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Jenn Sheppard shouldn't have gone to watch the playoff game with SG1, she thinks. But Carter invited her; Carter's taken her under her wing while Jenn's adjusting to being on Earth and her assignment to a regular gate team. Jenn's gone from commanding a city to babysitting geologists and botanists on non-crucial missions. She can't punch Landry in the face, but she can enjoy the vicarious violence on the big screen TV in Mitchell's living room.
Mitchell's had a couple of beers and is trying to explain the game to Teal'c and Vala. Jenn gets the feeling that both of them are fucking with him, Teal'c because he thinks it's funny and Vala because she's trying to lull Mitchell into thinking of her as harmless while casing the joint. The thing that bugs Jenn is how Mitchell's talking like he's the world's foremost expert, just because he used to play, and there's no one telling him he's full of shit. Come halftime, Jenn has to retreat to the kitchen to get herself under control.
"You okay?" Carter asks, because of course she followed. Carter's still recovering from being shot and nearly dying, still working reduced hours and not allowed offworld, and Jenn thinks she doesn't handle boredom well. Carter bends a bit stiffly to take an old mustard-colored blender out of a bottom cabinet and starts raiding Cam's kitchen for canned fruit. "Virgin pina coladas," she explains. "With work tomorrow, and who knows what could still happen today, none of us can drink drink."
"I get that," Jenn says, and leans back against the counter. Atlantis under Elizabeth had had such strict alcohol regulations that it might as well have been dry.
"Cam can be an ass about football," Carter says. "And in general. Is he insulting your home team?"
Jenn doesn't really care about either of the teams playing. "Nah," she says, and then, because Carter's trying to make her welcome and Jenn should try back, she adds, "I played in high school." She shrugs. "Tiny private school Class A team. Never made it to state, and Cam's school won what, twice?"
Carter rolls her eyes. "And how sad is it that he's younger than we are and doing the glory days thing?" She opens a can of pineapple and starts on one of coconut milk, asking Jenn to grab some ice. "I never met a woman who played football. That's quite something."
Mitchell has old-fashioned metal ice cube trays. Jenn has to whack them hard to get the cubes out. "I was a tomboy. Not a surprise, right?"
"I know a bit about that," Carter says wryly, and fits the blender lid on carefully before hitting pulverize. The noise is incredible. Carter points Jenn in the direction of glasses. Once the drinks are poured, Carter tops each with a firetruck-red cherry. "Can I tell Mitchell? He makes a great face when he realizes he's been a dick."
"Go for it," Jenn says, distracted by her delicious drink, sweet and cold and tangy. She's missed pineapple; they never order any because of McKay, and she's not even sure if pineapple is citrus. She asks Carter, who rolls her eyes.
Mitchell echoes Carter's assessment that Jenn playing football is cool, which kind of pisses her off. If she was a guy, he'd ask what position she played. At least the team he's rooting for is losing badly, Jenn thinks, securely petty in her own mind, smirking just a bit.
"Aw, man," Mitchell says, dejected as the game ends. "That sucks."
"Yup," Jenn says, but she can't help if her widening smile isn't sympathetic in the least.
A few days later she's just back from a crappy mission and heading for the locker room when Mitchell calls Sheppard, hey and jogs after her.
"What?" she says -- well, snaps, but she's filthy and needs to shower before going up to see Lieutenant Pulaski in the infirmary.
Mitchell looks nervous, shoving his hands in his pockets as he matches her strides. They're more or less the same height. Jenn wonders if that bugs him.
"Are you doing anything Saturday night?" Mitchell blurts out. Jenn looks sidelong at him. He's kind of red across his cheeks; it makes his freckles obvious.
"Why?" In the past month he's had her over to watch football and to work on his car, and they both went to Carter's right after she got out of the infirmary, to repaint her living room; Jenn assumed Carter and Mitchell were trying to get over what had happened on P9C-882. Jenn even tagged along with SG1 on karaoke night, where she ended up singing showtunes with Teal'c. She's grateful for being taken under their wing -- at least her troubles distract them from their own -- but if Cam wants to hang out she needs to know if she'll need tools, or possibly weapons.
"Um." Jenn takes the firestairs two at a time, and Mitchell bounces along behind her, like a puppy. "I was thinking dinner and a movie. You know."
Jenn's not sure she can cope with this. On the landing, she stops and gives Mitchell a hard look. She'd figured he knew she usually prefers women, in the same unsubstantiated way she suspects he's on the guy side of bi. "A date," she says flatly, not thrilled by the idea but already knowing what her answer will be. It's a pretty good plan, actually. Give the rumor mill a chance to replace old gossip about Chaya and Rosie Holland with the romancing of SGC's golden boy.
A good plan, but a bad, bad idea.
