Fic - Of Sunday fathers and melted ice cream
Title: Of Sunday fathers and melted ice cream
Pairings: John/Elizabeth, with addition of side pairings: Ronon/Teyla, Sam/Jack and Daniel/Janet
Rating: PG - 13
Genre: AU story, with elements of family drama and romance
Spoilers: none
Previous chapters can be found here.
Author's notes: I really, really feel like continuing this story. I'm not blaming you guys, if you had forgotten it all completely. There was this cute part sitting on my hard drive for ages and waiting to be really posted (some of this I shared with part of my flist). In hope to finally continue with this and finalize it in foreseeable future, I give you this chapter, and hopefully, you'll still find it enjoyable.
--- x ---
First, it was the not date, and then, the not family lunch she was baking a cake for.
It was her idea, sort of, but he said quickly his house was bigger when she mentioned they could get together again. She really wasn't ready to have him and her mom in the same room. Not yet. Thus, John ended up inviting her.
Elizabeth imagined Janet’s I told you so face, the gleeful edition. However she would be useful to have around, because Janet was a lot better with cakes, but Janet would poke and tease her mercilessly, about making a cake. For John Sheppard’s family lunch. She made them only rarely, and then when she did, they didn’t turn out quite well. Yet she was trying to make one now. Elizabeth heaved a disappointed breath when the cake came out of the oven two or three shades too dark.
Perhaps this whole family thing wasn’t her forte? Things to be weighed and measured, mixed in right amount, and then, preferably, not burned and ruined. If it was another day, she’d mull over this, but Lily was impatiently waiting by the stairs and Elizabeth had no cake.
-
“Are you sure you don't need anything?”
John sighed and looked over his shoulder. Standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room, Patrick Sheppard tried to frown anxiousness away from his face and failed.
“Dad, everything is fine,” placated John and Patrick nodded, still looking wary and unconvinced.
“You didn't burn anything, right?” insisted John's father.
“Dad, I'm a grown man who cooks for himself for over ten years now. I didn't burn anything,” sighed John again, placing the wine glasses onto his best tablecloth. Teyla gave them both a look of knowing and continued preparing the salad. John shook his head and went back to his task of arranging the dining table. When Patrick left, stubbornly not convinced his son wouldn't ruin the ‘almost - family’ lunch, as Nate called it, Teyla gave John an amused look.
“Go distract the old man and I'll finish that. He's nervous and he's driving me nuts,” said John. Placing the fine china on the table felt almost like laying out a stage for something which could turn into a grotesque. He walked back into the kitchen and looked around. Everything was ready - John's famous salmon in wine sauce and special dish for Lily, made according to her diet, and Teyla's delicious cheese cake for the dessert. Patrick surprised the hell out of his son when he brought a bottle of wine which was almost older than Nathan. The real danger lay in the possible disaster between the main dish and dessert John's father was capable of pulling - not that John lacked the disaster potential himself. John and his father were never easily predictable combination. Everything could go well, just like everything could go wrong, and both of them knew it, hence the caution from both sides. It was making John edgy.
“You and him are both nervous and I do not trust you with this big knife in your hands. You might cut yourself,” teased Teyla.
“I'm not nervous I just....,” he ran his hand through his hair. He wasn't just nervous. There was whole lot more at stake than the quality of John's cooking skills.
“You want everything to go well. I understand,” Teyla gave him another smile and put the cut tomato pieces into the bowl with other vegetables. “John, it will be just fine. It might be a little awkward at first, but I believe that is to be expected.”
“You think?” John he asked and she grinned him in a way which promised he would be teased after, really badly. For the umpteenth time since he invited Elizabeth for a lunch he went back to wonder how on Earth he ended up doing it, but it seemed to follow from their not - date and his weekend with Lily and Nate. It was almost normal, only it wasn't.
