Fic: Five Times John Doesn't Understand Elizabeth
Title: Five Times John Doesn't Understand Elizabeth
Rating: PG13
Pairing: John/Elizabeth
A/N: In response to a prompt from Irony_Rocks. Flist!Love is what this is. I'm like a Visa rewards card. (That made sense in my head. And no, I'm not drunk.)
--1
The sounds of pounding feet and Elizabeth’s ragged breathing echo through the corridors.
“Come on, keep up,” John chides easily as he checks his watch. “We’ve only been at this for twenty minutes.”
She tips her head toward him and contorts her face in a sort of half-grimace, half-glare. He guesses that, energy allowing, she would have smacked him upside the head.
“Anyway,” he says as they round another corner and jog through a doorway leading outside, “I think we should set up a beach volleyball tournament again this year. We deserve a rematch.”
Elizabeth merely grunts.
“I know, I know, it wasn’t your fault. I’m not blaming you.” He runs in place for a moment to allow her time to catch up to him. The wind blowing off the surface of the water turns his sweat cold. “I am blaming McKay though. I mean, really, this time he can be on someone else’s team. What grown man squeals and dodges a ball that’s coming straight toward him?”
Elizabeth grunts again.
“That’s not a very flattering noise,” John teases. He tilts his head to gage her reaction and is disappointed to find that she doesn’t seem provoked. Her concentration appears to be solely on breathing.
“You’re looking a little red there, Lizzie.” John turns around until he’s jogging backward, a wide grin spread across his face. “Maybe we should do this every day?”
She halts abruptly and puts her hands on her knees, pitching her head forward with great heaving breaths.
“No stopping!” he shouts and jogs toward her, tapping his hand repeatedly on her back. “Gotta move. Gotta keep your heart rate up!”
She reaches an arm out to clutch the railing and raises her head a fraction of an inch in order to meet his eyes.
“Du kannst mich mal kreuzweise.”
--2
“You want me to what?” John asks dubiously. He’s certain he must have heard her incorrectly.
She leans forward conspiratorially. “I want you to get Teyla to stand under the mistletoe.”
Okay, he did hear her correctly, he just doesn't understand her. “Why?”
Elizabeth sighs dramatically. “Why do people normally stand under mistletoe, John?”
He discreetly places his hand on her desk to steady himself. This can't be right. “To kiss.”
She nods eagerly.
“You want me to kiss Teyla?”
She actually bursts into laughter the moment the words leave his mouth. “No, no.” She pauses for a moment and considers him thoughtfully. “I mean, you could if you wanted, I suppose.” She looks up at him quizzically. “Do you want to?”
“No!” he answers quickly, awkwardly. “No, I don’t.”
Her grin is Cheshire. “Well okay then.”
John shifts his weight. He has his assignment, he just doesn’t understand it. “Who do you want Teyla to kiss?”
“Rodney, of course.”
“Of course.” His brain catches up with his mouth. “McKay?”
“Do you know another Rodney?”
“What? Why in the world would Teyla want to kiss McKay?” He can’t help the disgusted look that flits over his face.
She shrugs her shoulders lightly and reaches to straighten a stack of files. “Because he’s cute.”
John takes a step forward and presses the back of his hand to her forehead with concern. “Elizabeth, are you feeling all right? Maybe we should have Carson check you out.”
She swats his hand away. “Yes, John, I’m fine. If you don’t want to help me I’ll get someone else to do it.”
“Help you arrange for Teyla and Rodney to kiss,” he clarifies, still uncertain as to whether or not she’s currently sane.
“Yes,” she answers simply, as if it’s the most logical thing in the world.
A thought occurs to him and his eyes widen considerably. “Did Teyla say something to you about him?”
She stands, pushing her chair away from her desk and closing the top to her computer. “She didn’t have to.”
“You just know,” he expands for her.
“I just know,” she agrees and walks out the door of her office.
John turns to follow her, his hand absently scratching his temple. “You know that Teyla wants to kiss Rodney.”
