Stargate graduation party - anything-goes version! \o/

[sholio]

I took my last final today - only fifteen years after I started, I have a bachelor's degree! \o/

So I'm celebrating with an SGA/Stargateverse commentfic party!

This is the DW "anything goes" party (any pairing - including gen, any rating, kinks are fine, etc). Over on LJ there's the gen party. You are perfectly welcome to participate in both places!

How to play: Post prompts! Answer other prompts!

Your prompt should be a character(s) (including "any") or pairing, and any kind of prompt: a situation, song lyric, word, picture, sketch, etc. You don't have to answer prompts to leave them, but please leave one prompt per comment; responses to a prompt should be done by replying to the comment.

I want non-writers to be able to play too, so it's fine to answer a prompt with fanart (or a vid, cross-stitch, whatever) rather than a commentfic. You can also post a conversation starter instead (Top five favorite episodes? What does John's black wristband mean?), a character/ship manifesto, or a picspam, although to keep the comments from getting bogged down, if you're going to post more than one picture per comment, please post it at your journal and link to it! Also, if your fic gets long, it's fine to post it at your journal and link (though you don't have to).

Any Gateverse prompt is welcome, though my circle leans SGA-heavy, so those are probably the ones with the greatest chance of being answered! Please don't attack characters or ships in discussions - tell us how much you love X, not why Y is teh suck. Questions are also welcome if you're totally confused, which is a definite possibility.

Commentfic! Art! Discussion! PARTY!

... aaaand GO!

Comments

[sholio]

Some starter prompts to get us going:

Teyla/Rodney - picnic

[tielan]

Rodney spots Teyla as she's making her way to the mess hall for lunch and hurries to intercept her.

"Teyla, I need you to look at something for me. Or are you meeting someone?"

He doesn't think she should be, but her glance into the mess hall suddenly alerts him to the fact that he probably should have checked her schedule first. Teyla's usually at a loose end these days with Elizabeth gone and Sam busy with the city, Cadman reassigned to Earth (thank God) and Ronon working with the marines, with John still being protective about the fact that that she's pregnant and stiff about the fact that the baby's father is some Athosian guy, Teyla doesn't have a lot to fill her days with other than trying to hunt down every fruitless lead about what happened to her people.

"No," she says after a moment's hestiation. "I am not meeting anyone, although I am hungry. The cooks have made Athosian stew..."

Rodney knows they've made Athosian stew. He can smell it all the way down the hallway. "Oh, it won't take long," he tells her and grabs her arm and begins towing her along in his wake, pushing through flow of people coming in for the lunchtime mess. "It's just this way..."

Four corridors and assorted, painstaking small-talk conversations later, he's at the door he wants, and he inputs the code and turns to see her face as the doors slide back, because he doesn't want to miss this.

Except there's nothing to miss. For a moment - a really, really long moment, like the moment after you realise everything has just gone to hell in a handbasket and you're going to have to work out how to climb out of the handbasket before you actually hit hell - Rodney thinks that he screwed this up, because Teyla just stares blankly at the room. Actually, it's closer to a whole minute of silence as her eyes skim from the blanket in the middle of the room, to the cooler box with Athosian juice-water and the picnic basket full of Athosian-style food (the kitchen chefs did it special for Teyla - okay, and because Rodney agreed not to complain of the food for the next two weeks) next to it, to the Athosian flowers he snuck out of the xenobiology department while Ganeisha was taking her mid-morning coffee break.

Then the first tear trickles down her inside cheek and Rodney swallows hard and gets ready to apologise when she says, "Thank you, Rodney." And then his arms are full of Teyla and Teyla's belly is pushing against him and she's weeping into his jacket and he feels amazing and horrible and doesn't know whether to pat her on the shoulder or stroke her hair and is she really supposed to be that hot - as in temperature, not as in sexy, although she's that, too - because it feels like she's running a fever and maybe he should take her to see Dr. Keller...?