Hoping for too much could prove to be a mistake, but it was a mistake he already committed. He put too much of his heart into making the meal and arranging everything, from his dining table up to what was left of his idea of a family. The meaning of the word was stretched and changed in his mind, encompassing everything starting with his son, continuing with his ex wife and going back to his estranged father; toward the woman he didn't really know and the daughter she unintentionally gave him. All the jumbled pieces of the puzzle were in front of him, everyone he felt responsible for.
He told himself repeatedly all of this wasn't just about him. It could be good for everyone, right?
He looked around his kitchen, a picture of complete mess, good food and uncertain hopes. Being divorced taught him, among many things, how to make meals instead simply cook. The little time he had with his son he tried to spend well. When his fathering skills failed, his food still sat well with both of them, the boy and the man.
Teyla helped out this time. Teyla helped out every time when John's life reached a turning point with a force of a freight train. She was simply there, his friend, sister, and sometimes even the mother figure he lacked, to help and mend even before something was broken.
Now almost all people who mattered in his life were here, like actors standing behind a curtain, in the play nobody had chance rehearsing. Ronon was upstairs with Nate, and John could hear them laugh as they played a game on John's old computer. Teyla was making sure John wouldn't break something, anything. Graham was out of town, but he called three times since morning, which left Patrick, sitting nervously in the living room and watching a documentary on First World War.
The door bell rang and John could almost sense the entirety of his home moving and then holding a breath. He forgot the apron still tied about his neck and waist. As he walked for the door, John heard Nate running down the stairs and Patrick coming from the living room and felt he could suffocate. Elizabeth gave him an amused look when he opened the door, eyeing his un - manly apron. Lily was jumping around him, and he held her up, distracted enough with her enthusiasm not to foresee Elizabeth leaning in and kissing his cheek.
“It says 'Kiss the cook',” offered Elizabeth, still wearing that smile he couldn’t decipher, pointing to his apron. Coming up with a reply took a moment and John just grinned bashfully, aware of Elizabeth watching him, Lily talking excitedly and his father standing behind him, radiating expectation he wasn't about to admit.
All the rough cut pieces of John's life were on a collision course. He turned around, with Lily in his arms, to face Patrick. The old man smiled awkwardly when he saw Lily, who suddenly quieted and the moment was tight and packed with mutual insecurities. For a moment John was certain he saw the reflection of his own fear in Patrick's eyes. Still looking at his own father, John smiled softly and then looked at his daughter who clung to him.
“Lily? This is my Dad,” John whispered to the little girl he held in his arms. He could feel Elizabeth's eyes upon him. In the corner of his eye he could see Teyla, Ronon and Nate standing not too far away, he could remember being small enough to fit into Patrick's arms, back in the days when Ferris Wheels meant touching the sky.
“That means he is your granddaddy, sweetie,” even saying that felt awkward. Patrick Sheppard was nobody's granddaddy - Nate exclusively called him 'grandpa Sheppard' never leaving the last name out, it added a bit of funny grandeur and something sweet only Nate could muster, suiting the man who rarely smiled. John couldn't imagine him being called any of the short, sweet names kids had for granddaddies, yet he couldn’t help himself now.
John put Lily down and she flattened her sweater and the skirt she wore and then walked toward Patrick, cautiously studying the tall old man. A smile crooked his face and gave him softness John long forgot seeing.
“I'm Lily,” she said determinedly and held out her tiny hand. It reminded John of Elizabeth and the day when he first saw her, uncertain of what would happen, but determined to firmly shake his hand and face him bravely. Patrick lowered a little bit, defying his back pain and shook Lily's hand.
“Nice to meet you, Lily. I'm Patrick Sheppard. Your grandfather,” he stated matter of factly and John let out a slow breath when he heard the acceptance slip from his father’s lips.
Elizabeth seemed nervous herself and John wanted to give her a dozen apologies but settled for another grin. She bit her lip and smiled disarmingly. Maybe this day wasn't doomed to be a disastrous one. Maybe, just maybe it could go well?
“John, would you invite the ladies in? Close that door, can’t you see they're freezing? Didn't I taught you any manners, son?,” Patrick's tone was the same one John was used to hearing; but lacked the usual sting, and suddenly John could clearly recognize the anxious lines on his father's face. Closing the door John wondered how many times he missed seeing anything but judgment in his father’s words and actions.
