Kavanagh turned, suddenly conscious of a presence at his elbow. Two arms closed around his neck and warm lips took his violently. He let out a yelp and tried to straighten up, but the slender, wiry body pressed him firmly back against the desk. One of the shapely legs lifted, sliding up the outside of his hip, and plunged knee-first across the desk, knocking off several pencils and an empty coffee cup.
Kavanagh gasped for air.
"Dr. Weir!" he squeaked. He threw up one arm between them, trying desperately to settle his dislodged glasses back into place.
"Yes?" she breathed, her lips bare centimeters away from his.
"I don't think–I–what are you—mmmf!" He gave up on the glasses and gripped the desk behind him with both hands. Her arms relaxed, her hands slid caressingly down his arms, then slipped up under his shirt, questing fingers finding their targets quickly.
"Aaagh! D–doctor W–Weir!" There was pure panic in his voice. She paused for a second, drew back just slightly. Her eyes followed his to the evidence of the effect her mouth and hands were having on his trembling body.
"What are you afraid of?"
"We can't–I—I–" He put up both hands, palms forward, closing his eyes. His mouth made a thin, tight line as he tried valiantly to bring himself under control. She plucked the glasses suddenly from his nose.
"No!" He made a grab for them, too late. She folded them shut, neatly and swiftly, and tucked them down the front of her shirt.
"D-don't do that–you'll break them–they're–aaaaah! very–fr-fragile–"
She slipped her arms around him.
"I won't break anything. I'm good with...fragile things."She drew back one hand and dropped it lightly over something else that was arguably fragile and furthermore something he most definitely didn't want broken.
"Oh..my...God..." he whimpered, grabbing at the desk for support. She was touching him, stroking him, and suddenly he wasn't struggling anymore...he was even pressing back against her hungry kisses...one hand slipped up to caress her hair, her cheek, her throat...his other hand left the desk as he pushed himself up...
Her eyes suddenly opened wide. She looked down at him, then with horror at herself.
"What in the—" She jerked back. Confusion and suspicion crossed her face. Her brows lowered.
"No, wait–"
The very air cringed at the slap she gave him. He dropped back, panting, watching her with incredulity and dismay. One hand stole up to cradle his reddening cheek.
She gasped suddenly, covering her face with both hands.
"Kavanagh–I—don't feel—very good–" She staggered slightly and he thrust himself forward to catch her, grimacing as she slumped against him.
"Oh. Whoo. Ah. Oh. Ok. Just...here." He gathered her in his arms, clumsily. She clutched at him for support.
"Hold on. You'll be ok." He pressed his receiver a bit more firmly into his ear.
"Infirmary, this is Dr. Kavanagh. We have a medical emergency in Lab 32."
He lowered her to a sitting position and dropped down beside her, licking his lips nervously.
"Try putting your head between your knees. It'll help keep you from passing out."
She stared at him woozily.
"What's happening?"
He closed his eyes and sighed with more than a little frustration.
"Believe me, I wish I knew. Here. Head down."
She obeyed, finally.
"Uh...hey, um..."
She looked up, her eyes slightly unfocused. His hand was wavering close to her chest. She frowned and slapped at it. He raised both hands instantly in denial. She glowered at him.
"Kavanagh, if you think this is your opportunity to get back at me by taking advantage of this, you can just forget it!"
"I–no! Really, I'm not–" He pressed a sincere hand to his heart. Her eyes narrowed.
"Please, I–you–" He looked at her miserably, nodded with resignation as she cocked her head fiercely at him, and settled back down. His hands plopped back into his lap and he winced, as if he'd suddenly remembered something. His voice was tinged with despair when he spoke.
"You've...got my glasses."
"I–what?"
"Yes. You took them. They're–" He gestured carefully, his lips white and compressed with strain.
"–in there."
She examined herself, found them and drew them out, looking at him with fear-filled eyes.
"Here," she whispered, handing them to him. He took them, gave her a deeply reproachful look, and opened them very deliberately, his hands shaking slightly as he settled them on his nose.
--
"Dr. Beckett."
He glanced up.
"Ah, Teyla. What is it?"
"That injection of hormones you gave Lorla–it doesn't seem to have had any effect at all. She wants to know if you have anything stronger." She sighed.
"As you know, they have no children...and they are getting no younger."
His brows creased with bewilderment.
"No effect at all? But it was the very strongest we've got. I even added a little extra juice to compensate for your Athosian metabolisms."
Teyla shrugged.
"She says there's been no change."
A look of sudden apprehension crossed his face. He went swiftly to the cabinet, muttering to himself. Teyla caught snatches of it: Och, no...surely I didna switch them...it'll be my head for sure when she finds out...