“Mmmhmm.” The sparkle in her eye is throwing him for a loop. He’s never seen this side of Elizabeth and, frankly, he’s more than a little frightened.
She stops and turns at the door of the gateroom and he comes to a halt beside her. “So you’ll do it?” she asks hopefully.
Against his better judgment he nods in the affirmative. “But if they figure out it was planned,” he points at her, shaking his finger, “you are taking full responsibility."
“It's a deal,” she smiles and then looks up. “Well, would you look at that.”
His eyes follow hers and land on a bright green sprig of plastic mistletoe. Wow. She really is a schemer. But who is he to foil her plans?
--3
After a moment’s hesitation Elizabeth lets out a breath. “No.”
John leans forward to protest but Rodney beats him to it. “No?”
“No,” she repeats firmly. “I will not authorize this mission.”
“Why in the hell not?” John erupts, causing Elizabeth to bristle.
“Because,” she answers tightly.
“The information we would retrieve could be invaluable. It could tell us everything we ever wanted to know about the Genii and their plans for interplanetary domination.”
“I understand that, Rodney.”
“I don't think you do,” John interjects heatedly. “If you did, you’d authorize this mission.”
“We’re passing up on an incredible opportunity,” Rodney adds on a whimper.
Elizabeth stands and gathers her things, indicating that the briefing is over. “Dismissed.”
She turns on her heel and breezes out of the room. John cuts a quick glance to Rodney before following after her.
“Dismissed?” he asks as he crosses the gangway and into her office. “When was the last time you dismissed us like we were your subordinates?”
She drops into her chair and lifts her head to look him directly in the eye. “You are my subordinate, Colonel.”
“We're a team, Elizabeth,” he counters, stepping up to her desk and perching on the edge. “Partners.”
Her gaze slides away from his, drifting to the surface of her desk as she leans back in her chair with a sigh. “Technically that’s not the case.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. Sure, it isn't technically true, but it is the way they’ve operated since they learned how to balance one another in those first few years. “So, you’re just going to blow this one off.”
He can see her jaw clenching. “If that’s what you want to call it, yes.” Her voice is flat.
He grips the edge of her desk and leans forward. “I understand that it’s a dangerous mission, but that’s why I’d be the only one going.”
Elizabeth’s eyes flick up from their focal point on her monitor. “It’s reckless.”
The implications of that statement infuriate him. “I can pull it off. I’ll slip in and out and they won’t even realize I was there until they go to look for the device. I’ve done this kind of thing before.”
“No.”
“You don’t trust me,” he spits the words bitterly, shoving himself from her desk. “After all we’ve been through, you don’t think I'm capable of doing my job.”
Her hand moves to her forehead, as if she could rub the headache away - which infuriates him even more. “John, you don’t -”
“Oh, I get it,” he cuts her off, “I do. I guess I was under the impression that you thought more highly of me.” He turns toward the door. “I was wrong.”
“John,” she calls as she stands, “it's not that.”
He keeps walking. Of course that’s it, he tells himself as her voice fades in the distance. What else could it be?
--4
He pulls her to him and turns, backing her into the wall without breaking contact. Her lips are warm and sweet and he doesn’t ever want to taste anything but her for as long as he lives.
“John,” she whispers as she drags her mouth away, “we shouldn’t -” She can’t finish her thought as his hands slide under her shirt, teasing the soft skin of her stomach. Goose bumps ripple under his palms and a moan escapes from the back of her throat. His mouth trails hungry kisses down the side of her neck as his hands travel up her ribs, her skin hot to his touch.
“John,” she practically pants as she tilts her head to allow him better access, “we can’t.”
He’s had a number of relationships with women throughout his life - his mother, his younger sister, several girlfriends - so he’s not unaccustomed to the ability of the female to say one thing and mean another. In this particular case, he opts to listen to her body instead of her words. Her body definitely needs to be afforded the opportunity to do the talking once in a while.
Restless, he pushes back into her and runs his lips along her jaw to her ear. His fingers find the clasp of her bra, unfastening it with a practiced ease. She grips reflexively on his shoulders as his hands slide down her back to drag at the hem of her t-shirt, but before he can get it more than halfway up, she’s pulling away.
