Inhibition10

Moira woke. Found herself wrapped in John's arms as they lay facing each other. Clothing all rumpled, wrinkled by the night of sleep. She nudged him. "John? John?"

He stirred. "Ten minutes, Moy. Peanut butter?"

She smiled, kissed him. "Not yet, sweetie. I'll give you ten." She freed herself, moved to shower. Put on clean clothes. She returned to the bed. John was sprawled on his stomach, fast asleep. She lightly kissed his cheek, left him.

She braced herself. Knocked on Evan's door as the marine guarding it moved aside with a nod. She waited. "Evan? It's Moira. Moira Sheppard," she needlessly clarified, wondering why she had said that. She glanced at the marine again. The man was staring stoically ahead, but glanced over as the door opened.

Evan stood. Clad in a pair of dark blue pajamas. Bare feet. His hair mussed by a sleepless night. He blinked. Eyed her. "I know who you are, Moira. Colonel Sheppard made that quite clear last night."

"He did?" She looked at the marine, shooed him away with her hand. "I'm fine," she insisted.

The man hesitated, then moved a few paces away from them. She looked back at Evan. "What did he say? Exactly?"

"Exactly? That he listens to you from time to time when he's not busy fucking you. That you are his. His wife. Carrying his child. That if he wishes to monopolize your time he will. That if he wishes to keep you to himself for hours and hours he will. That if he wishes to repeatedly fuck you he will. That's about it. Oh, and some other stuff about killing me if I called you his fuck buddy again. Oops. Guess I'm in for it now."

Moira blinked. Stared. "Oh. Thank you, Evan." She abruptly turned, strode down the hallway. More upset at his tone than the actual words. Startling as they were, but not too surprising considering John and his overly possessive, protective mood. Knew that the term fuck buddy would piss him off to no end, and she was surprised he hadn't resorted to violence because of it. Evan's tone had been bitter, sarcastic. Not like himself at all.

She reached another door, knocked as the guard nodded at her, stepping aside. "Major Reynolds? It's Moira. Moira Shep–"

The door opened. Jason smiled. Clad in his BDUs he appeared to have had a restful night's sleep. "Doctor Sheppard? Is everything all right? Please," he indicated for her to enter, stepping aside.

Moira walked into the room. The contrast between Evan and Jason extended to their rooms as well. The glimpse Moira had gotten of Evan's was a mess. Jason's was tidy. Almost Spartan. "Thank you, major. I wanted to thank you for your intervention yesterday," she stated.

"Oh? That's hardly necessary, doctor. No one should be spoken to like that. Especially not a woman. Especially not Colonel Sheppard's wife."

She watched him, hands clasped together over the baby bump under her heavy sweater. "Major, do you have a scientist on your team?"

He stared, thrown by the question. "Uh, no, doctor. I've requested one but so far no such luck."

She smiled. "If you don't mind I'd like to um, join your team. Insofar as I can offer what I can...and can still travel safely and won't be a liability."

"Oh! You...oh! I would like that very much, doctor. But you are assigned to Lorne's team," he reminded, curious at her decision.

"Yes. I wish to move to your team. Now I know there's some paperwork or such and some kind of chain of command thing but you–"

"Yes, doctor, the chain of command," he agreed. "I would have to make the request of Colonel Sheppard. Does he know?"

"Um, no." An awkward pause. Moira eyed the floor. "I just came to the decision. So you would have to make the request?" she asked, meeting his gaze again.

He nodded. "Yes. If that's what you want you would be more than welcome, doctor. In fact I'll make the request today if you like."

"Yes, thank you, major. If Colonel Sheppard gives you any flak over it send him to me. I'll be in the bio lab or the Wraith lab all day."

"I'm sure he won't, doctor. Thank you. I look forward to working with you."

"Thank you for having me, major. Now I'd better get to work." She headed for the door, turned back to him. Smiled. "Don't be thanking me yet, major. You haven't heard the list of rules from John yet."

He smiled. "Thanks for the warning." They shared a laugh as she departed.

John swung the sticks, back and forth, back and forth. Oddly energized after his heavy sleep. After awakening alone in their bed. Certain that Moira was fine, was secure he showered, shaved, dressed. Devoured breakfast and decided to spar with Ronon. He smiled. Feet shifting smoothly under him. Blocking Ronon's attacks and landing a big hit on the Satedan's leg. He grinned at his friend's surprise.

Ronon stepped back, assessing. "You must have some issues to work out," he noted.

"Yeah, you could say that," John agreed. He swung the sticks, twirling them. "Come on!"

"Okay." The sticks clattered, clattered against each other as the two men circled. Faster. Faster. Narrowly missing each other. Narrowly missing inflicting serious damage to each other. Jason entered. Waited, watching as the two men inflicted multiple strikes against each other. Circling warily now. Sticks clattering. Ronon glanced at him, grimaced as a stick whacked his arm. "Trouble with Moira?" he asked.

John blocked a blow to his head. "No. Never. Not at all."

"Someone else then?"

"It will be you if you don't stop talking!" John retorted. "Why are you so chatty anyway?"

Ronon smiled. "Teyla says I should work on my people skills." The sticks clattered. Ronon dove, swooped and struck John on the leg. Grinned as John swore, staggered, hopped but resumed his attack.

John noticed Jason waiting. He slowed, stepped back, sticks held defensively. "Well, I'd rather work on this kind of skill. Hang on." He motioned the man forward. "Reynolds?"

Jason stepped to him, glancing at Ronon. "Sir. Sorry to interrupt. I have a request for a reassignment of personnel."

