Title: "A Little Diversion"

Author: Little Red

Rating: PG

Category: Sheppard/Weir fluff

Summary: There's always one that'll rein you in.

Author's Note: Anna requested emergency Sparky fluff. This was a comment ficlet that got out of hand.


"Close your eyes," John says.

Elizabeth rolls them instead. "Why?"

"You don't trust me?"

Bad question. One eyebrow quirks up, and though she's smiling, he suspects this isn't an argument he wants to get into right now. Especially not when he's got a picnic with real live fresh (alien) fruit all spread out for them outside as a surprise. It's been ten minutes of solid wheedling since he walked into her office, and he hasn't even been able to get her out of her chair.

"Asking that question makes me trust you less," she teases. At least it sounds like she's teasing. If anything, since they started sleeping together, she has become an even more of a mystery to him.

He says "started sleeping together" casually, but really, he can count the instances of bedroom indiscretion on one hand. And yes, he does mentally recount them a lot. And yes, a midafternoon picnic is a blatant ploy to score himself Indiscretion Number Six.

He'd try to be subtle, but there would be no point. He's lost, making wild stabs in the dark about what she thinks and what she wants, but she seems to have him completely unraveled.

It's annoying, actually.

But not so annoying that he doesn't keep coming back for more. He doesn't like the idea that he's being tamed by her disapproving eyebrows and carefully doled out smiles and the occasional permission to touch her naked skin... but still, his mother's recurring threat keeps coming to mind. Someday, you'll find one who'll rein you in.

"Come on," he leans over her desk to tug the PDA out of her stubborn hands. "I've got a surprise for you."

She smirks. He can tell she's not actually annoyed, at least, but he can't quite tell whether she's not-annoyed in a way that'll lead her to politely talk him out of her office or not-annoyed in a way that'll lead to her actually joining him.

"I don't suppose this surprise has anything to do with the updated munitions inventory?"

She's trying to throw him off the trail. "No." It's his turn to smirk. "You're not that lucky."


He nods. "Friday. Now, come on. Your surprise is time-sensitive." There is a blessed lack of insects in and around Atlantis, but he's worried that the wind will make a mess of his layout. That, or one of their coworkers will find his not-so-secret hideout and pilfer his hard-earned real live actual fruit.

Elizabeth looks at the work in front of her, then up at him, and then sighs. "You're not really going to make me close my eyes, are you?"

He grins. "Yep."

"You're going to lead me through the command center with my eyes closed." Her tone is deadpan, and he just has to trust that she's still finding this at least a little bit amusing.

He swoops around the desk and takes her hand in a show of something that might also be chivalrous, but is really more about making sure she doesn't get any ideas about bringing the PDA with her. "We'll call it a trust exercise."

"A trust exercise."

There's that word again.

"Team-building," he says.

That gets one of her elusive grins out of her, and damned if it doesn't make him feel like he needs to see that smile every single day.

"Oh, really? And what other team building exercises do you have on tap, Major?"

She closes her eyes, a temporarily willing victim, and it's the perfect moment for him to pull her to her feet and finally drag her out of her office. But...

He kisses her, and his eyes end up closed as well. Her tongue slips between his lips, just teasing, just far enough to remind him of just how much better bedtime is when he's got a naked Elizabeth Weir next to him.

Or any other time, for that matter. The naked is even negotiable.

"'zat my surprise?" she asks, lips still close enough to brush against his as she speaks.

And that's when he realizes -- he brings it on himself. She doesn't even have to do anything, doesn't have to open up to him, or chase after him, or trust him enough for a simple afternoon surprise. She's been taking his ego to task for two months by just not falling for him the way, in his experience, girls are supposed to. She sleeps with him and spends time with him and gives him her rare smiles, but she steadily refuses to throw herself at his usual parlor tricks. He can't get her to come to his quarters every night, can't get her to admit she needs him, can't get her to say anything close to that once pack-my-bags-terrifying I love you phrase.

And, shock of all shocks, he's trying to.

Damn it all, he's been reined in.

"I don't really like surprises," she tweaks his chin with her finger to bring him back to the present.

He doesn't even hesitate. "It's a picnic."

She grins again, and he swears it's only pulling him in tighter. "Well then." She stands up and takes his arm. "I'm all yours."

He's not sure -- he's never sure with her -- but he thinks she might be falling for him after all.


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