"Yeah," Mitchell says, and gives Jenn a shy-looking smile, showing her those perfect white teeth.
"Saturday night?" Jenn asks. "I can pick you up at eight." Her mother'd say she was being forward; so sue her. She likes to be in charge.
Jenn hasn't been on a date with a guy in ages, but it's Mitchell , so she wears her boots and jeans with a button-down and sports coat. She only has makeup for official work purposes, but she puts on lipstick and eyeliner and spritzes her hair with the stuff that gives it a product shine to suggest she meant for it to stick up all over the place.
She's at Mitchell's apartment right on the hour, and he doesn't give her flowers or anything, thank God. Dinner's a lot more fun than she'd anticipated, and Mitchell's still laughing at her censored-for-Earth anecdotes as they walk through the parking lot to the cinema. Jenn asked Bill Lee to recommend a movie because he knew SG1 and Mitchell, and Jenn doesn't want Hollywood's fake violence to hit close to home; who wants to freak out in a crowded theater? So they end up watching Disney, but it's pirates, which is cool, and Mitchell buys them Twizzlers and Jujubes to share.
Jenn's a little high from the sugar as she drives Mitchell home. She figures that's why, when he asks her in for coffee, she's tempted.
"And by coffee you mean..." she asks, squinting at him in the streetlight glow through the windshield.
Mitchell reaches over and runs the backs of his fingers along her jaw, a fond gesture that feels like he's putting himself out there on the line. "Sex," he says, with a self-conscious shrug. "Or we could hang out, or whatever."
It's on the tip of her tongue to ask why me? , but Jenn doesn't want to know. Mitchell won't brag about how he nailed her in the locker room, she's sure of that, just like she has faith he'll leave her the hell alone if it ends up being a one-night thing. She takes a breath. "I don't do penetration on a first date and I don't swallow." She thinks about the nightmares Kolya and his pet Wraith left her with, and her sessions with Kate, and adds grudgingly, "And don't hold me down or cover my face."
That said, she breathes in nice and slow, pleased with herself for getting that out and not running, or punching Mitchell in the face.
Mitchell's expression goes serious, and Jenn realizes, damn, he's probably seen the videos -- everyone 's seen the fucking videos. He looks like he wants to say something sympathetic, but has a clue that his face is in danger. After a moment, he meets her eyes with a wry hangdog look and says, "Oral works for me. Hands work for me. I'm fine fucking or being fucked. I don't want to talk about my scars, and playing doctor is not a turn on."
"Awesome," Jenn says, and gets out of the car.
Mitchell kisses her inside the front door. Jenn kisses him back and ups the ante by shoving him up against the wall, one hand in his hair, the other at his waist, and nudging her leg between his knees. Mitchell wraps his arms around her under her jacket. His palms are broad and warm against the small of her back, and it's comforting and sexy for a moment before a jagged out-of-nowhere sliver of fear piggybacks in on the arousal, making her jerk forward against his chest.
"You okay?" Mitchell asks. He's very obviously holding his hands away from her, and Jenn hates being embarrassed by her body's reaction.
"I'm fucked up," she says anyway. "Sorry."
Mitchell snorts and leans his head against hers, reminding Jenn of Teyla. "I kind of thought we were doing this because of how fucked up we are." Jenn looks at him, nearly going cross-eyed, and raises her eyebrows. "I'm not okay," Mitchell says, voice all rough stripped down honesty. "And I don't want to talk about it."
Jenn can't be his -- or anyone's -- therapy, but mutual selfishness is right up her alley. "Don't want to know, Mitchell," she says, stepping back so he can see her sharp smile, and grabs him by the wrist, tugs. "Bedroom."
She knows where his bedroom is; all his visitors throws their coats and bags haphazard over the neatly-made queen bed. Mitchell lets her pull him along until they're inside, and then he flips on the lights, shuts the door, and starts unbuttoning Jenn's shirt. Jenn does the same for him, only she's faster. They both shrug out of shirts and jackets, and suddenly Mitchell has clothes hangers and is making sure Jenn won't be wrinkled when she leaves. Jenn shakes her head at him and bends over to take her boots off. She leaves her jeans unfolded on top of her boots, ignoring Mitchell and his hangers, and goes to sit on the bed in her underwear and watch him hang his khakis in the closet with everything else.
"Go ahead and laugh," he says. "I hate ironing." Despite all the rumors about how Mitchell goes pantsless every time he's offworld, Jenn's never seen his legs until now. He has scars from his crash and the surgeries after, but they're faded. There's a new scar on his arm that looks like he was shot. Jenn doesn't ask.
Instead, she cocks her head in challenge. "And this is kind of weird," Jenn suggests. "You and me."
