Chapter 1: First Date Fireworks
For a moment he didn’t breathe. Just watched her hand slide over his, small and sure, the weight of it quiet and grounding in a way he hadn’t realized he needed until that second. The contact hit him like gravity—soft, inevitable, drawing everything else into orbit around it.
The hum between them deepened, a vibration that wasn’t sound so much as recognition. It spread through his chest and down into the bones of his wrist where her fingers rested. You do.
He could’ve made a joke. He almost did—something light, self-deprecating, the kind of line he’d throw out to defuse tension. But this wasn’t tension; it was stillness, the kind that felt rare in a life full of noise.
“…Yeah,” he said finally, voice low enough that the word barely made it past their joined hands. “Guess that makes two of us.”
Outside, the ocean murmured under the balcony. Inside, the City’s lights dimmed a fraction, like even Atlantis knew enough to stay quiet. He rubbed his thumb once across the back of her hand, not possessive—just a small, wordless answer—and let the silence stretch.
When he did speak again, the edge of a smile tugged at his mouth. “So… does this mean I’ve officially graduated from sir?”
"Privately? Yes, Sir." That insolent grin again, "In public, you're stuck with it until either I'm promoted or you're demoted, whichever comes first. Can't confuse that change of command or have people think there's *fraternizing* going on, now can we?" The lights around them brightened for just a moment before lowering to 'mood lighting' and the hum around them pitched half a tone lower. "...I think we can safely say that Lis is in favor of fraternization. ...that's not helping, Lis." Also not helping-but certainly not hurting-her hand was still in his.
John laughed under his breath, the sound rough around the edges, as if even the humor carried a current he didn’t trust himself to touch for too long. “Guess I’ll have to settle for Sir in public then,” he said, eyes glinting with that particular brand of Sheppard mischief that usually got him into trouble. “Though I’m pretty sure half the base already thinks there’s fraternizing going on.”
When the light shifted—warm, soft, a kind of lazy golden halo—he glanced up at the ceiling, half-amused, half-exasperated. “You really are the worst wingman, you know that?” he muttered to the City itself, earning a faint shimmer through the metal rail like laughter.
He looked back to Katie, to where her hand fit against his, small and cool against the heat of his skin. The flicker of the lights caught the dog tags around her neck, and he felt that familiar tug in his chest—the pull of the connection, the gravity of her.
His thumb traced a slow circle over her knuckles. “She’s not wrong, though,” he said softly, something warmer than teasing slipping into the space between them. “About favoring it. Feels like the only thing that’s made sense since you got here.”
He hesitated for a beat, then—quietly, so only she could hear—added, “For what it’s worth, Katie… I don’t mind the idea of people knowing. Just not sure how to stop the City from sending out invitations.”
"I think that's probably a conservative estimate. If it's *only* half the base that thinks we're already sleeping together, I'll personally polish every Puddle Jumper in the Bay with a toothbrush until you can use them to shave by." And she didn't look at all disturbed by the possibility. "I don't mind either, not even a little. I've had people talk about me since I enlisted just because of who my Dad is...and the fact that I'm not an unattractive young woman who started climbing the ladder very quickly. Between accusations of nepotism and rumors that I slept my way to my rank.... This is the first time the rumors will actually be right." That spark of mischief lit her eyes again, "You realize that when we do end up...fraternizing, because let's face it, I think we can both admit it's definitely going there...Lis is going to light up like Time's Square and everyone is going to know why in real time."
He groaned, half-laughing. “You realize you just guaranteed I’m never going to be able to walk through the control room again without someone whistling the Jingle Bells theme when the lights flicker.”
The sound of the ocean below filled the pause; he watched it for a beat before looking back at her, his grin crooked, softer. “For the record, those people back home? They were wrong. You earned every damn stripe.” His thumb brushed across her fingers once, the faintest acknowledgment of the fight she’d clearly had to keep winning.
Then the grin edged back in. “And yeah… you’re right. We’re headed there. Might as well accept the fact that the City’s going to throw a parade the second we give her an excuse.” He tilted his head, pretending to consider it. “Maybe we can at least negotiate for mood lighting instead of fireworks. I’d rather not have McKay trying to chart our ‘energy output’ on a graph.”
