He didn't talk to her, and she didn't talk to him – they were allies but they weren't to be trusted, neither could risk letting something important slip to the other side, as evidenced by McKay's earlier confession. She loaded the gun carefully but efficiently, purposefully showing she knew exactly what she was doing – maybe that would prove her worth. He glanced up from his own equipment and winked at her. She felt a slight blush, wondering why she even cared what an Atlantean thought of her. But she made a mental note to find out what exactly that custom meant.
Silent Communication (Ronon/Weir)
She keeps her words to herself. What can she say anyway? She learnt long ago that he doesn't care about words much, because you can twist them so many ways. Words are deceptive, or rather people are, with them. He won't let her say 'I love you' because it doesn't mean anything to him. This means something. The touch of her fingers, the sensation as she grasps the back of his neck, pulling his head - his lips - to hers. And she can tell him how she feels so many more ways with other parts of her body too...
Seeing him again she was speechless, for a moment she thought he was a ghost stalking the halls; haunting her. But the reality was Sgt. Bates, fully recovered. It had been along time since she had last seen him, lying in an infirmary bed. Somehow she felt responsible; for dismissing that odd feeling in the back of her mind that told her of “Bob's” presence. Though he appears to holds no ill-will as he offers his hand out. Their actions had spoken louder before, and now is no different – except for the message they give. She shakes the proffered hand, smiling at him as she never imagined she would. He's slightly surprised, but smiles back at her. First impressions don't last forever.
Eyes Only (Heightmeyer/Zelenka)
He was the least open person she knew, which was frustrating given her job. So she started doing the same to him, saying and asking as little a possible – waiting for him to fill in the silence, to compel him to talk to her. Not that it worked, but it had it's perks never the less. More and more their sessions involved a lot of staring, waiting each other out almost; it gave her a nice excuse to study him. This time however, he had felt compelled to fill in, but not with words. She'd started to object as he pulled her up and into his embrace, but she stopped as he brushed her lips with his, realising it was a lot better when they had nothing to say to each other.
They had nothing to say to each other. Words had never been able to express how they felt anyway. Every word out their mouths' had been critical or downright spiteful. They did professional perfectly, personal was where it went wrong. Intended compliments came out as snide, provoking arguments; the simplest thing could blow up into a row. She didn't quite know what others made of the animosity between them.
This was where it finally went right, in a twisted way as she might predict would happen to them. A comment about his latest theory over the coffee break had resulted in yet another 'discussion', and things had soon escalated to jabbing insults. As she'd shouted back she'd felt her heart beating faster, blood pressure rising, adrenaline pumping – and she'd realised she had to get out there, if only for her health. Striding out of the lab she'd found him following her, unable to give up on the issue. Of course she hadn't been able to resist his taunts, she couldn't let him have the last word. But she hadn't expect him to follow her all the way to the elevator – and get in too.
Maybe it was the realisation this wasn't going anywhere, that arguments didn't resolve anything, or it could have been the fact that there was a constancy to them – the passion with which they pursued that elusive victory.
And this was the real victory – an end to the argument for once, and much more pleasurable use of that energy they usually have between them. His arms snake around her waist and his breathe is hot in her ear as he tries to say something to explain away their current predicament. But she has to stop him there, finger to hush his lips briefly before she presses a teasing kiss to them. Maybe this won't last, maybe it shouldn't or can't, but she wants for once that focus to be on them. It's possible they do better at personal when no words are involved – she hopes so, because if they can kiss even a fraction as well as they fight then she might not care about words for long enough to be happy with him.