[SGA] Untitled Weir/Sumner ficlet, Part 1
This is Contracts, trust me.
No, actually it's a Weir/Sumner ficlet I wrote for raisintorte over AIM. No sex, much schmoop. I guess I had to make up for the angst of "One Thousand Lives"?
Background:
It's set in the same continuity as the last one - set in Hide & Seek. In this timeline, they kept up their resolve not to get involved until "Before I Sleep." After that, it was "we're the only people Earthlings in the galaxy" and "the Wraith are coming, we're all going to die" sex. And then the events we saw in Intruder happened, when Simon decided that he really liked Earth.
Sumner - Mack - opened the door fully dressed, one hand out of sight. Elizabeth looked up at him and tried to explain.
"I - I didn't know where else to go," she said.
Mack studied her, then reached out and smoothed one thumb across her cheek, wiping away the tear slipping down her face.
"Come in here," he said, dropping his hand to her shoulder and moving aside to escort her into the house.
She went, relieved to let him take charge this time, grateful he hadn't turned her away.
"All right, sit down on the couch," he suggested, closing the door behind her. His eyes were narrow with concern. "You want whiskey, or tea?"
Elizabeth wiped her palm across her other cheek and sat gingerly on the sofa. "Um. I think the whiskey," she said timidly.
"Good," Mack said. "I don't actually have any tea." He watched her for a moment. "You gonna be okay while I go get it?"
"Yes." Elizabeth nodded and suddenly felt less helpless, more centered. "Yes, I'll be fine."
Mack nodded. "Okay." He vanished into the kitchen and Elizabeth heard glass clinking. She leaned back on Mack's couch, covering her eyes with her hand. She shouldn't be here. Who runs to their fuck buddy when her lover dumps her?
"Hey." Mack's voice was low and gentle. Elizabeth dropped her hand to see him standing in front of her, a tumbler of whiskey stretched out to her. He had another in his free hand.
"Thank you," Elizabeth murmured, taking the tumbler. Mack sat down next to her and leaned his elbows on his knees.
"You want to talk about it?" he asked.
Elizabeth shook her head and took a sip of the whiskey. It was strong - old and rich and rising into her head from the very smell of it. It slipped down her throat, warm and dizzying. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice hoarse from her earlier tears. "I should leave."
"You're not going anywhere," Mack said. "Tell me what's going on."
Elizabeth took another sip of whiskey to steel herself and cleared her throat, hoping to put a detached spin to it. "Simon's not coming to Atlantis with us," she said. "His practice is - and he's found - " The words stuck in her throat and she felt hot tears welling up again.
"Elizabeth," Mack said, squaring his shoulder and straightening up.
"No, I'm sorry," Elizabeth said, wiping preemptively at her eyes. "I didn't mean to - I was just so *angry* that he hadn't said something before, that he let me believe, all this time, that he was coming with me, but he never was."
"Then he's a fool," Mack said. He sat his tumbler on the coffee table and rested his hands on Elizabeth's shoulders. "Look at me."
Elizabeth glanced up at him, then away, hating the gentle look on his face. The *pitying* look. "I should go," she said, shrugging off his hands and standing up. She took another sip of whiskey and put the glass down. "Thank you for the drink. I'm - I'm much better now. Really." The living room was dimmed, the television off. A light shone from the back bedroom. "I should let you go back to sleep."
"No," Mack said firmly, standing as well. "You're sleeping in my bed tonight."
Elizabeth blinked and opened her mouth because - that wasn't how women were spoken to in her world. This wasn't how *she* was spoken to. And yet, the urge to step forward into his arms, push her face into his shoulder -
Mack looked uncertain, an odd look for him, and said, "I might be sleeping in the guest room," he amended sheepishly, "but you're staying here tonight. And at least I know you can get some sleep in there."
