Title: A Cunning Plan
Author: upsidedownbutterfly
Summary: John has a cunning plan. Set immediately prior to "Sunday."
Genre: fluff, fluff, and more fluff
Pairings: John Sheppard/Elizabeth Weir
Rating: PG
Spoilers: "Sunday"
Disclaimer: They're not mine, people.
Author's Note: Dedicated to Vicky for being relentlessly and obnoxiously positive.
"Alright, what is it?" John finally asked to the mass of curly brown hair that was all he could see of Elizabeth. At the moment, he was sprawled on his back in his bed with Elizabeth curled against his chest, his hand stroking lightly up and down her spine. The reports they were supposed to have been reading were lying somewhere forgotten on the floor.
Shifting her position slightly, Elizabeth peered up at him with a quizzical look on her face. "What are you talking about?" she asked.
"Something's bothering you," John replied. "I want to know what it is."
With a sigh, Elizabeth buried her face into his neck. "Nothing's bothering me."
John's hand stilled momentarily at the nape of her neck before continuing upwards to tangle in her hair. "You're a terrible liar, Elizabeth," he said.
"I'm an excellent liar, John. I wouldn't have made it as a diplomat if I weren't."
"Okay, you're a terrible liar to me," John amended. "Come on, what's bugging you?"
Elizabeth sighed, her breath warm against the skin of his neck. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid."
"Hey, it's me!" said John, feigning indignation even as he grinned into her hair. "Since when do I do anything stupid?"
The glare John received when Elizabeth lifted her head could have vaporized a Wraith at fifty paces.
"Fine, nothing stupid," he promised.
Elizabeth's expression softened, but she continued to study him for another moment before finally laying her head back down on his chest.
"Do you know Mike Branton?" she asked.
"Sure," said John. "I think." He paused a few seconds to consider. "The scientist with way too much hair?"
Elizabeth laughed. "That's him."
"What about him?" John asked.
"I think he's going to ask me out."
There was a long pause while John fought down his initial irrational spike of jealousy followed by an even longer one while he struggled to come up with a coherent way in which to respond to this revelation. He failed.
"Whaa?" he finally said.
Elizabeth giggled. "I think he's going to ask me out," she repeated.
"I heard you," replied John. "I just…"
"He's keeps dropping these hints and trying to flirt with me," Elizabeth continued. Snickering softly she added, "It's very flattering."
John felt a pout coming on. For all the effort it'd taken to drag this information out of her, she certainly seemed to be taking a sick pleasure in his reaction now.
"Did you tell him you're taken?"
Even though he couldn't see her face, John could tell Elizabeth was rolling her eyes.
"John, you know I can't very well tell him that."
"You don't have to say by whom, you know," he pointed out.
"John," warned Elizabeth.
"Fine, fine," said John. His hand had returned to stroking up and down her back. "But you are taken though, right?" He'd meant it to come off light and joking, but John could hear an unintended undercurrent of very real uncertainty stealing in to lace his words.
Apparently, so could Elizabeth, because when she lifted her head again instead of glare, her face held a tender expression. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.
"Just checking that you weren't looking to jump ship," he said softly, bringing his right hand up to touch her cheek.
Leaning down, Elizabeth kissed him lightly. "I'm not going anywhere," she murmured against his lips.
"Good," he replied relieved, kissing her again.
A few kisses later, Elizabeth settled her head back onto his chest, both of them too exhausted from Atlantis's long days to do much beyond enjoy each other's quiet company. For a long while, the room was silent, with only the sounds of their breathing and the gentle hum of Elizabeth's laptop breaking the stillness. Finally John spoke.
"I think you should go out with him," he said.
Now it was Elizabeth's turned to be surprised. Her head was back up in a flash, staring down at him once again. "What?!" she practically squeaked.
"I think you should go out with him," he repeated, grinning up at her.
Elizabeth shook her head. "No, I heard you, I just…" she said, allowing her unconscious echo of his earlier words to trail off. "Are you sure you're not the one looking to jump ship?"
"Not a chance, 'Liz'beth."
"Then please explain to me why precisely you're advocating my dating another man?" Elizabeth asked with a bemused expression on her face.
"Not dating," John clarified, his grin widening. "Just one date."
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow in curiosity. "It'd shut him up," John supplied.
"Or give him false hope," Elizabeth retorted.
John shrugged. "It'd shut everyone else up." At Elizabeth's confused look, he continued, "About us. You do know there are rumors, right?"
"There've always been rumors, John," said Elizabeth.
John smirked. "Yeah, but they weren't always true."
Elizabeth cocked her head to the side. "Point," she conceded.
"So you get all dressed up, drop some few non-subtle hints to a few non-subtle people about how you may be going out on a date… And I make sure I'm seen around the same time at, I don't know, the gym or something."
Elizabeth laughed.
"And then," John continued, "and hold on because this is the really brilliant part, you turn him down afterwards by telling him you don't date people you work with!"
Elizabeth shook her head at John's triumphant grin, but she too was smiling. "And that will accomplish what exactly besides making me feel like a massive hypocrite?"
John shrugged. "Well, I assume this guy has friends. I mean, I don't know him so maybe he's an even bigger loser than McKay." John paused. "Admittedly great taste in women aside, of course," he added quickly.
Elizabeth smiled indulgently, and John continued, "Anyway, I'm guessing he has at least one friend, one who will want to know all about his hot date with the boss. Barton –"
"Branton."
"Whatever, tells his friend what you said. His friend inevitably tells someone else who tells someone else who…"
Elizabeth dropped her forehead to his chest with a groan. "I get the idea, John."
"So pretty soon all of Atlantis is convinced that you really do consider all base personnel off limits, myself included obviously, and even if you didn't, it'd be Brandon's –"
"Branton's."
"Bones you jumped first, not mine!"
Elizabeth looked up. "That's," she hesitated, "not a terrible plan…" she finally relented, although it sounded like the admission pained her.
"I know!" exclaimed John, nodding vigorously. "I come up with all the most cunning plans. Really!" he insisted at Elizabeth's disbelieving look.
Elizabeth gave a noncommittal hum as she snuggled back down against him, resting her head once more on his chest. John's arms tightened around her reflexively, one hand returning to stroke through her hair.
"So," said John, tugging on a loose curl. "You gonna do it?"
Elizabeth sighed. "Maybe," she said.
