I hereby invoke Bellisario's Maxim.
Jan. 31st, 2010 11:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabinelagrandeTitle: I should, I wish I could
Summary: It's almost Homecoming, and Elizabeth has too much on her mind.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 2098
Rating/Contents: PG-13, high school AU, cross-gen
Pairing: Caldwell/Weir, one-sided Zelenka/Weir
A/N: IDEK where this came from, actually; I think I was originally writing it for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
non_mcsmooch. I'm not entirely happy with it, but the time has come for it to get the fuck off of my couch. There's more of this that I'm picking at; we'll see where it goes.
Homecoming Week was supposed to finally be somebody else's problem; all Elizabeth's supposed to have to do is buy a dress and pretend to care whether or not the team wins. But, of course, then Laura Cadman breaks her leg two weeks before the big event, and it's back on Elizabeth, yet again.
Principal Woolsey calls her into his office during academic competition period, makes her a cup of tea, and talks her into taking over. He's so earnest and polite- not that he isn't always earnest and polite- that she can't help but acquiesce. She'd normally push it off on her school council co-president- Teyla's the athletic one, Elizabeth's not entirely sure she even knows where the athletics office is- but Teyla's also the musical one, and she's up to her eyeballs in honor choir auditions. And besides, Teyla's also her bill partner for Youth Leg, and the last thing she needs is to piss her off a month before the trip.
The new athletic director sends her a note before the end of the day, asking her to come by and go over the schedule for Homecoming Week with him. She's never even really spoken to him before. He used to play for State, and everybody says that he's a strategic genius on the field; Elizabeth doesn't really see what's so strategic about football, but they are 5-0 right now, so maybe they know something she doesn't. But, he's new and he doesn't know their traditions yet; and if there's one thing she knows, it's that nobody's happy if the Football Gods aren't happy. Somebody's got to explain why it's critically important that the entire defensive line shaves their heads the week before Homecoming, and it might as well be her.
Coach Caldwell's office is about like she expects it to be, lined with trophies and littered with paperwork and bits of spare equipment; he's really not, though. He's what she imagined physically, mostly- he's got these huge arms, just massive, and the tight polo shirt he's wearing only serves to point them out. She can't really tell how old he is- he's totally bald and clean-shaven- but he's definitely too young, too handsome, and too well-kempt. He smells good, too, like leather, maybe, and something spicy; but considering the last coach was a fifty-year-old chain smoker, maybe she's just got low expectations to start with.
She's barely gotten through introducing herself when he leans forward, looking at her intently. "Do you play chess?"
"I know how," she offers; she's always been sort of hopeless at it, with only Rodney and Radek to play against.
"As you can probably guess," he says, dropping his voice conspiratorially, "I don't get many chances for a good game."
"Isn't Ronon on the chess team?" she asks; half the school thinks it's hilarious that the quarterback hangs out with the geeks of his own free will, but nobody's tall enough to tell him so.
"That's the problem," he admits, and Elizabeth has to laugh.
They run through three games while they're discussing the schedule, and she doesn't let him win, not on purpose, anyway. She's not doing anything wrong at all- the door and the blinds are open, and Miss Arlene, the athletics secretary, is sitting right outside at her desk- so she can't put her finger on why it feels so illicit.
When she gets up to go, he takes her hand between both of his, giving it a firm shake. His hands are big and callused, and she has the strangest urge to run her fingertips across them.
--
She's so shocked that Radek has finally worked up his nerve that she forgets to have an excuse when he asks her to the homecoming dance. He does it in the middle of academic team practice, which is really way more public than Elizabeth would have liked; but the bright side is that, immediately afterward, Rodney catches him by the collar of his shirt and shakes him until he agrees to shave off the awful, wispy little mustache he's been trying to grow all semester.
Really, everybody wins.
--
Homecoming Week finally, finally starts, and the first thing to deal with is the powder puff game. Elizabeth thinks the whole concept is outdated and sort of insulting, but Teyla blithely ignored her complaints and signed her up, for the second year in a row. She turns up for practice, though, dutifully taking her position and running through a bunch of plays that she really doesn't have much hope of remembering.
