A/N: This one's solely for mac who requested Simmons/Wilson smut. It takes place directly after A Quarter After One and kind of shows Miss Wilson's side to the whole fight thing. It also warrants a language warning because good God, Miss Wilson does have a very potty mouth (but mac is very proud of her, she said).

Striking a Match

"It's just an on again
And off again situation
It's just striking a match
A tank of gas combination
But here I am again lighting it up
Knowing that she'll just burn me"

Lady Antebellum, "Love This Pain"

He's an idiot. She's utterly convinced that he is and it definitely will not change. Not ever. Seriously.

And, of course, she's an idiot as well. Because she shouldn't be thinking of that idiot but she still is, even though she should be sleeping because they have a major system overhaul tomorrow and Rodney McKay is nearly unbearable when she has had sufficient sleep. When she hasn't… suffice to say that the probability that it could get ugly is excessively heightened.

So she rolls over just another time and… and then her door bell rings and she groans. Whoever that is… they will have to wait. This is really no time to call on anyone, not even the – alleged, in her case – night owls from the IT department. Another chime. No. No, no, no. Not… another. Jesus… she gets up, stomps towards the door to give the intruder what they deserve… and stops dead in her tracks when the door opens.

Joe. Fucking. Simmons. Her initial reaction is just to gape at him… and then her stupid brain makes her blurt out, "What the hell are you doing here?"

His first reaction is to furrow his brows and then rub his neck. "Well… uh… Yoda sent me."

What the… "Are you trying to tell me that a small grammatically challenged alien in flowing robes sent you here?" This is getting better and better by the minute. Well, not.

Joe tries to look at least somewhat dignified… but fails miserably. "Um… basically… yeah." She wants to shut the door in his face again but then again… this really isn't her usual quiet, dutiful, sensible boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. Whatever.

Anyway, he's standing in front of her and driveling on about stuff that doesn't make sense and something in her – probably that stupid little land girl that could never see a creature suffer – makes her frown at him and step aside. "Fine. Whatever," she huffs and she pretends to herself that there was no trace of relief in her voice whatsoever.

Hesitating just a little bit, he takes her invitation and walks in. They come to stand in the middle of the room and she crosses her arms in front of her chest defensively. "Well?"

He rubs his neck again, looks a little forlornly. "Well, I wanted to… I wanted to apolo… what the hell are you wearing?"

Uh… excuse me, she wants to say and involuntarily looks down at the shirt she's wearing – it has the words "Submariners do it underwater!" with a picture of a Los Angeles class submarine boldly plastered all over its front – and then kind of dumbly says, "Uh… a shirt?" because the near disgust on his face caught her unaware.

"No," he says and the frown deepens considerably, "it's a Navy shirt."

"So what?" she finds herself saying and wondering why exactly she let him in. It's one of her brothers' shirts – Jimmy, who's a Petty Officer serving on the Annapolis – and what the hell is wrong with wearing a Navy shirt?

Okay, she knows what's wrong with wearing a Navy shirt, at least in his pretty little Air Force head. But this is just ridiculous. And what's even more ridiculous is what he states next, "My girlfriend will not wear a Navy shirt."

Wha… this… this is just… she can't even… what? "That's pretty convenient then," she replies with enough acid in her voice to be a competition for McKay on one of his not so good days, "because you don't have a girlfriend."

She's not sure but for a moment it looked like he almost recoiled physically from the blow she just dealt him and she feels a little… sorry for that. But dammit, they both made it clear to each other that they just don't work and why doesn't he see that, for fuck's sake?

They're standing in the room and he's still looking at her, looking just a little bit like a wounded puppy and she remembers how they met and how they started to spend time with each other and how she had to hit him over the head so he finally realized just how much head over heels she was for him… "Then what if I came to apologize to said girlfriend… not-girlfriend… to you, I mean."

Aw, damn, no, not the flustered and confused country boy act again. That always makes her knees go weak and her heart beat just a little faster because he's just so adorable when he does that and… and it's not enough to let him off the hook. No, no. It's definitely not. She huffs again. "Then you're doing a lousy job of it. Usually it's not a good idea to start another fight."

He looks contrite and a little chuffed when he replies, "And I wasn't trying to."

Uh-huh, yeah, right… okay, no, he wasn't. He just got distracted from apologizing to her by the Air Force part of his brain. Well, she thinks… maybe… if she gets rid of the offending item… "So…" she says and takes the shirt off, in a kind of spur off the moment decision.

"So…" Joe says and then… stares at her. Just… that. Stares and licks his lips, just once. Jesus.

"Uh… Joe, it's not like you've never seen a naked girl before, right?" In fact, it's not even like he hasn't seen her naked before. Granted, usually, it's rather half-naked, in some nook or cranny or one of the ever famous storage closets but yes, he has seen her naked breasts before. She rolls her eyes and throws up her hands. "Oh for the love of everything that has to do with sex…"

He swallows, then looks like he's this close to grinning. Running a hand through his hair, he clears his throat and says, "Uh, well, it's just that… I wasn't exactly prepared for this tonight, Buckle Bunny." One day, she thinks, she will give him what he deserves for that stupid nickname… most probably it'll the day he uses it in public.

For now, though… physical retaliation will have to do and before she knows it, she has whacked him on the arm, like she always used to do during their courting phase… holy crap, why is there suddenly his hand around her wrist and God, that grin on his face… "Been a while since you did that, Bunny." She wants to say something but suddenly his face is so close to hers and she swallows… sees him swallow as well… and then he says in that strange husky voice that usually preceded a… tryst in a storage room, "Damn, I missed that."

