Her head hurt. Throbbing with the kind of itchy-eyed cotton feeling that reminded her too much of her days at college. When she lifted her head it responded by threatening to spin entirely out of reach. Her eyelids opened slowly, feeling like the tissues beneath were too swollen to fit inside her head.
Someone beside her grunted and fabric rustled beneath a body. A body that wasn't hers. Weir's hand searched her left side for the person who must be next to her. It collided with flesh. Warm, breathing flesh. Jumping up in surprise was a mistake that immediately made her pounding skull threaten to explode that much quicker. Her moan of pain brought a sound of response. A curse, and then something she understood.
"Where's my pants?" Sheppard sat up next to her with a groan that matched her own headache. He caught the hand she'd tossed so carelessly onto his chest. It was a woman's hand. What was he doing with a woman? He didn't remember a woman. If he'd been with someone, he really should remember. He took the hand in his and tried to place it. It was lovely. The arm attached it curved back to a shoulder that lead up to hair he knew. Dark, curling hair spread out on the pillow next to him. His heart tightened cold in his chest. He'd finally been stupid enough to do it. He'd pushed her too far.
Weir pulled the alien blanket up over her chest and failed to contain her blush. "What?"
Sheppard yawned and stretched painfully. He forced his heart to relax as he wondered how he'd take the blame. His head and stomach argued between themselves over who was going to lodge their protest first. His eyes found the light from the small window in the wall and lodged their complaints as well. The sun was bright, far too cheerful for his headache. "I can't say I've even seen this side of you doctor." Sheppard crawled lazily out of bed in search of his clothes. "You look good in-" His sense of humor was the only sense responding. "Nothing-"
Dr. Weir's lips were tight in a mortified line. "Colonel-"
"Yes ma'am." He found his clothing in a neat pile on a roughly hewn wooden stool by the wall. "Sorry ma'am." Tossing a glance back over his shoulder he started a fresh rush of color across her face. "Don't know what got into me."
She turned away, politely averted her eyes as he pulled on his clothing. She'd already seen enough of his naked back to have her imagination running wild without her. What had they done? Together, naked, in a bed on an alien planet- "Are we still on M9G-327?" The code slipped slowly into her mind as she heard the clip of his belt from the other side of the room.
Sheppard developed a strong interest in his watch and the smooth plaster wall in front of him. "It's the morning after- Friday- we were at that party, that spring festival you insist-"
"Suggested," Weir corrected as she found her own clothes in an identical pile just to the left of his. The sheet trailed on the cool wooden floor beneath her feet. "I suggested we attend their spring festival."
"With the Ceolans." He checked his vest for his armaments, and, reasonably satisfied, slapped his sunglasses over his aching eyes. "That I remember. Pretty good food, dancing, all that music-" Turning to quickly, he caught a glimpse of the smooth muscles of her stomach as she pulled her red shirt down to her BDU pants.
Smiling in spite of the rolling feeling in his stomach, he shrugged. "I guess we'd better find the others and find out what we-' He paused slightly, his thoughts hidden behind his sunglasses.
"Did?" Weir's eyebrow's shot up momentarily. "We didn't do-"
"We got drunk." Sheppard opened the door and peered warily into the hallway. The torches on the wall weren't lit during the day, but he remembered them last night. The hint of burning reeds in the air brought a flash of Elizabeth dancing with him. Laughing as he brought her another mug. "I remember beer."
Weir caught his arm for balance and released it immediately. Biting her lip nervously she conquered the complaints of her stomach for the moment. "I don't remember much else-"
The Great Hall, the Ceolans' village center was mostly deserted. A few older children were still straightening up from the night's festivities, but no other adults were in sight.
His friends giggled behind them, but their smiles were friendly. Slow-moving, slightly hung-over adults must all part of the festival. Weir's aching head brought up an image of her parents after her father had received an especially prestigious award. Her mother clinging to her cup of coffee like a lifeline at the table over breakfast as her father ate plain toast with orange juice and avoided speaking.
The bright morning sunshine dug into her eyes like sharpened daggers. Sheppard tugged her back inside while they searched for his reserve pair of sunglasses. "Sorry," he added sheepishly as he found them in one of the rear pockets of his vest. "Should've warned you."
They ambled slowly out of the Great Hall. The smell of wood smoke tickled their memories of the night before, but nothing concrete came to mind. Some of the children offered them bowls and breakfast. Sheppard accepted some dark bread. The smell of the porridge sent her stomach reeling, but Weir managed a slight smile as she pulled him away from the younger children and a comfortable seat on the dry ground. "Colonel, we should be returning home."
"Before we get in any more trouble," Sheppard quipped as he passed up the idea of breakfast. He let his mind wander over the distinctly terrifying and slightly intriguing idea of what they had been doing the night before. Had they? Would they? Even if they were intoxicated out of their minds?
Shrugging to the kids, he nodded his agreement and took his place at her side. After all, that was why he'd come on this mission. To watch her conduct the trade negotiations with the Ceolans and see how it was done. That and he only let her bring one guard. He could have sent one of the marines, but the rest of his team had some kind of science project that negotiating was infinitely better than.
Walking in silence over the dirt pathway to the gate, she wondered if he could remember something she couldn't.
"I had a buddy of mine go to sleep drunk in a dog kennel."
"I'm sorry?" Weir drifted back to his story apologetically. "What were you saying?"
"He got drunk, went to sleep in a dog kennel. We found him in the morning, curled up like a big puppy in the corner." He looked up at the trees, listening to the wind in the pines. "I guess you had to be there-" He fidgeted with a stick she hadn't seen him pick up. "It was funny."
"I believe you." Listening to his feet comforted her as his boots scuffed the dirt half a step behind her own. "Do you think we-? Do you remember kissing-"
Sheppard's feet stopped a moment after hers. His shoulder hit the back of hers and a shiver ran down her spine. "I remember when you kissed me in the city." Snapping his twig in his hands, he grinned for a moment. "That was nice."
"But not-" The flush of hot blood ran through her face. For a moment she had to swallow a nervous giggle. "More recently?"
"Last night more recently?" Sheppard found a new twig and twirled it over in his hands. "Nope." He stared at her without his usual bravado, with a softness in his eyes. "That I would remember. I promise."
The shiver returned with a rush. "Okay."
"Okay." He caught her elbow, dragging her back towards the gate. "Time to go home."