Drabble marathon: #9.
Wow, this writing stuff sure gets harder when you, like, don't do it for two solid months. Wacky!
#9, for U., who asked for John Sheppard, judge or Teyla Emmagan, awkward. SGA, Sam/Teyla, implied John/Rodney, also close-but-no-cigar on being safe for work. Set after the finale but almost entirely unspoilery; also unbetaed and prone to liberally ignoring chunks of canon.
Sam's ass hit the big steel prep table, the impact sending a couple of kitchen utensils clattering to the floor, and Teyla fisted her hand harder in the back of Sam's hair and bit hard at Sam's mouth. Running a hand up the front of Teyla's shirt, Sam groaned -- god, she'd forgotten what it was like to kiss someone who was shorter than she was, the feel of someone's jaw angling desperately up to meet hers. Teyla's breasts were hot and firm to the touch, the muscles of her back and ass flexed under Sam's other hand as Teyla twisted hard against her. One of Teyla's hands snaked in between them, finding the place where Teyla's thigh was crammed up in between Sam's, and she rolled the knob of her wrist against Sam's inseam. Sam shuddered and pushed her hips into the pressure, wet fabric grinding against her clit. Distantly, she could hear the music and laughter, Atlantis' first Milky Way "holy shit, we're not dead" party still raging strong. She was three-quarters drunk on alcohol from eight different planets and pretty sure there wasn't a clear explanation for this, but Teyla was sucking at her neck and yanking her fly down, they'd saved the Earth today, and when she thought about it that way, maybe it really did make--
The kitchen light flared and someone said, "Sweet Jesus in Heaven."
Teyla froze and Sam's eyes flew open. When the world swam into focus, John and Rodney were gaping at them from the doorway.
"Are you sure we're not dead?" Rodney asked in a faint voice, obviously speaking to John even as his eyes stayed trained on Sam and Teyla. "Because this might be my version of the 72 virgins."
"John -- Rodney," Teyla said, turning quickly and swiping her hair back from her face with excessive nonchalance, like she wasn't trying to free the fingers of her other hand from the front of Sam's underwear. Sam bit her lip hard and watched Rodney go red and John go white. "Ah, we were just, um--"
"Teyla, oh my god," John choked out.
"It is not what it looks like!" Teyla blurted, taking a step towards him. He jerked back like she was covered in something contagious. Sam tried to figure out if there was any discreet way to zip up her pants. "The party ran out of beer, Sam and I merely came in here to--"
"What are you doing?" John demanded, glaring at Teyla while he pointed at Sam. "She's in the military. You have a baby -- jeez, you have a husband!"
"Your grasp of Athosian culture is so stunted, I cannot even tell you. Kanaan is not--" Teyla said sharply, clearly sliding into the current of some other argument, then flushed and jerked her chin up. "No, you know what? It is no one's business."
John flailed wildly in the direction of the hall for several seconds before yelling, "There are a million people in the next room, Teyla! If anyone else had come down here first, it'd be everyone's business! What were you thinking? They cook food on that table."
"Oh please," Teyla said dismissively, "your standards of hygeine are ludicrous," but she was blushing furiously. Sam had a sudden, horrified flashback on the time when she was thirteen and had stumbled half-asleep into her best friend's bathroom to find her friend's older brother jerking off over the toilet. She'd screamed, and then her friend had come in and started screaming at her brother, who'd screamed back, and the whole thing had ended with her calling her parents to come drive her home. She was forty-three now and way too old for that kind of mortification, but she was also too drunk to hold out any hope of a graceful exit.
Rodney was staring at Teyla and John with a kind of amazed fascination, like he knew they were at T-minus however many seconds from throwing things, but his gaze shifted to Sam when he felt her looking at him. Sam cringed, waiting for the ogling to start -- oh god, it'd been only a year since he stopped making those excruciating passes at her. Instead, his mouth twisted like he was barely restraining laughter, and his eyes went warm with sympathy.
She stared back at him. After a couple of seconds, the corners of her lips slowly ratcheted upward into a grin. She couldn't help it it: they were on Atlantis, on Earth, in the year 2009, and Rodney had caught her in the kitchen rounding third base with the gorgeous leader of an alien population. Sam had -- she only now registered this -- caught Rodney ducking half-drunk out of a party with his best friend and team leader's hand wrapped around his wrist.
