A/N: Just a friendly reminder that each chapter is AU, so they're technically non-connecting despite chapter two being set further in the past from chapters 1 and 3.

Also if you haven't read the first part of the series, A Sure Thing, you might wanna start there.

The Morning After

Chapter 1

A Gentleman's Agreement

1.

They're friends. That is all.

It's a stream of light that wakes her. Heavy curtains waft at the window and that irritating light beam dances across her nose and eyes. Finally, she lifts an eye open, a feat of the Gods, and—oh no. Through the muckiness behind her eyes her vision settles on the window, opened, but black curtains pulled closed, the beam of light plays like a kitten across her face and across his hand. His hand is—his hand. Oh no.

She's wrapped up tightly, positively snuggled in fact and she staves off the panic, to be honest it's not even panic, she's not ashamed of what happened, or embarrassed, more concerned that if someone finds out she'll be drafted to another SG team. He mumbles something in his sleep, his lips smack against the back of her head where he rests. She's using his arm as a pillow and his free arm is tucked up underneath her breasts.

Dials back a bit, last night, Friday night, at the complex. No Cupcake Battles. At a bar. A cowboy bar, or a bar for rodentia because there is still hay stuck in her hair. Beers with him and he had a date. He had a date while she had some beers and conversations with the local color, and then his date found him unappealing and she, she didn't at that point. They took a taxi to his house and by the time they pulled up outside her hand was down the front of his pants and he wasn't stopping her, he was encouraging her, and the driver honked his horn to get them out of the cab. He carried her, with her legs wrapped around his waist, to the door and didn't fumble with his key, just opened to a quaint, clean house and onto the couch. But she's in the bedroom. Oh, the bedroom was later.

Finished on the couch and stared at each other a bit mortified not at the act because there was nothing to be mortified about. Both had expertise and shared in the workload. Not at what they'd done, just who they'd done it with. Was it inappropriate?

"Well, this is definitely inappropriate," he told her, pulling out and off of her, she felt uneasy, but they'd both had a lot to drink and both were slowly filtering back into their current situation. So they just sat beside each other, breathing a bit heavy and still sticky and sweaty.

The silence and the breathing became too much and she straightened from her hunched over position, "I should probably go." To her it didn't make a difference, but she didn't want him to feel uncomfortable, especially around her, especially on Monday.

"Oh yeah, sure." Clothes shuffling and feet scuffling over his hardwood floors replaced the conversation they should've had. She fastened her bra, her hair falling over her back and when she turned to find her shirt she found him watching her instead.

"Sorry." Apologized immediately, his eyes hitting the ground.

Yanked on her t-shirt and fanned her hair out again. "I think we should have a discussion."

"I think we should wait until we're both sober to have that discussion."

"Does it really matter, Cameron? A few minutes ago we were—"

Held up his hand to halt her sentence and she observed him curiously, why he pulled his shirt back over his head. Then placed a hand to his head where it probably throbbed as greatly as hers. "I know what we were doing a few minutes ago."

Squared her shoulders, ready to rip off the bandy. "Are you ashamed?"

Spun back towards her quickly, "What? Of course not." Then he paused following probable meaning in her questions. "Are—Are you?"

"Not in the slightest, just concerned—"

"About Monday."

"Absolutely."

"Okay, so we're both on the same page, there's no reason we can't handle this as adults."

Somehow between having a coherent conversation about how to handle the postcoital make up of their relationship at work, he ended up kissing her again with his lovely plush lips, just remembers the feel of them coursing over her chin, her neck, her throat.

She's quite relaxed in the cuddle but pressing matters have detoured her from staying within the confines of his arms and the sheets, namely what happened on Cupcake Battles last night and how not to unintentionally spark a round three.

Tired of pretending to still be in a stupor of sleep, she arches her back against him in what should be a morning stretch, but instead of following her lead, his arm across her chest tightens a squish and his knee breaks between her legs.