Elizabeth hesitated just a beat longer, trying to remind herself that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, and then Mack stepped forward and folded his arms around her. She tilted her forehead against Mack's shoulder and took a long, shaky breath as he rubbed circles between her shoulders. She breathed in the scent of his aftershave and pressed her cheek into the fleece of his sweatshirt. She wondered how he'd spent his time on Earth, sorry that she hadn't spent time with him.
But there was Simon, and her need to make things right, to make six years matter now, and what was it for? Nothing.
"Hey," Mack said. "Look." He paused but she knew he wasn't done talking. She knew *him*. "People like us," he said slowly. "People who...go away. And come back. We change. And sometimes the people we love, they don't change with us. And it ain't their fault. But it happens, you know?"
Elizabeth closed her eyes. *People like us* he said. The distance between them, that had been there from the outset, it had closed and she'd never even noticed. It was far from the diametrically opposed views they'd had when they'd stepped through the gate. His cynicism and her idealism had met somewhere in the middle and instead of military vs. diplomat, they were something else. Explorers. Adventurers. Atlanteans.
Mack pulled back and pressed his mouth to her forehead, then, cupping her face in his hands, pressed kisses to her cheeks, the corners of her eyes, her mouth. She could taste the salt of her tears on his lips.
"You're exhausted," he said. "Let's get you tucked in. Big day tomorrow."
"I'm all right," Elizabeth said, touching the back of his hand as he dropped it from her face. But the bone-deep weariness had set in, dragging at her limbs and eyelids, the whiskey a warm, seductive argument for just closing her eyes and drifting against him.
"Come on," he said, graciously not calling her BS. He took her hand in his and tugged her toward the hallway. "I'll find you something to sleep in and change the sheets and you can still get a good five or six hours in."
"Don't change the sheets," she said immediately. "Really, it's fine. I just want to, to get a little sleep. I'll be fine in the morning."
"Of course you will," Mack said with a certainty that made her ache. The bedside table light was on and two of the drawers in Mack's bureau were open. He let go of her hand, shoved one of them shut, and started digging through the other one.
"Sorry 'bout that," he said, tilting his head at the less-than-pristine room. "Wasn't expecting company tonight."
"You don't need to apologize," Elizabeth said. "I interrupted your evening."
"Not much to interrupt," Mack said, handing her a stack of clothes topped with a bright red t-shirt. His hands lingered on hers when she took the clothes from him. "There's sweats and shorts in there in case you have a preference," he said. "You gonna be okay?"
"I'll be fine," she said, catching his hand as he stepped back. "Stay," she said boldly. She could see him hesitate and she knew why. She was supposed to be in Simon's bed tonight, not his. "Please," she said. "I sleep better when you're there." It was her ace in the hole, a dirty hand, and it worked.
"All right," he said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss into her hair. "I'm gonna lock up. You get changed. I'll be right in after you."
"Okay," she agreed and he stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Elizabeth took off the pretty blouse she'd worn for Simon, folding it carefully, and setting it on the floor beside the bed. She wasn't ever going to wear it again. She took off her shoes and slacks and unhooked her bra, folding everything into a neat pile.
The red t-shirt was soft and smelled like detergent and dryer sheets, and a little like Mack - not his aftershave or his hair gel, but the scent of his skin and of his breath on her face. It also said Marine Corps in gold letters blazoned across the front and if she wasn't so tired, she'd worry about it keeping her awake. She pulled on the mesh shorts he'd left, but even tugging at the drawstring left them loose around her hips and threatening to slide to the floor.
She shook out the sweats, but one look told her they were far too long, so she laid them across the foot of the bed, and crawled into the rumpled sheets in just his t-shirt. The pillow was dented from his head and even though the sheets had lost their warmth from his body, they still smelled like him, aftershave, hair gel, skin, and all. She closed her eyes and turned her face into the covers and before he even opened the door, she was asleep.
TBC...
I'm trying to figure out the best way to do these. Tags? Filters? Shut up and write three seasons worth of AU before posting? Hrm.
