- stargate: atlantis
- for anuna_81. technically, this should be her fic, as she asked for help with the dialogue to a prompt i gave her. instead, i stole it back. forshame. :/ sorry, 'nuna. i hope the fluff in this makes up for it! *hugs*
- season one based; no spoilers; clouds aren't this fluffy. you've been warned.
John groans and flops back on the bed, dragging a hand over his face. 'You're killing me.'
Elizabeth's expression is almost too innocent. 'What?'
John drops his arm and gives her a sidelong glare, silently priding himself on being only slightly distracted by the expanse of bare skin displayed above the sheet. He narrows his gaze. 'Is this some kind of new diplomatic torture technique they haven't let us in on yet?'
' 'Diplomatic torture technique' ?" she echoes, an amused lilt to her tone.
'Cher?' John rolls over suddenly, pinning her with his gaze. 'Of all - I can't even call that music - Cher?'
Elizabeth gives a one-shoulder shrug, drawing his attention away from the topic at hand. 'You asked for a guilty pleasure.'
John fumbles, mildly distracted. 'I was thinking something like kinky sexual positions or - or -' Elizabeth smirks, fairly certain that's all he was thinking about. John chooses not to notice, instead balking again: 'Cher?'
Elizabeth glares at him midlly. 'I do know her name.'
John grimaces. 'Are you sure it's a her?'
Elizabeth ignores him. 'I listen to her when I clean.'
'This just keeps getting worse,' he mutters under his breath.
Elizabeth gives him a look, but otherwise doesn't react. Instead she shifts closer, tangling their legs together under the sheets and resting a hand against his chest, looking up at him. 'If it makes you feel any better, I also clean naked.'
'I-' John blinks and swallows tightly. His hand finds her hip unconsciously, and he recovers somewhat belatedly with: 'Is there dancing involved?'
Elizabeth taps his nose and smirks. 'That's for me to know.'
John looks slightly mollified - no doubt scheming ways to walk in on one of these 'cleaning sessions' - but continues grumbling, 'You still listen to Cher.'
Elizabeth rolls her eyes and pulls away, onto her back. John follows, keeping his hand on her skin, skimming aimlessly over her hip and settling on her abdomen.
'Fine. Tell me something I should be listening to.'
'Johnny Cash,' he answers immediately.
'He can't sing.'
John freezes, gaping at her with a stunned expression.
'What? It's true.'
He sits up suddenly, eyes wide and arms waving. The sheet drops to his waist and Elizabeth hides a smile as she enjoys the view; John doesn't notice. 'Johnny Cash is a legend,' he says passionately. 'His music changed the face of rock and country music, and influenced artists like Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen! Folsom Prison Blues? Ring of Fire? I Walk the Line? '
Elizabeth runs a finger lightly over his chest, hiding a smirk when she hears his breathing hitch ever-so slightly, his attention torn between making a point and things that involve much less talking. 'I'm not saying I don't respect this music,' she placates, 'or that he didn't contribute to the progression and history of American music.'
John narrows his eyes suspiciously. 'Then what are you saying?'
'The man can't sing.'
John practically splutters. 'It's part of his style!'
'Out of tune is a style?' she asks innocently, and John huffs indignantly. 'Now Steve Perry,' she continues seriously. 'He can sing.'
'They had 18 Top 40 singles.'
'Excuse me while I go throw myself off the control tower,' he moans, and Elizabeth shoots him a stern look.
'John-' she starts.
'Cher and now Journey? What's next? Rod Stewart?'
Elizabeth affects a pout. 'What's wrong with Rod Stewart?'
John opens and closes his mouth several times before narrowing his eyes determinedly. 'We're going to fix this.'
Elizabeth frowns. 'Fix what?'
'You. And your horrendous taste in music.' Elizabeth starts to protest but John moves suddenly, blanketing her body with his and pinning her to the mattress. 'It'll be like a class,' he insists. 'A music education class.' He points to himself. 'Teacher.' And then to her. 'Pupil.' He gestures between them. 'While naked.'
Elizabeth arches an eyebrow. 'And this is going to help save us from the Wraith how?'
John thinks for a moment. 'On second thought, you're right. We'll just pipe Mandy through the loud-speakers whenever they get close. That'll scare them away for good. It'll be like that movie with the exploding tomatoes.'
Elizabeth furrows her brow in concentration. 'Is that the one with Mary-Louise Parker?'
John just stares at her for a long moment.
Elizabeth waves her hand carelessly. 'Well, anyway. Barry Manilow is a bit...'
'Bad?' he interjects with an indignant snort.
'...Overdone,' she corrects, 'for my taste. But I think Mandy's a sweet song. '
'I think you need your head examined.'
She resists the urge to stick out her tongue. 'I still like Cher.'
'That terrifies me.'
Elizabeth shrugs, unconcerned, and changes the subject. 'Movies?'
John shifts to the side again, propping his chin up on his palm and draping his other arm across her waist. He answers automatically: 'The Thin Man. Seventh Seal. Wrath of Khan.'
'That's Star Wars, right?'
'Star Trek,' he corrects, exasperated. 'You lead an expedition to another galaxy and you don't know the difference between Star Trek and Star Wars?'
'I do so!' she pouts indignantly. 'Star Trek has those gerbil-looking furry things that hate water.'
'Oh.' She frowns. 'I thought that was the one with the zombies?'
'28 Days Later.'
Elizabeth glares. 'I have two PhDs, you know.'
