almost perfect

Elizabeth leaned against the railing and looked out at the sea, black with slivers of light from the city. The sky was dark and clear, the stars bright and easy to see. Atlantis was probably the only city where Elizabeth had seen stars so clear and bright. Atlantis had a way of making many things seem bright and clear.

A cool breeze blew onto the pier and she turned her face up into it, closing her eyes and smiling. The summer heat was upon them and funnily enough the best method to cool off seemed to be the simple age old method of stepping outside.

The look on Rodney's face had been priceless when Radek offered up that gem of advice, adding that the Ancients air con wasn't as efficient as it could have been, plus there had to have been some kind of climate change in ten thousand years. Rodney stalked out looking incredibly grumpy while saying the Ancients had really gone down in his estimations since they arrived on Atlantis. Radek gave Elizabeth a small shrug, appearing like a suffering wife that had simply gotten used to her husband's tantrums.

John chose to be completely unhelpful by saying, “At least it's good weather for the beach.”

Elizabeth would have agreed if she hadn't been stuck to the chair with sweat at the time. She really hated John at that moment, standing there with his black T-shirt, black wristband, hair stylishly messy and looking completely impervious to the heat. In fact, he looked rather and energized, which made her hate him even more.

And like him a little more too. She had to remind her heat frazzled brain that she was a grown woman, an educated woman, a woman that had spent years with many important people, helping to resolve conflicts in the worst of situations. She wasn't a schoolgirl with a crush on the school's favorite football player.

Even when he gave her that sly look, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Elizabeth chose to channel her mother at that point, arching an eyebrow and looking him directly in his eyes. “Was there anything else, Colonel?”

John shrugged, looking incredibly lazy and relaxed. “No, just checking no one's passing out from heat stroke around here.”

“Really?” Elizabeth asked, refusing to smile.

John gave an earnest nod, his expression disgustingly innocent. “Well, as highest ranking military officer, it's my job to be concerned about the welfare of the people of this city. Like yourself, for instance,” he said, waving a hand in her direction.

Elizabeth gave in and smiled. “Well, thank you, Colonel. That's very professional of you.”

“Yes, it is. I'm glad you see that. So, you're okay? Not feeling the heat too much?”

Elizabeth bit the inside of her bottom lip, controlling the idiot smile of the smitten schoolgirl. “Oh, I think I can handle a little bit of heat. I'll be fine.”

John gave a nod. “Good.”

He looked like he was going to add something, but smiled instead and turned to leave, scratching idly at the back of his neck, throwing back a look in her direction from the control room. Elizabeth watched as he headed off somewhere, Rodney falling into step next to him, his mouth moving faster than light and John giving him a placating pat on the arm.

Realizing that she was blatantly staring, Elizabeth shiftily looked around to make sure no one had observed her and carried on her business for the day.

The heat had finally started letting up in the evening, but even now, it was there, like a warm soft shawl around her shoulders. One she would have happily shrugged off if she could.

But even in this weather, she relished the warmth when a pair of arms slipped around her, a chest pressing against her back and lips pressing a kiss to her neck. Elizabeth smiled and turned around in the embrace, gently pushing John away.

He frowned. “Hey,” he objected quietly.

“That's hardly appropriate behaviour for the highest ranking military officer, is it?” she asked.

John's brow went up, making him look rather comical. “Well, he's not here right now, so I guess it's okay.”

Elizabeth stepped closer and tugged at his T-shirt, bringing him closer. “I guess it is.”

John gave a pleased smiled before wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her in for a long, languid kiss that turned into smaller, smiling kisses as they pulled away.

He was smiling down at her, looking satisfied, slightly thoughtful and something Elizabeth could never be sure of. Of all the books she had ever read, John Sheppard was the most difficult one to interpret.

John seemed to sense whatever thoughts were bouncing around in her head. He smiled and took a deep breath, pulling away to go and lean against the railing. Elizabeth gave him a brief look before joining him, watching him looking out at the sea, his profile perfect like the peaks of a desert.

He didn't speak for a long time, just watching the dark waves, closing his eyes to the caress of a breeze and Elizabeth had to smile. He turned his face, saw her smile and frowned.

“What?” he asked.