“John,” she repeats, more forcefully this time and her hand comes to rest on his chest. “Stop.”
Her eyes drift open and come into focus; he can see rationality returning to their green depths.
“John,” she says slowly, solemnly.
He tenses instinctively. His blood is pumping at an accelerated rate and he’s practically shaking with anticipation. “Elizabeth,” he growls. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Her body pulls away from him and she tugs awkwardly at her shirt. “John we can’t -”
His heart sinks in bitter, dizzying disappointment. “Can’t? This again? How many times do we have to have this conversation?” His ears are burning and his fists are clenching as he takes a step away from her. He sucks air through his teeth, his jaw set so hard that the muscles cramp. “We can’t keep going around in circles, Elizabeth. I can appreciate the complexity of our situation but I am not a human yo-yo. You can’t keep pulling me in and pushing me away. Make up your god-damned mind!”
He doesn’t mean to be so volatile, but she has always had the ability to send his emotions racing and he struggles to keep them in check.
She takes a deep breath and exhales shakily. “What I mean is we can’t do this here,” she emphasizes softly, eyes indicating their surroundings. Elizabeth arches one eyebrow and openly looks him up and down before continuing. “I was just going to suggest that we take it out of the hallway.”
For a heartbeat he can do nothing but blink at her stupidly. When he finally gathers the courage to look her in the eye he finds her grinning slyly up at him.
She grabs his hand and tugs him down the hall.
--5
It’s 0200 hours when John and his team finally make it back to Atlantis. The mission itself shouldn’t have taken that long, but Rodney ended up sticking his foot squarely in his mouth and insulting the local leader - who happened to have a very low tolerance for McKay prattle as well as an insatiable urge to test out his new jail cell. Fortunately they’d been able to contact Elizabeth and she had spoken with the high counsel, managing to reduce the team's incarceration to little more than a timeout.
Regardless, the last seven hours were particularly unpleasant for the off-world team.
“Look, I don’t know how many more times I can say it,” McKay offers apologetically as they clear the event horizon. “I didn’t realize it was a mole, I swear.”
“McKay,” John grounds out, not slowing his pace as he heads for the weapons locker. “Give it a rest.”
“We do not hold this against you,” Teyla says diplomatically. “We are simply tired and agitated.”
Ronon grunts but John can’t be sure whether the sound is an agreement or a dissent. Probably both.
“So, we’re good?” Rodney asks hopefully. “You guys forgive me?”
“I won’t if you don't stop talking,” John snaps, discarding his gear.
“But -”
“Now.”
“Excellent, okay.” Rodney mimes zipping his lips and then scurries out of the room, John’s eyes piercing his back like daggers.
“We should have left him there,” Ronon says gruffly as he leaves, Teyla trailing behind him with a disapproving, “Ronon.”
John makes his way down the corridor and waves his hand across the sensor when he arrives at his quarters. The door slides open with a soft hiss, revealing a darkened room. He sheds his clothing and makes his way to the bed, gently prodding the bundle inside.
“Elizabeth,” he says softly, “you’re hogging the bed. Move over.”
She stirs, but makes no other indication that she’s aware of his presence.
“Elizabeth,” he sings.
A dark head of curls pokes out from beneath the blankets, slitted eyes blinking groggily up at him.
“Scoot over,” he tries again.
“Mrmpht.”
“What?” She still hasn’t moved.
“Nrrfmd.”
They really need to get a bigger bed. “Elizabeth, you’re all diagonal and I can’t get in bed. I’m cold, I’m tired and I'm slightly cranky. Can you just slide over?”
“Mrmpht.”
He’d be irritated if she wasn't so cute. “All right, you leave me no choice.” He throws back the covers and leans down, slipping his hands beneath her and lifting her out of the bed. He gently deposits her far enough to the side that there's space for him to squeeze onto the mattress.
John settles in beside her with a contented hum, pulling the blankets tightly around them and burrowing in close to the warmth of her body. “Love you,” he whispers in her ear.
