Fay, I don't watch SGA at all, but I felt like I knew all the characters just from what you wrote. Wonderful!

erika, obviously House's wood needs all the attention it can get, poor neglected thing.

She said that. I didn't. Dr. House has already been bad influence enough, thanks very much. Fay, wrod.

erika, fabulous as always.

And, even if you no longer need a beta, I'd love to read a little naughty Cameron/Chase action. Y'know, if you were wondering.

Should I post it or send it? Will anyone else care? Because I'd hate to be that Internet Chick..."Ok, we get it. You don't feel good about yourself! Do you really need a whole thread for this?"ETA: Well, if my thread monopoly annoys, you can dig out some drabbles or something

Be advised, though...my people always talk more than they shag.

Taking A Life

It wasn’t until Chase sat with Cameron over that lacrosse player that he noticed she had amazing breasts. Well, cleavage, actually, it’s not like he could see all with her wearing a lab coat and everything, but what he saw? Was almost enough to make him trade with that poor bugger in bed. Almost. She had that wholesome thing that people, himself included, had come to think of as particularly American, although sometimes, when his teasing struck her as particularly insufferable, the finger gestures she aimed his way were somewhat less than pristine.

In a book of his mother’s once, that he’d taken looking for dirty bits, the heroine was described as being “unaware” of her great beauty, but that wasn’t Cameron either. She knew it; she was just dedicated to living it down. Most of the time.
Then, with Brandon’s case, she wanted to know what kind of sex the girlfriend thought of as “ rough” and, in the small hours of a day spent testing and retesting virus gels, he woke from a half-amusing, half guilty dream of “wholesome” Allison Cameron wearing black leather and carrying a riding crop. He awoke just as she flicked him with it, and he couldn’t decide if the feeling that inspired was exquisite or torturous. A bit of both, most likely, and the day’s shift was in full swing before the urge to stare was past. He wasn’t sure if anyone noticed his diagnostic sense was off, probably Foreman did, being that they were two of the most competitive sods to ever put on white coats, but maybe he would be so glad to see his rival having an off whiteboard session that he wouldn’t put two and two together.

He couldn’t figure Cameron out, but since she told him that women could have an hour-long orgasm, purely to tease, he was damnably sure, he pictured her underneath him, flushed...the older woman who’d been his first had told him that the surest way to know if a woman had really come rather than faking it was the flushing along her neckline. In his fantasies, of course, Cameron’s neck was as red as a geranium; it was good for his career to believe that everyone lied, but it was more than he could face in other aspects of his life. She had seemed so prudish, so hands off, always acting like a kid that was going to tell the teacher on someone, but he couldn’t miss the little bounce in her voice when she was talking about how fun sex was...unbelievably fun, he thought she said and that echoed in his head for a long time...he wondered if that was how her voice would sound when she called his name...thinking of that, would it be “Robert” she called, or “Chase,” For fun, when he thought of her, he varied it.

Cameron considered saying no when Chase asked her to dinner. She was still smarting from House’s sculpture comment, determined to prove herself a professional and a great doctor who wasn’t running from anything, despite a painful past. But that same painful past had taught her that sometimes the present moment was all you ever had, and she was also tired of cuddling up with research materials in bed at night...and some stupid horoscope she’d read at the beginning of the year had urged her to approach life as a student, which she had taken to imply a relationship with...someone else, but it was a different doctor who stood in front of her begging sheepishly.

“Please,” he said. “I was wrong to let you apologize yesterday...I was a prat. Sometimes men really should grow up."

“It’s okay,” Cameron replied, and her cheeks were pink. “Sometimes I don’t know what gets into me.”

Chase raised an eyebrow. “And you with the hour-long orgasms...I think maybe Urology has a chart you should acquaint yourself with. Seriously.”

Cameron laughed, long and musically . .”Oh, my God...you’re terrible. Do you always come on so strong with your dinner dates?”

Chase smiled...it was a terrific smile...winning yet somehow vulnerable. Cameron hated to admit it, but her college nickname of “Florence Nightengale” had never been far off the mark. Even her juvenile record had come about from swiping codeine cough syrup for somebody else...her first love had been something of a human pharmacy and she was only one of his ways to expand consciousness.

“Yeah, you know...I generally get away with it too. Women feel sorry for the poor foreign bloke. They probably wouldn’t if they didn’t think I was pretty, though.”

”I’m only accepting this date if you’ll agree that you’ll still respect me,” Cameron thrust out her chin and looked determined.

“What does that mean, Allison?” Chase asked. “One hand on a microbiology textbook at all times to keep things honest?”

