Nervousness threads its way through her stomach as she watches on the security monitor. Teyla stares at the Wraith Queen, locked in some kind of mental battle that Elizabeth can barely comprehend. This is Teyla's plan, and while Elizabeth can agree that it's their best option, that doesn't mean that she likes it. She never likes any option that puts her people at risk, but now, with Carson's death so fresh and raw in everyone's mind, her normal concern is, instead, barely-leashed panic. She's thankful she hides it well.
Teyla is directly in the path of the Queen. Elizabeth worries that she will hesitate just enough that the Queen will have the advantage. She worries that she'll watch helplessly as her friend's life is drained away. Ronon is there, just outside, and she knows he's more than adequate as backup. She's afraid anyway, but she hides that too.
Rodney and John are on the Queen's ship. The self-destruct is still armed. If the Queen doesn't take Teyla's bait, Rodney will have to pry his way into the systems, and John will fly it out of range. They can do this. Her faith in the abilities of her command staff is rock-solid, but she's never been more aware of how random chance can send a careful plan careening into disaster. She'll never tell them.
Her entire adult life, Elizabeth has made it a practice to shield her uncertainties from the world. She learned early on that rivals would seize on any perceived weakness and turn it to their advantage. She learned that, as a woman, her emotions would be seen as a weakness. She's since made it a practice to conceal more than she reveals.
She knows now, much later, that Simon was the safe choice. There was nothing wrong with their relationship; Simon never drove her to challenge her preconceptions. At one time, she thought she wanted the safe, steady, companionable relationship Simon gave her. The one with few demands. If things got a little rocky, she accepted a diplomatic assignment, or Simon worked extra shifts at the hospital until they could settle back into their comfort zone. They buried their emotions under layers of cool professionalism. Elizabeth still does.
Since she's gotten involved with John, she's allowed him to slowly pull away those layers. John gets under her skin in a way that no one else has. He pushes her, and she holds herself steadfast. Usually. She let him persuade her into this relationship, and she wonders when she started thinking of it as a relationship. She wonders when the emotional connection between grew to be more than she could ever hope to bury. She wonders if she ever buried it, or if she's the only one who didn't realize how she feels.
She loves John. The feelings have been there, but this moment is the first time she's ever acknowledged it. She hides those feelings even from herself. She can't do anything about it right now. The stakes for everyone are too high. Instead, she watches Teyla feign unconsciousness. As the Wraith Queen stalks toward her ship, head held high, Elizabeth holds herself still.
When Teyla and Ronon join her moments later, they give her worried looks. She smiles at them, but that doesn't stop them from settling in on either side of her. Elizabeth sighs. She's found a family in this galaxy. They know each other too well, and none of them can hide a thing from the others. Not any more.
***
Teyla and Ronon are zonked. John tosses and turns, wondering how they can do it, until Ronon opens one eye and throws a pillow at him. "Get out of here and let us get some sleep, Sheppard."
John looks over and sees Teyla looking at him with barely leashed impatience. "Elizabeth was very worried," she tells him. "Perhaps you should go and find a quiet place to speak with her."
Or she was going to throw something harder than a pillow at him. Right. John gets the message. He rolls to his feet with a groan and stretches his arms above his head. His spine crackles, and he wonders if anyone else can hear that. When he sees Teyla frowning, he knows everyone can. "I'm going, I'm going," he says.
"Thank goodness," she says, and closes her eyes with a satisfied expression as he makes his way out the door.
John's pretty sure they know about him and Elizabeth, but he's probably never gonna ask. They won't rub his face in that. Well, Teyla and Ronon won't.
***
Elizabeth is in the control room, consulting quietly with McKay and Zelenka. She looks up as he walks in, and smiles when she sees him. The look in her eyes, though--
She's never looked at him like that before. Never. It knocks the breath right out of him. He's driven by the need to pull her off to the side, right the hell now, and make sure she's all right, because he's never seen that much naked emotion in her eyes.
"Oh, hello, Sheppard," says Rodney, and it's almost absent, since he and Zelenka are pointing at a laptop full of data and going right back to bickering over it.
John tunes it out and leans over to Elizabeth. "Have they been like this since you got here?" he asks.
She nods, still staring at him like she's memorizing his face, but musters a wryly amused grin. "Are you surprised?"
"Not really," says John. He wraps his hand around her forearm, and when he tells Rodney he's taking Elizabeth and running off to Vegas with her, all he gets is a vague hand-waving sandwiched between obscure points of physics.
"Las Vegas?" asks Elizabeth, and she's already walking alongside them as they leave the control room. Vegas would be pretty neat, and you can get married there too. He's never going to mention that to Elizabeth for fear of her having a freak-out on a massive scale.
