Hibernation12
John snorted. Snored and woke suddenly. He rolled onto his back, limbs sprawled on the bed. Tangled under the blanket. "Moira?" he rasped. Blearily opened his eyes. The room was engulfed in darkness. Silence. He sat. Ran a hand through his hair, over his face. Frowned. Wondered where she had gone. With a sigh of annoyance and concern he got off the bed. Strolled to his room. Entered the bathroom and cleaned up.
He pulled on a navy t-shirt, his gray running pants, shoes. Left to find her. He entered the cafeteria but it was deserted at this late hour. He turned to go. Spun back, suddenly ravenous. He moved to the back, searched through the refrigerators and found a sandwich. A beer. He headed out, but spun back. Returned to grab Moira a sandwich and a Coke. Left again but returned once more to snag a bag of chips. Satisfied he strolled along the hallways, trying to figure out where his wife had fled.
Moira was sitting in the biology lab, staring blankly at a data screen as information filled it. She tried to concentrate, but her thoughts kept returning to John. Usually science was a refuge, a calm place but now her mind kept running off track. Away from the data and facts. Sliding to the startling events of the evening. To everything they had been through recently. To the sex, the exuberant, aggressive sex which had escalated into something that made her uncomfortable. Worried.
A sandwich appeared on the table. Startled she turned in the chair as a Coke joined it. As John pulled up a chair to sit beside her. Placing his own sandwich and beer on the table. "John?"
"Hey, Moira. I'm starving. Figured you'd be too." Nonchalantly he began to eat his food. Taking a long swallow of the beer. He made a satisfied sound, licked his lips. Gaze roving over her messy, loose hair. Her violet t-shirt and dark jeans.
"Thanks." She began to eat, suddenly hungry. Drank the Coke in thirsty gulps. Apart from their eating the only sounds were the computers humming softly. The lights emitting a golden glow upon them, around them. Doused to half-power.
John finished. Sat back, sipping his beer. "So...what's that?" He pointed at the screen.
Moira finished, looked at the computer. "Gomphoterium angustidens compared to the Deiotherium giganteum we discovered on Pleistocene Park. I'm trying to collate a definitive elephantid evolutionary development in respect to the diverse orders and..." She faltered.
"Oh. And you decided to do this at," he checked his watch, "two in the morning? Did you have a sudden eureka moment and I missed it?"
"No." She frowned at the screen, at his gentle teasing. "Go back to bed, John. I need to work on this. It's more productive right now than the serum analysis and the HIT applications to–"
"No." He shut the data pad. "Moira, are we okay?"
She scowled, but his question threw her. She met his gaze. "What?"
"You heard. Are we okay? After all the shit we've been through recently, I mean. The betrayals that weren't betrayals but...slips," he decided on the word. "All the sharing of our dark pasts. I just need to know if we're okay. Are we?"
She considered, caught by his serious gaze. Low voice. "Yes." She turned back to the closed data pad. "We're okay, John."
"Good. So...it's the sex, isn't it?" He saw her tense. Sipped his beer. "Well? Talk to me, Moira. The intensity?" She nodded. "Ah. The duration?" She nodded again. "Ah. I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked, setting down the beer.
"No. You didn't hurt me. You never hurt me..."
"But...but it got close to that, didn't it? And that scared you. Shit. I'm sorry, Moira...I swear I will never hurt you. That last, those last times were quite, um, exuberant, even for us. But we needed it. You know that as well as I do."
"You, you didn't hurt me, John," she repeated. Stood as a blush warmed her face. "It's not that, it's...you'll laugh at me."
"Me? No. I won't laugh. Talk to me, Moira."
But she crossed the room. Moved to a counter and stared at the vials lined up in a row. "No. You'll laugh at me, John, and, and it's not fair."
He stood. Moved to her. "What's not fair, Moira? Talk to me." He touched her shoulders, turned her to him. "Moira?"
She lowered her gaze to his chest. "I...look, John, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay?" She sounded angry. "I'm not like them! I'm not like your, your lots some women who are probably used to this, to all kinds of, of sexual stuff that I'm not and probably you've gone even, even farther with them even faster but I'm not one of them and the things you do, the things we do, John, my God! I'm sure to you it's nothing, it's ordinary but not to me. I'm not one of them, John! I've never been involved like this with a man before and never been exposed to so many different sexual positions and appetites and desires and my God it's like you can't get enough or you want it to be different every time! And you push and push and then I bit you! I bit you, John, so hard you got hurt and I'm afraid I am going to really hurt you! I don't want to hurt you, John. I know you will never hurt me but I'm afraid I will hurt you and I couldn't bear to do that to you. John?"