"You do?" John twirled the sticks in his hands. "Don't tell me. Lewis complaining about his bum knee again?"

"No, sir. Doctor Sheppard has requested to be transferred to my team. I'd happily accept, pending your approval, sir."

"Moira? She's on Lorne's team," Ronon noted, glancing at John who had gone still.

"Yes. But apparently she wishes to quit that team and join mine."

"Did she give any reason?" John asked quietly.

"No, sir. She said she'd be in the bio lab if any, um, if any flak occurred."

"Oh. All right, major. Transfer is approved. Fill out the paperwork. I'll talk to you later about it."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"You won't be thanking me once she starts on one of her scientific rambles." The men laughed.

Ronon eyed his friend. "What was that about?" he asked after Jason had left.

"Hell if I know." John sighed. "But I'd better find out, I guess." He tossed the sticks onto the bench, grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow, his neck. He strolled to the bio lab, heedless of his appearance. More intent upon finding his wife and the reason for her sudden turnabout. Directed to the Wraith lab he entered quietly. He smiled.

Moira was seated at a table, comparing two screens of data. Her heavy sweater was draped behind her. Revealing the snug green t-shirt and khaki pants she wore. Her hair was loose, spilling all around her as she leaned forward on the stool. She bit her lower lip. John waited for that small, soft sound to escape her lips. Felt a wave of desire as he heard it. As his gaze wandered over every curve, every swell of her body. "Son of a bitch," she muttered.

John grinned. "Wow. I haven't even done anything yet. Have I?"

Startled Moira looked over at him, fingers fumbling on the keyboard. "John! John, no. Not you! This." Her gaze lingered on his unkempt appearance. Slightly sweaty. Hair disordered. A shadow of scruff already a hint on his face. Black t-shirt stained with sweat, clinging to his lean torso, his muscled arms. Broad shoulders. His grey sweat pants clinging to his long legs. To his hips. A towel was draped around his neck. She stared as a bead of sweat slid along one sideburn to trail along his jaw, then his neck.

"What? That?" John pointed at the screen but his gaze was locked on hers. Seeing her desire. Her love. Until his gaze lowered to her rosy lips. Down to her fuller breasts perfectly outlined in the snug green t-shirt. He could see the lines of the bra she wore underneath it. He could see her nipples jutting against the fabric as they became hard suddenly. Until she suddenly turned away from him.

"Yes. This." She swallowed suddenly. Tapped the screen. "The pulse wave transmissions are nearly identical to the enzyme's chemical affect. Nearly. The strange thing is this. The red line here?" She pointed. "Indicative of the activity in our lower brain functioning. That's different."

"Oh." He touched her lower back. Caressed. "Sweetheart, what's this I hear about you wanting to join Reynolds and his team?"

She hesitated. Eyes on the screen in front of her. Feeling his fingers. Every gentle motion on her back. Against the fabric of her t-shirt. "I want to join Reynolds and his team. At least until I can't travel on missions because of the, the pregnancy."

"Hmm. Why?"

Moira kept her eyes on the screen. John stepped closer, still caressing. She tried to ignore his messy sexiness. "Why? Because in a few months I'll be a liability to any team because of the–"

"No, I know that. I meant why do you all of a sudden want to quit Lorne for Reynolds?" He waited. "Moira?"

"I...I talked to Evan."

"What? When?"

"This morning."

"And?"

"He told me."

John sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon. "Told you what, exactly?"

"Exactly. Exactly what you said to him. Verbatim. Word for word."

"I know that means!" He paused. "Oh." She was silent, still staring at the screen. "Um, Moira, look...about what I said to him...I'm sorry, but it needed saying and I–"

"Are you?" She finally met his gaze. "Are you sorry, John? Do you regret what you said? Didn't you mean any of it?"

"No! I mean yes! No! I don't regret it. I meant every word. I'm sorry, Moira, but it needed to be said."

"Then don't apologize, John. It's fine." She looked back at the screen.

"Fine? So...you're not mad at me?" he tested. His fingers traveled up her back to tangle in her hair.

"No."

"I don't believe you, Moy. After a quick conversation with him you just decide to quit his team and join Reynolds? What else did he say to you?"

"Nothing."

"Did he call you anything? I swear if he so much as looked at you in the wrong way I will–"

"No. Nothing like that. He told me what you said. That's all. So...you'll approve the transfer?" she asked. Met his bewildered gaze. Furrowed brow. Narrowed green eyes.

"Yes. Of course. If that's what you want."

"It is."

"Moy, talk to me. Why did you decide this now? Today? After hearing that? I know you are upset. If there's a Moira storm brewing I need to know. I'll batten down the hatches and raise the shield."

She smiled. "No need, John. There's no storm."

"Are you sure? Moy?"

"I'm sure." She shut the data screens. Turned to him. Saw his concern, his puzzlement. She touched his chest. "What have you been doing to make you all sweaty and sexy?"

"Sexy? I was working out. With Ronon. Sticks. Moira, if you need to–"

"I'm tired, John."

"Tired? Then let's take a nap, baby."

"No. I mean I'm tired. Of all of this." She sighed. Stood. Pulled on her sweater to his disappointment.

"All of what?" he asked, feeling lost again. "Moira?"

"Come with me, sweetie. You need a shower."

"Okay, Moira." He followed her to their rooms. "I really wish you would explain yourself to me, sweetheart. Moira?" He caught her arm after they had entered their quarters.

She turned to him. Smiled. Eyes roving over him. "John...oh John...I've been considering your theory."

"Theory? What theory?" he asked, baffled again.