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Elizabeth’s hair was longer these days, and so she would occasionally put it up in a ponytail. John wasn’t sure why that stood out so much to him, except that it was a different look for her, he supposed. Elizabeth was a creature of habit and rarely changed things up about herself, so it stood out.
Her ponytails were low at the back of her head, on the nape of her neck. They were hastily done and not very tight. Not that John particularly knew about the intricacies of ponytails (having had very short hair his entire life), but after Elizabeth started doing it, he took notice. He realized that the other ponytails he’d see from day to day from the various women in the city were largely practical, meant to keep the hair out of the face when fighting. Generally, they were smooth, with every strand tucked neatly away. Elizabeth’s were messy and quick, only done when her hair was annoying her a lot and she was too busy to fuss with it.
John’s eyes lingered on her whenever she put her hair in a ponytail. He’d see when it would begin - one errant strand of hair hanging against her cheek, Elizabeth absentmindedly brushing against it multiple times, until she noticed what she was doing. She would huff a little and hunt down a hairband from somewhere (she even started putting one in her pockets), quickly pull it all behind her head, tie it off, then resume what she was doing.
John didn’t realize he was doing it, but he started looking at her more when she had her hair in a ponytail. His eyes would follow the curve of her ears down the line of her neck, to where it met her shoulder. Elizabeth had kept her hair down, almost religiously, for years, and now he was getting a view of her he’d never really seen before. He liked seeing something new of her.
John knew better, and chided himself about it, but he’d do it anyway - staring at Elizabeth’s neck while she ran a meeting, or argued with Rodney, or tapped away at a screen and explained something about the Ancients that John didn’t really care about, but was happy to listen to her ramble. He’d think about the little messy strands coming out of her ponytail, think about brushing them aside, and kissing the exposed skin of her neck.
John didn’t let his imagination wander further than that; it felt improper. (Not that fantasizing about kissing Elizabeth’s neck was proper at all. But he supposed as far as fantasies went, it was tamer than it could have been.) Elizabeth put her hair in a ponytail infrequently anyway - more often she kept her hair down than put it up. But when she did, he indulged himself and let his mind picture it - picture her closing her eyes and leaning her head to the side as his lips grazed her skin…
More than once John had to be jostled out of his daydream by someone standing next to him. The most recent time Elizabeth had been speaking directly to him, asking him a question. And he’d been standing there, slightly slack-jawed, staring at her. Everyone around had chuckled when she called his name multiple times to get his attention. She’d pulled him into her office later that afternoon to ask him about it. Elizabeth leaned against her desk and John stood close, unconsciously, a matter of habit to stand mere feet away from each other. John couldn’t have pinpointed a moment when they became that comfortable with each other, but he supposed there wasn’t one particular moment. It had been a natural growth.
“You seem a little distracted lately, John,” Elizabeth said to him, and he shifted from foot to foot, embarrassed to be getting a talking to about it. He knew better than to let his fantasies get away from him, and yet, he’d done it anyway. Maybe out of frustration, because he knew he had feelings for her, and he was a little tired of trying to stamp them down, and the fantasies felt like an outlet.
“Sorry,” he said, and gave her his patented half-smile-with-a-shrug maneuver, hoping that would just smooth things over. (He knew it wouldn’t.)
“Do you want to tell me what’s been going on?” Elizabeth’s brow was furrowed; she was worried. Not angry or accusatory, just wanting to make sure that John was alright. He felt a little guilty at that.
Oh yeah sure, I was just ignoring everything you were saying because I was lost in a daydream. Specifically, a daydream in which I am dangerously close to giving you a hickey. Somehow he didn’t think that would go over well.
“I’ve, uh…” John was totally stuck. He didn’t know what to say. Elizabeth nodded encouragingly, waiting. He looked at her and suddenly noticed a strand of her hair that had come loose from her ponytail, hanging down the side of her face.
Later, John would think back on this moment and be unable to articulate what possessed him to do what he was going to do next. For the rest of his life, he wouldn’t be able to explain it beyond “I just had the urge.”