“Vutoo.”
Rating: PG13
Pairing: John/Elizabeth
A/N: In response to a prompt from Irony_Rocks. Flist!Love is what this is. I'm like a Visa rewards card. (That made sense in my head. And no, I'm not drunk.)
--1
The sounds of pounding feet and Elizabeth’s ragged breathing echo through the corridors.
“Come on, keep up,” John chides easily as he checks his watch. “We’ve only been at this for twenty minutes.”
She tips her head toward him and contorts her face in a sort of half-grimace, half-glare. He guesses that, energy allowing, she would have smacked him upside the head.
“Anyway,” he says as they round another corner and jog through a doorway leading outside, “I think we should set up a beach volleyball tournament again this year. We deserve a rematch.”
Elizabeth merely grunts.
“I know, I know, it wasn’t your fault. I’m not blaming you.” He runs in place for a moment to allow her time to catch up to him. The wind blowing off the surface of the water turns his sweat cold. “I am blaming McKay though. I mean, really, this time he can be on someone else’s team. What grown man squeals and dodges a ball that’s coming straight toward him?”
Elizabeth grunts again.
“That’s not a very flattering noise,” John teases. He tilts his head to gage her reaction and is disappointed to find that she doesn’t seem provoked. Her concentration appears to be solely on breathing.
“You’re looking a little red there, Lizzie.” John turns around until he’s jogging backward, a wide grin spread across his face. “Maybe we should do this every day?”
She halts abruptly and puts her hands on her knees, pitching her head forward with great heaving breaths.
“No stopping!” he shouts and jogs toward her, tapping his hand repeatedly on her back. “Gotta move. Gotta keep your heart rate up!”
She reaches an arm out to clutch the railing and raises her head a fraction of an inch in order to meet his eyes.
“Du kannst mich mal kreuzweise.”
--2
“You want me to what?” John asks dubiously. He’s certain he must have heard her incorrectly.
She leans forward conspiratorially. “I want you to get Teyla to stand under the mistletoe.”
Okay, he did hear her correctly, he just doesn't understand her. “Why?”
Elizabeth sighs dramatically. “Why do people normally stand under mistletoe, John?”
He discreetly places his hand on her desk to steady himself. This can't be right. “To kiss.”
She nods eagerly.
“You want me to kiss Teyla?”
She actually bursts into laughter the moment the words leave his mouth. “No, no.” She pauses for a moment and considers him thoughtfully. “I mean, you could if you wanted, I suppose.” She looks up at him quizzically. “Do you want to?”
“No!” he answers quickly, awkwardly. “No, I don’t.”
Her grin is Cheshire. “Well okay then.”
John shifts his weight. He has his assignment, he just doesn’t understand it. “Who do you want Teyla to kiss?”
“Rodney, of course.”
“Of course.” His brain catches up with his mouth. “McKay?”
“Do you know another Rodney?”
“What? Why in the world would Teyla want to kiss McKay?” He can’t help the disgusted look that flits over his face.
She shrugs her shoulders lightly and reaches to straighten a stack of files. “Because he’s cute.”
John takes a step forward and presses the back of his hand to her forehead with concern. “Elizabeth, are you feeling all right? Maybe we should have Carson check you out.”
She swats his hand away. “Yes, John, I’m fine. If you don’t want to help me I’ll get someone else to do it.”
“Help you arrange for Teyla and Rodney to kiss,” he clarifies, still uncertain as to whether or not she’s currently sane.
“Yes,” she answers simply, as if it’s the most logical thing in the world.
A thought occurs to him and his eyes widen considerably. “Did Teyla say something to you about him?”
She stands, pushing her chair away from her desk and closing the top to her computer. “She didn’t have to.”
“You just know,” he expands for her.
“I just know,” she agrees and walks out the door of her office.
John turns to follow her, his hand absently scratching his temple. “You know that Teyla wants to kiss Rodney.”
“Mmmhmm.” The sparkle in her eye is throwing him for a loop. He’s never seen this side of Elizabeth and, frankly, he’s more than a little frightened.