“Come in little lady, it's nice to meet you,” John watched his daughter walk next to his father, granted by some merciful miracle with that precise thing John was always hungry for. Lily spotted Nate and a loud, heartfelt greeting followed. Lily was loved. Lily belonged; she could fit easily into so many worlds and enjoy them. John’s throat was still tight when he asked for Elizabeth’s coat and she looked at him worriedly. He introduced her with Ronon and Teyla, then to his father and after that he found a way to breathe again.
From that moment everything moved in remarkable slow motion John had no control over. If Teyla and Ronon weren't there, he was certain he probably wouldn't get through the first part of the lunch. Halfway through the meal there was polite conversation and occasional laughter in the room. It wasn't quite the same as heartfelt, but it was good. Teyla was great with Elizabeth, asking questions and steering the conversation until Patrick loosened up enough to join in, when he had to recount all the silly, reckless and downright embarrassing things John ever did as a kid, revealing that he knew his son better than John gave him credit for. The realization made the knot residing in John’s chest break into pieces and suddenly he admitted to himself he loved this old man who didn’t know how to love him back.
Once Patrick started asking about Lily he wouldn't stop, and while Elizabeth talked about her pregnancy, about Lily's first words and what she was like as a baby, Lily chose to climb into John's lap to tell him how that new nurse made her upset again. John caught Ronon's quiet smile while he listened to his child share the things a father had to know. Nate was the one who cleared the table and put the dishes into the dish washer. The world seemed to evolve effortlessly. Breathing felt funny and John excused himself to flee into the shelter of his kitchen, wiping his almost - dry eyes with only Teyla’s cake to witness it.
Elizabeth wandered into the kitchen several moments later to find him cutting the cake. She smiled at him, the nervousness gone for something serious and gentle behind her eyes. She was there and she saw the pieces John was trying to put together. Without asking him anything she came to stand next to him, rolling up the sleeves of her blouse. While he was cutting the cake she was placing the pieces onto the big oval plate. John stood still for a second, watching her accept the place in the puzzle he offered to her. He realized she already slid into a place too close to him. He could hurt her there, but she looked confident and John needed someone to trust and balance this out. She seemed to handle both the cake and his father well.
“Thank you for this,” she finally said, her hands stilling next to the plate. He could see in her eyes that there was more to her words than just the facial value. Her voice was a thick sound of comfort both offered and needed and for a moment John fought the idea to pull her into an embrace. The little that was left of his reason told him to remain still, and he blinked and licked his lips nervously.
“Thank you. Not only for me. Dad... he hadn't in a long time...,” John found he couldn't explain it so easily what she probably figured out by now and looked at Elizabeth, trying to convey everything in one long, heavy gaze. He realized he let Elizabeth see it all. Not that he could hide it all that well. That was a risk greater than his father's unpredictable temper.
“He seems nice,” decided Elizabeth simply. Of course she saw more in there. Patrick was stubborn and difficult and knew how to be unforgiving and unfair. Beneath the polite conversation she must have sensed it all, or at least most of it; but for some reason was giving them both a chance.
“He...,” John's voice caught by her decision and his sudden need to say something in Patrick's defense, and Elizabeth stood there silent. John felt exposed, but it didn't feel wrong. What he usually didn’t want Nancy to see was slipping into open in front of Elizabeth and that was okay. It was somehow fair. When he couldn't talk, Elizabeth grasped John's hand and held it lightly, but then he took decisive hold of her fingers. He wasn't entirely certain on the terms of the pact their connected hands were sealing. Finally his throat unlocked and John was able to look into her bright green eyes again and say something. “I missed this”.
She didn't ask questions on how and when and why, she just accepted. It wasn't just about visits and polite support any more. He opened the door and she walked through.
John knew she understood what he was trying to say - that he missed having voices and laughter around his table; he missed caring for people until he was tired, being exhausted with picking up toys instead staring at them sitting quiet and lonely on shelves.
