Conditioned Association12
John entered their room. Frowned. Moira was sitting at the table, working. Finishing her fries and ice cream. Expression serious as she typed. Pondered. Compared. "Damn it, woman, what do I have to do?" he complained, nearing. He set down three bottles. Grabbed the laptop and shoved it across the table.
"John! I was just about to track the mRNA sequences that may hold the key to–"
"Don't care! Here!" He sat, shoved a bottle of pink lemonade at her.
She took it. Eyed his two bottles of beer. "Wow. That bad?"
He shrugged. Opened one and drank half it in long swallows. He set it down. "I'm not talking about it, so don't even try, baby. And don't you rush off to see Weir either. I mean it, Moira."
"I think I need to talk to–"
"No!" He slammed his palm on the table. "I mean it. For once, for once you will do as you are told, damn it!" He drank.
Moira frowned. Sipped her lemonade. "Wow. Talk about my mood swings, John. Geez! I'm sorry, John. About earlier. I was–"
"No. No apologies. Relax, baby. It's just us now." He smiled. "The three of us. And that's all that matters." His gaze traveled over her body. Seeing no visible sign of the pregnancy yet. He stared at her fuller breasts for a moment, drinking more beer. Met her gaze, saw her annoyance. Smirked. "Sorry."
"Like hell you are," she chided. Shifted. Eyed him. The tension in his body. Anger coiling, ready to pounce. To be turned into passion. Hot passion. Sweaty sex. She licked her lips. "Are you going to tell me what Weir said?"
"No." John started on the second beer.
Moira sighed. "I bet she wasn't too pleased to hear you knocked me up by accident."
"That's a bet you'd win, baby."
She took the beer from him, causing a pout. She set it aside. "Sweetie, you need to tell me. Don't pretend everything's fine because it isn't. You don't have to protect me from this."
"Don't I? So that little show in the bio lab was just for entertainment purposes? I don't think so, baby. Not at all."
"John Sheppard, don't you dare treat me any differently or keep things from me! Don't! Or I swear I will never forgive you!"
He replied calmly, "Fine. I won't keep things from you. But I will treat you differently because you are pregnant, Moy. With my son. Deal with it."
She glared at him. "God I hate you sometimes!" she sighed.
"Back at you, baby. What do you expect? Of course I have to treat you differently. You are pregnant!" He snatched the beer bottle away from her.
"Thanks to you and your–" she began.
"Damn sperm, yes, mine. Mine, baby, no one else's. Mine." He drank some beer. "Hey!" he complained as she took it. Sipped. Grimaced and handed it back.
"Fuck this, John," she muttered.
He smiled. "This? I thought you wanted to fuck me, baby."
"Shut up! I'm serious!" She sighed, stared at the table. "This! All of this. I, I don't want things to change. I mean things were perfect before. Between us, our work, your team, Weir, even she was getting used to us being together. To me being with you. You with me. And now we've fucked it up, haven't we? But I want this baby, John. I do! I honestly never thought I'd ever have one, you know? After, after...but with you...yes. I want this baby, but I guess...we should have considered every problem. I mean, if it jeopardizes all we have here...your job...I'm sure she doesn't think you can handle all of this, of that. But you can, John, you can."
"How the hell do you do that?" he muttered. Scooting closer. He touched her hand. "Moira, it won't come to that. It is still perfect between us, sweetheart. Nothing's changed, except now we're expecting a child."
"I'm expecting," she corrected.
"Right. You're expecting, doctor. You know what I mean. I want John junior. I always want you. Even if means we would have to pack our collective bags and return to Earth. But it won't come to that. I promise you. Weir and I...overreacted. It will sort itself out, trust me. We'll be fine, Moira. Nothing will come between us. Nothing. No one. And John junior...he will be the best of both of us."
She relaxed. Stood. Shoved the plates, the bottles aside. Sat on the table. Smiled coyly at him. "Nothing between us, sweetie? Is that so? Hmm...what time is it, John?"