"I don't know, I was thinking of asking Teyla or Ronon if there was a Pegasus equivalent," drawls John, and when he glances over to meet Elizabeth's eyes, he stops dead in his tracks.
She knows. She knows why he brought up Vegas. She knows how his plans involve going out exactly once, then spending the rest of the time ordering room service. Or maybe he'll talk to her about buying a ring. Except she's not quite the type for a ring.
She knows why he wants to take her there, and he thinks, for the first time, that she's okay with that. They stand in the corridor, the knowledge stretching out between them. It's not just the emotions; it's adrenaline too, and the sheer, desperate need to be together. They've stopped fighting it.
They're staring at each other in the corridor, and John knows how she feels. He knows what Elizabeth wants, and what she needs. More than that, he knows just what she's about to say. They've built their connection to the point where he knows her bone-deep on an emotional level, just as well as she knows him. They're at the point where he knows the way her mouth parts means she's about to make an excuse and go somewhere to pull herself together.
The slow, almost imperceptible flush of pink in her cheeks is what ignites the fire that sparked when he walked into the control room. He can't let her end this moment. She'll walk away and get herself under control, and he never wants her to stop looking at him like she is right now.
"Let's talk," he says roughly, and Elizabeth's breath comes faster. It's both panic and arousal, because whenever he says 'let's talk,' he means 'I want you.' It's more than that, though. He wonders if she knows how much more it is. He thinks she does, because why else would she panic so much when he says it?
There's a door behind them, and John pulls Elizabeth toward it as he prays that this whole corridor is living quarters. It swings open, and John gets lucky in that this room, at least, is a duplicate to where Teyla and Ronon are sacking out. He barely hears the door close behind Elizabeth, because he's frowning slightly at the beds. They're bunks, which means they're going to have to--
There's no time to finish the thought, because Elizabeth touches his shoulder, and it burns through his jacket. He turns to look at her, and that's when she fists her hands in his jacket and pulls him close. She backs them up so she's leaning against the door. They're not kissing. They're just staring at each other without words, and the connection between them only strengthens with contact.
His palms press flat against the cool metal. Maybe if anyone else was watching it'd look like he was looming over her, trying to intimidate Elizabeth and keep her in place. They'd be wrong. He can't pull away. He can't even look away. Her eyes pin him, and in her gaze, she strips away every single pretense he's ever had.
He cares. He cares too deeply, and he gets hurt too much and too often because of it.
She knows that. She knows the devil-may-care attitude isn't always real. He hopes he's as good at reading her as she is at reading him, because the fact that it might be mutual is what keeps this thing they have from being terrifying.
Elizabeth licks at her lips and tilts her face up. John feels the pull of her body, and their inertia falls away as he lowers his mouth to hers. Her eyes close, and she drags him even closer. He kisses her, pouring everything he feels into it, and all he can think of as Elizabeth shifts her hips against him is that she doesn't respond like this to anyone else.
He pushes her shirt up, and she lets out a sharp breath as his fingertips slide across the bare skin of her stomach. He's got to share her with the whole expedition, and the whole galaxy, in some ways, but he's the one she trusts to keep her safe. Not just her body, but her feelings. That's harder to deal with.
When Elizabeth pushes her hand down his pants, John can't stop himself from shoving against her. Her eyes are on him, and she's breathing in short, sharp pants that have her chest rising and falling. He's got one hand on her breast, his thumb flicking across her nipple through her bra. She slides her hand up and down, and John groans.
He loves the way her eyes darken with lust. He loves her. He thinks she knows it.
His thigh moves between her legs, and then she's grinding down on him, one hand splayed on his chest for support. His dick is half out of his pants, he's mostly hard, and he probably looks like an idiot, but Elizabeth's got this breathy little moan that drives him nuts. She's gotta be ready to come.
When she shudders and slumps against him, he's ready to catch her weight. "Bed?" he asks.
Elizabeth shakes her head. "Bunks," is all she says by way of explanation, but he knows what she means. One of them would hit their head, and all this trip needs is a concussion to top it off.
"Wait here." John kisses the top of her head and goes to pull one of the mattresses onto the metal flooring. He grabs the blankets and pillows from the other bunk and flops down, resting his head on his clasped hands. "Better?"
"I like the view," says Elizabeth. She lets a smirk spread across her face way too slow. It means she's got an idea. "John, let me watch you."
"Watch me--" Watch him jerk himself off?
"Yes, exactly what you're thinking," she says, and she's moving across the room to lie next to him. Her shirt is wrinkled, and her hair is a mess. Right now, John would like to do nothing more than let her straddle him.