Rolls her eyes and swivels her shoulders and hips until the movement, or the friction, rouses or arouses him.

"Oh, hey," he greets, his breath still smells of the half a dozen beers he consumed last night, hers must not smell any better. After blinking twice his arm uncoils from around her body, and she hops up free. "Are you heading back?"

"If I can make it out of the house this time." Sends him a coquettish smirk so he knows she's not terribly upset about staying the night, or the second round of magnificent sex they had. It was unique feeling both safe and satisfied at the same time while also having the satisfaction of knowing she was breaking strict rules.

She begins tapping around on the ground for any shred of her clothing, a bra, jeans, a sock, anything.

He sits up, the muscles in his stomach crunch together and she licks her lips without thought. His hand runs through his hair fluffing it up from being slick with sleep. Then places the hand on her shoulder, large, warm, stable and her skin tingles in response. "Clothes?"

"Yes please."

Leans forward and his perfectly sculpted bottom peeks out from under the sheets, there's still visible red lines from where her nails dug in last night.

"Your bra." The light blue unmentionable dangles from his hooked forefinger and she tries to forget how adept he is with his fingers, a hidden talent.

As she clasps it behind her, her back almost touches his as he leans back to pull on his boxers, and her panties fall out from within them. They share a confused expression, and only chuckle as he returns them to her.

"Look, I think we can both agree that the sex—"

"The sex was amazing." Interrupts hopping up and adjusting her panties over her hips and trails his eyes to the location. "You stop that," shoos him away with her waving hands. "We've done this enough."

"Yeah," he agrees, but he doesn't sound enthusiastic, pulls his jeans back on and tosses her shirt to her. She pulls the black material over her head and when she emerges to fan her hair, he's watching her again. "But what if we did it more?"

"Believe it or not, Cameron, I actually still have a roaring headache and I'm rather tired."

"No, no, not now." Sweeps his shirt off the ground and yanks it over his head muffling his words, "But maybe if we ever need to—we could—go to each other."

He carefully unravels her jean leg from the bedpost and tosses the pants back to her. She catches them with one hand, still preoccupied with his proposal, "we could have sex?"

"Yes."

"Amazing sex."

"Amazing sex."

"But not be in a relationship."

"No." Paces around the bed and reaches forward pulling one of her hair clippies from being buried in waves of tussled tresses. "It would be more like stress relief."

"Your idea peeks my interest." Flips her head over and pulls her hair forward, knowing he's confused at her actions, and also remembering how she started him off on the couch last night. Flips back with her hair less tangled and more presentable. She pulls it up into a loose ponytail and slides the clippie in from the side "There will need to be ground rules."

"Of course."

"Both parties need to agree."

"Of course," adds a little stricter than before, his eyebrows furrow.

"I mean no blackmailing, Darling."

"Princess, if I was going to blackmail you, I'd have done it by now." She purrs at him, and arches an eyebrow evocatively, the sense of danger, the take charge attitude an immediate turn on. "No more of that." His hands land on her shoulders as he guides her from the room and she ignores the tinglies he sends again.

"We should probably limit contact at work."

"That goes without saying."

"No, because I'm saying it."

"No, I mean," he groans into his hand, leaning into the hall archway, trying not to let his eyes linger on her while she leans down to lace up her boots. "Just act like you normally do on Monday. I'll do the same."

"Cameron," pauses lacing to send him a face of wide-eyed worry. Her finger keeps slipping up and the knot falls loose. "what if someone finds out?"

"No one is going to find out."

"Samantha and Daniel are rather smart."

"Book smart." Bends at his knee mimicking her stance and retrieves the laces from her hands. His fingers, those skilled digits, twist and fetch until her boot is tightly tied. His face inches from her and this feels more intimate than sex, than tasting him and taking him, just having his breath drift against her makeup smudged face. "I'm telling you, Princess, they'll miss this by a mile."