He missed having a family. Elizabeth was still holding his hand. Perhaps telling her to run away now would have been fair, but he couldn’t do it.
Elizabeth's eyes softened and he felt her lips on his cheek for the second time that day. The fleeting touch lasted longer this time. It was almost in the corner of his lips and John was suddenly aware of her hair, the way she smelled, and the way she looked. Elizabeth parted from him slowly, remaining close by. Finally she let go of the hand she was holding. An uncalled for thought of kissing her slipped to forefront of his mind, but he pushed it back as Elizabeth's eyes fled toward the plate she had arranged just few minutes ago.
“They probably want the cake,” she said when the moment threatened to overload.
-
She didn’t expect him to show up that day at all, and although there were piles of papers to grade sitting on her desk, she allowed him convince her into having a break. She noted that he was spoiling her, bringing her here in his jeep and telling amusing stories when she needed them the most.
“I ruined the cake,” she said after he finished a phone call with someone from his work.
John frowned, looking at her over the rim of his coffee cup.
“What do you mean?” he asked and she smiled. He had no idea. “The cake was fine,” he added.
Right. Teyla made it and he cut it. She brought it to the table. Everyone enjoyed it.
“No, I ruined a cake. A different cake,” she explained and watched as it dawned on him, watched as his features changed, from surprise into amusement. If it meant something, about her not doing things right, about her messing up everything family related, John saw it differently.
At least she hoped he did.
She didn’t expect him to take her hand and hold it so openly, rubbing warm circles on the back of her hand, but she wasn’t surprised either. It should have made her worried, because her eyes were stuck on his smile and she was thinking about kissing him.
“You can always make another one. Listen,” he looked down, at the small pattern of the tablecloth as he took in a nervous breath. “I went for the test two weeks ago,” his voice was just a little shaky. Then he swallowed and she swallowed too, suddenly needing his hand.
John looked up at her, his eyes seeming cloudy. When he spoke, she almost didn’t hear him.
“We match.”
Pairings: John/Elizabeth, with addition of side pairings: Ronon/Teyla, Sam/Jack and Daniel/Janet
Rating: PG - 13
Genre: AU story, with elements of family drama and romance
Spoilers: none
Previous chapters can be found here.
Author's notes: I really, really feel like continuing this story. I'm not blaming you guys, if you had forgotten it all completely. There was this cute part sitting on my hard drive for ages and waiting to be really posted (some of this I shared with part of my flist). In hope to finally continue with this and finalize it in foreseeable future, I give you this chapter, and hopefully, you'll still find it enjoyable.
--- x ---
First, it was the not date, and then, the not family lunch she was baking a cake for.
It was her idea, sort of, but he said quickly his house was bigger when she mentioned they could get together again. She really wasn't ready to have him and her mom in the same room. Not yet. Thus, John ended up inviting her.
Elizabeth imagined Janet’s I told you so face, the gleeful edition. However she would be useful to have around, because Janet was a lot better with cakes, but Janet would poke and tease her mercilessly, about making a cake. For John Sheppard’s family lunch. She made them only rarely, and then when she did, they didn’t turn out quite well. Yet she was trying to make one now. Elizabeth heaved a disappointed breath when the cake came out of the oven two or three shades too dark.
Perhaps this whole family thing wasn’t her forte? Things to be weighed and measured, mixed in right amount, and then, preferably, not burned and ruined. If it was another day, she’d mull over this, but Lily was impatiently waiting by the stairs and Elizabeth had no cake.
-
“Are you sure you don't need anything?”
John sighed and looked over his shoulder. Standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room, Patrick Sheppard tried to frown anxiousness away from his face and failed.
“Dad, everything is fine,” placated John and Patrick nodded, still looking wary and unconvinced.
“You didn't burn anything, right?” insisted John's father.