He leaned in just enough for his voice to drop. “Still… can’t say I’m exactly dreading the reason for the light show.”
YWithout releasing his hand, she slid off her chair and got to her feet, stepping the short distance around the table to close the space between them. There was none of the hesitation from yesterday and the shyness had evaporated over the course of their conversation. She only released his hand to move it to her waist before she leaned down-and considering he was a good foot taller than she was, she didn't have far to lean-until her lips were a hairsbreadth from his. That spark of mischief and humor was in her eyes again, her voice low and teasing, "...so is this being too forward or...?"
John’s laugh came out on a low breath, the sound caught somewhere between surprise and the kind of want that didn’t need words. He’d thought about this—hell, he’d tried not to think about this—and yet standing there with her that close, fingers already finding the curve of her waist, all the reasons to be careful just… thinned out.
“Forward?” he echoed, voice roughened by the space between them. “No… I’d call it decisive.”
The hand at her waist tightened almost imperceptibly, drawing her the fraction of an inch closer that erased the gap entirely. His other hand came up, brushing a loose strand of hair back behind her ear in a touch so careful it felt like a question.
When his mouth finally found hers, it wasn’t rushed or hungry, just steady and deliberate—the way a man touches something he’s been thinking about too long to risk breaking. The City answered the moment like a breath, the air thickening with the faint, resonant hum that was their frequency, lights pulsing once in soft, golden agreement.
John smiled against her lips, the humor and warmth returning even in the kiss. “Looks like we just blew the circuit again,” he murmured. “Guess that’s a yes.”
The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate as a reconnaissance mission. Salt air filled John’s lungs, mixed now with the faint scent of Katie’s perfume – a subtle vanilla scent that mixed well with the ocean air and suited her perfectly. Atlantis hummed its approval, the lights around the balcony pulsing in a steady, warm rhythm, casting dancing shadows on the flowering vines climbing the nearby arch.
He felt the shift in Katie instantly. The disciplined Captain Valen momentarily surrendered to something raw and purely Katie. Her fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt at his shoulder, pulling him fractionally closer. She tasted of the not-quite-wine and something uniquely, frustratingly her. He mapped the contours of her mouth with his own, the exploration more thrilling than any alien landscape he’d yet navigated, and he seriously doubted anything would ever compare.
Then, a sound – a sharp, breathless little gasp against his lips. Not fear, not protest. Surprise, pure and unguarded. It sent a jolt through him, electric and grounding at the same time. He pulled back just enough to see her face, inches from his. Her brown eyes, usually sharp with dry wit or cool command, were wide, dazed. The spark was still there, but overlaid with a vulnerability he’d only ever glimpsed in rare, unguarded moments during late-night strategy sessions. A faint flush colored her dusky gold skin, visible even in the moody light.
"Okay," she breathed, her voice husky. Her gaze flickered from his eyes to his mouth and back. "That... wasn't in the mission parameters."
John couldn't help the low chuckle that rumbled in his chest. He kept one hand anchored on her waist, the other cupping the side of her face, his thumb tracing the surprisingly delicate line of her cheekbone. "Intel was faulty. Needed on-site verification." He dropped his voice, the teasing edge softening. "Still verifying."
Her lips curved into that familiar, wicked little smirk, but it was softer now, less armor. "Thoroughness is a commendable quality in an officer, Major." She leaned in again, her intention clear.
The City responded instantly. The pulsing glow intensified, bathing them in a soft golden light, and the ambient hum rose in pitch and volume, almost like a satisfied sigh resonating through the ancient metal. A small cascade of glowing blue particles, like miniature stars, drifted down from a nearby energy conduit, swirling playfully around them before winking out.
The cascade dissolved into the night air, leaving only the taste of ozone and the lingering warmth of Katie’s lips against his. John kept his hand on her waist, anchoring her close, the other still tracing the line of her jaw. Atlantis hummed contentedly around them, the balcony lights maintaining their soft, intimate glow.
"Thoroughness confirmed," Katie murmured, her breath warm against his skin. Her fingers, still tangled in the fabric of his shirt, gave a small, involuntary tug. The spark in her eyes hadn't dimmed; it had just shifted, deepened into something warmer and more focused. Less Captain Valen, entirely Katie.
