Drabblish-type things, part II
So, Michelle, what did you accomplish this week? Why, I wrote 4,000 words of request ficlets. How about you? *rolls eyes at self*
In this installment: Michelle tries out a new fandom, remembers an old Voyager ep (the one with Chakotay, Paris, shoes and the ferengi), and gets her Atlantis het on.
No spoilers that I'm aware of, nothing explicit. Two kisses and a bit of fondling.
Baby's first NCIS.
Tony stirred the sauce, more for entertainment value than any actual need. It was done, just keeping warm at a slow simmer, and he didn't want to start the spaghetti until Gibbs actually got there.
He pulled the spoon from the pot, tapped it hard once, twice against the side, and then lifted it towards his face.
"Like a virgin, touched for the very first time." He coughed as his falsetto climbed a little too high. He shifted to the other side of the kitchen, crossing his arms so the spoon stuck safely to one side.
"What the hell are you doing, DiNozzo," Tony growled. He smiled, then got himself back into character and returned to the stove.
"Uh, nothing Boss, I mean, Jethro. I was just cookin' us up some grub."
Back to the door frame. "To Madonna? Is there something I should know about you, Tony?"
To the stove again, giving the pot a quick swirl before he faced his ghost-Gibbs. "You know who Madonna is, Boss? I'm impressed."
Flick of the spoon and back to the other side of the room. "You know what a virgin is, DiNozzo?"
Tony laughed to himself, then froze as that damn chill crept across the back of his neck.
"Whatcha doing, Tony?"
He turned slowly, smiling sheepishly at Gibbs, who was watching him with that indulgent grin that usually preceded a thwap to the head. "Just keeping myself entertained while I was cooking."
Gibbs smiled. He leaned forward, flicking his thumb across Tony's chin. "You might try keeping the sauce in the pot," he said, and then leaned in for a kiss.
The rest are Atlantis.
Elizabeth rubbed at the goosebumps on her arms, deciding that she needed to keep a spare jacket in her office from now on. Atlantis was always a comfortable temperature, but it still felt chilly in the middle of the night with nothing on but her pajamas.
She glanced down as they crossed a particularly cool patch of decking. A pair of socks in her bottom drawer might not go amiss, either.
"Is something wrong, Ma'am?"
Elizabeth shook her head and smiled over at Lorne. "No, just lost in thought. I'm sure I can make it from here on my own, Major."
He shook his head. "No can do, Ma'am. The colonel's orders."
She sighed, not really willing to get into an argument over the tangle of command, not when she didn't mind his company at all. It had been a long night, and while they were sure the threat had past, John had still been wary enough to send Lorne along with her. Still, she didn't like the feeling of being coddled.
"I'm sure this wasn't what you expected to be doing when you signed on for the expedition," she prodded, unable to help herself.
His lips barely lifted on one side, but his eyes gleamed as he looked over at her. "Walking a beautiful woman to her room at night? No ma'am, those are the assignments we only dream of."
Elizabeth laughed, and he grinned before focusing back on the darkened hall in front of them. They walked the last few yards in silence. She tapped the control pad and waited while he checked out the room.
"All clear, Ma'am."
She nodded and stepped inside with relief, hoping for at least of few good hours of sleep. "Thank you, Major. Good night."
He nodded, but paused on the threshold.
"Was there something else?"
That same warm, teasing smile broke out on his face. "I like the purple," he said, and stepped back with a sharp salute. He spun on his heel and marched back the way he came.
Elizabeth watched him until he was out of sight, then let herself giggle as she glanced down at the sparkle on her toes.
Teyla ducked into the guest hut, stumbling over the shadows on the floor, her feet as numb as her heart. She still could not truly grasp Halling's words, yet they had shattered her anyway.
"Teyla! What's wrong?"
She looked up, sluggishly focusing on Rodney in front of her. "Nothing," she murmured. "I am fine."
He blinked back at her, blatant disbelief on his face. She wondered if he would rail at her for her stupid words. She crossed her arms in preparation, unsure if she could stand even that little more.
Instead, his eyes dropped to her bare arms. "You're freezing," he said, like she was in danger of succumbing to a deathly chill. "What are you doing out dressed like that?"
Teyla shook her head. "I left my jacket behind," she said, just now remembering.
Rodney scoffed, but he unzipped his fluffy jacket wordlessly. She thought he might hand it to her, but he simply parted the orange fleece and drew her forward into a hug. He wrapped the edges of the jacket around her back, and the warmth of his hands seeped into the area that it did not cover. Teyla took a shuddering breath, then buried her face in his neck as she clung to the heat of his body.