"Dr. Beckett...is something wrong?"
"I've got to find Dr. Weir. That was a simple painkiller I gave Lorla. It was supposed to go to Dr. Weir...for a headache..."
He looked at her with dismay.
"Will it hurt her?"
"No, of course not. The one I'm worried about is Elizabeth. We've got to find her."
The intercom crackled.
"Infirmary, this is Dr. Kavanagh. We have a medical emergency in Lab 32."
"It looks as though she has found us."
"Yes. Dear God, I hope she's all right. That was potent stuff." He wrung his hands.
"I don't know how I managed to mix them up...I've got to be more careful."
"Right now I think we should focus on getting to her."
"Of course." He gathered a hasty armful of supplies.
"Would you be so kind as to bring that bag?"
--
Sheppard and McKay came running into the room a few seconds after Dr. Beckett finished his quick examination.
"Come along, then. If you can walk, I think it'd do you good. You can hold onto my arm, and Teyla'll watch your other side." Dr. Beckett extended a hand and helped Weir struggle to her feet.
"Is she all right? What did you do to her?" Sheppard grabbed Kavanagh by one arm and hauled him up.
"Me? Nothing!" He stared in shock as McKay grabbed his other arm, threateningly.
"Hey!" He gestured desperately after Dr. Weir's retreating back.
"Tell them this wasn't my fault!"
She turned.
"John–Rodney–I don't think it was. He was just–helping me."
Kavanagh fixed them alternately with stares of righteous indignation. Sheppard let go of one arm and dusted it off. McKay dropped the other abruptly.
"Eh, sorry about that, Kavanagh."
"So what happened here?" Sheppard took a military stance and crossed his arms.
Kavanagh turned his head slightly and gave him a wary look.
"Nothing that I had any part in. I swear, I didn't do a thing. Maybe it's...that time of month, or something."
McKay and Sheppard exchanged looks composed equally of horror and disgust. Sheppard stepped closer to Kavanagh.
"Ok, that's going to take some explaining."
--
Kavanagh was working in the lab when a noise behind him made him start. He spun around, backing up against a table, both hands up.
"It's ok, Kavanagh, it's just me." McKay grinned evilly.
"Little jumpy today, are we?"
"Yeah, well, you would be too." Kavanagh gave him a hunted look.
"Hey, it couldn't have been that bad."
"It was entirely inappropriate! Not to mention embarrassing. It just proves my point, the woman is an emotional, irrational basket case."
"Oh, be fair. She was drugged." McKay edged closer.
"I notice you didn't say it was bad."
Kavanagh took off his glasses and pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose.
"Fine. It wasn't bad. Did you want something or are you just tormenting me for the sheer twisted pleasure it gives you?"
"Actually, both." McKay smirked at him.
"It's not me that wants something, though. Our leader's laptop has stopped working and she wants you to fix it."
"Me? Why me? Why can't you or Zelenka do it?"
McKay shrugged.
"She wants you."
Kavanagh rolled his eyes.
"I'll bet she does," he muttered.
McKay frowned, suddenly serious. He leaned toward Kavanagh.
"Hey...Peter?"
Kavanagh eyed him with suspicion.
"What do you want, Dr. McKay?"
McKay smiled pleasantly.
"Try not to give her a hard time about it, ok. She's pretty upset, from what I hear. I'm sure she just wants to apologize. Be a sport for once in your life, yeah?"
Kavanagh looked at him speculatively.
"Well, better get going." McKay slapped him on the shoulder and grinned.
"All right, but I suspect we'll all regret this." He looked gloomily at McKay and headed for the door with a sigh.
--
She was sitting at her desk, her head in her hands, when he came in.
"Well?" He spread his hands.
"Here I am."
She looked up.
"Thank you for coming, Dr. Kavanagh. I...hope we can get this taken care of quickly."
"We'll have to see about that. I can't make any promises."
She gave him a despairing look. Her eyes looked red.
"I suppose not. Here, this is it." She indicated a slender gray laptop sitting on the desk.
He walked over. Her eyes followed him as he approached, but he didn't look at her. For several minutes he just examined the laptop, then he turned to her.
Her eyes were fixed on him anxiously and she was turning a little crystal dolphin from her desk over and over in her hands. He raised one eyebrow. She looked down hastily, blushing.
"Uh...so what...seems to be the problem?"
He launched into a lengthy explanation of all the things that had gone wrong with the computer's innards. She pressed her fingers to her temples.
"All right, all right. Can you fix it?"
He frowned.