But he had the urge, and John stepped forward, just one step. That was enough to close the bulk of the distance between them. And he reached up to Elizabeth’s face and tucked the loose strand of hair behind her ear. He let his hand linger close to her body as he slowly followed the line of her neck, fingers lightly grazing down her skin until they met fabric. Then he slowly pulled his hand away.
John met Elizabeth’s eyes, which were wide and full of surprise. But, he celebrated internally, she hadn’t moved away from him, or reached up to stop him. Instead, she was staring at him intensely. A similar sort of intensity he would see in her when they argued - but this had a different flavor.
“I’ve been distracted,” he said softly, not elaborating any further.
Elizabeth’s mouth opened and closed a few times before she was able to say anything, though all she was able to get out was a confused-sounding “John.” He could see emotions warring behind her eyes, and he instantly knew that she’d thought about something like this with him before. Not the same daydream, but daydreams nonetheless. She wasn’t offended he was in her personal space, and touching her. She was surprised by the time and place, but she wasn’t surprised that he’d done it. John felt encouraged. He took another half step, completely closing the little distance left between them. Their clothes were brushing against each other.
John leaned in, brushing his cheek against Elizabeth’s, before leaning down and pressing his lips softly against her neck. He felt her hand come up to grab his arm lightly - a steadying grip. John made his fantasy into reality, brushing his lips against her neck, her familiar scent surrounding him as he traced up to her ear, kissing her ear lightly, before pulling back to look into her face. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were slightly unfocused.
“Um,” she started, with apparently nothing to say as a follow up, just letting the utterance hang in the air.
John never thought he could make Elizabeth speechless (outside of pissing her the hell off). He first felt elation, which was quickly overtaken by intense emotion. Elizabeth meant everything to him, he realized in that moment, and he wanted to show her that.
She angled her face up to him in an unspoken request. Elizabeth was doubtless doing to have qualms about this - (literally) necking with him - in her office, of all places. John sensed she was unable to say anything at the moment, but the subtle encouragement of her body language was enough. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, feeling her heat and softness. She opened her mouth slightly and he jumped at the opportunity, flicking his tongue against her own, deepening the kiss. She tasted slightly of coffee and something else, uniquely Elizabeth. After a moment they pulled apart, and John felt his stomach do summersaults.
He’d kissed her.
Maybe Elizabeth would get mad at him for that. Maybe she’d say she wasn’t interested in him. Maybe she’d kick him off Atlantis and send him back to Earth as punishment. John really hoped none of those things would happen, but even if they did, he was glad he kissed her.
Elizabeth laughed, the sound light and tinkly in John’s ears. “Wow,” she said. “That’s not how I imagined we would ever kiss. But I didn’t hate it.”
John grinned. “You’ve imagined us kissing?”
Elizabeth smiled widely and quirked an eyebrow. John realized he was still basically pressed up against her, and neither one of them seemed interested in moving. “Maybe,” was all she said. She was going to make John work those details out of her. They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, saying nothing by voice but so much by look. Elizabeth wasn’t mad at all, and John felt happier than he had in a long time.
She took a deep breath and straightened up, taking a peek around him out of the window. John couldn’t see behind him but he imagined the control room was full of people staring very hard at monitors and pretending they weren’t just watching the two of them kiss. He took a step back, giving her a little breathing room. John knew her professionalism in front of her people was paramount, and he didn’t want to jeopardize that.
But he also knew that everyone in the city had been dating each other in circles and he and Elizabeth were two of the last people to get involved with anyone, so it wasn’t like they were going to be judging them that hard.
Elizabeth cocked her head to the side, studying him. “What brought that on?” she asked.
“Your ponytail.”
“My ponytail…” Elizabeth reached up and touched it briefly; she looked confused, but didn’t press for details, seemingly happy to let that remain a mystery. She just put a hand against her neck (where John had kissed her) and smiled. “Dinner tonight?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”