[ooc; nexus100; 034]
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Characters: Elizabeth Weir and Cameron Mitchell
Prompt: Not Enough
Word Count: 301
Rating: PG-13
Summary: This isn't how it went.
Author's Notes: As shown by that one narrative I wrote for Turkey, I really enjoy using dreams as plot devices.
It's 1999. Her hotel room is mostly still packed -- she doesn't intend to be staying terribly long. Long enough to get this over and done with. Simon is waiting for her answer back in DC; she thinks she knows, now, what that answer will be. She just has to ... get to a place where she can give it to him. And that means she has to have this conversation with Cameron.
There's a knock on the door. She answers, knowing as she does who it is, and manages to half-smile at him. He doesn't seem to notice the tension -- she knows he must, because he always does, but he doesn't seem to. Instead, he wraps his arms around her waist and kicks the door shut, walking her backwards. "Well, hello there."
"I missed you," she says, and that's wrong, that's not what she said, she didn't say that.
He grins, which isn't right either, and brushes her hair -- still so long -- back from her face with one hand, the other resting in the small of her back. "Good. I missed you, too."
The rest of the conversation is a blur of this-didn't-happen and Elizabeth doesn't know who started it when she finds herself on the hotel bed, her shirt half open and her hair halo'd out on the pillow underneath her, or how it can possibly be that he's kissing her throat and not walking away -- he was supposed to be gone by now this isn't how it went. She pushes on him until he pulls back, both of them puzzled.
"This isn't what happened," she insists.
"This is better."
When she wakes up, suddenly, the new day tastes bitter in her mouth.
Characters: Elizabeth Weir and Cameron Mitchell
Prompt: Not Enough
Word Count: 301
Rating: PG-13
Summary: This isn't how it went.
Author's Notes: As shown by that one narrative I wrote for Turkey, I really enjoy using dreams as plot devices.
It's 1999. Her hotel room is mostly still packed -- she doesn't intend to be staying terribly long. Long enough to get this over and done with. Simon is waiting for her answer back in DC; she thinks she knows, now, what that answer will be. She just has to ... get to a place where she can give it to him. And that means she has to have this conversation with Cameron.
There's a knock on the door. She answers, knowing as she does who it is, and manages to half-smile at him. He doesn't seem to notice the tension -- she knows he must, because he always does, but he doesn't seem to. Instead, he wraps his arms around her waist and kicks the door shut, walking her backwards. "Well, hello there."
"I missed you," she says, and that's wrong, that's not what she said, she didn't say that.
He grins, which isn't right either, and brushes her hair -- still so long -- back from her face with one hand, the other resting in the small of her back. "Good. I missed you, too."
The rest of the conversation is a blur of this-didn't-happen and Elizabeth doesn't know who started it when she finds herself on the hotel bed, her shirt half open and her hair halo'd out on the pillow underneath her, or how it can possibly be that he's kissing her throat and not walking away -- he was supposed to be gone by now this isn't how it went. She pushes on him until he pulls back, both of them puzzled.
"This isn't what happened," she insists.
"This is better."
When she wakes up, suddenly, the new day tastes bitter in her mouth.