"I wouldn't say weird." Mitchell comes over and leans down for a kiss. "Awkward, maybe." He kisses her again and nudges, and Jenn takes the hint to scoot backwards until she's stretched out with Mitchell over her. He keeps kissing her, sloppier and wetter with urgency now. She's aware of his skin against hers everywhere, the hair on his legs soft against her own, sensitive after having been shaved for the first time in ages. Mitchell's hips rest against hers; he's being polite and not calling attention to his dick, but Jenn can feel the length of it through his briefs, already half-hard. She's never really been turned on by dick, but she's so wet now that her shorts are sticking and it's hard not to hump the nearest part of Mitchell, even if it is his dick.
In Kolya's prison, Jenn went through perimenopause and menopause in half a day. After she escaped, the Wraith returned her youth and fertility. Her libido's been embarrassingly off the charts ever since. She hasn't let her perpetual horniness distract her from her job, but now that she can let go, her body's going for the gold in fucking.
Mitchell probably didn't know the thing about the Wraith, but Jenn's panting and her hands are on his ass, pulling him closer, pushing up, looking for contact. To his credit Mitchell just rolls with it, shifting so his thigh's right in the perfect place for her to grind against. Jenn traps his leg with her own and arches up, feeling like she's being electrocuted from the inside out. Mitchell ducks his head and bites a careful ladder down her neck, laps at the base of her neck, slides down just enough to lick at a nipple through her undershirt, tongue wetting the fabric and dragging it across her skin. It's too much or not enough, Jenn can't figure out which, her breasts are so sensitive she could come just from Mitchell's mouth. And then she does, blindsided by an orgasm that has her clenching her jaw against sound as her body throbs with pleasure. It's like catching a perfect wave and she rides it out, forgetting about Mitchell and everything else.
She's surprised to reach the end and feel like she could go again; if she was masturbating she'd probably settle for one, no need to be greedy. But she's got Mitchell, and energy to burn.
"Your turn," she says, her voice all weirdly rough, and pulls Mitchell up to kiss him while rolling him off to the side. He digs his hands into her hair and closes his eyes and catches at her tongue impatiently. Jenn slides her fingers down his chest, slick with sweat, playing with his hair, rolling his nipples like a magician making a quarter disappear. He's got a lot of hard muscle, and she can feel him tensing, controlling his instinctual movements, being deliberate with her. She appreciates the courtesy, but it also gets on her nerves. She lifts the elastic on his briefs with her thumb, grins when his dick jumps. "Wanna get naked?"
"Hell, yeah," Mitchell says, and pushes her back to grab hold of her undershirt and yank up. Jenn laughs, because he's got this look on his face, like he knows he's being an ass, but hey, boobs . Jenn's never been ashamed of being flat-chested: pushing forty she looks like she did at twenty. She gives Mitchell a grin back and pulls her shirt over her head. She drops it on the floor and finds that Mitchell's got his briefs half-off, so she watches as he kicks them free, and then removes her own.
Mitchell puts a hand on her knee and slides it up to her thigh. "Time to break out the condoms and Astroglide?" he asks, and then points up. The headboard's boxy part is just wide enough to hold an alarm clock and a reading lamp, and right between them Mitchell's set out the sex stuff. Even a battery-powered vibrator. "I like to be prepared when I think I might get lucky," Mitchell adds, with a shrug.
Jenn just bets that he was a Boy Scout as a kid. She singsongs "Proper preparation" back at him in mockery as she grabs a condom, lubes it up and rolls it on. "You into the 7 Ps, Mitchell?"
"Fuck off, Sheppard," Mitchell says, and then just says fuck, fuck, fuck as Jenn licks her way down his dick. Jenn uses the hand that's not holding his dick straight to reach down between her legs where she's still wet. She curls two fingers up inside, finger-fucks herself as she sucks on the head of Mitchell's dick, rubbing her clit with the heel of her hand. It makes her shudder, reminding her that she really wants to come again. She gives it another minute, sucking and rubbing, and then pulls her hand free. She wipes her fingers on the condom and then licks her own taste all the way down, taking Mitchell's dick in as far as she can, using her hand to jack him off into her mouth.
Mitchell groans and twists, his stomach tightening as he raises his head to watch, and his knees jitter restless under Jenn's thighs. He's a pretty good-looking guy; Jenn rubs her fingers down over her cunt again and then pinches Mitchell's flat brown nipples until they stuck up, shining wet like they'd been polished. Mitchell grabs her wrist, pulls her hand up to his mouth and sucks her fingers in, sloppy with greed.
"Sixty-nine," Mitchell says, letting her index finger go with a reluctant nip. It's not quite an order but not polite either, and Jenn thinks she likes that.
