Author: Cyclone
Rating: PG13
Summary: Just as there are consequences, there are also ramifications.
Disclaimer: If they were mine, they would have christened the puddle jumpers already. Numerous times, in an endless variety of positions.
Notes: Thanks to Shane for her beta skills. Thanks also to everyone who's still reading and especially reviewing. (Yes, I have an ego. -g-) The end of the road is creeping up - there's only a couple of chapters left to write now. So without further ado, here's chapter four.
XxX
What the hell were you thinking? Elizabeth thought to herself as she gripped the balcony railing tightly. You don't start something with a man like John Sheppard and then just expect to walk away from it. Not without finishing it first.
It had been three days since their little chat about consequences. At first she'd thought that she'd come away with the upper hand, and had behaved rightly superior. After all, she'd managed to render him speechless, and she'd managed to do it in such a way that it had taken him a full day to recover. One day was all it had taken though. One day of him unable to meet her eyes for more than a second without colouring and looking away had changed to two days of laden looks, knowing smirks, and smug glances. Two days of him looking her over like she was the previously undiscovered sixth food group and he knew exactly what she tasted like. Two days of her trying not to imagine how he felt while he was doing that.
She kicked ineffectually at the railing. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She knew very well what the consequences of the consequences would be, and although part of her wanted to test the boundaries that they'd stretched recently, the logical part of her knew that it would be a bad move.
"Come on, it can't be that bad."
Elizabeth turned around, startled by the intrusion. John came to stand next to her and assumed an identical stance, feet apart, hands leaning on the rail.
"I'm sorry?"
"Whatever has got you so out of shape that you'd kick a steel railing."
She shrugged ruefully. "Nothing that concerns you."
"No?" he pressed.
"No."
"You sure about that?"
"John."
"I'm just worried about –"
"Major Sheppard, I told you that it doesn't concern you. Perhaps you could go and find something else to do?"
"Okay," he replied, looking a little confused by the distance she was putting between them. "Any suggestions?"
"Don't you have reports to file?"
"Nope. All done."
"What about – what exactly do you do around here, anyway?"
"You mean when I'm not risking life and limb off-world or awakening the Wraith?" he asked. "I was working on a little identity problem, but I solved that a couple of days ago."
Two days ago. Two days ago was when he'd started giving her looks that he had no business giving. "Ahh, Papa Smurf?"
"No, that distinguishing yet manly stature on your desk."
Elizabeth laughed. "That would be Papa Smurf, John. I think you referred to it as 'ugly' and 'tacky'."
"Hey, I may have said it was ugly, but I never said it was tacky. Besides," he turned to face her. "It kind of grows on you."
"Yes it does," she agreed softly, thinking the same thing about her errant major. A comfortable silence settled over them wherein he grinned stupidly at her, and she grinned stupidly right back. Just when she thought that they were crossing the line from silly to ridiculous, John twisted his body so that he was leaning against the rail and asked, "So, you want to know how I know?"
"I assume that you tracked down Pierrick and asked him?"
"Well, yeah. But –"
"But what?" she prodded.
"I've got nothing," he admitted. "Just thought you might want to admire my investigative skills."
"Oh, I do," she said with a smirk. "It took you what? A couple of days to figure out that you should go directly to the source? And then two more to come and brag about it? I'm very impressed with your . . . investigative skills, John."
John edged closer to her so that their arms were lightly touching. "In my defence, I was thinking about the ramifications of Papa Smurf for two of those days."
Don't think about it, she told herself. Do. Not. Think. About. Those. Two. Days. "Who said there had to be ramifications?" she asked, and was pleased that her voice at least sounded calm and steady. As opposed to the rest of her, which felt like some sort of jelly.
"Come on, Elizabeth. Just like there are consequences," and he leaned even closer still and spoke directly into her ear. "which I hope we fully get to explore, there are also ramifications. As fun as the consequences would be, we also have to think of the ramifications."
"Oh," was all she said. She already knew that. And if he'd just stop smiling at her like he was, and smelling so good, she'd be able to agree with him.
"Yeah, oh."
The trouble was, what had started as a bit of harmless flirting between friends had turned into something that would open up a big ol' can of messy worms if they took it any further. Which, she mused as she again tried to force all sorts of ill-conceived naked notions about him out of her head, she wasn't totally adverse to. At least in theory.
And damn him – he looked like he already knew that.
tbc