'And American popular culture is not one of them.'
'You'll have to excuse me if I was a little too busy negotiating peace treaties to pay attention to proper 'staking' techniques or whatever.'
'Vampires,' he says finally.
'Staking - vampires. Decapitation - zombies.'
John stares at her expectantly; Elizabeth shrugs.
This time he does splutter, and Elizabeth wonders if he's been spending a little too much time with Rodney. 'You should know these things!' he insists.
'You think there are vampires hanging out in the Pegasus Galaxy?'
John narrows his eyes. 'You do know we're at war with the Wraith, right? That hasn't slipped your mind in between all the Cher and Rod Stewart lyrics?'
'At least they aren't singing about hobbits,' she sniffs.
John's jaw drops. 'You did not just diss Led Zeppelin.'
Elizabeth smothers a laugh. 'Did you just say "diss"?'
His mouth opens and closes repeatedly. 'You - I -'
'Did you know 'diss' actually originated in Jamaican vernacular English? It's widespread usage is incredibly fascinating, especially when you consider- '
'John,' she returns.
Moving swiftly, he drags her body underneath his, settling his hips against hers and supporting himself on his forearms. 'We're going to fix this,' he repeats.
Brushing her disheveled hair out of her face, Elizabeth smirks. 'Classes?'
He nods firmly. 'Twice a week.'
'You know,' she murmurs, settling in comfortably, moving in such a way that her hips graze his teasingly. 'That isn't a very conducive learning environment. It's way too easy to get...' she shifts again, running her nails lightly down his sides. '...distracted.'
John grabs her wandering hands and pins them to her sides. 'I'll make it conducive,' he growls, lips skimming against her ear.
Elizabeth shudders, her tone slightly breathless. 'And how do you propose to do that?'
Still holding her wrists, John tracks his way across her cheek, along her jaw and lower, pressing barely-there kisses to the column of her throat, her collarbone, her shoulder. 'I was thinking a system of rewards and punishments.'
'I'm afraid I left the candy and my ruler in my office,' she returns coyly, shifting forward as if to leave. 'Should I go get them?'
John tightens his grip and presses his weight against her firmly. 'You're not going anywhere.' He lowers his lips to her ear again. 'I have much to teach you, my young padawan.'
Elizabeth inhales sharply, says a little too quickly, 'Good thing I'm a quick study, then.' and John smirks.
'Definitely,' he agrees. 'Because there's a lot of information.'
Elizabeth hums contentedly, freeing her hands to skim along his back. 'Will there be a test?'
'Oh, yes,' he murmurs lowly, lips drifting lower down her body. 'A very,' Kiss. 'very,' Kiss. '...thorough' She shudders. 'examination of your knowledge.'
Her breathing hitches. 'I see,' she manages.
'Selecting Journey on any of the questions will cause you to lose points.'
'Hmm. And I should know the difference between gremlins, ewoks and tribbles?' she asks innocently, sliding her hands along his chest to rest against his shoulders.
John closes his eyes, distracted. 'You should absolutely know the diff-' he starts, then yanks his head up suddenly to stare down at her. Elizabeth raises her eyebrows in question. John opens his mouth; closes it; blinks. 'I -' he starts. She can practically see the lightbulb go off: 'You've been screwing with me!'
The beginnings of a coy grin stretch across her face. 'No, but I've been working my way there.'
'You - I - but you -'
'Give me a little credit. I may have two PhDs but I didn't earn them under a rock.'
'I - ' John presses his lips together firmly. Then frowns. 'This whole time?"
She pinches him gently. 'You're pretty gullible for an Air Force major. That doesn't get you into trouble off-world?'
The question is, of course, rhetorical, and John narrows his eyes and ignores her. 'Elizabeth,' he says seriously.
She sighs indulgently. 'Frank Sinatra. Sarah Vaughn. Jefferson Airplane. Leonard Cohen.'
'Movies,' he demands.
'Fried Green Tomatoes. Cinema Paradiso. The Voyage Home.' John blinks in surprise, but Elizabeth only shrugs. 'I like whales.'
'Vital to the history of American music.'
He suspects she might be humoring him, but he can't prove it, so he continues warily: 'Journey?'
'Not bad, but overrated.'
'Hobbits,' she reiterates firmly. John starts to protest, but she appeases him: 'But they wrote Stairway to Heaven, so I'll forgive them.'
'You're such a girl.'
'I've never heard you complai-'
He cuts her off with a kiss, one hand against her cheek and the other gripping her side; Elizabeth wonders briefly if he thinks she'll escape if given the choice, and to tell him otherwise, wraps her fingers along the back of his neck and tugs him closer, deepening the kiss into something long and slow. Neither pulls away, even when the need for air becomes too much, and John keeps his lips pressing lightly to hers. 'Definitely not,' he murmurs, before he pulls away. When she opens her eyes, she finds him grinning down at her, an adorably hopeful, almost giddy expression on his face.
' 'I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,' ' he quotes.
Running a hand through his hair, she smiles at him fondly. 'I think it's already begun.'
His grin grows even wider, and he swoops back down to kiss her briefly before continuing his previous exploration of as much skin as possible. Wrapping her legs around his hips, Elizabeth flips them suddenly, straddling his waist, her fingers curling around his shoulders; his hands go immediately to her back as she leans down, her lips to his ear.
His reply is muffled against her sternum. 'Hmm?'
'The Cher thing is true.'