fic - Détente (for S/W ficathon)
Sep. 29th, 2005 01:16 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
rosewildeirish.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
swficathonTitle: Détente
Author: Rose Wilde-Irish
Pairing: Sheppard/Weir
Rating: Adult
Spoilers: S.2 through at least Trinity
Summary: She could tell he regretted the words, but the tilt of his chin said he wasn't backing down.
Notes: for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
harsheve, who requested: a chain of command conflict between Sheppard and Weir; angsty sex; Elizabeth wearing a piece of John's clothes. Beta thanks to nikej, irishaithne and mylittleredgirl, who helped make this sooooo much better.
"I do not find that acceptable, Colonel!" Elizabeth hit the desk, aware that her voice hadn't been this loud since she'd reamed Rodney for blowing up most of a solar system. John's current proposal might not have been as drastic, but it was having the effect of making her head pound harder than she could ever remember it doing.
"Elizabeth, they have our people! We can't just sit here and-"
"Sending a strike team to get them back is a recipe for disaster, John. I'm saying no."
"And I'm saying yes." He stared at her, mouth a grim line, and folded his arms.
"We can't keep having this same argument, John. You can't keep ignoring me every time it's inconvenient. You may not like it, but I'm in charge."
"Not this time, Elizabeth."
"Not this-Do you even listen to what I have to say?" She could feel a vein in her temple throb harder.
"I always listen. I just don't always agree. And in matters military, I make the decisions, not you." She could tell he regretted the words, but the tilt of his chin said he wasn't backing down.
"I'm not going to risk more people."
"It's not your call."
"It is my call."
John sighed and slumped a little in his chair. "Elizabeth, I admit, at times I've taken charge when maybe the situation was a little grey-"
"Try a lot grey and I think we're getting closer. I can't keep doing this with you, John."
"Look, I promise to try to respect your decisions better in non-military matters. But you have to realize that when the situation calls for it, as Atlantis's military commander, I'm going to call the shots. And it doesn't get much more of a military matter than capturing our people."
Elizabeth stared at the tabletop, trying to find an argument that didn't sound like she was jealous or overly protective and failing. When it got right down to the basics, she trusted John. She liked his nontraditional thinking and felt it was the thing most likely to save them in the end, and liked the way they meshed.
Usually.
Still, she couldn't argue that this was more of a military situation than a civilian one, that it called more for force than for diplomacy. She didn't like that fact; she'd never liked that fact, but there it was. Some situations called for words and some for guns.
And they had her people.
She sighed and looked up. "Go. But be safe. And John..." Her face hardened. "I'm holding you to that part about respecting my decisions."
He reached across the table and brushed her fingers with his own. "I already do, Elizabeth." His gaze was as direct as her own, and she could feel herself soften. It wasn't fair. Dr. Elizabeth Weir, who never blinked, never backed down from a fight, was a puddle when faced with a slouching, messy-haired Air Force flyboy. She shook her head, trying to keep a frown on her face.
"Damn it, John..." He leaned in further, raising his hand to caress her cheek.
"We won't leave till dead of night planet-time, which is mid-morning here. I can think of a few things to keep me occupied from now until then, can't you?"
She leaned into the caress, closing her eyes. "Shouldn't you be going over strategy?"
"That's what the past three hours have been about."
She tilted her head, leaning out of his touch. "Get some sleep, then."
His frown was mocking now. "Not tired." He arched an eyebrow. "Help me with that?"
Elizabeth closed her eyes and shook her head, but she was smiling. "You're incorrigible, you know that, don't you?"
His smile was more of a smirk now. "So stop encouraging me."
Something in his voice made her look closer. The smirk was his mask. Underneath it she could see pain and worry, stress that he couldn't quite put aside, despite his mocking tone. His eyes were haunted. And she was helpless against that; had never managed to build defenses against him.
Because she'd never quite been able to figure out who he was.
He'd show her glimpses; she'd catch facets of him when he was with other people, especially his team. But always she was aware that there was more to John Sheppard, that the face he showed outwardly wasn't all there was to him.
When they'd started sleeping together, she told herself it was because of stress and tension and it was an affirmation of life. That it didn't mean anything.
Deep in her heart she knew that for the lie it was.
"I think you need to get some sleep, John," she said, giving him the c'mon, stop with the cute looks and do your job stare – or at least trying to.
His expression flickered and he leaned back in his chair, sighing. "Only if you insist. And if you do the same. You've been up as long as I have, Elizabeth-"
"Unlike you, I don't have to launch a surgical strike tomorrow," Elizabeth said, but she was already rising.