Elizabeth shook her head. “Nothing.”

He gave her a narrow-eyed look, lifting his chin a little, over-indicating his suspicion.

“I was just thinking,” Elizabeth said.

John nodded. “Thinking is good. You know what's better?” he asked, sidling closer, so their hips were almost touching, his arm resting on the railing and his fingertips playfully pulling at the thin material against her back.

“Naked thinking?” Elizabeth asked.

“How did you know?” he asked, pretending to be surprised.

“You think everything's better naked,” she replied flatly.

John looked at her, serious faced. “Well, I have conducted experiments that prove this theory.”

Elizabeth laughed and shook her head, reaching out to stroke the side of his cheek. “What am I going to do with you?” she asked quietly.

John pushed his face against her palm, kissing the center. “Naked things?”

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at him.

“Would it help if I took my shirt off?”

Elizabeth thought about it. Yes, actually, it would. “Maybe later.”

John pretended to sulk. “I might have a headache later.”

Elizabeth laughed and pulled her hand away from him, aware that his eyes seemed to light up when she laughed and in turn, that made her stomach flip inside out. Why did attraction have to be like a bout of food poisoning? It made no sense at all.

John was watching her as she leaned with her back against the railing, elbows resting on top, and wondered what secret thoughts were jumping around in his head. He watched her for a long time and Elizabeth pretended not to notice, pretended to be looking across the pier and up at the tall towers of the city, lit up like black Christmas tress.

She would have given anything to know what he was thinking right there, his eyes not moving from her.

So she turned her face suddenly to look at his, their eyes locking, his mouth opening slightly, like maybe he was going to say something or maybe he was just caught out.

He licked his bottom lip and his mouth shut, eyes flicking away for a moment as he cleared his throat. When he looked back at her, he looked different, only a millionth of a fraction, but it was a difference she noticed.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked her quietly.

Elizabeth looked away, down at the ground, over his shoulder, at the city, feeling too many rough edges being smoothed away for it to be safe.

“Um, well, I was just thinking about this pier,” she said.

“Yeah? What about it?” he asked, looking to eager to hear the answer.

She felt like smacking his silly hair and asking him to just say whatever the hell he'd been thinking of when his eyes had looked so startled and naked, when he'd looked so unguarded.

She smiled at him instead. “I was thinking of Christmas lights, paper lanterns, music. Maybe some dancing.”

John seemed surprised. “Dancing? You like dancing?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “A little.”

John was smiling, looking her up and down. “I think I can imagine Elizabeth Weir dancing.”

“Naked?” Elizabeth asked.

John's eyebrow went up. “Not until now.”

She smacked his shoulder. “Very funny.”

John rubbed the spot where she had just hit him, not hard at all. “Homesick?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No. Not really. It's just one of those nights. Everything looks so beautiful. It's almost perfect.”

“Well, we don't have any paper lanterns or Christmas lights,” John said, straightening up and holding out his hand. “But I guess we could dance.”

Elizabeth frowned at his hand and clearly heard her brain make a strange gurgling noise as it headed towards her ears. She stared up at John. “You know how to dance?”

John shrugged. “Nope. But you can teach me, right? How hard can it be?”

Elizabeth laughed. “No.”

“Come on.”

“We don't have any music,” Elizabeth protested.

“I can sing for you if you like.”

“No, thank you. Please. I've heard you in the shower.”

John grabbed her hand. “Come on, how hard can it be? Just teach me the way you learned how to do it.”

“I used to stand of my father's feet. I think you're a little too old for that.”

“Elizabeth? Come on,” he said, his voice lowering and his eyes twinkling, outshining the stars of Pegasus. “Let's make it perfect.”

Elizabeth blinked at John. “That's the worst line I've ever heard.”

John rolled his eyes. “Fine. Let's have a crappy night.”

Elizabeth looked down at John's hand, wrapped tight around hers, strong, long fingered and softer than it looked. She looked up at him and smiled, feeling a little silly and liking it. “Okay, fine.”

“Cool,” John said, with a sharp nod.

Elizabeth guided John's hand to her hip, feeling it move further than it was supposed to and then slapping it back on the right place. She held his other hand up and placed her own in it, her other hand going to his shoulder.

