the trunks and a short sleeve t-shirt. Grabbing his sunglasses, iPod, and room key, along with another cinnamon roll, he headed for the pool.

It was the Friday of a holiday weekend, and the hotel was brimming with tourists. The weather was beautiful, already nearing 80 degrees. Sheppard was enjoying his stroll through the multiple pool area the hotel called the Garden of the Gods and Rodney called pretentious. Not only were the pools beautiful, but the bikinis scattered about were as well. He asked a pool attendant for directions to the Neptune and soon spotted Rodney and Carson. Carson was lying on a large blue cushioned lounger in the sun, and Rodney had tucked his lounger as far under the cabana awning as it would go.

Rodney ignored him. The scientist was immersed in his pad, only glancing up when Sheppard jostled his chair as he passed by, heading to the unoccupied lounge chair next to Rodney.

"That's mature, Sheppard; 'bout time you got up and joined the wide-awake."

"Can you get any further under the cabana, McKay?"

"I refuse to become sunburned."

"Nice shiner, it flatters you." Sheppard chuckled, as Rodney grimaced at him.

Sheppard laid his things down on the small glass side table, glancing at Carson.

"Dr. Beckett, I suspect you have had a bit too much sun already. However, I must say, you are turning an enchanting shade of pink."

Rodney taunted, "I've been trying to tell him, but he's pig-headed and won't listen to me."

Carson lifted his head, looking down at his reddened chest. "Aye, laddie, I suspect you might be correct; I do believe I have had quite enough sunshine for now." He rose, moving over to a lounge chair underneath the white tent. When Sheppard stood to help him scoot the chair around, Carson raised his hand.

"Stop, John; you are forbidden to do anything strenuous today. I'll not have you ripping those stitches again; now, sit down, relax, and behave yourself."

Chastised, Sheppard sat down, slowly swinging his long legs onto the lounge chair. He had barely settled in when an attendant was at his chair-side asking if he wanted something to drink. He ordered bottled water and then lay back in the comfortable chair.

Carson settled in his lounge chair, and picking up a glass, took a long sip of what Sheppard thought was a Bloody Mary. The doctor noticed Sheppard looking at him, "How are ya feeling?"

"Good," Sheppard replied; however, Carson didn't appear convinced. Sheppard continued, "Really, Carson, I feel much better. My ribs don't hurt as badly as they did yesterday, and my head's much clearer; I'm fine."

"Well, that's good, but you are still resting today, nothing strenuous."

Sheppard changed the subject, "How the injury?"

Carson touched his cheek, "Tender, bruised, but otherwise, I'm fine, too."

The attendant arrived with an ice-cold bottle of water, along with a glass full of ice and tiny plate of sliced lemons. As Sheppard was opening the bottle, he noticed that Ronon was not in sight.

"Where's the big guy?" He asked, and in reply, Rodney pointed toward the pool.

It took Sheppard a moment to spot Ronon through the crowded pool. The Satedan was standing in the shallow end of the pool, surrounded by several young women. A small net had been placed into the pool; Ronon and his bevy of girls were playing an energetic game of volleyball against a group of young men.

"Well," Sheppard chuckled, "it appears our boy's doing OK for himself."

Carson snickered, "Yeah, he was watching the lassies and lads playing, and the boys were winning. They were also gloating because the wee lassies were playing so badly. Ronon decided to even the odds, much to the dismay of the laddies."

"Well, that's not good…for the boys, but the girls sure seem to be enjoying the help."

Sheppard and Beckett spent the next half-hour watching Ronon single-handedly defeat the guys, while the young women squealed with delight. Ronon finally decided that he had had enough, and left the pool, this time to the dismay of the girls. Sheppard chuckled as he watched the girls follow Ronon's exit from the pool then turn back to look at the guys. Frowning in unison, the girls climbed out of the pool; the guys reluctantly following, looking quite dejected. Poor kids, he thought; in the girls' eyes, the young men just didn't measure up to Ronon.

Ronon grabbed a towel to dry off, but first he shook his head as a dog might, sending droplets of cool water throughout the cabana. Sheppard and Carson laughed, while Rodney sputtered something about being careful.