They start the next play. She gets in position, snaps the ball to Teyla on her signal, gets past her blocker- and she stops. Coach Caldwell is standing off to the side of the practice field, watching her- watching them, of course, making sure they're being safe and playing well, obviously. She doesn't even know whether she wants him to be watching her or not; she's sure she looks like a catastrophe right now, in her ratty old sweatpants, but maybe there's something appealing about that- he's probably attracted to energetic, athletic women, and-
And while she's distracted, somebody barrels right into her, knocking her into the dirt.
It takes her a little longer than it should to get up; she's too busy waiting for the ground to swallow her whole. "Would somebody like to tell me when we started playing tackle?" she snaps, as Teyla helps lever her up.
"I didn't tackle you," her attacker says- and, of course, it's Jennifer, the sophomore cheerleader that Teyla can't stand. "I ran into you. I don't know if you noticed, but you're supposed to move."
Elizabeth's just about to fire back when Teyla gets in between them. "Starting positions," she calls, loud enough to drown both of them out. "We will run the play again." Jennifer rolls her eyes and does what she's told, her ponytail swishing angrily; Elizabeth watches her go.
"It would help if you concentrated on the game," Teyla says, quietly, clearly exasperated with her.
"Fine," she replies curtly. Teyla purses her lips; Elizabeth's going to have to do a lot of appeasing later, but right now she's too annoyed with herself to care.
He's gone by the time she manages to look back over.
The next time she goes to his office, he grins and says, teasingly, "Never seen anybody get tackled playing powder puff." Elizabeth can only blush and make excuses; he just smiles wider and waves them off.
Hours later, she's standing in her pajamas, brushing her teeth, and it finally dawns that he might have been flirting with her.
She rests her forehead against the cool surface of the mirror, trying to convince herself that she's not totally hopeless.
--
She's going places; she's going to GWU or the Maxwell School or LSE, she's going to the Foreign Service or the UN or the White House, and she won't even think about this town, not at all, not unless she has to give a moving speech about her humble roots. And she's not going to jeopardize that, not for anyone, not ever, especially not a football coach who probably wouldn't give her the time of day anyway.
--
The team wins, obviously, but by the time it rolls around, it's already a foregone conclusion; anybody who thinks Homecoming is about football is missing the big picture, anyway. Elizabeth goes home at the half, right after she watches Teyla being crowned. Radek picks her up too early, which is just as well, because there are about a billion things going wrong when they get to the dance, and she has to fix every last one of them.
A cheer goes up when the players finally arrive, and Elizabeth maybe sort of lets herself relax a little. She dances a little- with Radek, with Sheppard, once even with Teyla, laughing the whole time- and lets Radek fuss over her and bring her tiny cups of punch.
Coach Caldwell is standing off to the side of the dance floor with Mrs. Charin and Principal Woolsey, every inch the imposing chaperone, and it takes Elizabeth forever to work up the courage to go over and say hello. He's wearing a gray suit and a tie, and he looks incredibly handsome. He looks her all the way up and all the way down- only his eyes move, flickering up and down so quickly and hungrily that only she can see it- and he smirks and says, "Well, don't you look nice."
It's kind of funny; Radek's been falling all over himself all night to make her feel like a queen, but it only takes Caldwell thirty seconds to make her feel like a goddess.
She thinks about it, later, in bed, long after Radek drops her off at her door, giving her a hesitant, careful kiss on the cheek. One of her hands slips down underneath the waistband of her comfortable, sensible pajama bottoms; she bites down on the other, letting her fingers muffle the moans that she just can't fight. He wouldn't hesitate, he wouldn't falter; he'd know exactly what he was doing, know her body better than she does. He wouldn't hurt her, not at all, but he wouldn't be afraid to be rough, either, in that way that she secretly thinks she'd really like.
She thinks about his strong hands pinning her to her mattress, and she comes and comes and comes.
--
The next week is bad all around. She tries to let Radek down easy, but the fact of the matter is that she's still letting him down, and more than a few of their teammates are pissed over it. Three of the freshmen try to drop out of Youth Leg, and she personally has to track them down and talk sense into them. All the other Thespians have, once again, pissed Rodney off, so he spends the whole week breathing fire at everyone; and if that wasn't enough, Markham, the star running back, gets hurt during practice, which is enough to cast a pall on the whole school.
In the middle of it all, she's got another meeting with Coach Caldwell; she isn't prepared and she doesn't even really remember what it's supposed to be for, but she goes anyway.