John was struggling. Lips pursed together to force the smirk away, to keep the bubbling laughter from erupting. Her serious, sincere voice amusing him. Making him smug. Arousing him as she displayed a real concern, a genuine consternation. A charming innocence. He felt a surge of love for her. A surge of desire as he felt himself wanting her. Drawn irresistibly to her. As she raised her gaze to him, brown eyes wide, full of worry and solemnity it took all of his willpower not to laugh, to pull her into a kiss. To take her on the counter that was behind them.
Moira frowned. Eyes narrowing. She saw the hilarity sparkling in his brilliant green eyes. The mirth trapped behind his lips. "I knew it! Piss off, John!" She shoved free, moved away.
He burst into laughter, could not contain it. "Moira, oh Moira!" he croaked, trying to contain his merriment but losing the battle. "Oh fuck! Moira, Moira, I love you!" He calmed, wiped his eyes and moved to her. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry."
"No, you're not! Go back to bed!" she snapped, shaking off his hand.
But he spun her round to him and kissed her. A lengthy, provocative kiss. He kept her close, smiling. "Sweetheart, you won't hurt me. You will never hurt me no matter what you do. This," he showed her his finger, "is nothing. Fuck it just makes me harder. Makes me want you even more. I want you do to this, Moira. Remember? Oral erotic fixation," he savored each word.
"No! No, John, this ends here and now! I won't hurt you!" She pushed but he held her in place.
"No. You won't hurt me, Moira, and I will never, never hurt you. I like this. I don't know why, and I'm sure you will analyze it to death but I like it. When you do this stuff with me during sex. Biting, nibbling. Okay? Don't you dare stop any of it, baby. I won't allow it. I promise you we will never cross that line from pleasure to pain. Never. I admit I did lose some control and we got awfully close to crossing that line. It won't happen again."
"No, John, I can't–"
"You can and you will. Moira, I don't want you to be like any of those lots some women. I don't. You think I want that? I want you. Just you. As you are now. Your love, your desire, your passion. Even your science, Moira, and that's saying something."
"John,"she scolded, a smile forming as his words calmed. Assured.
"Those women were nothing to me," he continued. "Are nothing. You, you are everything to me. How can you not see that? Feel that? You are the only one I want like this, like that. I never had this kind of sex with them. Just with you. This much pleasure, passion, exuberance. In some ways, Moira, this as new to me as it is to you. So yes, you can. I can."
She stared, discomforted. His voice was serious, gaze intent. Merriment subdued as he reassured her. "I...I..."
"So, I will ask you again, sweetheart. Are we okay?"
She lowered her gaze, feeling tears, anxiety. She touched his chest. Solemn again. Met his equally solemn gaze. "I...yes. We're okay, John. Right?"
"Yes, Moira." He kissed her. Drawing her against him. "We're past all that shit now," he said into her ear. Breath tickling her skin. "All of it. We're moving on, now, Moira. Past it all. Forward from now on, baby, and that's a direct order. Got it?"
"Yes, colonel." She stepped back to view his handsome face. "John...it...it really wasn't like this with your lots some women?" she asked in a small voice.
He smiled. Tenderly caressed her rosy cheek. Trying to curb his desire for her. "No. It wasn't. Only with you, Moira. Although...maybe it's like this with scientists? I don't know."
"Hilarious, John," she scolded. Kissed him. Ran her hands up his chest, but drew back from him. Gasping softly as she glanced down at his crotch. "John? You've got to be kidding me!"
He chuckled. "Hey, it's not me. It's entirely him, I swear. I'll stand down," he sighed.
She shook her head. "Let's go back to bed, colonel. And by bed I mean bed. No sex. Keep it in your pants, Sheppard, would you?"
He laughed as she led him out of the lab. "I'll try, baby, but I think a quickie may be in order to ratify this resolution of our respective grievances. So?"
She laughed. "Is that a military decision, colonel, or a personal one?"
"Purely military, baby...well, not so purely. But I will acquiesce to the scientist in this matter and let you decide."
"Thank you, sweetie."
John sauntered into the cafeteria. Grabbed a tray and breakfast. He looked round, saw Moira sitting with Carson. Both engrossed in a conversation. He smiled. Joined them, sitting next to her. Scooting her over until she was almost hitting the wall.
"John!" she complained, elbowed him. He smiled, scooted out a little to give her a few inches of space. "Are you really going to eat all that? Haven't you had enough?" she asked, but inwardly groaned the minute the words left her mouth.
He smirked, eyed her playfully. "Hmm...have I had enough? No. I don't think so, Moira, not by far. Have you? Hmm...our resolution last night was quite pleasant but very quick, so I can see why you would ask me that...damn I wish I had a beer."