Sitting down on the end of Carson's lounge chair, Ronon grinned at Sheppard, "So, you decided to get up."

"Didn't have anything better to do this morning; you, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying yourself immensely, Sheppard teased.

Ronon peered toward the lounge chairs on the far side of the pool where the young people had gathered. "Yeah, well; I never liked bullies, and those guys were just a bit too full of themselves."

Beckett, who had just ordered his second Bloody Mary of the day, giggled, "Those lassies are quite enamored with you. As for the laddies, I don't think they like you very much."

As Ronon plopped down on a lounge chair next to Beckett, a server brought a platter of sliders, mini-tacos, and Buffalo wings. Sheppard looked at Rodney, "You hungry again?"

"Bite me, Sheppard; yes, I am hungry." Clumsily, Rodney reached for a slider, his eyes still glued to his pad. He managed to poke his finger into a taco, before he snagged a little burger.

Sheppard was watching him, "Rodney, what are you doing? You aren't working, are you?"

"No, flyboy; I am not working. As a matter of fact, I'm having fun."

Beckett moaned, "Yeah, the last time you had 'fun' on that thing, you thought you had become a card shark and look where that got us."

Rodney looked up from his pad, "Well, I won, didn't I?"

"Winning isn't everything, McKay." Sheppard mumbled, having stuffed a mini-taco, followed quickly by a slider, into his mouth.

Rodney sniped, "Really, Sheppard? Those are big words coming from a man who got royally pissed off when Sergeant Johnston beat the crap out of you at basketball."

"Hey, Johnston's got nearly four inches and about fifty pounds on me; besides, I didn't have any idea someone that big could be so damn quick. The fact is Johnston fouled me on the way to that basket, which won the game. Jeffers screwed up and didn't call it; that's why I lost."

"Yeah, yeah, winning doesn't matter; I get it." Rodney rolled his eyes, and reached for a wing only to find Ronon's fingers wrapped around the last one. "Hey, I wanted one of those."

Ronon laughed, as he ate the last wing, then licked his fingers, "Shouldn't have been running your mouth, McKay.

Rodney frowned, sighing deeply, and muttered, "Whose bright idea was it to go on this trip?"

Sheppard grinned, "It was my idea, Rodney. Why, aren't you having fun yet?"

Expecting a snarky remark in return, Sheppard was shocked when Rodney yelled, "Yes!"

"You are having fun, Rodney? " Beckett asked, as surprised as Sheppard.

Rodney beamed, "I am now. He was positively gleeful, "I just scored four great tickets to tonight's Celine Dion concert at the Colosseum for us."

"Oh, crap," Sheppard sank back on the lounger, a decidedly unhappy look on his face.

Rodney sat up, "That's your comment, Sheppard, 'Oh, crap.' Great critique from a man who likes Johnny Cash…you don't have a clue about good music."

Ronon was puzzled, "Who's Celine – whatever?"

"A scrawny Canadian chick, who screams instead of sings…" Sheppard replied, with a slight twinkle in his eye.

Rodney snarled, "You know, Sheppard; you don't have to come with us if you don't want. However, I am a fan, and I want to see her perform."

Beckett interjected, "I like her, too, Rodney. It will be fun, and I, for one, am looking forward to seeing her in concert."

"No, no, Rodney, we'll all go. Ronon's never been to a concert, so he might as well see an over-the-top Vegas concert first."

"Colonel, if you're going, you need to rest this afternoon."

"Carson, I'm not five; I don't need a nap."

"Laddie, you will take a nap, and that is that." Beckett was looking at him with the expression Sheppard loathed. The expression that clearly meant, 'I can make you.' The reality was Sheppard knew he would listen to Carson when he wouldn't listen to anyone else. He simply preferred Carson remain unaware of that miniscule fact.

"I'm resting right now, Carson…this is my nap." Sheppard closed his eyes, turned on his IPod, and, to his later surprise, fell asleep within a few minutes. He was never aware of the satisfied smile that crossed the good doctor's face.