And then his lips are on hers and she kinda forgets why exactly she broke up with him. Mh… damn, that feels great… always did and – oh God – always will. She really wants to be shocked but for some reason… there isn't much place for shock in her head, with all the… wooziness and the instinct – the urge – to kiss him back.

That is, until it dawns on her that this might have been a pretty clever move to distract her from his less than stellar attempt at apologizing and she breaks the kiss, fighting very hard against the want – the need – to put her arms around his neck, bury her hands in his hair, put them on the skin of his back… no, focus. Focus on the apology he still owes you, she tries to admonish herself.

Needing all her will power she takes a step back – actually, it's just the excuse of a step back because she's not even sure if she actually moved – and folds her arms, only slightly aware of the fact that it does nothing to hide any part of her cleavage. "Not so fast, McSmartypants. You really don't think that I'd let you off the hook just because you kiss me like that and because you look at me like that and… and… stop being so… so… just stop, okay?"

What? What's so funny about that that he can't keep the amused grin from his face? "Stop what?" Oh he knows exactly what… "Do you mean that?" And there's another kiss and… and… ah hell.

"At least," she pants when he is done kissing her very thoroughly and tugs at his shirt, "let's get even first, shall we?"

He grins and somehow it makes her feel all warm and weird inside to know that she's the only one here who ever gets to see this grin. "With pleasure, Bunny." Right… and that makes her feel it makes her feel… it's absolutely of no consequence how that makes her feel because he pulls the shirt over his head and there's moonlight from outside playing over his lean and well trained body and that sight always kind of makes her forget everything she had been about to say or think or feel before.

Without another word she plays over his nicely toned abdomen and then grabs his track pant's waistband to drag him into the direction of her bed and thank God he gets the hint. Somehow they managed to get to her bed and get rid of his pants and her shorts and then they're naked and he's pulling her downwards to him and they just can't stop kissing…

She can't help making little sounds of pleasure and he returns them with a growl here and a groan there… but somehow, she can't quite get rid of the feeling of weirdness and it drives her half-crazy not to know where it's coming from… "You do realize that this is the first time ever that we're actually doing a horizontal mambo, right?"

What… oh. Oh, yes, that actually might be what made her feel so weird about this. They're both completely naked and there's no pressure to get done with it because someone might need something from that particular storage closet and well, they're definitely not doing it against a wall. In fact, he's leaning against the head board with one of his hands in her hair and the other on her hip and she's leaning over him and their legs are kind of entangled… well, it's not like she never did it horizontally before. She can't help snorting and saying, "Oh, just shut the fuck up."

"Fuck," he says and grins, "being the operative word, of course." Goddammit, why does he keep doing that? Being all prim and proper during day and in the company of others and being like that when it's just them… his little bouts of being very, very improper always make her want to do a lot of other improper things to him and she thinks that this is probably what he wants to achieve with being like that and ah hell, why not just give it to him, then?

And so she sets to work and keeps kissing him and placing her hands wherever it elicits one of those groans from him and he slides down a little further onto the bed every time she manages to find another sensitive spot and oh he just found quite a lot of her sensitive spots… thankfully, there's another minute or so that she manages to stay lucid and in those she blindly reaches for her nightstands drawer… where… oh, right, there they are… "You actually keep a stash of those in here?" he disbelievingly utters when he sees what she's unpacking a little clumsily, seeing as she's kind of preoccupied with other regions of her body and then he adds, "Aren't you all on that Pegasus pills stuff anyway?"

Ah yeah, apparently, statistics hadn't been his strong point at the Academy and even now that elicits a raised eyebrow from her. "Uh yeah… precautions and failure rates and everything?" Because you know, when you add up all the times they had their little trysts and the proven failure rates and… okay, screw statistics, she thinks, and doesn't even hand him over the condom when he reaches for it but gets it done herself – not without pushing him a little further with it, mind you – and oh God who knew doing it horizontally with him would be even so much better than in the vertical variation and who knew he'd be even better at slow and sweet than at quick'n'dirty and…

And then it's no thought anymore, just feeling and good God she wishes it wouldn't end and keeps holding on to it – to him – as long as she can, losing herself in him and with him and hoping he won't stop and… and well, it does end after an amount of time she can't pinpoint and isn't even mildly interested in doing so anyway but of course he's still there and they linger locked in an embrace for a few more moments.

Then she slides off him and after a few minutes of getting busy to settle down for sleeping she finds herself in his arms again… but before she finally lets herself drift off to sleep she can't help snorting and drawling, "You were supposed to apologize, you know."

"You took your shirt off, you know," is the immediate, if a little sleepy, reply and it makes her look up to see a matching sleepy grin on his face.

Somehow, suddenly… she remembers the actual reason for why they broke up and well, the thing is, even though it went into a completely different direction he had come here to apologize to her and she knows that apologizing is not his strong feat so well, that has to count for something. So maybe… she should make a concession as well. She refrains from taking a deep breath and says, trying to sound casual, "By the way, Joe… I'll think about that visit to your parents. I'm not saying I'm going right now but… I'll think about it."

There's a little sigh from him and a kiss dropped on the top of her head and somehow… that tells her that he got her exactly how she meant it and that surprises her because it is a big step forward. So maybe… there is some hope for them, after all… and well, if spectacular fights like the one that caused all of this always produce spectacular results like the one they just enjoyed… she thinks she'll have to learn to live with them. There are worse things than that, aren't there?