Fic
I have finally decided to post this and I'm really nervous about it because (as some of you know) it's my first fic that I'm actually posting. so here goes nothing.
Title: Curvature
Author: Holly Monery
Email: hollysamantha@bigpond.com.au
Rating: Pg-13
Summary: He likes her back
Spoilers: Aurora (minor)
A/N: Thanks heaps to roothekittykat, lone_pyramid and trinity1986 for beating this through different stages.
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis sadly belongs to MGM, Gekko, Double Secret and so on. I don’t own it; I’m only using it and its characters for my story. I’m not getting paid, and no copyright infringement is intended.
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He likes briefings, not that he’d ever tell anyone. He now likes the ramblings of McKay, the blank, bored looks from Ronon, and the attentiveness of Teyla. During the briefings there is always one other person present; Elizabeth Weir. And he likes watching her.
It never used to be like this. He used to loathe briefings, sitting, staring into oblivion. That was the time when he used to attempt to calculate how many square centimetres the ceiling was, or count the lights on the wall across the room, or wonder how they’d change those Atlantean lights anyway.
Watching her began when his eyes started to hurt, or when he decided that he couldn’t be bothered working out the area of the ceiling, or when his eyes blurred from staring too long at the lights, or when he accepted that the Atlantean lights probably never needed changing.
He likes watching her. It’s actually quite fascinating. He feels like an eagle eyeing something it wants. However, he doesn’t concentrate on that feeling; he thinks it makes her seem like prey. She is much more than that, and he likes knowing that she is much more than that.
Although being like an eagle does have its merits. He gets to observe her. After much observation he thinks he knows all of her expressions, all her features, and he could definitely pick out her voice in a crowded room. And then comes the moment where he finds himself wondering: what is his favourite part of Elizabeth Weir?
The fact that he didn’t take long to choose his favourite part of her amuses him greatly. He thought it would take him forever, that he’d just have to concede and say he liked all of her, but he was delightfully surprised at the part he has designated his favourite. He’s never had this part as a favourite before, and he finds it strange that the part he likes the most of this incredible woman is her back.
It’s weird, he thinks, that his favourite part of her is the only thing he cannot gaze upon during briefings. He likes the moments he can steal to glance at her back. It sounds unnatural, perverted even. When did he start liking her back? Or her? God only knows.
There are other things that he likes about her: her personality, her laugh, her strength and those eyebrows. Her back is just the pinnacle, the icing on the cake. Some may think that he likes her backside, but it’s not like that. Although he doesn't dislike her ass - she has a damn fine ass - he just likes her back.
Her back curves. Well, all backs curve, but the curve of her back is intoxicating. It is reminiscent of a parabola cut along the y-axis. It’s amazing, containing an unknown elegance. However, that elegance is true of everything regarding Elizabeth Weir.
He doesn’t know why it’s her back. It just is.
He has always been afraid that someone would notice him, find out about his closely kept and guarded secret. When he looks at her, he always attempts to do it for the shortest amount of time possible, just so if anyone did by chance look at him; it would seem as if he was just bored. Though there is the possibility that he has already been discovered -- he is reasonably sure Teyla has her suspicions…
“What do you think Colonel?”
“I like her back.”
“What?”
Crap. He didn’t mean to say that, he knows he needs to think up something fa…
“I believe Colonel Sheppard wants us to bring the ship back to Atlantis.”
He is saved by Teyla and for the umpteenth time he's grateful that she can link his ramblings to the topic at hand, as she has many times before. Ronon has come out of his daze and is showing some interest in the discussion.
“Colonel, you are aware that the ship is an inanimate object, and therefore has no gender, oh and didn’t I already say it would take 42 million years to get back?”
He needs to retaliate, fast. Quick comebacks are his forte… he just needs to say something right now…
“Gentlemen.”
He likes her, and he’s damn sure he almost let it slip.
“Sorry.”
McKay goes back to his ramblings, Ronon settles once more into staring obliviously and Teyla focuses her attention back onto Rodney, listening intently. Elizabeth starts writing again, glancing up periodically.
He knows that he should really be paying attention to the briefing, but somehow, even if he can’t directly see her back, his gaze is always drawn back to her; to the soft curls in her hair, the shadows across her face, and the rare curve of her lips.
She suddenly looks up at him, with a piercing, gorgeous green-eyed stare. Oh god, he’s been caught.
"Is there something else Colonel?"
Glancing around the room, he sees that the other members of his team have left. Why couldn’t someone have nudged him? He knows Teyla would have almost had to hit Ronon to wake him up from his half-dead trance - so why, oh why could she not have nudged him too?
“Umm…err…no, sorry, not really.”
“Well then I suggest you gear up before I go and talk with Caldwell.”
“Um…yeah…okay.”
He stands and walks to the door but something makes him stop and turn around. Her head is down, still finishing up her notes but her lips show the slightest curve - a subtle smirk.
He likes her, and her back, and he’s pretty sure she knows it.
Fin.