John grinned, the reckless pilot surfacing. "Just getting started on the preliminary survey." He dipped his head again, capturing her mouth with more insistence this time. Her response was immediate, a low hum in her throat that vibrated against his lips, matching the City’s frequency. Her free hand slid up his chest, over his shoulder, fingers brushing the short hairs at his nape. It sent a shiver down his spine that had nothing to do with the cool ocean breeze.
The kiss deepened, turning exploratory and heated. The disciplined control Katie wore like armor dissolved completely. Her body pressed flush against his, small but surprisingly strong, fitting against him with an ease that felt unsettlingly right. The scent of vanilla mixed with salt and the faint, clean smell of Atlantis. John lost himself in the sensation – the softness of her hair against his knuckles, the heat radiating from her skin, the way her hips moved subtly against his thigh. It was intoxicating, a heady rush that momentarily drowned out the ever-present hum of duty.
John drew a slow breath through his nose, trying to wrestle the balance back between sense and the instinct that told him to forget every line they’d promised to hold. His pulse was hammering in his throat, matched perfectly by the low vibration rolling through the deck plates. The air itself felt charged, as if Atlantis were breathing with them.
He pulled back just enough to look at her again, to make sure—really make sure—she was where he was. The sight nearly undid him. The flush on her skin, the uneven rise and fall of her chest, the curve of her mouth still parted and wanting—it all looked like something carved out of heat and moonlight.
“Damn,” he murmured, forehead resting lightly against hers. His thumb traced the edge of her jaw again, a grounding motion. “You feel that too, right? It’s like the whole City’s got its hands on a dimmer switch.” He gave a small, breathless laugh, his voice softer now, honest in a way he didn’t often allow. “If I don’t stop for air, I’m gonna forget which of us started this.”
Still, his hand didn’t move from her waist, his thumb brushing lazy circles over the thin fabric of her shirt. The sea wind stirred between them, the scent of her perfume curling into it. “Katie,” he said quietly, almost a confession, “tell me if this is too fast. Because I—” he broke off, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “—I’m not great at slow.”
He stayed there in that inch of space, close enough that the words brushed her lips, waiting for her to decide what happened next.
"Yeah, I feel it, too. I'm pretty sure if Lis could, she'd be doing cartwheels right now. ...again, *not* a suggestion, Lis..." She could feel the heat of his hand through the fabric of her tee, the cool breeze off the ocean sweeping over skin warmed by more than just the ambient temperatures. "It's been a whole five and a half days. That's slow enough." Her warm brown eyes were molten gold and she could still taste him on her lips, "...is there where I ask my quarters or yours? ...unless you want to take a step back. Is it too fast for *you*? Because we can slow down if it is."
John’s breath hitched on a laugh that wasn’t really laughter so much as disbelief at his own luck—or insanity. “You just keep throwing the hard questions at me, don’t you?” His hand was still at her waist, fingers flexing once in quiet indecision before he let them rest again, steady.
“I’m not exactly famous for restraint,” he admitted, the words coming low, honest, without the usual buffer of humor. “But I don’t want this to be something we look back on as a bad call made under mood lighting and City pressure.” He searched her face; the gold flecks in her eyes caught the balcony lights like they’d been lit from inside. “You deserve more than that.”
The silence hung between them for a heartbeat, long enough for him to feel the pulse of Atlantis push faintly against his chest, impatient. He exhaled, the corners of his mouth curving again into something warmer, more human. “That said,” he went on, thumb tracing the line of her hip through the denim, “I’m not exactly eager to stop, either.”
He leaned in until his forehead touched hers again, the edge of a smile in his voice. “So maybe we table the quarters question for tonight. We can…call this recon.”
He stayed there, close enough that her next breath mingled with his, waiting to see if she’d call his bluff or take the out he was offering.
"You started it, you asked me first." Her hands resting against his chest, she could feel his heartbeat beneath the palms of her hands. Not that she needed that, she could feel his heartbeat through the connection that hummed through the both of them. "I'm not in the habit of changing my mind or regretting my decisions later, John. So if this is you playing the gentleman to give me an out, the thought is appreciated but it's not needed." Leaning forward just a bit to whisper in his ear, her breath warm against his skin and her hands still on his chest, "...if you're waiting for consent, this is an enthusiastic yes."