“Dad, I'm a grown man who cooks for himself for over ten years now. I didn't burn anything,” sighed John again, placing the wine glasses onto his best tablecloth. Teyla gave them both a look of knowing and continued preparing the salad. John shook his head and went back to his task of arranging the dining table. When Patrick left, stubbornly not convinced his son wouldn't ruin the ‘almost - family’ lunch, as Nate called it, Teyla gave John an amused look.
“Go distract the old man and I'll finish that. He's nervous and he's driving me nuts,” said John. Placing the fine china on the table felt almost like laying out a stage for something which could turn into a grotesque. He walked back into the kitchen and looked around. Everything was ready - John's famous salmon in wine sauce and special dish for Lily, made according to her diet, and Teyla's delicious cheese cake for the dessert. Patrick surprised the hell out of his son when he brought a bottle of wine which was almost older than Nathan. The real danger lay in the possible disaster between the main dish and dessert John's father was capable of pulling - not that John lacked the disaster potential himself. John and his father were never easily predictable combination. Everything could go well, just like everything could go wrong, and both of them knew it, hence the caution from both sides. It was making John edgy.
“You and him are both nervous and I do not trust you with this big knife in your hands. You might cut yourself,” teased Teyla.
“I'm not nervous I just....,” he ran his hand through his hair. He wasn't just nervous. There was whole lot more at stake than the quality of John's cooking skills.
“You want everything to go well. I understand,” Teyla gave him another smile and put the cut tomato pieces into the bowl with other vegetables. “John, it will be just fine. It might be a little awkward at first, but I believe that is to be expected.”
“You think?” John he asked and she grinned him in a way which promised he would be teased after, really badly. For the umpteenth time since he invited Elizabeth for a lunch he went back to wonder how on Earth he ended up doing it, but it seemed to follow from their not - date and his weekend with Lily and Nate. It was almost normal, only it wasn't.
Hoping for too much could prove to be a mistake, but it was a mistake he already committed. He put too much of his heart into making the meal and arranging everything, from his dining table up to what was left of his idea of a family. The meaning of the word was stretched and changed in his mind, encompassing everything starting with his son, continuing with his ex wife and going back to his estranged father; toward the woman he didn't really know and the daughter she unintentionally gave him. All the jumbled pieces of the puzzle were in front of him, everyone he felt responsible for.
He told himself repeatedly all of this wasn't just about him. It could be good for everyone, right?
He looked around his kitchen, a picture of complete mess, good food and uncertain hopes. Being divorced taught him, among many things, how to make meals instead simply cook. The little time he had with his son he tried to spend well. When his fathering skills failed, his food still sat well with both of them, the boy and the man.
Teyla helped out this time. Teyla helped out every time when John's life reached a turning point with a force of a freight train. She was simply there, his friend, sister, and sometimes even the mother figure he lacked, to help and mend even before something was broken.
Now almost all people who mattered in his life were here, like actors standing behind a curtain, in the play nobody had chance rehearsing. Ronon was upstairs with Nate, and John could hear them laugh as they played a game on John's old computer. Teyla was making sure John wouldn't break something, anything. Graham was out of town, but he called three times since morning, which left Patrick, sitting nervously in the living room and watching a documentary on First World War.
The door bell rang and John could almost sense the entirety of his home moving and then holding a breath. He forgot the apron still tied about his neck and waist. As he walked for the door, John heard Nate running down the stairs and Patrick coming from the living room and felt he could suffocate. Elizabeth gave him an amused look when he opened the door, eyeing his un - manly apron. Lily was jumping around him, and he held her up, distracted enough with her enthusiasm not to foresee Elizabeth leaning in and kissing his cheek.
“It says 'Kiss the cook',” offered Elizabeth, still wearing that smile he couldn’t decipher, pointing to his apron. Coming up with a reply took a moment and John just grinned bashfully, aware of Elizabeth watching him, Lily talking excitedly and his father standing behind him, radiating expectation he wasn't about to admit.