She pulls off and says, "Dibs on top," and licks her lips, her mouth feeling the unaccustomed stretch. She kneels up and reaches overhead again to grab the vibrator and gives Cam a look. "You want this?"
"Hell, yeah," Cam says, and palms Jenn's breasts as she slides on a condom and tosses the lube down where it'll be convenient. "You don't have to."
"Put your mouth to better use," Jenn says, and straddles Mitchell's face. He pushes her legs wider, and Jenn feels the first hot touch of his tongue exploring. She's so wet Mitchell's going to get a shower, but at least there's no way he can miss her clit, she thinks. She can't remember ever being this hard, and she'll be damned if she's going to be the only one shaking apart with need. She slides her fingers around Mitchell's dick again and leans down to swallow it to the back of her mouth, which is as far as she goes. Mitchell's not huge; it's deep enough to make him gasp out something rude into the folds of her labia, before suckling her in, his tongue soft and inescapable and making Jenn squirm as she tries not to smother him in her attempts to get more.
Mitchell pushes his face into her and drags his tongue straight up, and wham, Jenn's coming again, eyes screwing shut, pushing her hips and her mouth down. This time the wave doesn't pull back, and Jenn feels like she's giving off sparks like a Catherine wheel, spun around by pleasure, burning. She's grateful for the cock in her mouth and the unpleasant taste of latex; they keep her from losing control entirely. She grabs the vibrator, fumbles getting the lube open and spills it all over the sheets, but counts it as a win when it buzzes to life with a slide of a finger. She grinds down onto Mitchell's face, feeling his hands spreading her open, and slides the vibrator down behind Mitchell's balls, rubbing to the same pace as her mouth on his dick, and letting it slide down over and around his hole and back again.
Under her, Mitchell bucks and turns his face away as he shouts, hands grabbing at her back. Jenn holds him down and doesn't relent, not even when Mitchell's knees jerk up, his toes curling so hard he pulls the sheet corner free of the mattress. He's on the edge, and she wants him to go over, she wants him to come apart under her. She's still rocking with need, and Mitchell grabs hold of her hips and forces her still. He closes his mouth around her and breathes hard, barely using his tongue at all, and Jenn lets the vibrator slide down and slip just inside him, stretching him open.
Mitchell groans loud as he comes, primal and muffled by her cunt, and Jenn shakes apart one last time as his dick throbs in her mouth. She's loose and lightheaded and rolls clumsily to the side as soon as Mitchell pulls back.
"Holy fuck," Mitchell says, sweat-slick chest rising and falling as he pants. He looks like he's been run over by a truck. Jenn turns the vibrator off, snags and ties the condom, and tosses them to the foot of the bed with the lube before flopping down next to him. Mitchell kisses her on the shoulder, which is about all he can reach without making an effort, and then levels himself up with an elbow and kisses down over her collarbone, up to her chin, and then very sweetly on the mouth. Jenn smells herself on his skin, and licks him over like a cat after cream, even though Mitchell's giving her this dopey grin, like he's broadcasting on all channels: hey, I just got laid .
Jenn rolls her eyes at him, but she's feeling mellow goodwill warm and heavy all through her body, and she's feeling amenable to Mitchell. She feels a bit smug, like maybe not many people know about this Mitchell, the one who's not anybody's good Boy Scout, the one who's not trying so hard.
She kisses him lazily, messing with his chest hair, and he plays with her breasts like it's just so awesome that he can . Jenn figures maybe he hasn't had much awesome in his life recently. When she starts to feel more sticky than satiated, she puts her head down on Mitchell's shoulder and says, "Let me know when you want me to clear out." Mitchell makes a confused, incoherent, and vaguely wounded-sounding protest. "I need to shower and sleep," Jenn clarifies. "Easy enough for me to go home."
"Stay," Mitchell says, and runs his fingers through Jenn's hair. "I want you to." His touch is light, almost gentle. "There's towels in the hallway closet. I'm already asleep or I'd get them for you."
"You're such a dick," Jenn tells him, sitting up and stretching, flaunting breasts that are now out of his reach.
"I am," Mitchell agrees, and yawns so wide his jaw pops. "But I try. You know how it is, do your best and hope you're doing the right thing. Hope you can live with it."
Jenn snorts and grabs Mitchell's arm, pulling him protesting with her as she stands. "Shower, Mitchell." She pushes him towards the door. "If you stink in the morning you're not getting any."
"You're not very nice," Mitchell says, and throws his arm over Jenn's shoulders companionably. "I like you, though."
Jenn doesn't want to like Mitchell, that would be taking awkward to a weird new level, but she kind of wishes they could be friends, that she could tell him things. "No accounting for taste," Jenn suggests, and Mitchell laughs so loud Jenn almost finds herself joining in.