Miss Arlene isn't at her desk, so Elizabeth just goes right on in to his office. He's standing by the window, looking out at the practice field, and she has to call his name three times before he even notices she's there; when he finally turns, he looks really tense and frustrated. "You need something?" he asks, more gruffly than usual.
She was annoyed before she even came, which is why she gets pissy and snaps at him. "If you don't want to do this right now-"
"What I want," he snarls, snapping the words out like he can't stop them. He doesn't even finish his sentence, and before she knows it, he's on her, pressing her up against the filing cabinet and kissing her, his mouth hard and demanding against hers, one of his legs pressing in tight between her thighs.
It's not anything like she imagined; he smells like grass and fresh sweat and there's a drawer handle digging into the small of her back and his hand is on her breast and he's squeezing too hard and it feels amazing. She never, ever wants it to stop; she wants to spread her legs and let him do whatever he wants to her, no matter what it is. That probably makes her a slut; but if being a slut feels this good, she thinks it's seriously underrated.
When he finally lets her go, it's like he has to tear himself away from her; she has to make a conscious effort to pull her clutching hands off his biceps. "Fuck," he says, and he can't even look at her; his big, calm hands are shaking, and for some reason that freaks her out more than anything else could.
"I'm eighteen," she says, stupidly, needing to offer some kind of reassurance, even though she knows it's not the right thing to say. She feels like maybe there's something she can say, something she can do to stop this moment from ending, something that'll make him close the gap between them and give her what she really wants.
She shakes her head, makes herself snap out of it; what she really wants is insane. "I'll go," she says, and he nods, but still he doesn't look at her.
She walks out of his office, and they don't speak of it again. The next time he needs the student council's input, he sends Ronon to ask, and she pretends like it doesn't bother her at all.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/207607.html. Feel free to comment here or there.
Summary: It's almost Homecoming, and Elizabeth has too much on her mind.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 2098
Rating/Contents: PG-13, high school AU, cross-gen
Pairing: Caldwell/Weir, one-sided Zelenka/Weir
A/N: IDEK where this came from, actually; I think I was originally writing it for
non_mcsmooch. I'm not entirely happy with it, but the time has come for it to get the fuck off of my couch. There's more of this that I'm picking at; we'll see where it goes.Homecoming Week was supposed to finally be somebody else's problem; all Elizabeth's supposed to have to do is buy a dress and pretend to care whether or not the team wins. But, of course, then Laura Cadman breaks her leg two weeks before the big event, and it's back on Elizabeth, yet again.
Principal Woolsey calls her into his office during academic competition period, makes her a cup of tea, and talks her into taking over. He's so earnest and polite- not that he isn't always earnest and polite- that she can't help but acquiesce. She'd normally push it off on her school council co-president- Teyla's the athletic one, Elizabeth's not entirely sure she even knows where the athletics office is- but Teyla's also the musical one, and she's up to her eyeballs in honor choir auditions. And besides, Teyla's also her bill partner for Youth Leg, and the last thing she needs is to piss her off a month before the trip.
The new athletic director sends her a note before the end of the day, asking her to come by and go over the schedule for Homecoming Week with him. She's never even really spoken to him before. He used to play for State, and everybody says that he's a strategic genius on the field; Elizabeth doesn't really see what's so strategic about football, but they are 5-0 right now, so maybe they know something she doesn't. But, he's new and he doesn't know their traditions yet; and if there's one thing she knows, it's that nobody's happy if the Football Gods aren't happy. Somebody's got to explain why it's critically important that the entire defensive line shaves their heads the week before Homecoming, and it might as well be her.
Coach Caldwell's office is about like she expects it to be, lined with trophies and littered with paperwork and bits of spare equipment; he's really not, though. He's what she imagined physically, mostly- he's got these huge arms, just massive, and the tight polo shirt he's wearing only serves to point them out. She can't really tell how old he is- he's totally bald and clean-shaven- but he's definitely too young, too handsome, and too well-kempt. He smells good, too, like leather, maybe, and something spicy; but considering the last coach was a fifty-year-old chain smoker, maybe she's just got low expectations to start with.
She's barely gotten through introducing herself when he leans forward, looking at her intently. "Do you play chess?"
"I know how," she offers; she's always been sort of hopeless at it, with only Rodney and Radek to play against.