"Were you listening at all? If you had any kind of a logical mind, you'd understand that you can't just--"
"Ooooooo!" She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and counted to ten, slowly.
" Whooo. Ok. Just...give it to me in plain English, please."
He rolled his eyes.
"In the simplest possible terms, it's irreparably damaged. I'm sorry, but that's as low as my intellect will stoop. Zelenka might have a dictionary if you need to look up 'irreparable'."
"Dr. Kavanagh, I swear—" Her eyes narrowed.
He looked up. Something in her expression made his mouth twitch. He looked away quickly. She leaned toward him, fixing him with a deadly glare.
"What are you grinning about?"
He pressed his lips quickly together, trying to keep his composure, but the smile kept tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Well?" Her brows were low and dangerous-looking.
He started to speak but the words stuck in his throat. He grinned again and gestured vaguely with one hand.
"Just uh...thinking about...what happened...about you...kissing me–"
"Yes, yes, all right!" She massaged her temples with both hands.
"As you know quite well, that was...temporary insanity. Very temporary. I hope we can both be adults about this."
He snorted.
"For once in your life, Dr. Weir, why don't you just say what you mean? What you hope is that I'll quietly forget this all happened and tiptoe around saying nothing that could possibly remind you of how completely you embarrassed yourself the other day."
"That's not–" She looked at the determined set of his face and considered for a minute. A speculative look crossed her face.
"All right, fine. You're right. That's exactly what I want. And further–" She leaned toward him. He grinned at her insolently.
"–wipe that idiotic smirk off your face or I'll do it for you."
"Oooo, you're scaring me. Is that a promise or a threat?"
"What if I said it was a threat?"
He paused, at that. She saw the smile die on his lips and her own lips parted in sudden understanding. She put the dolphin down on the desk and reached out a hand, but he stopped her with a single look. She wilted.
"I–I didn't mean–" She swallowed hard.
"You have no idea how much I regret... that whole situation."
He looked at her haughtily, then turned his eyes upward. For a moment there was complete silence as he studied the ceiling. Finally he looked back down. She waited, tensely.
"Not a threat?"
She shook her head.
"No. I swear."
"That makes it a promise, then."
"What?"
He leaned in.
"Well? My place or yours?"
"Kavanagh!"
"What? Are you going to hit me again? Did you like that? I bet it made you feel all powerful, huh? The big, bad, feminist
leader of Atlantis–"
"Gggggaaaaah!" She gave a primal scream and hid her face in both hands. He thought he saw her shoulders quiver, but he couldn't be sure.
He pursed his lips, innocently, and fiddled absently with the laptop. She didn't raise her head. Her voice was muffled and sounded on the brink of tears.
"You're not going to let me forget this, are you?"
He looked at her sideways.
"I don't see why I should. I won't be forgetting it for a while."
"Ok. Ok. Fair enough." She drew a long breath, let it out, and looked up imploringly.
"I don't suppose there's anything I could do that would make you...forget it more quickly?"
He smirked at her. Promotions, cushy assignments, preferential treatment, lording it over the whole science team...For a moment he enjoyed the fantasies. He equally enjoyed watching her eyes grow hopeful and willing. But he was holding out for something bigger this time. Revenge. Complete, devastating revenge.
"Actually, there is one thing you could do for me..."
"What is it? Transfer to Earth? A four-hour workday? A two-hour workday? I can arrange it."
"Yes, I imagine you probably could. You're good at arranging things."
"Well?" She looked at him eagerly. He let a little of the wickedness in his heart creep into his eyes. She shrank back. He followed her. She looked back with a little gasp as she felt the desk behind her. He leaned forward, savoring every bit of the horror on her face as she looked up, trapped.
"Finish what you started."
The resounding smack of hand on cheek bounced off the walls and echoed in the sudden silence. He didn't say a word, just looked at her smugly. She felt for the desk chair, collapsed into it, and buried her face in her arms.
Kavanagh looked down at her shaking shoulders. His jaw felt distinctly sore. There would probably be a bruise later. But it was worth it. He felt a little bad about making her cry, but he reasoned she deserved it. She'd very nearly made him cry during the interrogations, after all. Maybe this was the universe's way of meting out justice. And frankly, he liked her a lot better this way, with the prim, deceitful mask of diplomacy stripped away. Perhaps there was a chance they could learn to get along. Anyway, he'd make sure she learned a lot by the time he let her put this behind her.
He couldn't resist dipping to murmur a last,
"Well, if you change your mind...you know where to find me."
She let out a wail of pure anguish. He grinned.
He knew he was swaggering as he left her room and headed back to the lab, but he didn't care. He even whistled a little on the way.