It seems to me that the best relationships- the ones that last- are
frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship. You know, one
day you look at the person and you see something more than
you did the night before. Like a switch has been flicked somewhere.
And the person who was just a friend is... suddenly the only person
you can ever imagine yourself with.
The X-Files, 6x8: The Rain King
It's the quietest day they've had in months.
Elizabeth is on the balcony, coffee cup warming her hands as she watches the sun set over the vast stretch of sparkling waters. The hum of a peacefully functioning city drones low and soft under her feet, and it's the most relaxed she's been in a long, long time.
It's not often she gets to stare out at nothing and think about big things. The future. Life. The endless glittering space between here and Earth. Her mind wanders through all of it, and she can feel the tension slowly creeping out of her eternally clenched shoulders.
As she finishes off the last sip of coffee, she hears the doors slide open behind her but doesn't turn; there's only one person who comes here, and she knows his footsteps. Elizabeth usually prefers her solitude, but he's the single person in this entire city whose presence she finds calming.
Not that she'd admit it to him, of course.
John settles beside her, leaning on his wrists, his arm just brushing against hers. "Hey."
"Hi," she murmurs, glancing over at him to see him smiling.
Elizabeth doesn't know who moves first, until suddenly they're kissing.
It's light as air, his mouth gentle on hers, as easy and natural as breathing, and it's not until it ends that she realizes what they just did.
When she opens her eyes, John's staring at her, confusion on his face that must mirror her own. She flushes, clutching her coffee cup reflexively, because - what just happened?
"What was that?"
John blinks, running a hand through his hair absently. "I don't know. I just -"
She kisses him again, her cup clattering onto the railing as she traces her hand over his shoulder, burying her fingers in his soft hair. He takes in a sharp breath, pulling her closer, nipping gently at her bottom lip, and she shivers.
"Doctor W- oh! I'm sorry. Sorry, ma'am. Sir."
Elizabeth flinches, pulling away from John as Lieutenant Campbell tries to look anywhere but at them. The young Marine's face is scarlet.
"It's all right, Campbell," John mumbles. "Not your fault."
Elizabeth clears her throat, folding her arms over her chest. "Something you need, Lieutenant?"
"Weapons inventory, ma'am." The young man holds up a folder. "We just finished. I didn't mean to intrude."
"What - what you saw -" Elizabeth tries, but what on earth can she say? "It's not -"
The lieutenant meets her eyes, his gaze keen. "I have no idea what you mean, ma'am. But I apologize for interrupting your conversation with Colonel Sheppard just now. I'll leave this on your desk on my way out."
Oh.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," John says quietly.
"Sir. Ma'am."
Campbell disappears, leaving Elizabeth holding her breath.
What, exactly, did Campbell just interrupt?
She doesn't know what to call it, because she doesn't know why they were doing it, other than the fact that she just suddenly needed to kiss John Sheppard like she needed air.
The warmth of John's hand on hers drags her out of her reverie, and she looks back at him to find him staring at her with such utter intensity that she feels herself blush.
"Elizabeth?"
It's soft, a question, and before she knows it she's leaning in again for another kiss that turns into two, that turn to three, that turn to even more.
The sensations are welling up in her chest, spilling out of her ribcage, a messy flood of affection and shyness and desire and need and sheer physical lust that sets her skin alight. It's sensory overload, his hands on her skin, his tongue in her mouth, the hard line of his body up against hers, and it goes from gentle to frantic in a moment.
She finally manages to pull herself away. "John. John. We have to stop."
He pouts, looking so thoroughly kissable she has to clench her fists to keep from reaching for him.
"What are we doing?"
John blinks at her. "We're kissing."
She shoots hims a half-hearted glare, but she can't stop smiling. "You know what I mean."
"Yeah. I do." John lets out a breath, leaning back against the railing, and she can't help but feel a pang. What started this? Inertia? Did they both just unconsciously stop fighting it? "And I don't know exactly what we're doing, Elizabeth. I just know that - that I care about you. A lot. I have for a long time. And I'd like to kiss you again."
She's sometimes wondered what cataclysmic event might shatter her self-control, what narrow miss the world's end would have to make for them to break down the wall.
But maybe they wandered past it on accident.
"Besides, you dropped your coffee cup for me," he says seriously. "From you, that's basically a marriage proposal."
She slaps his arm, but he catches her hand, twining his fingers through hers.
"So?"
The breeze rustles her hair as Elizabeth takes a long breath.
There's a sudden crackle in her ear, and she lets out a sigh, gritting her teeth. "What is it, Rodney?"
He unleashes a torrent of whatever brilliant scientific discovery he's just made, and Elizabeth finally hears a break in the flood. "All right. All right, Rodney. I'll be right there." Of all the perfect timing. Does Rodney have sonar, something that detects important moments for the sole purpose of interrupting them?
She pulls her hand away from John and covers her face. "I have to go. Can we come back to this later?"
"We'd better."
Elizabeth grabs her coffee cup and runs a quick hand over her hair. She hopes it's not too messy. She'd hate to look like she was just making out with someone.
"I'll find you later." She turns to leave, but bites her lip, glancing back at him. "John."
"Hmm?"
She leans in and kisses him quickly on the cheek.
"See you later, flyboy."