Summary: S/W - Elizabeth mentally rambles about relationships
Beta: comancherider
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the toys, I play with 'em.
AN: read Infinite Little Actions from ed84 and.. couldn't stop the writing bug from putting this little scene down. anyone have bug spray?-
Tired, grumpy, and most of all, lonely, Elizabeth fished for the spare dental floss that she was sure was somewhere on the shelf. The pack of cheap razors he loves; no. The hair gel Lorne gave him as a gag birthday present and which he insists he has to keep so he can find a way to use it in a practical joke against the major; no. The mangled, still all-too-full tubes of toothpaste, antibiotic ointment and anti-itch cream; no, no and no.
She used to hate Simon's things mixing with hers, making her take longer to look for her hand cream or her spare soap. But then she remembers he would turn around and whine about her leaving work papers on the coffee table and the couch-blanket thrown over the armchair.
John's mess -and it was a mess, the man couldn't seem to equate putting a bottle back in its place with always putting his underwear and ammunition in the same corner of his field pack- was a part of her things. As much as she was aware that it was the toothpaste he used.. it was just a part of her room. Their room. When they went to Earth, she automatically packed all of it into the luggage. If she needed hand cream, she used the hand cream.
The fact that, this time, the bottle on the counter was one he'd chosen, was irrelevant. Shampoo, soap and shaving cream went from vanilla and fruit-scented to mint or unscented and back again, mostly without comment.
The occasional 'discussions' about some of those choices were something they both tried to keep in mind and respect; she avoided rose, he stayed away from musk. At least on shared items. She had no problem whatsoever with his deodorant.. -as her hand closed around the stick, she pulled off the lid and took a breath, knowing it would only make his absence all the more real.. but unable to help reaching for the familiar- And he'd been known to get very 'distracted' when he caught her fresh from a shower with her body wash.
These days, she understood what her mother had meant about being careful who she chose for a life partner.
She realized that the only reason she and Simon had survived as a couple at all, was that she'd spent three quarters of her time on business trips. John, on the other hand, had actually cut down on the amount of time he spent in the field. Not through 'discussion', let along any request on her part. He'd just assigned less and less missions to his team. Assigned Rodney to Lorne more often, Ronon to SGA12. And Teyla had apparently read his mind and requested to spend more time working on Atlantis. Carson wanted to train her medically, and Zelenka said she was a miracle at explaining things to 'soldiers' -she automatically deleted the Czech he'd put in front of the word-.
And yet they hadn't killed each other. Had instead settled into a private life that didn't seem to care that they were opposites in so many ways, that the conditions of their rooms had been very different from each other. The bathroom was now much messier than hers had been, and the living room much messier than his. But he knew where specific papers were as well as she knew where his razors were. He rolled his eyes at the always-moving couch blanket as much as she did over the multiple mangled tubes.
And now this week-long trip of SGA1 to negotiate for a science exchange -she grinned at the thought of what the rebellious major she'd first met would have said at the idea-, was the first time in two months that they'd been apart. And she was starting to convince herself that Teyla, Lorne and Rodney could take care of Atlantis on their own these days.
Next time, he was packing up both of their field packs. Even if she had to pull out the pure rose-oil perfume to convince him...