All the rough cut pieces of John's life were on a collision course. He turned around, with Lily in his arms, to face Patrick. The old man smiled awkwardly when he saw Lily, who suddenly quieted and the moment was tight and packed with mutual insecurities. For a moment John was certain he saw the reflection of his own fear in Patrick's eyes. Still looking at his own father, John smiled softly and then looked at his daughter who clung to him.
“Lily? This is my Dad,” John whispered to the little girl he held in his arms. He could feel Elizabeth's eyes upon him. In the corner of his eye he could see Teyla, Ronon and Nate standing not too far away, he could remember being small enough to fit into Patrick's arms, back in the days when Ferris Wheels meant touching the sky.
“That means he is your granddaddy, sweetie,” even saying that felt awkward. Patrick Sheppard was nobody's granddaddy - Nate exclusively called him 'grandpa Sheppard' never leaving the last name out, it added a bit of funny grandeur and something sweet only Nate could muster, suiting the man who rarely smiled. John couldn't imagine him being called any of the short, sweet names kids had for granddaddies, yet he couldn’t help himself now.
John put Lily down and she flattened her sweater and the skirt she wore and then walked toward Patrick, cautiously studying the tall old man. A smile crooked his face and gave him softness John long forgot seeing.
“I'm Lily,” she said determinedly and held out her tiny hand. It reminded John of Elizabeth and the day when he first saw her, uncertain of what would happen, but determined to firmly shake his hand and face him bravely. Patrick lowered a little bit, defying his back pain and shook Lily's hand.
“Nice to meet you, Lily. I'm Patrick Sheppard. Your grandfather,” he stated matter of factly and John let out a slow breath when he heard the acceptance slip from his father’s lips.
Elizabeth seemed nervous herself and John wanted to give her a dozen apologies but settled for another grin. She bit her lip and smiled disarmingly. Maybe this day wasn't doomed to be a disastrous one. Maybe, just maybe it could go well?
“John, would you invite the ladies in? Close that door, can’t you see they're freezing? Didn't I taught you any manners, son?,” Patrick's tone was the same one John was used to hearing; but lacked the usual sting, and suddenly John could clearly recognize the anxious lines on his father's face. Closing the door John wondered how many times he missed seeing anything but judgment in his father’s words and actions.
“Come in little lady, it's nice to meet you,” John watched his daughter walk next to his father, granted by some merciful miracle with that precise thing John was always hungry for. Lily spotted Nate and a loud, heartfelt greeting followed. Lily was loved. Lily belonged; she could fit easily into so many worlds and enjoy them. John’s throat was still tight when he asked for Elizabeth’s coat and she looked at him worriedly. He introduced her with Ronon and Teyla, then to his father and after that he found a way to breathe again.
From that moment everything moved in remarkable slow motion John had no control over. If Teyla and Ronon weren't there, he was certain he probably wouldn't get through the first part of the lunch. Halfway through the meal there was polite conversation and occasional laughter in the room. It wasn't quite the same as heartfelt, but it was good. Teyla was great with Elizabeth, asking questions and steering the conversation until Patrick loosened up enough to join in, when he had to recount all the silly, reckless and downright embarrassing things John ever did as a kid, revealing that he knew his son better than John gave him credit for. The realization made the knot residing in John’s chest break into pieces and suddenly he admitted to himself he loved this old man who didn’t know how to love him back.
Once Patrick started asking about Lily he wouldn't stop, and while Elizabeth talked about her pregnancy, about Lily's first words and what she was like as a baby, Lily chose to climb into John's lap to tell him how that new nurse made her upset again. John caught Ronon's quiet smile while he listened to his child share the things a father had to know. Nate was the one who cleared the table and put the dishes into the dish washer. The world seemed to evolve effortlessly. Breathing felt funny and John excused himself to flee into the shelter of his kitchen, wiping his almost - dry eyes with only Teyla’s cake to witness it.