He stood, smiling. Glanced at his watch. "Two. Ah."
She pulled him into a kiss. "Ah indeed, colonel."
Elizabeth strode down the hallway, determined. Upset at the argument she had had with John. At her stunned reaction to his news. Was still reeling from the revelation of Moira's pregnancy. Irritated at how calm he had been. Smug even. Not troubled at all by the sweeping changes that would inevitably have to take place. Hurt that she appeared to be the last on the list of people who were being told. As if the trust was eroding between them. The friendship.
She reached his quarters. Hand raised to knock on the door but paused. Noises were erupting from within the room. Loud creaks and smashes, as if something heavy was being moved. Or broken. Or ridden. She almost waved her hand over the panel, alarmed at the noises of destruction, of wood being scraped along the floor when she heard a distinct grunt. Her hand froze over the panel. Lips smirking as she discerned the other sounds. A man's grunting, groaning. A woman's soft cries, whimpers. Sounds escalating.
Elizabeth felt a blush on her cheeks. Suppressing a laugh she quickly moved on. Strolled briskly down the hall, around the corridors. Waiting. Glanced at her watch. Waited. Returned when she judged sufficient time had passed. She paused, about to knock but the sounds were still audible. Louder now, faster. Voices rising in pitch as the furniture noises grew louder, louder.
She sighed. Shook her head and strolled down the hallway again. The laugh escaping her at last. She glanced at her watch. Impressed. She strolled, stood waiting. Wondering just how much time needed to pass before she could safely interrupt.
"Elizabeth? Did you need me? I was just on my way to the cafeteria to–" Carson joined her, staring. Clipboard under one arm.
"No, Carson, I'm waiting for John."
"Oh. Waiting in the corridor?"
"Yes."
"Why don't you just knock on his door?"
"He's...um...busy. What happened to Rodney's eye again?" she diverted.
"Busy? Busy doing what? He...oh..." Carson smiled. "It is two o'clock, isn't it?"
Elizabeth raised a brow. "Is this a regular thing, then?"
Carson shrugged. "Aye. Lucky bastard," he muttered. "Things will calm down soon enough. Possibly. I mean, Moira's going through a lot of physiological changes and hormonal surges, but she'll be fine. More than fine, actually," he added slyly. Amused.
"I see. Still..." She glanced at her watch. "It's been almost ten minutes?"
"Really? Well...no one ever said the colonel lacked stamina." They laughed. "I'd give it another ten or so."
"Ten? Seriously?"
"Aye. At least." He headed down the hall. Turned back to her. "No. Better make it fifteen."
The knocking on the door broke the sated silence. John groaned softly, shifting. Resting on Moira as she was still sprawled on the table. "What the fuck..." he muttered. Lifted his head to view her. Moira was smiling. Brown eyes sparkling with warmth.
"John? I need a word, please," came Elizabeth's voice from the other side of the door.
"Shit." John kissed Moira, straightened, sliding out of her. "Just a sec!" he called over his shoulder. Quickly shoved himself into his shorts, his pants. "Well, at least it wasn't mid-coitus, for once, baby."
Moira giggled as he pulled her up, off the table. "Hilarious, John." She kissed him. "Go!" She pushed him, grabbed her discarded pants and panties and moved to the bathroom. Shut the door.
John's gaze lingered on the flash of her naked rear before she disappeared. He zipped his pants. Smoothed down his shirt and moved to the door. Opened it. "Elizabeth," he said. "Please."
She entered the room, smirking at his cool, calm demeanor. His rumpled clothes, belt undone, askew. Hair more tousled than normal. A serene, self-satisfied gleam in his brilliant green eyes. "John, I wanted to apologize. I didn't mean to...what happened to the table?"
John turned, trying not to smirk. The table was bare. Scooted up out of place. Flowers were strewn on the floor, along with empty trays, empty bottles. One chair overturned. A data pad on the floor. "Nothing. We were...redecorating," he decided on the word.