No, actually it's a Weir/Sumner ficlet I wrote for raisintorte over AIM. No sex, much schmoop. I guess I had to make up for the angst of "One Thousand Lives"?
Background:
It's set in the same continuity as the last one - set in Hide & Seek. In this timeline, they kept up their resolve not to get involved until "Before I Sleep." After that, it was "we're the only people Earthlings in the galaxy" and "the Wraith are coming, we're all going to die" sex. And then the events we saw in Intruder happened, when Simon decided that he really liked Earth.
Sumner - Mack - opened the door fully dressed, one hand out of sight. Elizabeth looked up at him and tried to explain.
"I - I didn't know where else to go," she said.
Mack studied her, then reached out and smoothed one thumb across her cheek, wiping away the tear slipping down her face.
"Come in here," he said, dropping his hand to her shoulder and moving aside to escort her into the house.
She went, relieved to let him take charge this time, grateful he hadn't turned her away.
"All right, sit down on the couch," he suggested, closing the door behind her. His eyes were narrow with concern. "You want whiskey, or tea?"
Elizabeth wiped her palm across her other cheek and sat gingerly on the sofa. "Um. I think the whiskey," she said timidly.
"Good," Mack said. "I don't actually have any tea." He watched her for a moment. "You gonna be okay while I go get it?"
"Yes." Elizabeth nodded and suddenly felt less helpless, more centered. "Yes, I'll be fine."
Mack nodded. "Okay." He vanished into the kitchen and Elizabeth heard glass clinking. She leaned back on Mack's couch, covering her eyes with her hand. She shouldn't be here. Who runs to their fuck buddy when her lover dumps her?
"Hey." Mack's voice was low and gentle. Elizabeth dropped her hand to see him standing in front of her, a tumbler of whiskey stretched out to her. He had another in his free hand.
"Thank you," Elizabeth murmured, taking the tumbler. Mack sat down next to her and leaned his elbows on his knees.
"You want to talk about it?" he asked.
Elizabeth shook her head and took a sip of the whiskey. It was strong - old and rich and rising into her head from the very smell of it. It slipped down her throat, warm and dizzying. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice hoarse from her earlier tears. "I should leave."
"You're not going anywhere," Mack said. "Tell me what's going on."
Elizabeth took another sip of whiskey to steel herself and cleared her throat, hoping to put a detached spin to it. "Simon's not coming to Atlantis with us," she said. "His practice is - and he's found - " The words stuck in her throat and she felt hot tears welling up again.
"Elizabeth," Mack said, squaring his shoulder and straightening up.
"No, I'm sorry," Elizabeth said, wiping preemptively at her eyes. "I didn't mean to - I was just so *angry* that he hadn't said something before, that he let me believe, all this time, that he was coming with me, but he never was."
"Then he's a fool," Mack said. He sat his tumbler on the coffee table and rested his hands on Elizabeth's shoulders. "Look at me."
Elizabeth glanced up at him, then away, hating the gentle look on his face. The *pitying* look. "I should go," she said, shrugging off his hands and standing up. She took another sip of whiskey and put the glass down. "Thank you for the drink. I'm - I'm much better now. Really." The living room was dimmed, the television off. A light shone from the back bedroom. "I should let you go back to sleep."
"No," Mack said firmly, standing as well. "You're sleeping in my bed tonight."
Elizabeth blinked and opened her mouth because - that wasn't how women were spoken to in her world. This wasn't how *she* was spoken to. And yet, the urge to step forward into his arms, push her face into his shoulder -
Mack looked uncertain, an odd look for him, and said, "I might be sleeping in the guest room," he amended sheepishly, "but you're staying here tonight. And at least I know you can get some sleep in there."