For the next hour or so, the four friends all napped as the heat from the bright sun warmed the air. It was nearly 1:30 PM, when Sheppard woke. For a moment, he felt disoriented as the sounds from the pool seeped into his hearing, crowding out a disturbing dream about the Wraith. He fought against the memory, so many dark memories. Opening his eyes, he discovered Rodney staring at him.

"You OK, Sheppard? You mumbled in your sleep, and you look like you've seen a ghost," there was an unmistakable note of concern in McKay's voice.

Sheppard sat up, suppressing a wince from the pain in his ribs; with Rodney watching him so closely he didn't want to admit his side hurt. He casually reached for his bottle of water on the small table, not giving into the pain. "I'm fine, Rodney; just didn't realize where I was when I first woke up. What time is it?"

Rodney told him and Sheppard continued, "I'm hungry, we need to get lunch." He spotted an open chair, where Beckett had been sitting, "Where's Carson?"

"He went upstairs for something, said he'd be right back."

Reacting to the sound of their voices, Ronon stirred from his nap, "Uh….went to sleep."

Sheppard chuckled, "Seems to be contagious today, big guy; must be the heat. You hungry? Wait…wrong person to ask. Rodney…OK, again, wrong person to ask. I think it's safe to say you could both eat, and I'm hungry. What do you say when Carson returns we find some real food?"

Ronon nodded, "Yeah, I could eat."

"OK, it's settled then, we eat." Sheppard leaned back onto the soft cushion, and took a sip of water. He forced himself to relax, knowing this vacation was supposed to be about relaxing.

Five minutes later, Carson returned, "I see you lads are finally awake. I was correct, wasn't I, colonel? You definitely needed a nap."

Sheepishly, Sheppard answered, "OK, OK… I'll admit I fell asleep; I imagine it was just the heat that made me sleepy."

"Yes, of course, John; getting stabbed certainly didn't take anything out of you." Carson snipped.

Sheppard started to frown, then changed his mind, "Hungry, Carson? We're planning lunch." When Carson nodded, Sheppard continued, "Didn't I see a Margaritaville across the street when we came in?"

Rodney nodded, "Yeah, Carson dragged me in there last night for drinks."

"That settles it, let's go; I have a hankering for a 'cheeseburger in paradise.'"

The men gathered their things and left the pool area, walking through the casino and lobby. With Sheppard in the lead, they exited the hotel.

"Shouldn't we change clothes, John?" Beckett asked.

"Nah, we all have on swim trunks that look like shorts, and have on t-shirts, although I am somewhat unnerved by Rodney's 'I'm With Genius' shirt. Really, could you have any bigger ego?"

"Bite me, Sheppard."

Sheppard laughed, "You need to find a new insult line, Rodney. That one's becoming way too comical." He stepped off the curb and veered to the right of the fountains, heading for the pedestrian bridge.

"Where the hell are you going?" Rodney asked.

"I'm going to the pedestrian bridge that spans the Strip. Didn't you notice it when we arrived? Beats crossing at the main intersection leading into the hotel; you can get killed trying to cross the Strip there, especially on a holiday. The pedway does take us a block up from the restaurant, but it's certainly safer. Besides, the pedway provides a great view of the Strip from above."

Carson smacked Rodney on the shoulder, "Rodney, why didn't you know about the bridge? You should have seen it when we got here; you nearly got me killed last night trying to cross the street."

"Me? I wasn't the moron who wasn't paying attention, who was too overwhelmed by the bright lights, to see a car coming; besides, who saved your life?" Rodney snipped back.

As the two continued to bicker, Sheppard and Ronon picked up their pace, putting a bit of distance between them and their friends. Within a few minutes, they were crossing the bridge and on the other side of the street walking past the Flamingo Hotel, heading toward Margaritaville. When they arrived at the restaurant, McKay and Beckett were still sniping at each other. Sheppard stopped outside the entrance.

"OK, enough with the squabbling or I swear I will make you wait out here for a doggie bag." That Sheppard was in command, despite being on leave, was not in dispute. When no one answered him, Sheppard entered the restaurant, his friends in tow.