"Oh." Elizabeth quelled her amusement, her speculation, trying to imagine the passionate activity that had taken place on the table. Imagined John taking Moira in that fashion. Rough. Wild. Bare buttocks clenching with each aggressive thrust. Startled at her thoughts she swallowed. Turned to him. "I wanted to apologize. I didn't mean to react like that. It was quite a shock. I mean, first learning what had taken place here in my absence. A Wraith queen and all! And then your news about Moira. That was the last thing I expected."
"Yes," he agreed, gaze flicking to the still closed bathroom door. He knew Moira was probably listening to every word. "Same here. Unexpected, but we're over that now. Aren't we, Moira?" he called loudly. Deliberating baiting.
Moira inwardly swore. She opened the door. Hair in a neat ponytail. Clothes smoothed over her body. Only her flushed face, her dreamy gaze betraying her. "Yes, John," she agreed, giving him an admonishing look.
"I can make this work, Elizabeth," John continued. "I'm not saying it will be easy, but I can make it work. We both can."
"I believe you, John. And you have my support, of course! We can work this out as we go along. Congratulations, Moira!" The last sounded like an afterthought.
"Thank you," Moira said, gaze assessing the other woman.
John looked at his wife, recognizing her studious expression. Wondered at it as he met Elizabeth's gaze again. "There's really nothing to work out. I mean I can still do my job. Go through the 'Gate and all," he glanced at Moira again, "the normal stuff. There's only a few adjustments to be made here. And once Moira is able and willing to return to active duty."
"Of course. Did you want some time off now?"
John considered. "No. I'll need time later, though. Once we are closer to the birth." He glanced at Moira again but she was silent. Eying the other woman as if she were a specimen.
"Of course, John. Whatever time you need. I guess we should throw Moira a baby shower. Moira?" Elizabeth turned to her, as if just remembering she was in the room.
Moira shrugged. "No. No thank you." She moved to the table. Began to return the trays to it. The flowers. That data pad. She pulled the table back into place, smirking at it's awkward angle. The creaking of one wooden leg.
"Well, let me know if you change your mind." Elizabeth headed towards the door, suddenly feeling out of sorts. As if she had opened the door to witness the apparently vigorous sex.
John followed, glancing back at his wife. "Yeah, we will. We've got a mission lined up once Rodney's eye is better."
"Yes. About that. Strange how he walked into a door?"
John smiled. "Yeah, strange. You know scientists and how pre-occupied they can be by their own thinking. We can discuss the mission specs later." John shut the door after she left. Turned to view his wife as she arranged the flowers on the table. Her back to him. "Well?"
Moira opened the data pad. "I've got all of this mRNA sequencing to do, but I need Carson's help on this. Plus I really should check on the trajectory of the migration patterns. John, I need to know your theory on the deserted planets but we can discuss that this evening, all right? There's more Wraith data to input as well, from the female. I think there's a direct link between the additional Iratus bug DNA and the queen's enhanced powers, but I'm not quite sure what it is yet. I wish we had an entomologist on this expedition. Anyway, I can collate the respective..."
She paused. "John?"
John was standing in front of the door, blocking her. Expression suspicious. Eyes narrowed. Arms crossed in front of his chest. "Well?" he repeated.
"Well what?" She stepped to him, data pad in hand. "Move."
"No. Spill it. Spill it now, Moy. Well?" She frowned, silent. "Come on, Moy. I know that look. Shit, you've studied me like that more times than I care to remember. So? Well? All is fine between Elizabeth and myself now. And yes, no doubt she knew were engaged in some pretty intense, exuberant coitus, but so what? I don't think she needed a demonstration of exactly how I impregnated you, but hey, live and learn, baby. Next time I'll hang a sock on the door. So? Moira? Everything's fine, now, baby. You. Me. John junior. My job. Missions. All of it. Moira? Damn it, Moy, what is it?"
Moira touched his arm. Ran her fingers along his skin. Kissed him. "Isn't it obvious, John? She's developed a thing for you."
Too stunned to respond John could only watch as she stepped by him and out of the room.