The numbness started to fade.
"Relax, McKay. I'm sure your delicate feet will recover from a little dirt."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "A little dirt? Did you know there are organisms that can burrow up through your feet and do all sorts of horribly disgusting things to your body? I wouldn't be surprised if this place is loaded with them."
John had the decency to look creeped out before he squared his shoulders and marched on like a good little soldier. "I'm sure Carson will have some handy Ancient gadget to cure us if that happens-which it won't," he added the instant Rodney opened his mouth. "Right now we have to concentrate on getting back to Atlantis. Which means shut up and think of a way to get into that temple."
Rodney glared, but John smiled like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. He wasn't sure why that should turn him on the way it did, but it was enough of a distraction that his irritation slipped away enough for him to think. The shoe bartering was the latest in a line of irritating but non-life-threatening events; once he got out of here he was going to take a very hot, very disinfecting shower, eat a week's worth of rations, and get some make-up sex. Definitely in that order.
"Well?" John cocked an eyebrow. "Does that constipated look mean you've thought of something?"
Rodney grinned smugly as the answer came to him. "As a matter of fact, yes."
John tugged. Teyla didn't let go. He tugged again--and his fingers slipped on the slick plastic of the container. It jerked in her firm grip, flipping upwards and spewing the contents all over her chest, throat, and chin. There was a freckling of sauce across her cheeks, and a few strands of pasta clung to her hair.
John stepped back, slowly, feeling like a lion-tamer who'd just stepped on a tail.
Teyla didn't say anything. The look on her face was enough. John swallowed hard as she stood up, her chair jerking across the floor with grating squeals. She turned and stalked out of the room.
John bit his lip to contain a hysterical laugh as a noodle hit the floor behind her. After the urge passed, he sighed and rubbed his forehead. Not good. He should have stopped while he was ahead, but he'd wanted to cheer her up, joke her out of her mood. Now he'd made a mess of things--literally.
He debated throwing in the towel and hoping that an apology once she cooled down would be enough. But she hadn't just looked angry. She'd looked hurt, too.
John made up his mind. He grabbed his peace offering, then headed for her quarters.
Teyla answered the door on his third knock, still looking disgruntled. She'd changed tops, and the ends of her hair were wet.
"Hey," he said. "I'm really, really sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen."
Teyla sighed and moved aside to let him in. "I am aware of that. But sometimes..."
John held up a hand. "I know. I'm sorry for that, too."
She smiled, just enough to let him know that things would be okay. John pulled his other hand from behind his back, showing her the softening tub of ice cream.
"I thought maybe you could get a little payback?"
Teyla laughed. "And you just happened to pick my favorite flavor."
John winked. "Well, I figured we could have some fun with the clean-up."
She grabbed the container, eyeing him up and down with a devilish smile.
Oh, yeah. Definitely the right decision.
Elizabeth turned. Sure enough, Ronon was a few feet behind her. He'd spun as soon as she did, and now he was staring at one of the bubbling columns like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.
She opened her mouth, but decided that 'are you following me' was a little too accusatory, so she turned around and went on her way. If he wanted something from her, he could do what everyone else did and ask.
She didn't think anything more about it until the next afternoon, when she rounded a corner and found Ronon inspecting the door to the balcony. Running into him had to be coincidental this time, so she gave in to her curiosity.
"Is something wrong?"
He looked over at her with a small smile and shook his head. "Just checking things out."
"Oh. Well, carry on, then." They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then Elizabeth mentally shook herself and continued on her way.
It took her a full minute to remember where she was going.
When she found him outside her quarters that evening, she decided she wasn't being paranoid. "Ronon, are you following me?"
He dipped his head. Normally Elizabeth would have taken that as guilt, but Ronon just looked young and oddly shy. On an impulse, she reached out, touching his wrist lightly.
The light in his eyes when he looked up was anything but timid.
"My people are my responsibility." Teyla was nearly growling, but she did not care. She shoved him back against his desk.
He retaliated by grabbing her wrist and pulling her forward with an ankle around her knee. "And my people are my responsibility."
"Fine," she said, fisting handfuls of his shirt. She could feel him shiver as her fingers dragged on his skin beneath the cloth.
"Good," he spat back, and buried his free hand in her hair.
The kiss was as angry as they were, all teeth and a ferocious play for dominance. She yanked at the front of his shirt, determined to rend it from him. He let go of her hair and set to work on the clasp of her pants.
Teyla gasped as his teeth found her throat. She knew this would not resolve their differences, but at least it might make working with him less fraught.