From the moment that he entered the cozy restaurant, island Calypso music floating in the air, Ronon appeared spellbound. Sheppard smiled, as he watched Ronon's gaze track from the fake palm trees to the full sized seaplane hanging from the ceiling. The host seated them in a comfortable booth and handed them menus. Sheppard scanned his menu, glancing up to see Ronon still staring at the décor. Ronon's face reflected the pleasure he was experiencing with all the new things he was seeing. Sheppard sighed; the thing he was enjoying most about this trip was seeing everything new through someone else's eyes; it was a very rewarding feeling.

"Like this place, Chewie?"

Ronon smiled broadly, "Yeah; I do. What kind of music is playing?"

Sheppard smiled back, "Well, it certainly isn't Celine Dion, " throwing a snarky grin toward Rodney, who retuned the gesture. "I had a feeling you might like this; I think you might be a natural Parrothead."

"Parrothead, what's that? Ronon asked.

The server arrived with their drinks and after they all ordered cheeseburgers, Sheppard explained what a Parrothead was and who Jimmy Buffett was. Ronon was very intrigued, "I like this music. You say this is a kind of lifestyle.

Sheppard rocked his head, "Well, it a form of relaxation more than lifestyle; at least, that's what I think. People who are fans of Buffett and consider themselves Parrotheads, still go about their normal daily lives. Parrotheads are from all walks of life; lawyers, doctors, accountants..."

"Flyboys?" Rodney smirked.

"As a matter of fact, yeah, Rodney; I'm a Parrothead. Have most of Buffett's music on my IPod, and before you ask, not one Celine Dion song."

Cheeseburgers were served and as they ate, the guys debated the merits of Buffett, Cash, Dion, and Tom Jones, Beckett's favorite. As they got up from the table, Ronon declared he wanted to go to Key West. Sheppard smiled, and promised they would go there at some point. They made a quick visit to the restaurant gift shop before they left, loading up on t-shirts, flip-flops, caps, CD's for Ronon, and a straw hat for Sheppard.

Heading back to the hotel, via the pedway, Beckett started teasing Sheppard, 'Well, laddie, for once, your hair is under control. Looks like that hat's tamed it and hidden it away."

Sheppard teased back, "Doctor, you hurt my feelings; what's wrong with my hair?"

Rodney laughed aloud, "Ha; you really aren't serious, are you? What's wrong with your hair? Have you looked in a mirror? Your hair sticks straight up, Sheppard; I imagined you've noticed."

"I have a couple of bad cowlicks, never been able to get it under control. My dad hated my hair; my mom tried to keep it laying flat, then after.., my dad made…." He stopped abruptly, silent for just a second as he realized what he was saying. He continued, "Look who's talking, McKay. At least, I have hair."

Sheppard's brief, and exceedingly rare, mention of his parents had not gone unnoticed by his friends. However, they seemed to sense his discomfort at his own candor, and they were silent as they walked down the stairs from the pedway.

Turning onto the hotel drive, Sheppard spoke, "Rodney, there's a dress code for the Colosseum. I don't think any of us brought the proper clothes, so we need to go shopping. I detest shopping for clothes, but Ronon needs something dressier, and I need a pair of dress slacks. Next stop, the Forum Shops."

As they entered the ornate, Roman themed shopping mall on the hotel grounds, Beckett complained, "I don't want to get dressed up."

Sheppard slapped him on the shoulder, "Not dressed up, just nice slacks, a jacket and shirt, no ties, I promise. I think the dress code is 'elegantly casual', whatever the hell that means. Come on, there's Hugo Boss; we'll go there."

Sheppard emerged from the dressing room, having decided on the slacks he wanted. He heard Beckett talking to the salesperson. "Well, there is no sense in my buying these if ya canna get them altered before tonight."

"Problem, Carson?"

The salesperson answered, "I'm sorry, sir, but he insists that these pants be altered today; we can't possibly do that."