Elizabeth wandered into the kitchen several moments later to find him cutting the cake. She smiled at him, the nervousness gone for something serious and gentle behind her eyes. She was there and she saw the pieces John was trying to put together. Without asking him anything she came to stand next to him, rolling up the sleeves of her blouse. While he was cutting the cake she was placing the pieces onto the big oval plate. John stood still for a second, watching her accept the place in the puzzle he offered to her. He realized she already slid into a place too close to him. He could hurt her there, but she looked confident and John needed someone to trust and balance this out. She seemed to handle both the cake and his father well.
“Thank you for this,” she finally said, her hands stilling next to the plate. He could see in her eyes that there was more to her words than just the facial value. Her voice was a thick sound of comfort both offered and needed and for a moment John fought the idea to pull her into an embrace. The little that was left of his reason told him to remain still, and he blinked and licked his lips nervously.
“Thank you. Not only for me. Dad... he hadn't in a long time...,” John found he couldn't explain it so easily what she probably figured out by now and looked at Elizabeth, trying to convey everything in one long, heavy gaze. He realized he let Elizabeth see it all. Not that he could hide it all that well. That was a risk greater than his father's unpredictable temper.
“He seems nice,” decided Elizabeth simply. Of course she saw more in there. Patrick was stubborn and difficult and knew how to be unforgiving and unfair. Beneath the polite conversation she must have sensed it all, or at least most of it; but for some reason was giving them both a chance.
“He...,” John's voice caught by her decision and his sudden need to say something in Patrick's defense, and Elizabeth stood there silent. John felt exposed, but it didn't feel wrong. What he usually didn’t want Nancy to see was slipping into open in front of Elizabeth and that was okay. It was somehow fair. When he couldn't talk, Elizabeth grasped John's hand and held it lightly, but then he took decisive hold of her fingers. He wasn't entirely certain on the terms of the pact their connected hands were sealing. Finally his throat unlocked and John was able to look into her bright green eyes again and say something. “I missed this”.
She didn't ask questions on how and when and why, she just accepted. It wasn't just about visits and polite support any more. He opened the door and she walked through.
John knew she understood what he was trying to say - that he missed having voices and laughter around his table; he missed caring for people until he was tired, being exhausted with picking up toys instead staring at them sitting quiet and lonely on shelves.
He missed having a family. Elizabeth was still holding his hand. Perhaps telling her to run away now would have been fair, but he couldn’t do it.
Elizabeth's eyes softened and he felt her lips on his cheek for the second time that day. The fleeting touch lasted longer this time. It was almost in the corner of his lips and John was suddenly aware of her hair, the way she smelled, and the way she looked. Elizabeth parted from him slowly, remaining close by. Finally she let go of the hand she was holding. An uncalled for thought of kissing her slipped to forefront of his mind, but he pushed it back as Elizabeth's eyes fled toward the plate she had arranged just few minutes ago.
“They probably want the cake,” she said when the moment threatened to overload.
-
She didn’t expect him to show up that day at all, and although there were piles of papers to grade sitting on her desk, she allowed him convince her into having a break. She noted that he was spoiling her, bringing her here in his jeep and telling amusing stories when she needed them the most.
“I ruined the cake,” she said after he finished a phone call with someone from his work.
John frowned, looking at her over the rim of his coffee cup.
“What do you mean?” he asked and she smiled. He had no idea. “The cake was fine,” he added.
Right. Teyla made it and he cut it. She brought it to the table. Everyone enjoyed it.
“No, I ruined a cake. A different cake,” she explained and watched as it dawned on him, watched as his features changed, from surprise into amusement. If it meant something, about her not doing things right, about her messing up everything family related, John saw it differently.
At least she hoped he did.
She didn’t expect him to take her hand and hold it so openly, rubbing warm circles on the back of her hand, but she wasn’t surprised either. It should have made her worried, because her eyes were stuck on his smile and she was thinking about kissing him.
“You can always make another one. Listen,” he looked down, at the small pattern of the tablecloth as he took in a nervous breath. “I went for the test two weeks ago,” his voice was just a little shaky. Then he swallowed and she swallowed too, suddenly needing his hand.
John looked up at her, his eyes seeming cloudy. When he spoke, she almost didn’t hear him.
“We match.”