For a second he didn’t move. Just breathed. The sound of her whisper lingered there, soft and electric against his ear, and every bit of control he’d been clinging to evaporated.
His pulse thudded under her hands; she could feel the shift before he even spoke. “Copy that,” he murmured, the pilot’s reply—quiet, roughened at the edges.
Then he turned his head just enough to find her mouth again. The kiss started careful, almost reverent, before it deepened, slow and deliberate, his fingers sliding up her spine until they tangled in her hair. The air around them seemed to tighten, the ocean wind swallowed up by the low hum that rolled through the City like a heartbeat.
When he finally broke for air, his forehead still resting against hers, his voice came low and unsteady. “I was trying to be good,” he said, half-laugh, half-confession, “but you don’t make that easy.”
He brushed his thumb along her jaw, eyes searching hers. “Tell me where you want to be, Katie.” The words weren’t an order, not even really a question—just the last thread of restraint, offered to her hands.
"...your quarters are closer. Granted, only by a couple of doors, but still."
John huffed a quiet, incredulous laugh, the sound low against her skin. “That’s the most tactical answer I’ve heard all week.”
He brushed a hand over her cheek, just once, before lacing their fingers together and backing them toward the door. The connection between them felt almost physical now—an invisible tether drawing each step in sync. The City dimmed the corridor lights as they walked, softening to a twilight glow that followed them through the halls like a knowing secret.
When they reached his door, it slid open without a command. John cast an amused glance upward. “Pretty sure I didn’t authorize you as my keycard, but I’m not complaining.”
Inside, the room was dark except for the wash of blue light spilling through the high windows. He stopped just inside the threshold, still holding her hand, long enough to make sure she was there by choice and not momentum. The humor faded into something quieter.
“You sure?” he asked, voice roughened now. “Because once we cross this line…” He let the rest hang there—unsaid, understood—then added softly, “I’m not walking it back.”
He didn’t move until she did.
With a focused-thought/feeling, she 'asked' Lis to lock the door and raise the lighting just enough. Mood lighting for real this time. That soft, warm smile on her lips that was all Katie-and that only John had gotten to see thus far-she reached for him and settled her hands on his waist, looking up at him for a moment, "...I'm not changing my mind, John. I wouldn't want you to walk it back...but I've never done this before so you're gonna have to take the lead here. Lucky for you I'm good at following orders."
The air in his quarters felt suddenly thick, charged with the hum of Atlantis and something else entirely. John’s gaze held hers, the playful glint replaced by an intensity that made her breath catch. "Good at following orders, huh?" His voice was gravel-rough, a low vibration that resonated deep in her chest. He stepped closer, eliminating the last sliver of space between them, his large hands framing her face with surprising gentleness.
His kiss wasn’t tentative this time. It was an exploration, deep and claiming, his mouth moving over hers with a deliberate hunger that sent sparks skittering down her spine. She responded instinctively, her hands sliding from his waist up over the hard planes of his back, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. He tasted of not-quite-wine, salt air, and the unique, indefinable flavor that was purely John. The City’s ambient hum seemed to swell around them, the soft blue light pulsing in time with the frantic beat of her heart.
Her cream knit tee felt suddenly thin and revealing under the heat of his gaze. His hands settled on her hips, thumbs tracing the dip just above her waistband.
"Never?" he asked again, quieter now, searching her eyes. The disbelief was still there, laced with a tenderness that unraveled something tight inside her.
"Never," she confirmed, holding his gaze. The admission felt raw, vulnerable in a way tactical briefings and combat never demanded.
His hands slid up her sides, slow and deliberate, mapping the curve of her ribs beneath the soft cotton. "Tell me if anything... isn't right."
His touch was fire. Every nerve ending felt alight, hypersensitive. She tilted her head, granting him better access, a shaky sigh escaping her as his lips trailed down the column of her neck. Her fingers tangled in the short, dark hair at his nape, anchoring herself.
He chuckled, the sound muffled against her skin. His hands found the hem of her tee, his knuckles brushing the skin of her lower back, sending a jolt through her. "Permission to proceed, Captain?"
She laughed, soft and low, "Permission granted, Sir."