"As you can probably guess," he says, dropping his voice conspiratorially, "I don't get many chances for a good game."
"Isn't Ronon on the chess team?" she asks; half the school thinks it's hilarious that the quarterback hangs out with the geeks of his own free will, but nobody's tall enough to tell him so.
"That's the problem," he admits, and Elizabeth has to laugh.
They run through three games while they're discussing the schedule, and she doesn't let him win, not on purpose, anyway. She's not doing anything wrong at all- the door and the blinds are open, and Miss Arlene, the athletics secretary, is sitting right outside at her desk- so she can't put her finger on why it feels so illicit.
When she gets up to go, he takes her hand between both of his, giving it a firm shake. His hands are big and callused, and she has the strangest urge to run her fingertips across them.
--
She's so shocked that Radek has finally worked up his nerve that she forgets to have an excuse when he asks her to the homecoming dance. He does it in the middle of academic team practice, which is really way more public than Elizabeth would have liked; but the bright side is that, immediately afterward, Rodney catches him by the collar of his shirt and shakes him until he agrees to shave off the awful, wispy little mustache he's been trying to grow all semester.
Really, everybody wins.
--
Homecoming Week finally, finally starts, and the first thing to deal with is the powder puff game. Elizabeth thinks the whole concept is outdated and sort of insulting, but Teyla blithely ignored her complaints and signed her up, for the second year in a row. She turns up for practice, though, dutifully taking her position and running through a bunch of plays that she really doesn't have much hope of remembering.
They start the next play. She gets in position, snaps the ball to Teyla on her signal, gets past her blocker- and she stops. Coach Caldwell is standing off to the side of the practice field, watching her- watching them, of course, making sure they're being safe and playing well, obviously. She doesn't even know whether she wants him to be watching her or not; she's sure she looks like a catastrophe right now, in her ratty old sweatpants, but maybe there's something appealing about that- he's probably attracted to energetic, athletic women, and-
And while she's distracted, somebody barrels right into her, knocking her into the dirt.
It takes her a little longer than it should to get up; she's too busy waiting for the ground to swallow her whole. "Would somebody like to tell me when we started playing tackle?" she snaps, as Teyla helps lever her up.
"I didn't tackle you," her attacker says- and, of course, it's Jennifer, the sophomore cheerleader that Teyla can't stand. "I ran into you. I don't know if you noticed, but you're supposed to move."
Elizabeth's just about to fire back when Teyla gets in between them. "Starting positions," she calls, loud enough to drown both of them out. "We will run the play again." Jennifer rolls her eyes and does what she's told, her ponytail swishing angrily; Elizabeth watches her go.
"It would help if you concentrated on the game," Teyla says, quietly, clearly exasperated with her.
"Fine," she replies curtly. Teyla purses her lips; Elizabeth's going to have to do a lot of appeasing later, but right now she's too annoyed with herself to care.
He's gone by the time she manages to look back over.
The next time she goes to his office, he grins and says, teasingly, "Never seen anybody get tackled playing powder puff." Elizabeth can only blush and make excuses; he just smiles wider and waves them off.
Hours later, she's standing in her pajamas, brushing her teeth, and it finally dawns that he might have been flirting with her.
She rests her forehead against the cool surface of the mirror, trying to convince herself that she's not totally hopeless.
--
She's going places; she's going to GWU or the Maxwell School or LSE, she's going to the Foreign Service or the UN or the White House, and she won't even think about this town, not at all, not unless she has to give a moving speech about her humble roots. And she's not going to jeopardize that, not for anyone, not ever, especially not a football coach who probably wouldn't give her the time of day anyway.
--
The team wins, obviously, but by the time it rolls around, it's already a foregone conclusion; anybody who thinks Homecoming is about football is missing the big picture, anyway. Elizabeth goes home at the half, right after she watches Teyla being crowned. Radek picks her up too early, which is just as well, because there are about a billion things going wrong when they get to the dance, and she has to fix every last one of them.
A cheer goes up when the players finally arrive, and Elizabeth maybe sort of lets herself relax a little. She dances a little- with Radek, with Sheppard, once even with Teyla, laughing the whole time- and lets Radek fuss over her and bring her tiny cups of punch.
