Hibernation
White.
John Sheppard stared down at the little white ball poised precariously at his feet. Its surface was not smooth, but molded by hexagonal shapes. Tiny edges giving it a deeper heft. The ball appeared unresponsive, unconcerned as the lieutenant colonel leveled his most lethal, dangerous glare at it. A look that sent marines into full attention. That sent scientists cowering busily over their work. That sent technicians scurrying out of his way.
A smile traced itself on John's full lips. He adjusted his grip on the golf club he held. Wrists flexing, fingers loosening slightly. "All right, Rodney, this is the perfect back swing." As he swung the club high in the air, pelvis turning, hips twisting in perfect concert he sliced it towards the little white golf ball.
"John! John Sheppard!" Moira Sheppard's sharp voice cut the air like a knife.
Startled John swung wildly. Whacking into the ball. The ball shot sideways, careened off the wall. Hit the opposite wall. Nicked a panel which lit and activated a door. The ball continued, flying over the railing and disappeared into the lower city. At the same time the golf club slid from his loose grip. It spun forward, nearly hitting Rodney McKay who yelped as he ducked. The club whacked the wall. Smashed a crystal light and then fell to the floor, spinning like a top.
Rodney straightened, stared. "Son of a bitch!" he exclaimed, checking the top of his head to make certain it was still there. He smoothed down his fluttered hair.
"Son of a bitch," John echoed his friend's sentiment. He whirled as Moira strode towards him. Angry expression on her face, ponytail flying wildly behind her. Hips swaying in her khaki pants. Breasts bouncing slightly in her snug green t-shirt as she swung her arms at her sides. "Um, hey, Moira," he greeted.
"Don't you dare hey Moira me, John Sheppard! How could you? What the hell were you thinking?" she demanded. Balling her hands into fists. She hit his arm. Hard.
"Ow! What the–"
"Oh, oh, you thought it was funny, did you? You just think you are fucking hilarious, don't you? You pervert! You son of a bitch! You obsessed, arrogant, pig-headed–"
"Whoa, whoa!" He held up his hands in surrender. Black polo shirt raising just a little to give her a glimpse of bare skin at his waist. "Okay, you got me, I guess. I thought it was funny at the time. Do you mind telling me what I did before you ruin my next swing?"
"Oh like you don't know, you bastard! The camera!" She fumed at his blank expression. "The photos! The mountain suite!"
"Oh," he realized. He smiled, relaxing. Fearing for a moment that she had found out about his amnesic indiscretion, but he knew her reaction would be nothing like this. "Oh yes," he drawled with a playful smile on his handsome face, brilliant green eyes sparkling, "those photos. I could not, just could not resist taking that particular set of photos, Moira. I'm going to make one of them my screen saver. Bet you can't guess which one." He raised a brow.
She smacked his arm. "You son of a bitch! I deleted them so you can't–"
"Oh I can," he assured smugly. "Don't you worry, baby, I downloaded those to my hard drive." He lowered his voice, gave her a suggestive look. "In more ways than one." He winked.
Moira tried not to smile. It was difficult to remain angry with him when he was flirting so outrageously. Head tilted slightly to one side. Lips curved into a smile. The knowing warmth in his eyes. The black polo shirt opened generously at his throat. Brown pants hugging him. She glared at him. "You son of a bitch!" She whirled, crossed the floor in quick strides.
John laughed. "Ah, come on, Moira! They were tastefully done, very artful, don't you think?" He laughed again, enjoying her anger, her chagrin.
"Um, John, should you be pissing her off like that?" Rodney asked.
"Yeah. Once in a while," he commented. "It spices things up." What things he did not elucidate. But his body was already anticipating.
"Oh, um, really? Well, you'd better not go after her any time soon. She needs to cool down!" Rodney advised, oblivious.
"No, oh no. I want her pissed. We'll resume this later, Rodney." He sprinted across the room to collect his golf club. Swung it up onto his shoulder.
"You want her pissed? Why on Earth would you want your wife pissed at you?"
John met the genuinely baffled scientist's gaze. Smirked. "Why else? Angry, angry sex. See ya." He strode out of the room. Leaving Rodney to stare, realize. Shake his head.
Moira was sitting at the table in her room, perusing the photos on her lap top. Photos of the rare albino cougar they had seen. A herd of elk. Mountain views. Images of John in a full tuxedo. Scowling. Smiling. Pouting. She shut the data pad, moved to the bed. Heard John enter his adjoining room. Dump his golf club onto the bed. She moved to the dresser, opened a drawer.
John sauntered into her room, their room as he came to think of it more and more. He watched her searching for something. "Oh come on, Moira, you are not that pissed at me, are you?"