The walk back to her quarters with him was a familiar one; he was frequently the one to pry her from the office and put her to bed – solo or with his company. On the way they discussed his strategy for the morning's attack, and between the familiar journey and the depth of the conversation, they were inside her quarters before she noticed it.
She blinked, stopping mid-sentence as she promptly forgot what they were discussing, and glanced around the room before shooting John a guilty look.
"John," she began, but he was shaking his head.
"Don't," he said, eyes dark. "Elizabeth, I..." He paused, and she was struck by how haggard he looked. "Just don't."
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, then opened them and smiled as she crossed the two steps between them, standing close and cupping his cheek. "Okay," she said, and leaned in to kiss him.
He was startled, she could tell, because it was a beat before he responded, hungry and with the edge of something she suspected was desperation. She surrendered to his kiss, feeling her control slip almost immediately as he pressed against her, leaning her back and wrapping his arms around her, supporting her when her knees threatened to fold.
He broke the kiss smiling, still holding her close. "I can't believe you still do that."
"It's not like I've got a choice, John." She smiled back, shifting against him, enjoying the glazed look that came over him. She chuckled. "I can't believe you still do that."
He twisted against her, earning a gasp from her, and smiled wickedly before doing it again. "Uncle!" she said with a laugh, partially at the situation, partially at the expression that flashed across his face before he schooled his features.
"What say we continue this somewhere a tad more comfortable?" he asked.
"Oh, God, yes," she said, and they moved to the bed, trading kisses and caresses as they went. She ended up under him, hands unable to keep still, trying desperately to bring him closer. He groaned, rocking against her, and she slid her hands under his shirt, wrapping her legs around his own, pushing up against him as eagerly as he pressed down. He kissed her ear, using teeth to get a gasp out of her and, suddenly impatient, she reached for his pants, unbuttoning and trying to push them out of the way before reaching for her own.
He caught her wrist, hazel eyes solemn as they gazed into hers.
"I want to do this right, Elizabeth," he told her as he pulled her hand away and kissed her with surprising sweetness. He broke the kiss and leaned back, pulling off his shirt and paused, looking at her with an almost worshipful expression. She felt a sharp pain in her chest as she gazed back, feeling as though finally they were letting some defenses drop as he leaned in to kiss her again, gently removing her shirt. His eyes sought hers as the shirt cleared her head, and once again she was struck by how serious he was. "You look so beautiful," he whispered, bringing his hand up and letting his fingertips trail across her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw. She bit her lip, fighting a surge of emotion and want that his words triggered, and turned her face, kissing his hand. He ran a thumb across her lower lip and pulled his hand back, reaching down to strip the rest of his clothes off.
He ended up hovering over her, leaning down to place a kiss by her navel as he unbuttoned her pants and eased them down, licking a path lower, making her moan and fight the urge to writhe against him. It seemed forever before they were both naked and he was once again lying pressed against her, fingers stroking and lips exploring. She kissed his neck, fingers following the lines of muscle on his back as she once again wrapped legs around his, reveling in the feel of his skin, the hardness of his cock as it pressed against her. She arched against him, gasping as he found a sensitive spot, making him gasp in return. He continued to tease her, filling her with a sweet tense ache for him, tearing needy desperate noises from her as he reduced her world to the feel of her blood racing and the touch of his body.
"Please," she begged, and he kissed her hard before she could say more, entering her in a rush and thrusting deep, making her cry out as she felt his desire, flaring higher and harder than she ever recalled. They moved in a sinuous rhythm, tracing old familiar paths and mapping new ones, and as his teeth closed on the nipple he'd been teasing, she bucked against him.
"God, I love-" he began, and paused. "Love this," he finished, and she looked up to see him retreat inside himself a little.
"Me too," she told him, responding to both what was said and unsaid. He gave her a piercing look, and she was happy to see his walls collapse a little. Smiling, she leaned up to capture his lips in hers as they moved faster, building the tension and pressure higher until she cried out as she came, breathing in ragged gasps as waves of pleasure coursed through her, intensifying as she could feel him come too. His choked "Elizabeth!" sent another spike of pleasure through her, and she answered with a kiss, knowing her feelings were too close to the surface to trust with words.
It was a long time before either of them moved to separate, and longer still before she got up to head to the bathroom, pausing to pull on his tee shirt because she wanted something of his still close to her. When she was finished, she paused in the doorway, drinking in his form, bottling up her reaction until it was something she felt they could both handle, and then she crawled into bed beside him, curling up along his back and wishing tomorrow away.