Lifting her arms slightly as he drew the soft fabric up and over her head. The cooler air of the room hit her bare skin, raising goosebumps, but it was instantly chased away by the sheer heat radiating from him, from his gaze as it traveled over the simple black bra, the defined lines of her shoulders, the lean muscle of her arms and abdomen. His expression was pure, focused appreciation, stripped of any trace of his usual irreverence. It stole her breath.
"Damn, Katie," he exhaled, his voice thick. One calloused hand came up, not to touch, but to hover near her collarbone, tracing the air an inch above her skin as if memorizing the shape of her. "You are..." He shook his head, seemingly at a loss. The reverence in that small gesture, the raw honesty in his eyes, undid her more effectively than any practiced seduction.
She reached for the hem of his own shirt. "Your turn, Major." Her fingers trembled slightly against the warm cotton covering the hard muscle of his abdomen. He raised his arms without hesitation, letting her pull it off. The sight of him – the defined chest, the faint scars mapping missions past – was momentarily overwhelming. He was solid, real, and looking at her like she was the center of his universe.
He stepped forward again, closing the distance, his bare chest brushing against hers. The contact was electric, a jolt of pure sensation that made her gasp. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against him, skin to skin. The heat was incredible, the feel of him – hard planes against her softer curves, the steady thud of his heart against hers – utterly consuming. Atlantis’s hum deepened, resonating in her bones, a low, approving thrum that echoed the connection between them.
He kissed her again, deeper, hungrier, one hand splayed against the small of her back, the other tracing a slow, burning path up her spine to the clasp of her bra. The release was effortless. The garment loosened, and he drew it away, his gaze never leaving hers for more than a heartbeat before lowering. The intensity of his look, the raw hunger mixed with awe, sent a fresh wave of heat flooding through her.
He guided them backwards, step by slow step, towards the low platform that served as his bed. The backs of her knees hit the edge, and she sank down onto the cool sheets, pulling him with her. He followed, bracing himself over her, his knees settling between hers. The weight of him, the solid presence, was a grounding counterpoint to the dizzying sensations swirling within her. The low light caught the planes of his face, the intent focus in his eyes as he looked down at her.
His hand skimmed down her side, over the curve of her hip, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her jeans. His eyes met hers again, a silent question blazing in the hazel depths. Her breath hitched, anticipation coiling tight in her belly. She lifted her hips, a wordless answer. He pulled, the denim sliding down her legs and joining the growing pile on the floor. His gaze roamed over her with undisguised hunger, taking in the length of her legs, the delicate lace of her underwear, the vulnerability laid bare.
He lowered himself slowly, settling his weight more fully over her, his thigh pressing intimately between hers. The friction, even through the thin barrier of lace, was startling, intense. A low sound escaped her, half-moan, half-sigh. He captured it with his mouth, his kiss turning fierce, demanding. One hand slid up her inner thigh, calloused fingertips leaving trails of fire on her skin, moving inexorably higher.
His touch found the lace’s edge, then slipped beneath. The first direct contact stole the air from her lungs. She arched into his hand, a soft cry muffled against his shoulder. Logic, strategy, command protocols – they all dissolved in the face of overwhelming sensation. His fingers were knowing, patient, exploring with a devastating precision that unraveled her completely. The world narrowed to the point of contact, the rhythmic stroke, the building pressure deep within her core. Atlantis pulsed around them, the light shifting subtly, bathing them in an otherworldly glow that seemed to thrum with the same energy coiling tighter and tighter inside her.
She gasped his name, a desperate sound against his skin, her fingers clutching at his shoulders, nails digging in slightly. The tension spiraled, sharp and urgent, until it shattered. Wave after wave of intense, pulsing pleasure crashed over her, leaving her trembling, breathless, clinging to him as the tremors subsided. The City’s hum seemed to crest with her release, a resonant chord that vibrated through the deck plating.
John held her through it, his breathing ragged against her temple, his hand still gently cupping her. As the aftershocks faded, he pressed a soft kiss to her damp forehead. She floated in a haze of sensation, boneless and utterly spent, the only solid thing in the universe the warm, solid weight of John above her, the steady beat of his heart echoing her own slowing pulse. The low thrum of Atlantis was the only sound, a satisfied purr in the intimate darkness of his room. He shifted slightly, his gaze finding hers again, dark and filled with a fierce tenderness that stole what little breath she had left.