"Go away," she warned. Slammed the drawer shut. Turned with a hammer in her hand.
John held up his hands again, taking a step backwards. "Whoa, whoa, I guess you are."
She smiled, moved to the bed. "That's right, sweetie, so you better keep your distance." She banged the hammer onto the headboard. The wood was splintered, in danger of falling apart on one side. "I see I have to fix this too. I've only asked you to fix this twenty times, John!"
"Twenty-two, but who's counting?" he jested, watching her get on the bed. Stand on her knees, thighs spread for balance. She hammered the splintered sections back together. He smirked, watching. Wanting as her hips shifted. Her shapely rear snug in the khaki pants. Her shirt rode up a little, just a little to give him a peek of her bare skin. A glimpse of pale green lace as she leaned way over to adjust the furniture. She straightened. He moved onto the bed, onto his knees behind her. Touched her hips. "Ah baby, baby, please. This is one of my favorite positions," he teased into her ear.
"Go away," she said sternly. "I've got a hammer and know how to use it, sweetie."
He laughed. Kissed her throat, moving her hair out of the way. "Ah baby, I bet you do. You do know how to handle a tool like that. But I've got a bigger, harder tool that I do know how to use. Repeatedly." He squeezed her rear. "Put the hammer down, baby, before one of us gets hurt. And not the fun kind of hurt either."
She smiled, trying not to laugh. Not to lose her anger but he was so close. Teasing. Loving. Hands sliding between her legs to caress. His mouth on her throat. "John! John, I need to fix this because you are too lazy to–"
He turned her face to his. Kissed her mouth. Hands sliding over hers to remove the hammer from her grasp. He dropped it to the floor. "That's it, baby," he urged, breaking the kiss. Shoving his body up against hers. Shoving her up to the headboard. "It's not because I'm lazy, Moira. It's because I want to see how much sex it will take to finally break it apart." His hands slid up to fondle her breasts as she squirmed on him. "Ah baby, yes, shake that pert little ass."
"Colonel Sheppard, respond," a voice announced.
"Fuck. Why is it always when we are in the middle of coitus?" he grumbled. Freeing her.
She laughed. "We haven't started coitus, sweetie. We're still fully clothed," she remonstrated.
"I can remedy that, baby. Hold this twenty." He tapped his earpiece. "This is Sheppard. Report!"
"Colonel, Major Reynolds has returned from PJ5096. Doctor Weir requests your presence at the debrief in fifteen."
"Thanks. I'll be there. Sheppard out." He sighed, tapped the earpiece. "Shit. Debrief in fifteen. So...de-panty in five?"
Moira laughed. "I don't think so, colonel. Even if you are at the pre-deployment level of preparedness." She reached back to run her hand up his thigh. She slipped past him off the bed. Grabbed the hammer from the floor. "You better stand down, colonel, before someone gets hurt with that lethal ordnance of yours. I'll be fine, sweetie, don't you worry. I have this bigger, longer, harder tool to play with, now don't I?" She stroked the hammer, ran the length of it between her legs with a smirk.
"Fuck," he remarked, eyes on her. Aroused. Amused. He got off the bed, took the hammer from her. Tossed it onto the bed. "The only tool you are allowed to put there, or to handle is mine, baby. Only mine." He kissed her, pulling her into his arms. "I can promise you, baby, my tool is much bigger, much longer, and much, much harder than that pathetic hammer."
She laughed, squirming along his body. "Ooh, John, you might be right. But I'm still not sure."
He smiled. "You will be, Moira. Here. You scientists always need irrefutable proof, right?" He took her hand, shoved it against his crotch. He unzipped her pants and shoved his long fingers into them to find his own evidence.
"John!" she protested, pulling her hand off him to yank his out of her pants. "Does this mean that we are going to that abandoned Wraith facility? Now that Reynolds is back?"
"Yeah. Once I draw up the specs and all." He kissed her. "Tomorrow. Right now I want those panties wet. No, sodden. No, drenched, so fucking wet they drip when I get back to remove them. With my teeth. I want another trophy. Meanwhile I will go to this debrief and stare at my new luscious screen saver. Back in thirty, baby." He laughed at her scowl as he left.
John slowed his swagger, schooling the smirk on his face as he passed people. Data pad clutched in one hand. He hoped that the meeting would be quick. Anticipated spending some time with Moira. More playful flirtation evolving into some very pleasurable sex.
"John? John!"
John cursed to himself, kept walking. Trying to ignore the woman hastening after him. She caught his arm and he paused, turned, pulling free of her loose grasp. "Stay away from me."
