Hanging Around Together
Title: Hanging Around Together
Series: SG-1/SGA Fusion
Characters: Jon O’Neill (clone), Alison Porter, OC
Pairings: Jon/Alison
Rating: PG
Orientation: Het
Word Count: 960
Notes: for emeraldsnakes , though this came out completely different than the scene I had in my head.
Prompts:
Kinkbingo fill: “Bondage (other)”
HCbingo fill: “Hostages”
“So, how are you settling in, Jon?” Doctor Holstein pulled on leg up, folded it across his opposite knee and resting his notepad on it.
“Okay, I guess. Lots of new stuff. I don’t know anyone here, so that’s both good and bad.”
“How so, Jon? Let’s explore that.”
Jon sighed. He hated therapy for so many reasons. The royal “we, us and let’s” were just some of the reasons. He was the one doing the talking, not Holstein. He resented that doctors made themselves part of the equation. “Good because no one here aside from Sheppard knows I’m a total screw up. Bad because I don’t know anyone here. Look, can we explore something else?” He tried changing the subject.
“Certainly. How is work?”
“Work is better. I’ve been assigned to a Gate team, finally. I’ll be reporting to Major Teldy tomorrow for an away mission.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
Jon rolled his eyes, slumped down on the couch cushions some more and prepared to suffer the remaining forty eight minutes of his session as best he could.
~*~
“I don’t believe this shit!” John exclaimed as he stared up at the rope. It disappeared up and over a thick wooden rafter. He looked down into the face of his teammate, Doctor Porter. “Do you believe this shit?”
Jon wriggled in the ropes and Doctor Porter lifted her knee and nudged him with it. “Would you stop that, Lieutenant? Where do you think you’ll go if you get loose?” She looked down towards their feet and gave him a dirty look. “Do you want to fall and break both our necks?”
“Sorry, natural inclination. I’m tied up, I try to get loose.” They were tied chest to chest, the ropes looping around them. “The one between my legs is annoying.” She gave him another dirty look.
“Will Atlantis pay the ransom or send help?” Doctor Porter asked.
Jon shrugged. “Hard to tell. I don’t know Sheppard or Woolsey well enough to fathom a guess. Pegasus seems to have a share of cheesy types too, isn’t this all a bit Saturday Matinee?”
“I am tied up and suspended over a pit, I don’t care how cliché it is, I want to get out of it.” She sure had a stockpile of dirty looks, each and every one was unique, Jon thought.
He gave her his cheesiest and smarmiest grin. “So, come here often?”
She ignored him. “I’ve never been a hostage before.”
“I have. Nothing to do but sit and wait. Or in this case, hang out and wait. Oh, c’mon Doc, you gotta admit that was funny!”
Shifting again to let some of the tension off his left arm, he realized that a particularly troublesome portion of his anatomy intimately pressed against her belly. That knowledge made things worse. Infinitely worse as her chin came up and she glared at him. “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”
Jon shrugged and gave her a grin. “Friction?” He wriggled and she shot him yet another dirty look. “I can’t help it.”
She closed her eyes and seemed to count to fifty or so. When she spoke again, it was not what he would have expected her to say. “So, you like being tied up?”
He gulped. “Sometimes. It depends on the circumstances. At the moment, I am tightly bound to a very beautiful woman, and no one is shooting at me. Portions of my anatomy take that as acceptable circumstances.”
Her tongue darted out and she moistened her lips. “You think I’m beautiful?”
“Well, yeah.”
The next time one of them shifted, she didn’t give him a dirty look. In fact she gave him an appraising glance and moved purposely to cause more friction.
“Talk to me some more, Lieutenant, it makes me less nervous.”
“Sure, Doctor Porter, what shall we talk about?”
“Call me Alison, Lieutenant.”
“Call me Jon, Alison. What shall we discuss? The weather? The scenery? Or something controversial like politics or religion?”
“Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?”
“How about those Yankees, think they’ll beat Boston this year?”
They continued on, discussing nothing of any importance. Mess hall food, uniforms, plants, schools, books, movies and music; if it was inane and pointless, they brought it up. It passed the time and became a game. The game soothed both of their nerves. It meant nothing, yet in a way, it meant everything, because it was keeping them calm and sane through the long hours of waiting.
There was a clattering below and to the left of them. Jon glanced down and smiled in relief to see Lieutenant Colonel Lorne and AG-2 standing on the platform. “I think we’re being rescued, Alison.”
“Finally.”
“Not that hanging with you hasn’t been fun, but I’m really glad to be leaving.” He said, smiling down into her face. The rope began to move and they were slowly lowered and pulled to the side.
“I would have to agree with you, Jon.” Just as relieved as he was, she smiled broadly.
The ropes were removed and they stood rubbing circulation back into each other’s arms as Colonel Lorne discussed the terms that had been agreed upon for their release.
“We’ve been traded for a sack of beans, Alison!” Jon leaned over and whispered into her ear.
“What, no cow? I’m worth at least a cow!” She whispered back with mock affrontery.
“Or at the very least a goat,” Jon said and then asked, “ So, maybe dinner some night?”
She smiled at him and shook her head. “Maybe, some night. How about Thursday? We might be able to engineer some other acceptable circumstances for you.”
“That would be… acceptable.” He whistled and followed the team as they headed towards the Gate.