~fin~
Author: Rose Wilde-Irish
Pairing: Sheppard/Weir
Rating: Adult
Spoilers: S.2 through at least Trinity
Summary: She could tell he regretted the words, but the tilt of his chin said he wasn't backing down.
Notes: for
harsheve, who requested: a chain of command conflict between Sheppard and Weir; angsty sex; Elizabeth wearing a piece of John's clothes. Beta thanks to nikej, irishaithne and mylittleredgirl, who helped make this sooooo much better."I do not find that acceptable, Colonel!" Elizabeth hit the desk, aware that her voice hadn't been this loud since she'd reamed Rodney for blowing up most of a solar system. John's current proposal might not have been as drastic, but it was having the effect of making her head pound harder than she could ever remember it doing.
"Elizabeth, they have our people! We can't just sit here and-"
"Sending a strike team to get them back is a recipe for disaster, John. I'm saying no."
"And I'm saying yes." He stared at her, mouth a grim line, and folded his arms.
"We can't keep having this same argument, John. You can't keep ignoring me every time it's inconvenient. You may not like it, but I'm in charge."
"Not this time, Elizabeth."
"Not this-Do you even listen to what I have to say?" She could feel a vein in her temple throb harder.
"I always listen. I just don't always agree. And in matters military, I make the decisions, not you." She could tell he regretted the words, but the tilt of his chin said he wasn't backing down.
"I'm not going to risk more people."
"It's not your call."
"It is my call."
John sighed and slumped a little in his chair. "Elizabeth, I admit, at times I've taken charge when maybe the situation was a little grey-"
"Try a lot grey and I think we're getting closer. I can't keep doing this with you, John."
"Look, I promise to try to respect your decisions better in non-military matters. But you have to realize that when the situation calls for it, as Atlantis's military commander, I'm going to call the shots. And it doesn't get much more of a military matter than capturing our people."
Elizabeth stared at the tabletop, trying to find an argument that didn't sound like she was jealous or overly protective and failing. When it got right down to the basics, she trusted John. She liked his nontraditional thinking and felt it was the thing most likely to save them in the end, and liked the way they meshed.
Usually.
Still, she couldn't argue that this was more of a military situation than a civilian one, that it called more for force than for diplomacy. She didn't like that fact; she'd never liked that fact, but there it was. Some situations called for words and some for guns.
And they had her people.
She sighed and looked up. "Go. But be safe. And John..." Her face hardened. "I'm holding you to that part about respecting my decisions."
He reached across the table and brushed her fingers with his own. "I already do, Elizabeth." His gaze was as direct as her own, and she could feel herself soften. It wasn't fair. Dr. Elizabeth Weir, who never blinked, never backed down from a fight, was a puddle when faced with a slouching, messy-haired Air Force flyboy. She shook her head, trying to keep a frown on her face.
"Damn it, John..." He leaned in further, raising his hand to caress her cheek.
"We won't leave till dead of night planet-time, which is mid-morning here. I can think of a few things to keep me occupied from now until then, can't you?"
She leaned into the caress, closing her eyes. "Shouldn't you be going over strategy?"
"That's what the past three hours have been about."
She tilted her head, leaning out of his touch. "Get some sleep, then."
His frown was mocking now. "Not tired." He arched an eyebrow. "Help me with that?"
Elizabeth closed her eyes and shook her head, but she was smiling. "You're incorrigible, you know that, don't you?"
His smile was more of a smirk now. "So stop encouraging me."
Something in his voice made her look closer. The smirk was his mask. Underneath it she could see pain and worry, stress that he couldn't quite put aside, despite his mocking tone. His eyes were haunted. And she was helpless against that; had never managed to build defenses against him.
Because she'd never quite been able to figure out who he was.
He'd show her glimpses; she'd catch facets of him when he was with other people, especially his team. But always she was aware that there was more to John Sheppard, that the face he showed outwardly wasn't all there was to him.
When they'd started sleeping together, she told herself it was because of stress and tension and it was an affirmation of life. That it didn't mean anything.
Deep in her heart she knew that for the lie it was.
"I think you need to get some sleep, John," she said, giving him the c'mon, stop with the cute looks and do your job stare – or at least trying to.
His expression flickered and he leaned back in his chair, sighing. "Only if you insist. And if you do the same. You've been up as long as I have, Elizabeth-"
"Unlike you, I don't have to launch a surgical strike tomorrow," Elizabeth said, but she was already rising.