"Really? I tell you what, put everyone's purchases, as well as any alterations on this card, and have them delivered to our rooms no later than 6:30 PM." He handed a dark credit card to the salesperson, who immediately smiled, "Of course, Mr. Sheppard. I'll see to everything."

Beckett stuttered, "Y-you don't need to buy these for me, John; I can pay for them, and I will. I just don't understand why that salesperson agreed to do the alterations in time for you and not for me?"

Sheppard frowned, holding up the card, "Unfortunately, Carson, money talks and this little plastic card, the Centurion card, speaks a lot of bullshit. There is one lesson that my father taught me very well. If you throw enough money at a problem, anything is fixable. That was certainly his philosophy. This credit card represents the life I chose to walk away from a long time ago. However, I'm not stupid; sometimes, it's handy to have." He flashed a sly grin, as his left eyebrow rose, "Today, it came in handy."

Carson smiled, "John, can ya put a few new shirts on there for Rodney, something not from the 1980's?"

"I could, but then what would we have to tease him about?"

By 6:30 PM, their new, and newly altered, clothing and shoes had been delivered, and promptly, at 7:00 PM, the four men met at the elevator to walk over to the Colosseum. All of them were wearing jackets, dress slacks, and nice shoes; Sheppard had actually shaved.

"Well, I must say, we dress up quite nicely, " Beckett was preening.

"Sheppard even has his hair sort of under control," McKay quipped.

Ronon growled lowly, apparently he hadn't forgotten Sheppard's earlier discomfort over his hair. He leaned down, whispering to the scientist. "If you don't shut up about his hair, McKay; I'll get you under control." Rodney's eyes widened and he paled slightly; he wisely didn't say anything more about Sheppard's hair.

Entering the Colosseum, Rodney picked up their tickets at the on-call window, and an usher seated them on the second row, center stage. Sheppard remarked, "Good seats, McKay. How did you swing this on such short notice?"

"You're not the only one with contacts in high places; I know someone at the local university, UNLV. He's a chemist, dean of the science department, and an old friend. I remembered him once telling me that his wife's a casino exec., so I emailed him and asked if he could help me out with tickets to this concert. He came through; or at least, his wife did."

Sheppard deadpanned, "Wow, McKay, that's amazing." McKay looked quite satisfied with himself at Sheppard's response. Satisfied, at least, until the colonel continued, "Who knew you had friends?" McKay quickly became ruffled, even more so at the snickering from Beckett.

Chuckling at his friend's reaction, Sheppard smacked Rodney's arm with the program. "Don't get all pissy, McKay; I'm kidding, you did good."

Two hours later, as they left the Colosseum at the conclusion of the show, they all agreed, Celine Dion was an incredible entertainer. Rodney and Carson were giddy. They were nearly gushing at her performance, still chattering as they reached the hotel lobby.

Sheppard stopped, "OK, hang on, you can discuss how brilliant Celine was in a minute. We need to decide where we're going for dinner. I, for one, am hungry…."

"Me, too; I don't know why we had to wait until after the concert to eat," Rodney interjected.

Slightly annoyed, Sheppard continued, "Rodney, by the time we got back to our rooms, rested (throwing a look toward Beckett, who smirked), and cleaned up, we didn't have time. Besides, you've eaten all day; you are not going to waste away or suffer from hypoglycemia, so stop whining. I'm going to ask the concierge to recommend a good steakhouse. I want steak." Sheppard walked away, somewhat gingerly, toward the concierge desk.

"Hey, doc, watch Sheppard, he's favoring his side again. He's hurting and he won't admit it."

Beckett sighed deeply, "It's a good bet that stubborn lad didn't take his meds this afternoon. Do either of you know whether he did or not?" Both men shook their head and Beckett sighed again, "That lad is going to drive me to drink."

"More than you already do, Carson?" Rodney teased.

Before Carson could reply, Sheppard motioned for them to join him. They followed him outside, where the doorman hailed a cab for them. Once seated inside the taxi, Beckett asked, "Colonel, did you take the pills I gave you after lunch?"

Sighing, Sheppard pursed his lips, "Cut me some slack, doc. I'll take the pills when I need them; I promise."

