Disclaimer:I do not own these characters. This is written for fun or something. I make no money, etc.
Summary: Tag to 38 Minutes. In which Simpson and Kavanagh shout at each other a lot, and then they do each other's hair. Yeah, I know, weird, huh?
Author Notes: Inspired by kavtolanon secret santa goings-on. I dunno, it's almost crack!fic frankly, LOL. You would do well to remember this is less than T-rated. And that's only really for language. :)
Will Kavanagh stormed back into the lab, a whirlwind of anger. "Godammit! That woman really gets up my... godammit!" He kicked a waste paper bin near him, and sent the contents flying.
Julie Simpson was the only other person in the lab. Everyone else had gone to the mess hall to celebrate with Stackhouse, Markham, and Teyla.
She eyed him warily. "I take it you are talking about Weir?"
He stared at her as if he had only just noticed she was there. "Of course!" he snarled. "Who else? That woman!" he sighed raggedly and dragged a hand over the top of his head, "She has no idea how to treat staff. Can you believe what she said to me earlier?"
Julie raised her eyebrows. Of course, Weir had berated Will in front of her and Peter for not focusing on saving Sheppard and McKay. But Weir had not been party to the preceding discussions regarding the shield and the possible jumper drive overload. She had to admit, Weir had been harsh. And she'd not expressed her opinion well. But Will?
"Yes, but that's no excuse! You shouldn't have flown off the handle like that." She continued tidying her station and shutting down her laptop.
"What?" Will exploded. "You are kidding me, right? She deserved everything I said. And I would say it again. She hasn't the balls to..."
"Will!" she slammed her laptop shut and stood up from her station. "God, you get on my nerve sometimes! How can you expect her to act rationally when her two top men are twenty-three minutes from death? There was only a small risk of overload, why couldn't you just drop it?" She was shouting with no holds barred now, the strain and tension of the day finally getting to her.
"Oh,fine!" he barked, slamming his palm onto a nearby benchtop. "You put the knife in earlier, just do it again! What do I care if you don't give a damn about the city or anyone in it?"
"ME?" she screamed, leaning across her desk now and slowly turning red with rage, "Not give a damn?! You stand there, with your smug grin and your... your... greasy ponytail, and you pretend like you give a shit about anyone here in the city? You don't give a shit about anyone but yourself!" She was wide eyed, as she shocked even herself with her outburst.
"My what?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing as he stepped over to her desk menacingly. "All you can do is insult my hair? Well, that's just wonderful coming from you, with your dumb clip holding yours back in some weird shape over your head? Where did you get that from? The Munsters?"
He was leaning across her desk, their faces merely inches apart now. As he finished his tirade, he stared at her in shock. What had he done? One look at her hurt features made him crumble in self-loathing.
"Damn, Jules, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that." His hand reached out.
She had turned away, not wanting him to see her threatening tears. "Shut up, Will. Just shut up."
He touched her shoulder. "Jules...?" he began plaintively.
She shrugged off his touch roughly. "I know! But I never had a chance to get it cut before we came. And I've been too busy! What do I care about what my hair looks like? We're in the Pegasus galaxy!" she looked around at him, her confidence returning. "Who cares if my fringe needs cut?" she smiled defiantly through the tears, bordering on hysteria, if truth be told.
His lips curved in a half smile, and he mumbled gently. "Sorry, Jules. I don't care, that's for sure. Isn't the job more important?"
She nodded, sniffing and wiping away the moisture. "Of course."
"Exactly," he said earnestly, "That's why the drive overload was important, even if it was only a small chance. We could have guarded against it and not put the jumper in any danger, don't you see?" He wasn't grasping at excuses, he really wanted her to trust him, trust his judgement.
She nodded, and took a deep breath. "Yes, we know. Peter and I talked about it when you were gone. He's cut up about it, he wants to apologise to you in the morning."
Will waved a hand dismissively, "It's okay. He and McKay are close. Well," he shrugged, "you know, as close as you can get to McKay. I understand. Forget it. It will all blow over in a week or so."
Julie sighed, "Peter still thinks you're a jerk, though. And I don't know if Weir will forgive you for this one..."
He scowled. "So what? Peter knows I'm good. I'll do my job, and who gives a damn what Weir says. The SGC will be replacing her as soon as we can get back to earth, believe me."
Julie looked shocked. "Will, don't say that! I think she's doing a good job."
He smirked. "Julie, I'm telling you, she's out of her league."
She looked down. "Maybe we all are. Maybe we'll never get back," she said quietly.
He looked at her, her head down, her limp blonde hair dangling sadly over her shoulders. He couldn't bear to see her looking so despondent.
"Jules. It's going to be okay. We're doing fine, I'm telling you. Don't do this." He reached out and held her shoulder firmly. "You are doing a good job."
She looked up into his caring gaze, wondering how he could switch from hot to cold so quickly. "And Weir isn't?"
He sighed. "Just leave it. It's my problem, okay?"
She didn't really know what that meant, but she decided not to push it further. She looked past his blue eyes to his hair, scraped back in a harsh ponytail with gel or whatever. It really didn't suit him, she thought. "I think it would look great down."
He frowned in puzzlement. "I'm sorry?"
"Your hair. Down." She smiled. He was almost cute when he was confused. Rare occurrence. "Does it?"
He stumbled on his words. "Oh. My hair. Down. Yes, it looks fine. I just... well, it's neater out of the way if I'm working."
She couldn't really help herself. He was tall, and despite the fact he could be a jerk, she had fancied the socks off him since the day they'd met. "I'd like to see it down."