The walk back to her quarters with him was a familiar one; he was frequently the one to pry her from the office and put her to bed – solo or with his company. On the way they discussed his strategy for the morning's attack, and between the familiar journey and the depth of the conversation, they were inside her quarters before she noticed it.
She blinked, stopping mid-sentence as she promptly forgot what they were discussing, and glanced around the room before shooting John a guilty look.
"John," she began, but he was shaking his head.
"Don't," he said, eyes dark. "Elizabeth, I..." He paused, and she was struck by how haggard he looked. "Just don't."
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, then opened them and smiled as she crossed the two steps between them, standing close and cupping his cheek. "Okay," she said, and leaned in to kiss him.
He was startled, she could tell, because it was a beat before he responded, hungry and with the edge of something she suspected was desperation. She surrendered to his kiss, feeling her control slip almost immediately as he pressed against her, leaning her back and wrapping his arms around her, supporting her when her knees threatened to fold.
He broke the kiss smiling, still holding her close. "I can't believe you still do that."
"It's not like I've got a choice, John." She smiled back, shifting against him, enjoying the glazed look that came over him. She chuckled. "I can't believe you still do that."
He twisted against her, earning a gasp from her, and smiled wickedly before doing it again. "Uncle!" she said with a laugh, partially at the situation, partially at the expression that flashed across his face before he schooled his features.
"What say we continue this somewhere a tad more comfortable?" he asked.
"Oh, God, yes," she said, and they moved to the bed, trading kisses and caresses as they went. She ended up under him, hands unable to keep still, trying desperately to bring him closer. He groaned, rocking against her, and she slid her hands under his shirt, wrapping her legs around his own, pushing up against him as eagerly as he pressed down. He kissed her ear, using teeth to get a gasp out of her and, suddenly impatient, she reached for his pants, unbuttoning and trying to push them out of the way before reaching for her own.
He caught her wrist, hazel eyes solemn as they gazed into hers.
"I want to do this right, Elizabeth," he told her as he pulled her hand away and kissed her with surprising sweetness. He broke the kiss and leaned back, pulling off his shirt and paused, looking at her with an almost worshipful expression. She felt a sharp pain in her chest as she gazed back, feeling as though finally they were letting some defenses drop as he leaned in to kiss her again, gently removing her shirt. His eyes sought hers as the shirt cleared her head, and once again she was struck by how serious he was. "You look so beautiful," he whispered, bringing his hand up and letting his fingertips trail across her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw. She bit her lip, fighting a surge of emotion and want that his words triggered, and turned her face, kissing his hand. He ran a thumb across her lower lip and pulled his hand back, reaching down to strip the rest of his clothes off.
He ended up hovering over her, leaning down to place a kiss by her navel as he unbuttoned her pants and eased them down, licking a path lower, making her moan and fight the urge to writhe against him. It seemed forever before they were both naked and he was once again lying pressed against her, fingers stroking and lips exploring. She kissed his neck, fingers following the lines of muscle on his back as she once again wrapped legs around his, reveling in the feel of his skin, the hardness of his cock as it pressed against her. She arched against him, gasping as he found a sensitive spot, making him gasp in return. He continued to tease her, filling her with a sweet tense ache for him, tearing needy desperate noises from her as he reduced her world to the feel of her blood racing and the touch of his body.
"Please," she begged, and he kissed her hard before she could say more, entering her in a rush and thrusting deep, making her cry out as she felt his desire, flaring higher and harder than she ever recalled. They moved in a sinuous rhythm, tracing old familiar paths and mapping new ones, and as his teeth closed on the nipple he'd been teasing, she bucked against him.
"God, I love-" he began, and paused. "Love this," he finished, and she looked up to see him retreat inside himself a little.
"Me too," she told him, responding to both what was said and unsaid. He gave her a piercing look, and she was happy to see his walls collapse a little. Smiling, she leaned up to capture his lips in hers as they moved faster, building the tension and pressure higher until she cried out as she came, breathing in ragged gasps as waves of pleasure coursed through her, intensifying as she could feel him come too. His choked "Elizabeth!" sent another spike of pleasure through her, and she answered with a kiss, knowing her feelings were too close to the surface to trust with words.
It was a long time before either of them moved to separate, and longer still before she got up to head to the bathroom, pausing to pull on his tee shirt because she wanted something of his still close to her. When she was finished, she paused in the doorway, drinking in his form, bottling up her reaction until it was something she felt they could both handle, and then she crawled into bed beside him, curling up along his back and wishing tomorrow away.
~fin~
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Date: 2005-09-30 08:31 pm (UTC)