“Well, yeah...” Chase smiled again, and Cameron hedged. “No. Maybe.”

“Well, now that that’s all sorted.”

“You have no idea how much like House you just sounded right now.”

”Lovely. You’ve got to go out to dinner with me now after insulting me like that!”

“Maybe I was calling you a genius, Chase.”

”Right bastard’s more like it.”

“Ok...yeah. But we’re clear...no matter what happens tonight, I’m still a doctor. Not...just, like...some groupie. Some chick. Right?”

“I wonder what Cuddy is doing tonight. Surely she doesn’t make a man give out so many disclaimers before taking her out.”

”You think? Do you think she and House ever...”

“I can’t say I ever considered the matter one way or the other, Cameron. I do have a life of my own, pathetic though it seems at

erika, I love everything you write. If you don't want to post it, you can send it along to me, too.

Argh...the end keeps getting chopped off. Very annoying.

Please keep posting it. I am quite a devotee of the erika thread. I want to know what happens next!

I put up Chase/Cameron here: [link] I'm not sure why the Phoenix cut me off yesterday.

Intriguing so far, Erika!

Meanwhile I seem to be writing SGA crackfic. Er.

Their arrival in the gate room had been greeted by a stunned silence that lasted for several beats. It was Elizabeth, inevitably, who broke it. To her credit, she was taking in the team’s appearance with every appearance of calm.

“Lieutenant Colonel?”

The crack in Elizabeth’s voice, Zelenka felt quite sure, was directly related to the brevity of the gold…Zelenka tried to think of a word more manly than miniskirts, but failed abysmally. He was fairly sure that warriors in ancient Rome, or possibly ancient Greece, had worn this kind of thing, so it wasn’t entirely without military precedent, but for the life of him Zelenka couldn’t imagine where the team were hiding their weapons. His bad feeling got worse when Sheppard’s attention remained totally riveted on Rodney McKay.

“John?” When this too failed to elicit any response, Elizabeth’s attention switched to the only member of the group who still looked reasonably normal. Rodney McKay was still wearing his uniform, and his expression was a familiar combination of panic and irritation which contrasted rather starkly with the beatific looks on the faces of his team mates. “Rodney?” There was an unmistakeable warning note in the word, and Rodney glanced up, red faced and scowling as he slapped Ronon’s fingers away from his shoulder blades.

“I do Not. Want. A massage!” Rodney snapped at Ronon, with more than a little hysteria in his voice, and then he jumped and spun to glare at Teyla, waving his hands protectively in front of his posterior. “Watch it, Barbarella!” Teyla’s innocent expression was rather contradicted by the predatory sway of her hips as she stalked towards him, her long skirts flaring around her thighs ; Zelenka’s mouth went dry as he glimpsed smooth skin the colour of caramel in places which he had only theorized about wistfully until this moment. He felt certain that every other man in the room was equally transfixed, but had no intention of looking away in order to confirm his hypothesis. Teyla Emmagen had favoured some distractingly revealing styles of clothing during her time in Atlantis, but this was in an entirely different league.

“Doctor McKay,” said Elizabeth, evenly, watching Rodney back away from Teyla, “I trust that you have an explanation for the rather… unorthodox appearance of your team?”

“It wasn’t my fault,” he said, entirely too quickly, without looking up. “I just want us to be clear on that – this whole fiasco was absolutely, positively not my fault in any way, shape or form – nobody would have expected the Kankanathians to do something so spectacularly moronic.” He glanced over at Elizabeth and shrugged helplessly. “They didn’t seem to be any more barkingly insane than your average alien civilization, and their baked goods are surprisingly adequate.” It was probably the memory of cake that made him drop his guard; certainly Rodney didn’t notice Sheppard’s approach until it was too late. Zelenka watched with appalled fascination as Sheppard hooked one bare arm around Rodney’s waist and succeeded in pressing a not-particularly-fraternal kiss onto his neck before Rodney managed to wrench himself free. “Stopitstopitstopitstopit!” Rodney yelled as he ducked behind a convenient marine and glared at the rest of his team over her shoulder.

Zelenka could not recall having ever seen Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard pouting before. He shook his head in wonder.

“They are going to kill you when we fix them,” he said, matter-of-factly taking in Teyla’s skimpy and diaphanous robes and the postage-stamp sized miniskirts that were doing painfully little to preserve the modesty of the other two members of Rodney’s team. The wild-eyed look that Rodney flung him said that Rodney was very well aware of it, and that he expected his demise to be both painful and humiliating.

“But it really, really wasn’t my fault,” he said, plaintively.

Hee! love it.