John hadn't let go, in fact; he was still hanging on to Rodney's arm like a lifeline. Her eyes swung back up from Rodney's wrist to his face, and she saw Rodney see her do it -- see her see them. His head cocked, one eyebrow quirking, and then he took a deep breath.
"Okay," he announced, and Teyla and John both jerked toward him, looking humiliated and furious. "We all cheated death today, we all drank a lot of alcohol, tomorrow we'll all be hungover and conveniently able to claim intoxication-induced blackouts. What do you say that we skip the crying and hair-pulling, act like no one ever set foot in here, and never speak of this again?" Without waiting for anyone to answer, he grabbed John by the front of the shirt and pulled him out into the hall, then twisted back to swing one hand around the door frame and slap the kitchen light off.
Sam and Teyla just stood there in the dark for a minute, then Teyla blew a breath out and buried her face in her hands. "Do you remember when you all had Kirsan fever?" she muttered, muffled. "I could very much wish for a relapse right now. If not the whole city, than at least myself."
Sam laughed weakly and rubbed a hand over her neck. "Rodney's right," she said, reaching for and finding something like her empathetic-professional voice. "We have had a lot to drink tonight. Maybe it's best if ..." She trailed off, and when Teyla didn't say anything, Sam sighed and reached down to refasten her pants.
At the sound of the zipper, Teyla reached suddenly back and grabbed the lapel of Sam's shirt, slid her hand downward, and reeled Sam in by the waistband. "I have not been so humiliated since before I reached adulthood," she breathed, tipping her head back to mouth the words into the underside of Sam's jaw, "and -- what is your phrase? As I have done the time, I should now like to do the crime." Her fingers flexed against Sam's stomach. For a second, Sam felt the exact shape of Teyla's smile against her neck.
Then Teyla pulled away and headed for the door, hips swaying. As she reached the frame, she slowed in a movement that was gorgeously studied, full of all her usual composure, and called back, "But perhaps not in the kitchen."
Sam followed, grinning, and reminded herself to not thank Rodney in the morning.
#9, for U., who asked for John Sheppard, judge or Teyla Emmagan, awkward. SGA, Sam/Teyla, implied John/Rodney, also close-but-no-cigar on being safe for work. Set after the finale but almost entirely unspoilery; also unbetaed and prone to liberally ignoring chunks of canon.
Sam's ass hit the big steel prep table, the impact sending a couple of kitchen utensils clattering to the floor, and Teyla fisted her hand harder in the back of Sam's hair and bit hard at Sam's mouth. Running a hand up the front of Teyla's shirt, Sam groaned -- god, she'd forgotten what it was like to kiss someone who was shorter than she was, the feel of someone's jaw angling desperately up to meet hers. Teyla's breasts were hot and firm to the touch, the muscles of her back and ass flexed under Sam's other hand as Teyla twisted hard against her. One of Teyla's hands snaked in between them, finding the place where Teyla's thigh was crammed up in between Sam's, and she rolled the knob of her wrist against Sam's inseam. Sam shuddered and pushed her hips into the pressure, wet fabric grinding against her clit. Distantly, she could hear the music and laughter, Atlantis' first Milky Way "holy shit, we're not dead" party still raging strong. She was three-quarters drunk on alcohol from eight different planets and pretty sure there wasn't a clear explanation for this, but Teyla was sucking at her neck and yanking her fly down, they'd saved the Earth today, and when she thought about it that way, maybe it really did make--
The kitchen light flared and someone said, "Sweet Jesus in Heaven."
Teyla froze and Sam's eyes flew open. When the world swam into focus, John and Rodney were gaping at them from the doorway.
"Are you sure we're not dead?" Rodney asked in a faint voice, obviously speaking to John even as his eyes stayed trained on Sam and Teyla. "Because this might be my version of the 72 virgins."
"John -- Rodney," Teyla said, turning quickly and swiping her hair back from her face with excessive nonchalance, like she wasn't trying to free the fingers of her other hand from the front of Sam's underwear. Sam bit her lip hard and watched Rodney go red and John go white. "Ah, we were just, um--"
"Teyla, oh my god," John choked out.