Elizabeth hesitated just a beat longer, trying to remind herself that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, and then Mack stepped forward and folded his arms around her. She tilted her forehead against Mack's shoulder and took a long, shaky breath as he rubbed circles between her shoulders. She breathed in the scent of his aftershave and pressed her cheek into the fleece of his sweatshirt. She wondered how he'd spent his time on Earth, sorry that she hadn't spent time with him.
But there was Simon, and her need to make things right, to make six years matter now, and what was it for? Nothing.
"Hey," Mack said. "Look." He paused but she knew he wasn't done talking. She knew *him*. "People like us," he said slowly. "People who...go away. And come back. We change. And sometimes the people we love, they don't change with us. And it ain't their fault. But it happens, you know?"
Elizabeth closed her eyes. *People like us* he said. The distance between them, that had been there from the outset, it had closed and she'd never even noticed. It was far from the diametrically opposed views they'd had when they'd stepped through the gate. His cynicism and her idealism had met somewhere in the middle and instead of military vs. diplomat, they were something else. Explorers. Adventurers. Atlanteans.
Mack pulled back and pressed his mouth to her forehead, then, cupping her face in his hands, pressed kisses to her cheeks, the corners of her eyes, her mouth. She could taste the salt of her tears on his lips.
"You're exhausted," he said. "Let's get you tucked in. Big day tomorrow."
"I'm all right," Elizabeth said, touching the back of his hand as he dropped it from her face. But the bone-deep weariness had set in, dragging at her limbs and eyelids, the whiskey a warm, seductive argument for just closing her eyes and drifting against him.
"Come on," he said, graciously not calling her BS. He took her hand in his and tugged her toward the hallway. "I'll find you something to sleep in and change the sheets and you can still get a good five or six hours in."
"Don't change the sheets," she said immediately. "Really, it's fine. I just want to, to get a little sleep. I'll be fine in the morning."
"Of course you will," Mack said with a certainty that made her ache. The bedside table light was on and two of the drawers in Mack's bureau were open. He let go of her hand, shoved one of them shut, and started digging through the other one.
"Sorry 'bout that," he said, tilting his head at the less-than-pristine room. "Wasn't expecting company tonight."
"You don't need to apologize," Elizabeth said. "I interrupted your evening."
"Not much to interrupt," Mack said, handing her a stack of clothes topped with a bright red t-shirt. His hands lingered on hers when she took the clothes from him. "There's sweats and shorts in there in case you have a preference," he said. "You gonna be okay?"
"I'll be fine," she said, catching his hand as he stepped back. "Stay," she said boldly. She could see him hesitate and she knew why. She was supposed to be in Simon's bed tonight, not his. "Please," she said. "I sleep better when you're there." It was her ace in the hole, a dirty hand, and it worked.
"All right," he said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss into her hair. "I'm gonna lock up. You get changed. I'll be right in after you."
"Okay," she agreed and he stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Elizabeth took off the pretty blouse she'd worn for Simon, folding it carefully, and setting it on the floor beside the bed. She wasn't ever going to wear it again. She took off her shoes and slacks and unhooked her bra, folding everything into a neat pile.
The red t-shirt was soft and smelled like detergent and dryer sheets, and a little like Mack - not his aftershave or his hair gel, but the scent of his skin and of his breath on her face. It also said Marine Corps in gold letters blazoned across the front and if she wasn't so tired, she'd worry about it keeping her awake. She pulled on the mesh shorts he'd left, but even tugging at the drawstring left them loose around her hips and threatening to slide to the floor.
She shook out the sweats, but one look told her they were far too long, so she laid them across the foot of the bed, and crawled into the rumpled sheets in just his t-shirt. The pillow was dented from his head and even though the sheets had lost their warmth from his body, they still smelled like him, aftershave, hair gel, skin, and all. She closed her eyes and turned her face into the covers and before he even opened the door, she was asleep.
TBC...
I'm trying to figure out the best way to do these. Tags? Filters? Shut up and write three seasons worth of AU before posting? Hrm.