Author's Notes: I wrote this oneshot while I was mulling over a story idea in my head. You know, how sometimes the story comes in bits and pieces and in the wrong order? Yep, that's what this is. I don't know when I'll get to the rest of the idea, but it's definitely on my two and a half mile long to-do list. *smirk*

Not set any specific time frame, but let's make it Season 3.

Disclaimer: I am now the proud owner of SGA Seasons 1-4, but that's it. Just borrowing them. I'll return them ... later.

John moaned as sunlight began peaking in through the blinds. He raised his head with just enough effort to look out the windows to the right and confirm that it was daylight and not an optical illusion. After the night he had just endured, if he could have held the moon in the sky and postponed sunlight, he would have. He did not want to get up, and his tired body agreed.

His head dropped back to the pillow like a dead weight, and he closed his eyes to the world, only to be interrupted by the frickin' alarm clock to his left.

Groaning low in his throat, he tried to roll over to hit the snooze when he realized that there was an object - no, a person - laying next to him on the small mattress.

He squinted, staring at the mop of brown strands as he gingerly reached over and hit the button. It was very disturbing to him that he couldn't recall any memories of last night that would have led to this. After the vigorous run he had tortured himself with, he had come straight to his quarters, showered, and fallen into bed. Alone.

The brunette stirred, moaning as she reached for the covers.

John bit his lip, leaning back, away from the foreign person -

- And fell right onto the cold floor.

"Damn," he whispered to himself sharply as he rubbed his thigh. He glanced at himself and quickly raised and lowered his eyebrows. At least he was still wearing boxers.

His hazel eyes looked up and came in contact with an equally confused set of familiar green eyes.

"John?" she voiced uncertainly but with a hint of amusement, pulling the sheet up around her. "What are you doing?"

"What am I - you're the one who's laying half naked in my bed!" he exclaimed, standing and reaching for a pair of black running pants that lay across the shelf next to the bed.

She cocked her head. "I'm an optimist. Let's go with 'half dressed'."

"Tomato, tomahto." He pulled his pants up and crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. "Care to explain how this happened?"

Elizabeth smiled. "I, umm, guess I got used to it. You know, after last week?"

John opened his mouth to unleash another snaky reply, but he clamped his jaw shut after the memories invoked by her words flooded his mind. The flowing gowns, the large bed, the phony displays of affection that somewhere along the line became sincere …

He nodded and rubbed his forehead. "Yeah," he quietly answered, sitting down on the bed next to her.

Elizabeth dropped the sheet that she had been tightly holding, and John realized that she was more correct. She was wearing a white tank top and black yoga pants, and as his head stopped spinning he noticed a robe laying over the chair behind her. She must have come during the night and snuggled into his side, just like they had done for the past few days on M51-936. He hung his head in remembrance; as much as he wanted to forget the feelings and everything that mission had encompassed, his heart wouldn't let him.

She timidly reached out her hand, laying it atop his, causing him to look up at her.

With the few strands that were falling over her face and the small smile she was wearing, she looked innocent. Devious, even. It was the latter that made him worry.

"I don't have to report til 1000 hours," she softly told him as she turned his hand over. She brushed the hair out of her face with her free hand, then brought it down to his captive one and slowly started rubbing small circles in the palm of it.

He sighed, closing his eyes, getting ready to voice a refusal, when he felt the warm sensation of her lips pressed against his.

John's eyes flew open at the unexpected yet welcome gesture, and just as quickly shut them tight, hands wrapping around her neck and bringing her closer.

Her agile hands began working their way up John's strong arms, into the short hair at the nape of his neck, holding him against her. She kissed his lips like a child holding a mother's hand - afraid that if they let go they would be lost.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, John Sheppard knew that he was lost without her.

They pulled back, hands still firmly woven around each other's necks, as they drew breath again. Hazel eyes met green, and lips met again for a second round. "'Lizabeth," John half muttered as she began kissing a trail down his neck, close to his jugular, making more than his heart skip a beat.

"Hmm," she replied in a tone so quiet she was barely heard.

He sighed in resignation, then the alarm went off again before he could make his point.

Elizabeth reached an arm behind her, harshly hitting the button, and turned back to John. He was sure the regret on his face was evident as her own features fell. "Oh," she finally said.

"I'm on duty in an hour," he told her as his hands latched onto her upper arms. His thumbs were caressing the soft skin as he tried his best to clear his voice.

Elizabeth pressed her lips together, smiling slightly as she looked into her lap. "I understand," she finally said, trying to break away from him and stand up.

"So what time do you get off?" he quickly asked as her arms slid through his grasp. He grabbed her hands and gave a tug. "Because I don't know about you, but I fully intend on seeing this through." He grinned at her.

Elizabeth blinked and sighed, letting out a laugh. "Come get me for dinner. Knowing you," she added, starting to turn away, "I'll need my energy."

As she grabbed her robe and walked into the bathroom, John lay back down on his bed, hands folded under his head, a pleased expression on his face.

Then the alarm rang for the third time.

"Damn."

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