Title: Game On

Author: Angel Leviathan

Spoilers: Anything, everything

Season: 2

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis characters, concept, etc, aren’t mine.

Notes: Don’t ask. It’s the result of many things, but I really have no excuse. Lol.

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He’s not quite sure how his dog-tags ended up hooked round a belt loop on her denim skirt, but they’re there. He’s also not sure how she’s beating him at pool, after she swore she couldn’t play, but somehow she’s doing that too. John leans against the back wall of the bar, observing her as she lines up her next shot. Couldn’t play; a likely story. He can’t quite remember how they ended up playing pool in some bar neither had ever seen before, but maybe his second beer and her third glass of wine that she forced him to finish were teaming up to purposefully confuse him. He’s sure he can remember her uttering the phrase, she ‘owns him’, and maybe the stealing of dog-tags has something to do with that.

Elizabeth lines up her next shot, full aware that her progress is being examined. The faint smirk on his face tells her he’s sure she’s going to miss, but she’s determined to prove him wrong. Despite the fact that she declared she couldn’t play. She grimaces, still tasting the shots they downed in the back of her throat, and makes contact with the cue ball. Shot going awry, she curses under her breath, resting the cue against the table as she folds her arms across her chest and resists the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

He’s never seen her like this before. She’s not quite drunk, so he thinks, but then again, neither is he, but she’s dropped her guard enough to let the child in her out, along with her wicked sense of humour. John still isn’t exactly sure how they ended up here, the two of them. It’s their first time back on Earth together, and apparently neither of them have anything better to do, though he’s sure that might be somewhat of a lie on her part. But he’s not complaining. He approaches the table, swaggering arrogantly, in a dramatic manner, just to make her laugh. He loves the fact he can do that, more and more recently, and is ever so slightly worried he gets such a kick out of it.

"I bet you can’t pocket anything without hitting one of mine," Elizabeth challenges as she walks past him, leaning close and strutting past confidently.

He’s also slightly worried that that comment sounded dirty in his mind. He looks across at the cue in her hand and shakes his head, determined to shut that part of his mind down, "Is that a challenge?"

"Not really," she takes a sip of her drink, "You are playing a novice."

"Novice, my ass," he shoots back, returning his attention to the table.

Whilst his back is turned, Elizabeth tilts her head and smiles, eyes resting on what he had decided to throw into the conversation. She suppresses the desire to comment on it, if only to see the look on his face, and adjusts her jacket to distract her from such thoughts. She grins wickedly as she sees him take aim, waiting for the precise moment, as he draws the cue back, "John?" he smacks the cue ball, sending his shot everywhere but where he intended, and he turns round, glaring at her. She smiles innocently, "You missed."

"No shit," John raises an eyebrow as she walks round him, planning her shot, "Cheater," he accuses, grinning back at her.

"I never cheat," her eyes remain on the table.

"Liar," he states.

"I never lie," now she’s pretending his accusation is of little significance.

"You said you couldn’t play," he counters.

Elizabeth looks up, an imitation of his own smirk on her face, "I said I was bad. I never said I couldn’t play," she leans down to take her shot, and suddenly he’s very glad she’s not wearing a low cut top. The skirt was enough. The top would have finished him off. Despite the fact that she’s beating him, he suddenly realises what’s wrong with her play, though part of him informs him its just an excuse to touch her.

"Elizabeth?"

"Yeah?"

"Come here," John wanders round the table, as if he has all the time in the world, as she eyes him somewhat warily, wondering just what he intends to do. She mocks herself silently for the shiver she feels when he leans against her, and is sure she shouldn’t enjoy it this much, but allows him to mould himself around her and adjust her posture. Its then she realises she’s suddenly not interested in the game anymore, at least, not the game on the table. Though that’s an interesting idea, she muses.

"Elizabeth?" he keeps his voice quiet, whispering in her ear.

"Hmmm?"

"Focus…" he can barely keep the laughter out of his voice. Tightening his grip on her, he leans closer, "You aren’t making a bridge right, and you’re leaning away from the table…" he says softly.

"Uh-huh…" Elizabeth manages to respond, hoping he can’t feel her heart pounding. She has absolutely no interest in the pool game anymore, and is sure by the way he’s pressed against her that he’s doing it just to taunt her. She turns her head slightly to look back at him, knowing he’s right there, and discovers he’s gazing right back at her, something in his eyes that she’d love to provoke. She’s not sure who makes the move first, but suddenly their lips are touching, brushing against each other, and she wants more. She can taste the spirits they drank earlier, and changes her mind about them; she considered them sour, but finds them sweet as his tongue touches hers.

John breaks away and steps back from her completely, nodding toward the table, teasing her as he grins, "Try it now."

She’s sure she’ll never make the shot now, if only because she’s shaking with reaction, but Elizabeth turns back to the table, more than willing to sink the shot now, and those after, just to speed up the game. Because she’d rather find out exactly what’s going to happen when the game finishes…

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Fin