Title: Dignity and Lace
Author: Angel Leviathan
Spoilers: Ronon Dex existing?
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis, characters, concept, etc, aren't mine.
Notes: This was meant to be just an Atlantis poker fic, but Tash mentioned something about strip poker, so this is technically all her fault. Technically. Okay, so I jumped on the plan, but that's not the point!
He's not quite sure how he's ended up in this situation, even though John's quite sure it was his idea, but knows when he suggested it, he was only joking. Okay, maybe he meant it seriously just a little bit, thought it might be fun and was curious as to what might happen, but he didn't expect to be sitting round a table with his friends, let alone his commander, in various states of undress. Never mind that despite being a more than competent player, he's losing. Losing! He's never lost a poker game in his life.
"Now that's just not fair! Just how is anyone supposed to beat pocket kings?" McKay exclaims, glaring at the newcomer to the entire concept of poker.
"You're the dealer," Ronon replies, raising his eyebrows and drawing in the chips he's won in the last round.
"That's not the point."
Teyla sighs and leans back in her chair, eyeing daggers at Ronon, throwing her cards back on the table.
With everyone silent, he stares around at his fellow players, ever so slightly confused. He leans back and shrugs, "I might have never played this before, but I know you all still have to remove some clothing."
They were hoping he'd forgotten. As if anyone could, with the fuss that each round brought when it came to actually removing an item of clothing.
John frowns and takes his belt off, reluctantly. Edging closer to trouser territory, he knows he has to start winning soon, or everyone is going to see what boxers he wears. And he unfortunately can't remember which he put on this morning, hoping they weren't decorated with some kind of cartoon character for everyone to laugh at. It'd be round the city before he could defend himself. But he's more concerned about the tactics, more than revealing his boxers to the world, of one Elizabeth Weir. He's not sure what kind of game she's playing, but its confusing the hell out of him. Especially the way she keeps looking at him. As if the game means nothing and she's only there to stare at him, as if its only the two of them. He's not sure if it's a tactic meant to distract him, so he attempts to ignore it, though its becoming more difficult with each hand. In the early stages of the game, she was (nearly quite literally) beating the pants off them. Then she started to lose. With stupid mistakes and even more ridiculous bets. But she's a diplomat and so he knows she must have one hell of a poker face and must know what she's doing with each calculated move. So why is she suddenly losing? And losing so badly? He thought he was in trouble, just down to his trousers, but now she's in the same boat. And she has to-
He stares, then looks away. He didn't think she'd actually go through with it. He thought she'd play the 'leader of the city' card and bend the rules a little. But no. She's taking her top off. John coughs and stares at the surface of the table. He blinks and looks up again, thinking perhaps he's imagined it. But no. There sits Elizabeth in just her bra and trousers. And she's staring at him in that way again, a slight smile on her face, as if she's challenging him to look away. So he doesn't, he stares straight back at her and smirks. She appears unaffected and throws a chip into the centre of the table as Teyla deals the cards. John's sure they're all more than amused that they're sitting round a table with their commander topless. She's doing it to distract him all right. Has to be. She'll suddenly start winning again now, he's sure, now he's paying more attention to her than to his cards and hiding it spectacularly badly.
Carson shakes his head and sighs, a right give away. Some might think he was bluffing or acting, but the poor guy is really too honest to play poker successfully. They can tell what he has just from the look on his face at the deal.
John slowly picks up his cards from the table. He knows that either he or Elizabeth has to win to prevent one of them from being in serious trouble. Both of them will be minus their trousers if they lose. He's determined its not going to be him. He looks casually at his cards; a Jack and a lacey bra, damnit, no, he mentally tries to drag himself back on track.
"I fold," Carson mutters.
"You can't fold on the first round," Rodney replies.
"Then I fold on the next round."
"At least keep us in suspense."
Teyla ups her bet, smiling a challenge across at Ronon, who does the same, waiting for everybody else to throw their chips in. Bets matched, she deals another card alongside the two already in the centre of the table. Another round of betting leaves them still all in, so she deals a third and a fourth. With the bets still low, another round passes and she deals a fifth.
"I fold," Carson states, throwing his cards down.