"It is not what it looks like!" Teyla blurted, taking a step towards him. He jerked back like she was covered in something contagious. Sam tried to figure out if there was any discreet way to zip up her pants. "The party ran out of beer, Sam and I merely came in here to--"
"What are you doing?" John demanded, glaring at Teyla while he pointed at Sam. "She's in the military. You have a baby -- jeez, you have a husband!"
"Your grasp of Athosian culture is so stunted, I cannot even tell you. Kanaan is not--" Teyla said sharply, clearly sliding into the current of some other argument, then flushed and jerked her chin up. "No, you know what? It is no one's business."
John flailed wildly in the direction of the hall for several seconds before yelling, "There are a million people in the next room, Teyla! If anyone else had come down here first, it'd be everyone's business! What were you thinking? They cook food on that table."
"Oh please," Teyla said dismissively, "your standards of hygeine are ludicrous," but she was blushing furiously. Sam had a sudden, horrified flashback on the time when she was thirteen and had stumbled half-asleep into her best friend's bathroom to find her friend's older brother jerking off over the toilet. She'd screamed, and then her friend had come in and started screaming at her brother, who'd screamed back, and the whole thing had ended with her calling her parents to come drive her home. She was forty-three now and way too old for that kind of mortification, but she was also too drunk to hold out any hope of a graceful exit.
Rodney was staring at Teyla and John with a kind of amazed fascination, like he knew they were at T-minus however many seconds from throwing things, but his gaze shifted to Sam when he felt her looking at him. Sam cringed, waiting for the ogling to start -- oh god, it'd been only a year since he stopped making those excruciating passes at her. Instead, his mouth twisted like he was barely restraining laughter, and his eyes went warm with sympathy.
She stared back at him. After a couple of seconds, the corners of her lips slowly ratcheted upward into a grin. She couldn't help it it: they were on Atlantis, on Earth, in the year 2009, and Rodney had caught her in the kitchen rounding third base with the gorgeous leader of an alien population. Sam had -- she only now registered this -- caught Rodney ducking half-drunk out of a party with his best friend and team leader's hand wrapped around his wrist.
John hadn't let go, in fact; he was still hanging on to Rodney's arm like a lifeline. Her eyes swung back up from Rodney's wrist to his face, and she saw Rodney see her do it -- see her see them. His head cocked, one eyebrow quirking, and then he took a deep breath.
"Okay," he announced, and Teyla and John both jerked toward him, looking humiliated and furious. "We all cheated death today, we all drank a lot of alcohol, tomorrow we'll all be hungover and conveniently able to claim intoxication-induced blackouts. What do you say that we skip the crying and hair-pulling, act like no one ever set foot in here, and never speak of this again?" Without waiting for anyone to answer, he grabbed John by the front of the shirt and pulled him out into the hall, then twisted back to swing one hand around the door frame and slap the kitchen light off.
Sam and Teyla just stood there in the dark for a minute, then Teyla blew a breath out and buried her face in her hands. "Do you remember when you all had Kirsan fever?" she muttered, muffled. "I could very much wish for a relapse right now. If not the whole city, than at least myself."
Sam laughed weakly and rubbed a hand over her neck. "Rodney's right," she said, reaching for and finding something like her empathetic-professional voice. "We have had a lot to drink tonight. Maybe it's best if ..." She trailed off, and when Teyla didn't say anything, Sam sighed and reached down to refasten her pants.
At the sound of the zipper, Teyla reached suddenly back and grabbed the lapel of Sam's shirt, slid her hand downward, and reeled Sam in by the waistband. "I have not been so humiliated since before I reached adulthood," she breathed, tipping her head back to mouth the words into the underside of Sam's jaw, "and -- what is your phrase? As I have done the time, I should now like to do the crime." Her fingers flexed against Sam's stomach. For a second, Sam felt the exact shape of Teyla's smile against her neck.
Then Teyla pulled away and headed for the door, hips swaying. As she reached the frame, she slowed in a movement that was gorgeously studied, full of all her usual composure, and called back, "But perhaps not in the kitchen."
Sam followed, grinning, and reminded herself to not thank Rodney in the morning.