Coach Caldwell is standing off to the side of the dance floor with Mrs. Charin and Principal Woolsey, every inch the imposing chaperone, and it takes Elizabeth forever to work up the courage to go over and say hello. He's wearing a gray suit and a tie, and he looks incredibly handsome. He looks her all the way up and all the way down- only his eyes move, flickering up and down so quickly and hungrily that only she can see it- and he smirks and says, "Well, don't you look nice."
It's kind of funny; Radek's been falling all over himself all night to make her feel like a queen, but it only takes Caldwell thirty seconds to make her feel like a goddess.
She thinks about it, later, in bed, long after Radek drops her off at her door, giving her a hesitant, careful kiss on the cheek. One of her hands slips down underneath the waistband of her comfortable, sensible pajama bottoms; she bites down on the other, letting her fingers muffle the moans that she just can't fight. He wouldn't hesitate, he wouldn't falter; he'd know exactly what he was doing, know her body better than she does. He wouldn't hurt her, not at all, but he wouldn't be afraid to be rough, either, in that way that she secretly thinks she'd really like.
She thinks about his strong hands pinning her to her mattress, and she comes and comes and comes.
--
The next week is bad all around. She tries to let Radek down easy, but the fact of the matter is that she's still letting him down, and more than a few of their teammates are pissed over it. Three of the freshmen try to drop out of Youth Leg, and she personally has to track them down and talk sense into them. All the other Thespians have, once again, pissed Rodney off, so he spends the whole week breathing fire at everyone; and if that wasn't enough, Markham, the star running back, gets hurt during practice, which is enough to cast a pall on the whole school.
In the middle of it all, she's got another meeting with Coach Caldwell; she isn't prepared and she doesn't even really remember what it's supposed to be for, but she goes anyway.
Miss Arlene isn't at her desk, so Elizabeth just goes right on in to his office. He's standing by the window, looking out at the practice field, and she has to call his name three times before he even notices she's there; when he finally turns, he looks really tense and frustrated. "You need something?" he asks, more gruffly than usual.
She was annoyed before she even came, which is why she gets pissy and snaps at him. "If you don't want to do this right now-"
"What I want," he snarls, snapping the words out like he can't stop them. He doesn't even finish his sentence, and before she knows it, he's on her, pressing her up against the filing cabinet and kissing her, his mouth hard and demanding against hers, one of his legs pressing in tight between her thighs.
It's not anything like she imagined; he smells like grass and fresh sweat and there's a drawer handle digging into the small of her back and his hand is on her breast and he's squeezing too hard and it feels amazing. She never, ever wants it to stop; she wants to spread her legs and let him do whatever he wants to her, no matter what it is. That probably makes her a slut; but if being a slut feels this good, she thinks it's seriously underrated.
When he finally lets her go, it's like he has to tear himself away from her; she has to make a conscious effort to pull her clutching hands off his biceps. "Fuck," he says, and he can't even look at her; his big, calm hands are shaking, and for some reason that freaks her out more than anything else could.
"I'm eighteen," she says, stupidly, needing to offer some kind of reassurance, even though she knows it's not the right thing to say. She feels like maybe there's something she can say, something she can do to stop this moment from ending, something that'll make him close the gap between them and give her what she really wants.
She shakes her head, makes herself snap out of it; what she really wants is insane. "I'll go," she says, and he nods, but still he doesn't look at her.
She walks out of his office, and they don't speak of it again. The next time he needs the student council's input, he sends Ronon to ask, and she pretends like it doesn't bother her at all.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/207607.html. Feel free to comment here or there.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-02-01 07:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-01 08:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-01 08:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-01 09:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-01 11:03 am (UTC)And this was fucking amazing and I can't wait for more! You have her down pat, I particularly liked the passage about her ambitions and how there was no way she'd throw it all away for a High School coach.
no subject
Date: 2010-02-02 02:54 am (UTC)*is grinning like a grinning thing* Oh, this is so pitch-perfect for everyone, so bright and open, and Radek, and career plans, and being the grown-up student on the cusp of leaving for bigger things, and the intensity of everything - all the emotions - the teacher watching from the sidelines - of course not watching her, except of course watching her - and even just the one mention of Sheppard by name only, and oh, it all reminds me so much of (and makes me miss) what it was like to be a high school senior. And though I capslocked there, it does work, because this way we get a little of the physical satisfaction while still getting to keep a realistic scenario.
Not that I'd say no to more if you are ever driven to write it.