His fingers found just the right spot, and she quit thinking.
Whoo! Done!
In this installment: Michelle tries out a new fandom, remembers an old Voyager ep (the one with Chakotay, Paris, shoes and the ferengi), and gets her Atlantis het on.
No spoilers that I'm aware of, nothing explicit. Two kisses and a bit of fondling.
Baby's first NCIS.
Tony stirred the sauce, more for entertainment value than any actual need. It was done, just keeping warm at a slow simmer, and he didn't want to start the spaghetti until Gibbs actually got there.
He pulled the spoon from the pot, tapped it hard once, twice against the side, and then lifted it towards his face.
"Like a virgin, touched for the very first time." He coughed as his falsetto climbed a little too high. He shifted to the other side of the kitchen, crossing his arms so the spoon stuck safely to one side.
"What the hell are you doing, DiNozzo," Tony growled. He smiled, then got himself back into character and returned to the stove.
"Uh, nothing Boss, I mean, Jethro. I was just cookin' us up some grub."
Back to the door frame. "To Madonna? Is there something I should know about you, Tony?"
To the stove again, giving the pot a quick swirl before he faced his ghost-Gibbs. "You know who Madonna is, Boss? I'm impressed."
Flick of the spoon and back to the other side of the room. "You know what a virgin is, DiNozzo?"
Tony laughed to himself, then froze as that damn chill crept across the back of his neck.
"Whatcha doing, Tony?"
He turned slowly, smiling sheepishly at Gibbs, who was watching him with that indulgent grin that usually preceded a thwap to the head. "Just keeping myself entertained while I was cooking."
Gibbs smiled. He leaned forward, flicking his thumb across Tony's chin. "You might try keeping the sauce in the pot," he said, and then leaned in for a kiss.
The rest are Atlantis.
Elizabeth rubbed at the goosebumps on her arms, deciding that she needed to keep a spare jacket in her office from now on. Atlantis was always a comfortable temperature, but it still felt chilly in the middle of the night with nothing on but her pajamas.
She glanced down as they crossed a particularly cool patch of decking. A pair of socks in her bottom drawer might not go amiss, either.
"Is something wrong, Ma'am?"
Elizabeth shook her head and smiled over at Lorne. "No, just lost in thought. I'm sure I can make it from here on my own, Major."
He shook his head. "No can do, Ma'am. The colonel's orders."
She sighed, not really willing to get into an argument over the tangle of command, not when she didn't mind his company at all. It had been a long night, and while they were sure the threat had past, John had still been wary enough to send Lorne along with her. Still, she didn't like the feeling of being coddled.
"I'm sure this wasn't what you expected to be doing when you signed on for the expedition," she prodded, unable to help herself.
His lips barely lifted on one side, but his eyes gleamed as he looked over at her. "Walking a beautiful woman to her room at night? No ma'am, those are the assignments we only dream of."
Elizabeth laughed, and he grinned before focusing back on the darkened hall in front of them. They walked the last few yards in silence. She tapped the control pad and waited while he checked out the room.
"All clear, Ma'am."
She nodded and stepped inside with relief, hoping for at least of few good hours of sleep. "Thank you, Major. Good night."
He nodded, but paused on the threshold.
"Was there something else?"
That same warm, teasing smile broke out on his face. "I like the purple," he said, and stepped back with a sharp salute. He spun on his heel and marched back the way he came.
Elizabeth watched him until he was out of sight, then let herself giggle as she glanced down at the sparkle on her toes.
Teyla ducked into the guest hut, stumbling over the shadows on the floor, her feet as numb as her heart. She still could not truly grasp Halling's words, yet they had shattered her anyway.
"Teyla! What's wrong?"
She looked up, sluggishly focusing on Rodney in front of her. "Nothing," she murmured. "I am fine."
He blinked back at her, blatant disbelief on his face. She wondered if he would rail at her for her stupid words. She crossed her arms in preparation, unsure if she could stand even that little more.
Instead, his eyes dropped to her bare arms. "You're freezing," he said, like she was in danger of succumbing to a deathly chill. "What are you doing out dressed like that?"
Teyla shook her head. "I left my jacket behind," she said, just now remembering.
Rodney scoffed, but he unzipped his fluffy jacket wordlessly. She thought he might hand it to her, but he simply parted the orange fleece and drew her forward into a hug. He wrapped the edges of the jacket around her back, and the warmth of his hands seeped into the area that it did not cover. Teyla took a shuddering breath, then buried her face in his neck as she clung to the heat of his body.
The numbness started to fade.