He likes it best when she's on top, when the weight of her body is something solid and tangible. The fact that it keeps his hands free is just an added bonus.
She's watching him expectantly, though, and he nods. "Right," he says. He sits up to drag his shirt off, and Elizabeth helps him pull it over his head. She folds it carefully before setting it aside, and John can't help but give her a grin.
All Elizabeth does in response is smile enigmatically. John rolls his eyes and shoves his boots off, stuffing the socks in them. He folds his pants while Elizabeth eyes his underwear. "Pac-Man boxers?" she asks with a chuckle as he strips them off.
"Last clean pair," he says shortly. Which isn't true, but this morning his choices had been Pac-Man or Frogger out of the eighties video games boxers he'd gotten from Rodney for Christmas. Pac-Man had felt like the more macho choice. Marginally.
"If you say so," she says, and then she's pushing him back flat and kissing him senseless. Before he can do anything but reach for her, she pulls away and gives him one of those stern looks.
He stops thinking about Pac-Man versus Frogger - which would make a great game, especially if they included Donkey Kong - and starts to think about Elizabeth's breasts, because her shirt is suddenly off, and she's unlacing her boots. Once she's naked and lying pressed against him, John slides a finger inside her.
Elizabeth's breath hisses out of her, and she arches. He can feel her breasts against his skin. His thumb starts rubbing against her clit, and sometimes when he does this, she lets go. Sometimes she stops worrying. His mouth comes down on hers. Just a few minutes later, she cries out and he feels her start to pulse around his fingers.
It doesn't calm her down this time. She chokes, just one sob, and her eyes are bright. John opens his mouth, but Elizabeth bends over him before he can say anything. Her hand is on his dick.
John groans, his hips jerking into her touch. "Thought you wanted--" he gasps.
"I do," she says, and then her palm is flat on his chest. John wraps his hand around his dick and Elizabeth is right there with him. Her breath is hot on his neck, and her body is pressed against his. When she slides her hand down to cup his balls, he strokes harder, twice more, then a third time, and his cry fills the room as he spills over his hand and onto his stomach.
Elizabeth's naked, and even now, she's still staring solemnly at him.
He lets his head fall back and groans. "I should've thought of how we'd clean up."
"We'll make do," says Elizabeth. She leans over and kisses him, slow and sweet. "Then we'll go see how Teyla and Ronon are."
"They're asleep," says John, cupping the back of Elizabeth's neck. "We've got time."
--end--
Teyla is directly in the path of the Queen. Elizabeth worries that she will hesitate just enough that the Queen will have the advantage. She worries that she'll watch helplessly as her friend's life is drained away. Ronon is there, just outside, and she knows he's more than adequate as backup. She's afraid anyway, but she hides that too.
Rodney and John are on the Queen's ship. The self-destruct is still armed. If the Queen doesn't take Teyla's bait, Rodney will have to pry his way into the systems, and John will fly it out of range. They can do this. Her faith in the abilities of her command staff is rock-solid, but she's never been more aware of how random chance can send a careful plan careening into disaster. She'll never tell them.
Her entire adult life, Elizabeth has made it a practice to shield her uncertainties from the world. She learned early on that rivals would seize on any perceived weakness and turn it to their advantage. She learned that, as a woman, her emotions would be seen as a weakness. She's since made it a practice to conceal more than she reveals.
She knows now, much later, that Simon was the safe choice. There was nothing wrong with their relationship; Simon never drove her to challenge her preconceptions. At one time, she thought she wanted the safe, steady, companionable relationship Simon gave her. The one with few demands. If things got a little rocky, she accepted a diplomatic assignment, or Simon worked extra shifts at the hospital until they could settle back into their comfort zone. They buried their emotions under layers of cool professionalism. Elizabeth still does.
Since she's gotten involved with John, she's allowed him to slowly pull away those layers. John gets under her skin in a way that no one else has. He pushes her, and she holds herself steadfast. Usually. She let him persuade her into this relationship, and she wonders when she started thinking of it as a relationship. She wonders when the emotional connection between grew to be more than she could ever hope to bury. She wonders if she ever buried it, or if she's the only one who didn't realize how she feels.
She loves John. The feelings have been there, but this moment is the first time she's ever acknowledged it. She hides those feelings even from herself. She can't do anything about it right now. The stakes for everyone are too high. Instead, she watches Teyla feign unconsciousness. As the Wraith Queen stalks toward her ship, head held high, Elizabeth holds herself still.