They stood there with not much space between them, John's hands warm where they touched her, his eyes warm where they touched her and his small smile, waiting, amused and something else – so warm. Every place and way he touched her, it was warm.

She felt her heart knock in her chest and felt an urge to step back and get some perspective. It was incredibly dumb of them to be standing there, in plain sight if anyone decided to come down to this pier. It wouldn't do much for their reputation. What the hell was she doing?

“Elizabeth?” John asked, his voice soft, curling around her and falling like feathers in the pit of her stomach, making knees weak.

Screw it, she thought. She really liked this guy. The time for freaking out was ridiculously over.

“Okay, just follow my lead.”

“Isn't the guy supposed to lead?” John asked, offering her a little smirk.

Elizabeth gave him an unamused look. “Only if he knows what he's doing.”

“Ouch,” John said, squeezing her hand.

“Okay, now, follow what I do,” Elizabeth said, looking him in the eyes as he nodded. “When my left foot goes forward, yours should take one step back-”

“Which left foot, because I think I might have two,” John said.

Elizabeth gave him an impatient look.

John nodded again. “Right. Left foot one step back, got it.”

“Now, I step forward with my right foot and you take one step back.”

John stepped back, looking down at their feet and then up, stiffening as though he was some kind of matador and adding an arched eyebrow to the move.

Elizabeth ignored him and carried on. “Okay, I take one step to my left, you to your right...now,” she said, knowing that the feet stepping usually started after the first three simple steps.

John stepped to the side, pulled her in close to his chest. “Maybe we can try this with me leading. This isn't exactly rocket science you know. Did I ever tell you I'm a hotshot pilot?”

Five minutes later...

Elizabeth clamped her mouth shut to hold back the grunt of pain as John's boot stomped on hers again and he collided against into her.

He grimaced. “Maybe you should lead. Unless you want Beckett to amputate your foot.”

“No, it's okay, you're doing better,” she lied.

The foot stomping wasn't so bad, not when he kept distracting her with sudden kisses, or pulling her in just to crush her against his own body, sometimes swaying their bodies side to side for a moment. Maybe he wasn't a bad dancer. Maybe he was just thinking of the more interesting moves, jumping ahead instead of waiting it out.

Typical John Sheppard.

The night wore on and when he stopped stomping on her feet, they naturally seemed to move in closer, not really dancing anymore, just swaying together, taking small steps.

After a moment, Elizabeth noticed that John was quietly humming something in her ear. She pulled back, still holding on and stepping, swaying.

“What are you doing?”

“Shhh, wait,” John said with a frown and continued humming.

She watched him hum some tune in concentration as though he was trying to remember something.

“Okay, I got it. When we kiss...my heart's on fire, burning with a strange desire,” he said, with an overly serious nod.

Elizabeth laughed, feeling her cheeks warm a bit. “Oh god.”

“Cut me a break, I'm being romantic here,” John said. “And I know, each time I kiss you, that your heart's on fire too.”

“What is that? A poem?” Elizabeth asked, laughing.

“So,” John said, ignoring her question. “My darling, please surrender, all your...your love...so warm and tender.”

Elizabeth watched John, his cheeks looking a little pink even in the dark. He shook his head and laughed.

“You know what, I don't remember the rest of it.”

“Yes you do,” Elizabeth said. “Go ahead, I want to hear it.”

John pulled her closer, continuing the swaying motion of their small dance. “Maybe later.”

Elizabeth looked up at him. “Really? Sure you won't forget the words again?”

John nodded. “Sure. The word of The King should be spread and not forgotten.”

“You were quoting Elvis?” Elizabeth asked, a little disappointed, but not entirely.

“Well, it was either that or Johnny Cash, and I don't know all the words to If I Were a Carpenter,” he said with a shrug. “Oh, hey,” he said, suddenly stepping back, pulling Elizabeth's hand above her head and prompting her into a small turn.

Elizabeth turned to see his rather smug face.

“Nice move,” she said and pulled John to her, kissing his smile and mirroring it against his lips.

They kept swaying on that spot and Elizabeth closed her eyes, seeing Christmas lights, paper lanterns and hearing a quiet hum in her ear as they danced.

- the end -