Susan Williams stared, blue eyes wide. But she frowned. "John. You can't just pretend it didn't happen. If you're having trouble getting it up again, honey, I can always persuade your–" she began saucily, stepping closer to him.
He stepped away from her, glaring. "Nothing happened, except you took full advantage of my impaired state. So stay away from me, got it?"
"Oh please! You knew damn well what you were doing, even if you did forget your so-called wife! John, you know you want me, you know–"
"The only thing I know is that I can't stand the sight of you," he informed, voice low. Harsh. "So stay the fuck away from me and my wife, got it?" He turned, strode away from her. Loosening his grasp on the data pad before he damaged it.
He entered the conference room. Sat and opened the data pad. He nodded as Jason Reynolds and his team joined him, followed by Elizabeth Weir. He pretended to pay attention to the mission report, only half listening to another boring trading opportunity. Eyes on his data pad he clicked off the reports, entered a password and brought up the pictures of Moira he had taken after she had fallen fast asleep. After too much wine. After exuberant, wild sex. After the celebration of their six-month wedding anniversary.
He zoomed in on certain features. Areas. The curve of a semi-hidden breast. The curves of her naked back. The artfully draped rear, one bare cheek visible as the black slinky dress draped the rest of her. Her slightly parted rosy lips, messy hair. He zoomed. Zoomed closer in another shot. Could nearly make out a very intimate part of her anatomy until it blurred. He zoomed out, shifted on his chair as his body reacted. He bit his lower lip to conceal his smile. Suddenly clicked off the photos and restored the report. "So," he said into the lull, "in conclusion, you got food for medical supplies, blah, blah, blah."
Jason smiled as the men grinned. "Yes, sir. A lot of blah, blah, blah, actually. No Wraith intel or Ancient tech. No ZPMs or any energy readings. No unusual biologicals. Just pounds and pounds of seeds and–"
"Excuse me, major," Elizabeth interrupted. "Biologicals?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Meaning?" she prompted. Glanced at John who seemed completely unfazed.
"A new directive, ma'am, ordered by Colonel Sheppard. Reporting on any anomalous or unusual wildlife we happen to encounter."
"Oh." She looked at John again, knowing full well he had initiated that for Moira. "Please, continue."
"Please, don't," John interrupted. "I read the report. The endless, and I do mean endless list of seeds and grains. Fascinating reading," he caustically commented. The men grinned.
"Yes, you did seem to be absorbed by it," Elizabeth noted, wondering what he really had been looking at on his screen. Had seen his fond smile, intent gaze.
"Yes. Fascinating, as I said," John smoothly agreed. "In fact, it was so engrossing I'm thinking of taking up botany as a sideline." The men laughed. "Dismissed. You've earned your off days for this one, major."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
John watched the team leave. He turned to Elizabeth. "We need to re-think our strategies."
"Strategies? What do you mean? No, wait. Come to my office."
He strolled with her up the steps into her office. Closed the door part way. "Just that. We need to re-prioritize these missions. I don't want my men wasting time and spinning their wheels on these endless trading missions."
"Establishing diplomatic and trading partnerships is essential for this expedition, John. You know that," she chided.
"Yes," he agreed as they sat opposite each other. The desk a large barrier between them. "But that's the work of civvies, not a full marine team."
She raised a brow at his term. "Civvies? I see. We need the marines for protection."
"Of course. I'm just saying we could deploy," he paused, Moira's use of the word teasing his mind, his body, "our men more usefully. That's all. For example, Delta needs to be permanently assigned to the city unless I order otherwise. I want them here so I can lead the teams to investigate the planet and that abandoned facility. We could have gone sooner but I had to wait for Reynolds to return."
"All right, that's a good point. We can schedule Delta to be a permanent Atlantis garrison," she agreed, making a note of it. "You are taking two teams tomorrow?"
"Yes. I need the scientists, unfortunately," he shrugged, causing her to smile, "so I'm taking Lorne's team, well, most of it, and mine. And Beckett. In case we find anything of value there. If not we'll be home by lunch."
"Lorne's team? And by most of it do you mean to say you are excluding Moira?"
"No. I need her Wraith expertise on this. No, I'm excluding Kavanaugh. McKay is enough."
Elizabeth smirked. "True. I can't fault you there, John. You know, you've never told me how you found out about this planet in the first place, or why you believe it contains valuable information." She leaned forward, arms folded on the desk.
John shrugged. "Um, I was a little busy at the time. It's intel from my, um, dark side version. Some possible key to the Wraith over there, so maybe to the Wraith here."
"And he told you this?"
"Um, no, not exactly. Well, he did...I mean...he left the address in the Ancient Chair device. Which only I can access by code. And he, um, gave us the rest on a flash drive."