When Teyla and Ronon join her moments later, they give her worried looks. She smiles at them, but that doesn't stop them from settling in on either side of her. Elizabeth sighs. She's found a family in this galaxy. They know each other too well, and none of them can hide a thing from the others. Not any more.
***
Teyla and Ronon are zonked. John tosses and turns, wondering how they can do it, until Ronon opens one eye and throws a pillow at him. "Get out of here and let us get some sleep, Sheppard."
John looks over and sees Teyla looking at him with barely leashed impatience. "Elizabeth was very worried," she tells him. "Perhaps you should go and find a quiet place to speak with her."
Or she was going to throw something harder than a pillow at him. Right. John gets the message. He rolls to his feet with a groan and stretches his arms above his head. His spine crackles, and he wonders if anyone else can hear that. When he sees Teyla frowning, he knows everyone can. "I'm going, I'm going," he says.
"Thank goodness," she says, and closes her eyes with a satisfied expression as he makes his way out the door.
John's pretty sure they know about him and Elizabeth, but he's probably never gonna ask. They won't rub his face in that. Well, Teyla and Ronon won't.
***
Elizabeth is in the control room, consulting quietly with McKay and Zelenka. She looks up as he walks in, and smiles when she sees him. The look in her eyes, though--
She's never looked at him like that before. Never. It knocks the breath right out of him. He's driven by the need to pull her off to the side, right the hell now, and make sure she's all right, because he's never seen that much naked emotion in her eyes.
"Oh, hello, Sheppard," says Rodney, and it's almost absent, since he and Zelenka are pointing at a laptop full of data and going right back to bickering over it.
John tunes it out and leans over to Elizabeth. "Have they been like this since you got here?" he asks.
She nods, still staring at him like she's memorizing his face, but musters a wryly amused grin. "Are you surprised?"
"Not really," says John. He wraps his hand around her forearm, and when he tells Rodney he's taking Elizabeth and running off to Vegas with her, all he gets is a vague hand-waving sandwiched between obscure points of physics.
"Las Vegas?" asks Elizabeth, and she's already walking alongside them as they leave the control room. Vegas would be pretty neat, and you can get married there too. He's never going to mention that to Elizabeth for fear of her having a freak-out on a massive scale.
"I don't know, I was thinking of asking Teyla or Ronon if there was a Pegasus equivalent," drawls John, and when he glances over to meet Elizabeth's eyes, he stops dead in his tracks.
She knows. She knows why he brought up Vegas. She knows how his plans involve going out exactly once, then spending the rest of the time ordering room service. Or maybe he'll talk to her about buying a ring. Except she's not quite the type for a ring.
She knows why he wants to take her there, and he thinks, for the first time, that she's okay with that. They stand in the corridor, the knowledge stretching out between them. It's not just the emotions; it's adrenaline too, and the sheer, desperate need to be together. They've stopped fighting it.
They're staring at each other in the corridor, and John knows how she feels. He knows what Elizabeth wants, and what she needs. More than that, he knows just what she's about to say. They've built their connection to the point where he knows her bone-deep on an emotional level, just as well as she knows him. They're at the point where he knows the way her mouth parts means she's about to make an excuse and go somewhere to pull herself together.
The slow, almost imperceptible flush of pink in her cheeks is what ignites the fire that sparked when he walked into the control room. He can't let her end this moment. She'll walk away and get herself under control, and he never wants her to stop looking at him like she is right now.
"Let's talk," he says roughly, and Elizabeth's breath comes faster. It's both panic and arousal, because whenever he says 'let's talk,' he means 'I want you.' It's more than that, though. He wonders if she knows how much more it is. He thinks she does, because why else would she panic so much when he says it?
There's a door behind them, and John pulls Elizabeth toward it as he prays that this whole corridor is living quarters. It swings open, and John gets lucky in that this room, at least, is a duplicate to where Teyla and Ronon are sacking out. He barely hears the door close behind Elizabeth, because he's frowning slightly at the beds. They're bunks, which means they're going to have to--
There's no time to finish the thought, because Elizabeth touches his shoulder, and it burns through his jacket. He turns to look at her, and that's when she fists her hands in his jacket and pulls him close. She backs them up so she's leaning against the door. They're not kissing. They're just staring at each other without words, and the connection between them only strengthens with contact.
His palms press flat against the cool metal. Maybe if anyone else was watching it'd look like he was looming over her, trying to intimidate Elizabeth and keep her in place. They'd be wrong. He can't pull away. He can't even look away. Her eyes pin him, and in her gaze, she strips away every single pretense he's ever had.
He cares. He cares too deeply, and he gets hurt too much and too often because of it.