It was Beckett's turn to sigh, "I take that as a no. Well, you can take them when we get to the restaurant."

"Shucks, doc; left them in my room."

"No fear, laddie, I have some with me." Sheppard's face fell as Beckett's brightened.

"Can't win with you, can I?" Sheppard asked, dejectedly.

Ronon said, "You should learn not to try, Sheppard." Sheppard stared at Ronon but didn't have a reply; the Satedan was right.

The taxi turned onto Flamingo Road, then a few blocks later onto Paradise Road, pulling into the parking lot of the Del Frisco's Double Eagle Restaurant. Rodney paid the taxi driver, and as they walked into the restaurant, he remarked.

"Well, at least there aren't any motorcycles in this steakhouse parking lot. Maybe we won't get into a fight with a bunch of bikers tonight."

"Dream on, McKay, dream on." Sheppard opened the door and entered the elegant restaurant. Gleaming dark wood trim decorated the dining area, the classic wood bar forming the centerpiece of the restaurant.

Sheppard spoke to the maitre d, who welcomed them, "Colonel Sheppard, Caesar's concierge called requesting a table for you. Please come with me." He escorted them to a nice table in a corner.

Sheppard noticed Ronon gazing around the restaurant, as he had earlier at Margaritaville. "Not quite the same as where we had lunch, is it?"

Ronon was quiet, "You know, we had restaurants on S…at home, most were rustic, some were nice. I wonder if we had…had the time…that we would have had places like what I have seen today."

Sheppard was at a loss for words; he glanced over at Rodney, whose expression indicated he was also tongue-tied. Beckett, however, didn't hesitate to reply. "Aye, lad; it's a shame that your home didn't have the opportunity to develop. But as long as you hold their memories, what you did achieve will not be forgotten."

Ronon nodded; Sheppard was relieved that the server came to take their order, changing the subject. Once their drinks arrived, Beckett placed two pills next to Sheppard's water and tapped the table. Sheppard frowned, but swallowed the pills.

He decided to needle Carson a bit in return. "Damn, I forgot to order the turtle soup. Did you see that was on the menu, Carson?"

"Colonel, you are never going to let me forget my wee turtles, are you?"

Sheppard began laughing and after a couple of seconds, Carson joined him.

Rodney leaned on the table, "So, you enjoyed the concert didn't you? Despite all the whining, you liked it," Rodney's remarks were clearly aimed at Sheppard.

"Enjoy it, you think I enjoyed it?" Sheppard laughed, "Yes, Rodney, I did; she puts on a hell of a show. I'm actually surprised; but I thoroughly enjoyed it. The music was tremendous and the costuming…the costuming was…very nice."

Beckett smiled dreamily, "Yeah, that blue dress…that blue dress was something."

Ronon, a mischievous grin on his face, replied, "Sheppard was right. She's a bit scrawny for my taste, but that blue dress was…nice." Sheppard and McKay nodded in agreement. Ronon added very seriously, "I still like the Parrothead music better."

Sheppard laughed, "Me, too; but Rodney's right, his fellow Canadian was pretty damn good tonight."

The rest of their evening was spent talking about the concert, music in general, Ronon asking about Key West, and enjoying the delicious food. As they waited for a cab to return to Caesars, Sheppard slouched against the building, watching his friends. Ronon, Rodney, and Carson were continuing the dinner conversation, arguing about the merits of Dion vs. Buffett. This had been a good day. Exactly, the kind of day he had envisioned, when he decided they needed a break. A good day filled with relaxing fun, excellent food, and most importantly, spent with three friends, who he treasured. As the cab pulled up, he wondered if tomorrow would bring the same quiet, enjoyable day.

Two in a row would be a miracle.

End of Vegas Day Two…

As I said at the beginning, this was a transitional day; I thought the guys needed a relaxing, fun day occasionally during their leave. I can't whump them everyday…well, I could, but I think their leave would be over very quickly. The question is, can they have two uneventdays in a row?

Hope you enjoyed. I would love to hear what you thought about Vegas and Road Trip so far.

Don't forget, that I am marking this story as complete, because I