He almost choked. He could hardly believe his ears. Major Lorne had warned him about being stuck away from Earth with females. They got stir-crazy. And over his hair! Of course, he would like nothing better than to give hers a good wash and condition.
"Are you finished here?"
"Come with me." He took her hand, and led her from the lab. They walked in silence to his quarters, and he let them in with a quiet whoosh from the door.
"Shower," he stated.
Julie stopped in her tracks, slightly put off balance for a moment. What exactly did Will have in mind? She fancied him, yes, but this was a little sudden...
He turned, and grinned at her, "Me first. It looks better without the gel, and down. I'll just wash it, then you can do the same, and I'll style yours for you?"
That shocked her even more, frankly. "Right. Yes. Fine," she managed to stammer.
As she heard the sound of the water starting to flow in the washroom, she looked around his room. Everything was immaculate. Nothing out of place. Books stacked precisely. She carefully peered into his wardrobe, where every item was neat and orderly. She pictured her own quarters, clothes everywhere, books and papers over all the surfaces. She envied him his poise, sometimes.
Sitting down on his bed, she listened to the sound of the spraying water, and wondered for a moment just what she was doing here, before tiredness and amusement made her lie down on the bed and just listen.
As the shower turned off she propped herself onto her elbows and then sat up. He appeared in the doorway of the washroom, one towel around his waist and another rubbing his hair dry. All she could focus on was his slim waist and defined stomach muscles. How in the world did a scientist get a body like that, she wondered.
"That feels good," he murmured, and wandered across to his desk, setting down his watch and glasses. He bent over and rubbed his hair thoroughly, then threw his head back, standing up straight and looking at her. "Your turn."
Without a word, she went into the washroom and saw the carefully placed towels ready for her. She stripped quickly and stepped into the shower, feeling a little self conscious, but soon relaxing into the water. She used his soap and shampoo. They were a simple, quality brand – obviously the last of his supply from earth. She had finished hers a week ago, so this felt really good.
Drying and dressing quickly, she came back into his room. He was sitting on the bed, dressed, and now in a white top. He noticed her looking at it.
"I borrowed this from Chuck. Don't you just hate the blue tops?"
She laughed. "I hate mine! You look okay in blue though."
"Thanks." He stood up, and went over to the chair, in front of his desk and mirror. "Come on, I'll show you."
She took a deep breath. Whatever Will Kavanagh was going to show her with her hair, this was going to be quite bizarre. She sat down, looking up at him warily.
"Don't worry!" he laughed. "Just trust me." His voice faded away as he began to concentrate, taking a comb to her hair, lifting sections with one hand, working from one side to the other.
She continued to breath deeply, trying to relax. Doing anything with her hair other than getting it out of the way in the morning was as alien to her as this galaxy. Space exploration and research did not have time factored in for personal care. It did feel good though, she mused, as he just combed and combed. She let herself enjoy his gentle touch, watching the image she could see in the mirror. His hair fell around his jaw, the curls beginning to form as his hair dried a little. She was right. It did look much better down. He was almost... handsome.
He worked deftly, parting her hair off-centre, and sweeping it back off her face, rolling each section and securing it with a bobby pin. She smiled, thinking it amusing that he had taken bobby pins to the Pegasus galaxy, then her face fell, as she realised her own failing in forgetting some. One barrette. That was all she had. Feeling quite inadequate, she looked up into the mirror, and with Will's hands out of the way, she could see her hair properly. Her breath caught for a second.
He was running his hands through the back of her hair, smiling at her in the mirror. The simple style, with her hair away from her face at either side, looked so much less severe. It was feminine, and pretty, and practical. Her face lit up as she turned her head gently from side to side, admiring the new look. "That's... I would never have thought of doing that."
Will said seriously, "You don't pay yourself enough attention, Jules." Leaning forward, he whispered over her shoulder, "You should." He stood up, and walked away over to the bed, sitting down and leaning his elbows on his knees, his head down in his hands.
Julie felt a little alone, left sitting in the chair, staring at her new, feminine self in the mirror. Slowly, she sat around in the chair, and looked at him.
"Hmm." He looked up, his face looked pale.
"Are you okay?"
He closed his eyes for a moment, then blinked, and gave her a half smile. "Sure. So... you like your hair like that?"
She smiled genuinely at him. He was obviously still thinking about everything that had happened today. How he had acted with Weir, how she and Peter had ignored his warning, perhaps how it had been his idea to blow the hatch and bring the jumper safely home. Perhaps he was wondering what would have happened if he hadn't thought of it? "Yes. I love it. Thank you. Thank you, Will."
She got up, and went across, sitting next to him on the bed. They looked at each other, just saying nothing. Julie took the comb from his hands and knelt up on the bed, gently combing his hair. It was dark and thick and glossy, and curled beautifully as she ran the comb through it. It parted naturally, and fell around his face without her having to really do anything to it. Sitting back on her haunches, she gave him back the comb. "You should leave it down."
He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Are you kidding? I don't look as dangerous this way."
"No, no you don't."
As their eyes met, Julie leaned forward and she kissed his cheek. She didn't know why she had done it, not really. It was a bad idea, probably. He sat still, looking at her, just waiting. Perhaps he also knew that taking it further was not a good plan.
She stepped off the bed. "I'd better go. Thanks, you know, for the shower and all."
He nodded, and said gruffly, "Keep the pins. Try it yourself tomorrow."
"I will. Thanks. Uh... thanks." She quirked a small smile at him, and left his quarters.
Looking at the closing door, he touched his cheek. "You're welcome, Jules."
A/N: Hope you enjoyed :)