Elizabeth smiles and laughs quietly, "How did we guess?"
"Me too, actually," Rodney flicks his cards away.
"After all that proud talk?" John questions.
"…Yes," he can't come up with a more defiant answer.
Another round of betting forces Teyla to fold after a ridiculously high bet from Ronon she doesn't intend to match, and leaves her laughing when he's forced out of the game, bluff only gone so far, in the next round. This leaves Elizabeth and John staring each other out over the tops of their cards. One of them is going to lose their trousers. And they're both determined not to be 'it'.
"I raise, twenty," she throws a black chip into the pot.
"Matched and raised sixty," he throws four in after it.
"Do you really want to play that game, Colonel?" Elizabeth taunts.
"I'll play whatever game's going," he answers, smirking.
"Oh really?" she matches his bet and raises another hundred.
John matches it and adds another forty, realising they're both going to run out of chips soon. He hesitates, "…All in?" he proposes.
"Winner takes all?" she questions, head tilted, smiling.
How she can still manage to look cool, calm, and collected sitting there in her bra he's not quite sure, "Sure."
Elizabeth glances at her cards, "Okay," and shifts the rest of her pile into the centre.
"I bet you a bottle of wine on the Colonel," Carson mutters to McKay.
Rodney shakes his head, "It has to be Elizabeth." He doesn't mention that the only reason he believes she'll win is that he's sure she wouldn't risk losing her trousers on anything less than a certain winning hand.
"Show your cards," Ronon states.
John grins and sets his two cards down on the table, "Jacks and Aces, Aces high, two pair."
Elizabeth's eyes widen and she hesitates. She shakes her head and slowly puts down her cards, almost blushing, "Aces and…" and leans back in her chair, suddenly grinning, "Queens."
He stares in horror as the table around him erupts into laughter. Damn her! Sneaky little…
"Well, Colonel?" she smiles.
Glaring, John stands and undoes his trousers, letting them drop to the floor so he can step out of them. He stands there in his tweety-pie boxers, arms folded and stares across at her, "Happy now?"
She bits down on her bottom lip to stop from laughing, "Well…now I just need your boxers…" the comment gets her several loud howls of laughter from around the table, laughter that she can't help but join in with.
He sighs and starts to pick up his articles of clothing from the floor, "Well, ladies and gentlemen, now that Doctor Weir has successfully stripped me of nearly all my clothes, I shall leave you with only my dignity intact," he takes a mock bow, smirking and turns to leave.
"Dignity? I thought you stripped him of that too?" Rodney says to Elizabeth in a loud stage whisper.
"You do not wish to participate in the next hand?" Teyla feigns innocence.
John halts, but continues away, laughter ringing in his ears, even smiling himself. He's curious as to how long Elizabeth will stay in the game, having little to no clothing to remove if she loses, but the fear of losing his boxers wins out. He slowly starts the route to his quarters, stepping back into his trousers, socks and shoes, not wanting to be discovered in the hallways in just his underwear, but not bothering with his shirt as he figures there's hardly any point if he's going to sleep anyway. He's just at his door when he hears footsteps behind him and a figure slows from a run to a walk beside him.
"Well, did you win?" he asks.
Elizabeth shakes her head, "I quit. I thought I should come and apologise for your…humiliation."
"Really?" he halts, suddenly glad that its late at night and the corridors are empty.
"…Yes…" she nods solemnly, "And you do look very handsome in your underwear," she tries to continue with a straight face…and fails.
"Didn't see you as the wearing lacey underwear on duty type," he shoots back.
She raises an eyebrow, "Just when did you see me wearing lacey underwear?"
"I probably shouldn't tell you," he answers, grinning.
"I think you should…" she edges closer to him, "I did rush after you after all…"
"I can tell," John says softly, lips hovering above hers, looking down at her, daring her to back down.
"You can?" she smiles slightly, lowering her voice, "How so?" she licks her lips, but doesn't move.
He slides his arms around her as their lips meet, "Your shirt's on backwards…" he whispers.
Elizabeth smiles again, kissing him more insistently, "…Then its good I wont be wearing it soon, isn't it?"
Fin