She stops and turns at the door of the gateroom and he comes to a halt beside her. “So you’ll do it?” she asks hopefully.
Against his better judgment he nods in the affirmative. “But if they figure out it was planned,” he points at her, shaking his finger, “you are taking full responsibility."
“It's a deal,” she smiles and then looks up. “Well, would you look at that.”
His eyes follow hers and land on a bright green sprig of plastic mistletoe. Wow. She really is a schemer. But who is he to foil her plans?
--3
After a moment’s hesitation Elizabeth lets out a breath. “No.”
John leans forward to protest but Rodney beats him to it. “No?”
“No,” she repeats firmly. “I will not authorize this mission.”
“Why in the hell not?” John erupts, causing Elizabeth to bristle.
“Because,” she answers tightly.
“The information we would retrieve could be invaluable. It could tell us everything we ever wanted to know about the Genii and their plans for interplanetary domination.”
“I understand that, Rodney.”
“I don't think you do,” John interjects heatedly. “If you did, you’d authorize this mission.”
“We’re passing up on an incredible opportunity,” Rodney adds on a whimper.
Elizabeth stands and gathers her things, indicating that the briefing is over. “Dismissed.”
She turns on her heel and breezes out of the room. John cuts a quick glance to Rodney before following after her.
“Dismissed?” he asks as he crosses the gangway and into her office. “When was the last time you dismissed us like we were your subordinates?”
She drops into her chair and lifts her head to look him directly in the eye. “You are my subordinate, Colonel.”
“We're a team, Elizabeth,” he counters, stepping up to her desk and perching on the edge. “Partners.”
Her gaze slides away from his, drifting to the surface of her desk as she leans back in her chair with a sigh. “Technically that’s not the case.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. Sure, it isn't technically true, but it is the way they’ve operated since they learned how to balance one another in those first few years. “So, you’re just going to blow this one off.”
He can see her jaw clenching. “If that’s what you want to call it, yes.” Her voice is flat.
He grips the edge of her desk and leans forward. “I understand that it’s a dangerous mission, but that’s why I’d be the only one going.”
Elizabeth’s eyes flick up from their focal point on her monitor. “It’s reckless.”
The implications of that statement infuriate him. “I can pull it off. I’ll slip in and out and they won’t even realize I was there until they go to look for the device. I’ve done this kind of thing before.”
“No.”
“You don’t trust me,” he spits the words bitterly, shoving himself from her desk. “After all we’ve been through, you don’t think I'm capable of doing my job.”
Her hand moves to her forehead, as if she could rub the headache away - which infuriates him even more. “John, you don’t -”
“Oh, I get it,” he cuts her off, “I do. I guess I was under the impression that you thought more highly of me.” He turns toward the door. “I was wrong.”
“John,” she calls as she stands, “it's not that.”
He keeps walking. Of course that’s it, he tells himself as her voice fades in the distance. What else could it be?
--4
He pulls her to him and turns, backing her into the wall without breaking contact. Her lips are warm and sweet and he doesn’t ever want to taste anything but her for as long as he lives.
“John,” she whispers as she drags her mouth away, “we shouldn’t -” She can’t finish her thought as his hands slide under her shirt, teasing the soft skin of her stomach. Goose bumps ripple under his palms and a moan escapes from the back of her throat. His mouth trails hungry kisses down the side of her neck as his hands travel up her ribs, her skin hot to his touch.
“John,” she practically pants as she tilts her head to allow him better access, “we can’t.”
He’s had a number of relationships with women throughout his life - his mother, his younger sister, several girlfriends - so he’s not unaccustomed to the ability of the female to say one thing and mean another. In this particular case, he opts to listen to her body instead of her words. Her body definitely needs to be afforded the opportunity to do the talking once in a while.
Restless, he pushes back into her and runs his lips along her jaw to her ear. His fingers find the clasp of her bra, unfastening it with a practiced ease. She grips reflexively on his shoulders as his hands slide down her back to drag at the hem of her t-shirt, but before he can get it more than halfway up, she’s pulling away.