She knows that. She knows the devil-may-care attitude isn't always real. He hopes he's as good at reading her as she is at reading him, because the fact that it might be mutual is what keeps this thing they have from being terrifying.
Elizabeth licks at her lips and tilts her face up. John feels the pull of her body, and their inertia falls away as he lowers his mouth to hers. Her eyes close, and she drags him even closer. He kisses her, pouring everything he feels into it, and all he can think of as Elizabeth shifts her hips against him is that she doesn't respond like this to anyone else.
He pushes her shirt up, and she lets out a sharp breath as his fingertips slide across the bare skin of her stomach. He's got to share her with the whole expedition, and the whole galaxy, in some ways, but he's the one she trusts to keep her safe. Not just her body, but her feelings. That's harder to deal with.
When Elizabeth pushes her hand down his pants, John can't stop himself from shoving against her. Her eyes are on him, and she's breathing in short, sharp pants that have her chest rising and falling. He's got one hand on her breast, his thumb flicking across her nipple through her bra. She slides her hand up and down, and John groans.
He loves the way her eyes darken with lust. He loves her. He thinks she knows it.
His thigh moves between her legs, and then she's grinding down on him, one hand splayed on his chest for support. His dick is half out of his pants, he's mostly hard, and he probably looks like an idiot, but Elizabeth's got this breathy little moan that drives him nuts. She's gotta be ready to come.
When she shudders and slumps against him, he's ready to catch her weight. "Bed?" he asks.
Elizabeth shakes her head. "Bunks," is all she says by way of explanation, but he knows what she means. One of them would hit their head, and all this trip needs is a concussion to top it off.
"Wait here." John kisses the top of her head and goes to pull one of the mattresses onto the metal flooring. He grabs the blankets and pillows from the other bunk and flops down, resting his head on his clasped hands. "Better?"
"I like the view," says Elizabeth. She lets a smirk spread across her face way too slow. It means she's got an idea. "John, let me watch you."
"Watch me--" Watch him jerk himself off?
"Yes, exactly what you're thinking," she says, and she's moving across the room to lie next to him. Her shirt is wrinkled, and her hair is a mess. Right now, John would like to do nothing more than let her straddle him.
He likes it best when she's on top, when the weight of her body is something solid and tangible. The fact that it keeps his hands free is just an added bonus.
She's watching him expectantly, though, and he nods. "Right," he says. He sits up to drag his shirt off, and Elizabeth helps him pull it over his head. She folds it carefully before setting it aside, and John can't help but give her a grin.
All Elizabeth does in response is smile enigmatically. John rolls his eyes and shoves his boots off, stuffing the socks in them. He folds his pants while Elizabeth eyes his underwear. "Pac-Man boxers?" she asks with a chuckle as he strips them off.
"Last clean pair," he says shortly. Which isn't true, but this morning his choices had been Pac-Man or Frogger out of the eighties video games boxers he'd gotten from Rodney for Christmas. Pac-Man had felt like the more macho choice. Marginally.
"If you say so," she says, and then she's pushing him back flat and kissing him senseless. Before he can do anything but reach for her, she pulls away and gives him one of those stern looks.
He stops thinking about Pac-Man versus Frogger - which would make a great game, especially if they included Donkey Kong - and starts to think about Elizabeth's breasts, because her shirt is suddenly off, and she's unlacing her boots. Once she's naked and lying pressed against him, John slides a finger inside her.
Elizabeth's breath hisses out of her, and she arches. He can feel her breasts against his skin. His thumb starts rubbing against her clit, and sometimes when he does this, she lets go. Sometimes she stops worrying. His mouth comes down on hers. Just a few minutes later, she cries out and he feels her start to pulse around his fingers.
It doesn't calm her down this time. She chokes, just one sob, and her eyes are bright. John opens his mouth, but Elizabeth bends over him before he can say anything. Her hand is on his dick.
John groans, his hips jerking into her touch. "Thought you wanted--" he gasps.
"I do," she says, and then her palm is flat on his chest. John wraps his hand around his dick and Elizabeth is right there with him. Her breath is hot on his neck, and her body is pressed against his. When she slides her hand down to cup his balls, he strokes harder, twice more, then a third time, and his cry fills the room as he spills over his hand and onto his stomach.
Elizabeth's naked, and even now, she's still staring solemnly at him.
He lets his head fall back and groans. "I should've thought of how we'd clean up."
"We'll make do," says Elizabeth. She leans over and kisses him, slow and sweet. "Then we'll go see how Teyla and Ronon are."
"They're asleep," says John, cupping the back of Elizabeth's neck. "We've got time."
--end--