Moira sighed, elbowed him again. "John, you..." she paused, considering. Waited for him to take a long drink of juice. "Oh, okay, John...you are right. About the beer. I wouldn't mind one myself. I could use a cold beer after an especially satisfying session of pure, uncomplicated fudging. You?"
John did a spectacular spit take, juice flying out of his mouth across the table. Nearly hitting Carson who scrambled out of the way.
"Bloody hell!" the doctor exclaimed.
Moira laughed heartily. John was trying not to laugh, coughing and choking. Coughing again. She helpfully pounded his back. "Easy, John. Don't you let all that delicious fudge go to your heads," she taunted.
"Is he all right?" Carson asked, puzzled by the outrageous hilarity of the normally taciturn military commander.
"Oh, he's fine! He gets all giddy after several particularly satisfying fudges, don't you, honey?"
John had just recovered but was trying not to laugh. Snorting with the effort before he choked again. "Moira!" he croaked.
"Fudge, fudge, fudge," she mimicked him, but pretended to be oblivious. "John does like a real good fudge. And we partook of several, didn't we? In fact John, well, he is quite the connoisseur of a fantastic fudge, aren't you, honey? John's quite insistent on just the right fudge, at the right time, and can enjoy a really good, moist fudge for hours. Hours! A fudge to end all fudges, or several fudges all at once. Right, John?"
John was nearly doubled over, shaking with repressed laughter. About to burst. He couldn't look at her. Eye contact would finish him. Her innocuous voice was bad enough. Tears stung his eyes.
"Is he always this way about fudge?" Carson asked, alarmed and perplexed. But becoming suspicious at the hidden meaning.
"Oh, you better believe it!" Moira assured smoothly. "If John had his way, he'd be fudging all the time. Why he even surprised me with a double fudge, not once but twice! And then, oh my, there is the fudge to end all fudges. Sheppard's delight. A delightful fudge but a little too intense for me, wasn't it, John? But not for John. Not my fudge buddy here."
John lost it before he burst. He bellowed laughter, helpless. Slamming his palm on the table to make the trays rattle. He laughed and laughed, startling the others in the cafeteria who had never seen such unbridled hilarity in their normally reticent, unfazed leader. He was nearly hysterical, a rush of emotional release, of bubbling humor so intense he nearly fell off the chair.
Moira smirked, laughed, glanced at him. Enjoying teasing him. Loving his unbridled merriment. His surrender finally to the sheer mirth.
"Is fudge so very funny?" Carson asked, shaking his head. Smiling.
"No, no, Moira! Please!" John gasped, finally calming, quieting, but he could feel more laughter bubbling inside of him. He wiped his eyes.
She ignored him. "No, not the actual fudge itself. There's nothing funny about that, is there, John?" she persisted, voice serious. "John takes fudging very, very seriously. He always tells me that. An intense fudge makes him all giddy, all silly, and the more he fudges the more he wants. Its's a vicious circle, really. Fudge, fudge, fudge. Oh John, fudge, poor John, there is really nothing sadder than a man who cannot control his urge to fudge. So fudging sweet."
John lost it again, laughing loudly. Had to turn away from the table. Doubling over, hands on his knees.
"From the looks of him I'd say he's had too much," Carson noted.
Moira grinned. "Yes. I keep telling him that but he won't listen. Isn't that true, John? I know that one good fudge deserves another but really, colonel, when you enjoy a tasty, succulent fudge like you do it would be a shame to deny you. And John can fudge like nobody's business!"
"Moira, please!" he croaked, laughing. Gulping for breath. "You're killing me," he gasped.
Moira smiled, patted his back. "Easy, John, easy! No need to get so emotional. You'll get your fudge, don't you worry. I'll see to it that you have the best fudge you could desire. Geez!" She drank some water. Finally relented before he collapsed or convulsed. "Carson," she said, becoming serious, "have you discovered anything about that serum and the HIT and the Wraith DNA cultures?"
Carson blinked at the change in topic. "What? Oh, yes. Fascinating, Moira, but I can't quite figure out how it all fits together. The differences as well as the similarities alone are enough to study. The modifications in the serum, and the obvious extrapolation of HIT to induce a suspended state in both Wraith and human. I was comparing it to the other Wraith samples we have collected over the years. As you have. I suppose you would call it specialization or convergent evolution."
"Maybe. I don't think Darwin factored in alternative realities, or even other galaxies." They laughed. "It makes me wonder, though, about any truly indigenous life in this galaxy."
As they talked John calmed. Quieted. Only little laughs escaped him now. His ribs hurt from all the humor. But he felt fantastic, albeit weakened momentarily. The rush, the release was nearly as good as sex. Nearly. He wiped his eyes, tentatively straightened in his chair. Turned back to the table. Glanced at Moira. He sipped some water. Ate carefully, relaxing as their conversation droned on. But he began to listen, interested despite himself.