“John,” she repeats, more forcefully this time and her hand comes to rest on his chest. “Stop.”
Her eyes drift open and come into focus; he can see rationality returning to their green depths.
“John,” she says slowly, solemnly.
He tenses instinctively. His blood is pumping at an accelerated rate and he’s practically shaking with anticipation. “Elizabeth,” he growls. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Her body pulls away from him and she tugs awkwardly at her shirt. “John we can’t -”
His heart sinks in bitter, dizzying disappointment. “Can’t? This again? How many times do we have to have this conversation?” His ears are burning and his fists are clenching as he takes a step away from her. He sucks air through his teeth, his jaw set so hard that the muscles cramp. “We can’t keep going around in circles, Elizabeth. I can appreciate the complexity of our situation but I am not a human yo-yo. You can’t keep pulling me in and pushing me away. Make up your god-damned mind!”
He doesn’t mean to be so volatile, but she has always had the ability to send his emotions racing and he struggles to keep them in check.
She takes a deep breath and exhales shakily. “What I mean is we can’t do this here,” she emphasizes softly, eyes indicating their surroundings. Elizabeth arches one eyebrow and openly looks him up and down before continuing. “I was just going to suggest that we take it out of the hallway.”
For a heartbeat he can do nothing but blink at her stupidly. When he finally gathers the courage to look her in the eye he finds her grinning slyly up at him.
She grabs his hand and tugs him down the hall.
--5
It’s 0200 hours when John and his team finally make it back to Atlantis. The mission itself shouldn’t have taken that long, but Rodney ended up sticking his foot squarely in his mouth and insulting the local leader - who happened to have a very low tolerance for McKay prattle as well as an insatiable urge to test out his new jail cell. Fortunately they’d been able to contact Elizabeth and she had spoken with the high counsel, managing to reduce the team's incarceration to little more than a timeout.
Regardless, the last seven hours were particularly unpleasant for the off-world team.
“Look, I don’t know how many more times I can say it,” McKay offers apologetically as they clear the event horizon. “I didn’t realize it was a mole, I swear.”
“McKay,” John grounds out, not slowing his pace as he heads for the weapons locker. “Give it a rest.”
“We do not hold this against you,” Teyla says diplomatically. “We are simply tired and agitated.”
Ronon grunts but John can’t be sure whether the sound is an agreement or a dissent. Probably both.
“So, we’re good?” Rodney asks hopefully. “You guys forgive me?”
“I won’t if you don't stop talking,” John snaps, discarding his gear.
“But -”
“Now.”
“Excellent, okay.” Rodney mimes zipping his lips and then scurries out of the room, John’s eyes piercing his back like daggers.
“We should have left him there,” Ronon says gruffly as he leaves, Teyla trailing behind him with a disapproving, “Ronon.”
John makes his way down the corridor and waves his hand across the sensor when he arrives at his quarters. The door slides open with a soft hiss, revealing a darkened room. He sheds his clothing and makes his way to the bed, gently prodding the bundle inside.
“Elizabeth,” he says softly, “you’re hogging the bed. Move over.”
She stirs, but makes no other indication that she’s aware of his presence.
“Elizabeth,” he sings.
A dark head of curls pokes out from beneath the blankets, slitted eyes blinking groggily up at him.
“Scoot over,” he tries again.
“Mrmpht.”
“What?” She still hasn’t moved.
“Nrrfmd.”
They really need to get a bigger bed. “Elizabeth, you’re all diagonal and I can’t get in bed. I’m cold, I’m tired and I'm slightly cranky. Can you just slide over?”
“Mrmpht.”
He’d be irritated if she wasn't so cute. “All right, you leave me no choice.” He throws back the covers and leans down, slipping his hands beneath her and lifting her out of the bed. He gently deposits her far enough to the side that there's space for him to squeeze onto the mattress.
John settles in beside her with a contented hum, pulling the blankets tightly around them and burrowing in close to the warmth of her body. “Love you,” he whispers in her ear.
“Vutoo.”