Written for the "237 reasons to have sex" challenge instigated by solemneyed on johnelizabeth, beta'd by jackfan2.
« I wanted to change the subject of conversation »
Elizabeth Weir was a woman of words. Naturally, given her chosen profession, she had always been convinced that the best way to solve problems was through sensible conversation.
Like this morning, for example; John and she had had a disagreement during the briefing, about some strategy to adopt off-world. The argument was minor, but it bothered her for she was under the impression that such had become more regular since the two had shared one another's bed. Or, perhaps was she just more aware since she'd long feared that getting involved with him would undermine her authority.
That was why, when Rodney finished his ever-lasting technobabble speech; Ronon and Teyla subtlely escaped the room, and the scientist energized by his own demonstration, exited triumphally Elizabeth planned to have a word with her ranking military officer.
Unfortunately for her, said military officer was a man of action. To him, the most efficient way to express things was simply to show them.
Proving this, the second the briefing ended, John acted. He'd felt Elizabeth's eyes on him as the rest of his team exited. And he just knew she was about to say something, probably something he wouldn't like. She had a tendency to get annoyed with him for insignificant things lately; that was, until they reached the bedroom.
With this knowledge, before she had the chance to pronounce a word, he grasped her hand and led her out the impressive doors.
Knowing she should protest, but either unable or unwilling, Elizabeth found herself pinned up against the wall of a random dark closet, John's hand somewhere under her shirt, his mouth busy below her earlobe, one of her own legs tighed around his waist. All in all, her ability to produce constructed sentences mysteriously lost.
And the worst (or was it the best?) part was, she didn't really mind.