"Relax, McKay. I'm sure your delicate feet will recover from a little dirt."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "A little dirt? Did you know there are organisms that can burrow up through your feet and do all sorts of horribly disgusting things to your body? I wouldn't be surprised if this place is loaded with them."
John had the decency to look creeped out before he squared his shoulders and marched on like a good little soldier. "I'm sure Carson will have some handy Ancient gadget to cure us if that happens-which it won't," he added the instant Rodney opened his mouth. "Right now we have to concentrate on getting back to Atlantis. Which means shut up and think of a way to get into that temple."
Rodney glared, but John smiled like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. He wasn't sure why that should turn him on the way it did, but it was enough of a distraction that his irritation slipped away enough for him to think. The shoe bartering was the latest in a line of irritating but non-life-threatening events; once he got out of here he was going to take a very hot, very disinfecting shower, eat a week's worth of rations, and get some make-up sex. Definitely in that order.
"Well?" John cocked an eyebrow. "Does that constipated look mean you've thought of something?"
Rodney grinned smugly as the answer came to him. "As a matter of fact, yes."
John tugged. Teyla didn't let go. He tugged again--and his fingers slipped on the slick plastic of the container. It jerked in her firm grip, flipping upwards and spewing the contents all over her chest, throat, and chin. There was a freckling of sauce across her cheeks, and a few strands of pasta clung to her hair.
John stepped back, slowly, feeling like a lion-tamer who'd just stepped on a tail.
Teyla didn't say anything. The look on her face was enough. John swallowed hard as she stood up, her chair jerking across the floor with grating squeals. She turned and stalked out of the room.
John bit his lip to contain a hysterical laugh as a noodle hit the floor behind her. After the urge passed, he sighed and rubbed his forehead. Not good. He should have stopped while he was ahead, but he'd wanted to cheer her up, joke her out of her mood. Now he'd made a mess of things--literally.
He debated throwing in the towel and hoping that an apology once she cooled down would be enough. But she hadn't just looked angry. She'd looked hurt, too.
John made up his mind. He grabbed his peace offering, then headed for her quarters.
Teyla answered the door on his third knock, still looking disgruntled. She'd changed tops, and the ends of her hair were wet.
"Hey," he said. "I'm really, really sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen."
Teyla sighed and moved aside to let him in. "I am aware of that. But sometimes..."
John held up a hand. "I know. I'm sorry for that, too."
She smiled, just enough to let him know that things would be okay. John pulled his other hand from behind his back, showing her the softening tub of ice cream.
"I thought maybe you could get a little payback?"
Teyla laughed. "And you just happened to pick my favorite flavor."
John winked. "Well, I figured we could have some fun with the clean-up."
She grabbed the container, eyeing him up and down with a devilish smile.
Oh, yeah. Definitely the right decision.
Elizabeth turned. Sure enough, Ronon was a few feet behind her. He'd spun as soon as she did, and now he was staring at one of the bubbling columns like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.
She opened her mouth, but decided that 'are you following me' was a little too accusatory, so she turned around and went on her way. If he wanted something from her, he could do what everyone else did and ask.
She didn't think anything more about it until the next afternoon, when she rounded a corner and found Ronon inspecting the door to the balcony. Running into him had to be coincidental this time, so she gave in to her curiosity.
"Is something wrong?"
He looked over at her with a small smile and shook his head. "Just checking things out."
"Oh. Well, carry on, then." They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then Elizabeth mentally shook herself and continued on her way.
It took her a full minute to remember where she was going.
When she found him outside her quarters that evening, she decided she wasn't being paranoid. "Ronon, are you following me?"
He dipped his head. Normally Elizabeth would have taken that as guilt, but Ronon just looked young and oddly shy. On an impulse, she reached out, touching his wrist lightly.
The light in his eyes when he looked up was anything but timid.
"My people are my responsibility." Teyla was nearly growling, but she did not care. She shoved him back against his desk.
He retaliated by grabbing her wrist and pulling her forward with an ankle around her knee. "And my people are my responsibility."
"Fine," she said, fisting handfuls of his shirt. She could feel him shiver as her fingers dragged on his skin beneath the cloth.
"Good," he spat back, and buried his free hand in her hair.
The kiss was as angry as they were, all teeth and a ferocious play for dominance. She yanked at the front of his shirt, determined to rend it from him. He let go of her hair and set to work on the clasp of her pants.
Teyla gasped as his teeth found her throat. She knew this would not resolve their differences, but at least it might make working with him less fraught.
His fingers found just the right spot, and she quit thinking.
Whoo! Done!