He stays still, because Ronon says that there are times to be an idiot and there are times to shut up and take it like a man - although he uses the term 'Satedan', but Rodney thinks 'man' although that's really a misnomer because Teyla wouldn't take things "like a man" for the simple fact that she's not but she'd take a hell of a lot more than Rodney ever could - and so Rodney stands there and lets her cry while patting her shoulder like he's an idiot who doesn't know what to do.

Okay, so maybe the part about him being an idiot who doesn't know what to do is right.

But as Teyla's sobs turn to sniffles, and she wipes at her cheeks and gives him a tremulous smile, as she pushes away from him and walks into the picnic setup that he arranged to lift her spirits, Rodney figures he can live with being an idiot in this one instance.

[monanotlisa]

John/Rodney, post-EATG, and this:

[sholio]

John/Ronon - http://www.flickr.com/photos/lovestruck94/4582291674/

[scrollgirl]

The sky grows blacker and blacker as the rain falls, and John again considers pulling over to the side of the road. It's tricky enough keeping to the left without having to worry about poor visibility.

In the passenger seat beside him, Ronon stirs awake. "We there yet?"

John snorts at that. "Almost. Another twenty minutes." He would have made better time if it hadn't been pouring since Heathrow. And if he didn't have a crystal clear image of Dave rolling his eyes should John manage to get into an accident on the way to his wedding.

"Should've gotten the SUV," Ronon grunts, stretching. His large frame must be cramped from two hours trapped in the Camaro they rented. "Or had Carter beam us over."

"Yeah, I don't think she would've signed off on that," says John, glancing left for a brief moment to smile at Ronon. That's all it takes, a split second of inattention, and John nearly swerves in the wrong direction to avoid the on-coming vehicle that's drifted into his lane. The two cars skid past each other with a splash and a squeal of tires, no time to honk or flash high beams, and then it's over, the road is clear again.

John's heart is thudding in his chest and he hears Ronon swearing under his breath. "You okay?" he asks, his voice a little shaky.

"That would've been a pretty stupid way to die." Ronon says it like he's thinking of laughing, and if John weren't too busy keeping his eyes on the road, he would turn and glare at him. "Hey, pull over for a second," Ronon tells him.

They're almost to Corfe Castle, at least according to their GPS, but John pulls over at the first opportunity, the Camaro straddling gravel and grass. He takes a deep breath and settles, relaxing further when Ronon's big hand comes up to knead the back of his neck.

"It was no big deal," says Ronon, pulling him in to press warm lips to John's. "Relax, okay?" he murmurs into the kiss. "Dave's not gonna disown you for being late to dinner."

Fisting Ronon's collar, John slants his mouth to deepen the kiss, wanting the reassurance. There's nothing but the quiet pounding of rain on the car roof and the heat between them, hands clutching, Ronon's tongue teasing his. John's growing aroused, his heart beating faster for a different reason, and if it weren't for the stick shift between them and Dave and Lauren waiting, John might have tried for more than kissing.

After a moment he pulls back with a quiet sigh. "Sorry about--" He makes a face, rueful. "It's my brother's wedding."

"You worried because of me?" asks Ronon, curious, not offended or upset. "They invited me, remember?"

That's true enough, and while Dave still acts awkward around Ronon, it's not so different from John acting awkward around Dave. At Thanksgiving, Ronon was the only one not walking like he had a live grenade in his pocket. "Yeah, but a lot of people are going to be there. Important people. I just... don't want to make trouble for them."

Ronon looks at John steadily for a long time, then says, a faint smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, "Pretty sure Dave can take care of himself." He squeezes John's shoulder once, then settles into his seat. "We should get going. Doesn't look like the rain's gonna let up."

Twisting himself back around, John starts the car and eases onto the road again. The rain's still coming down hard, but they aren't far from the town now, and there should be street lights soon. "Yeah, looks like you're right," he says, flipping the wipers on at maximum speed, then adds, "It's fine, we're almost there. Twenty minutes."

[scrollgirl]

John/Ronon, high school AU!

[tielan]

John/Teyla - tail of the tiger

[tielan]

Teyla - speak softly and carry a big gun

[sholio]

The first time Teyla fires a P90, the recoil knocks the breath out of her.

"Uh, sorry." John's strong, callused hands steady her, reposition her. She tenses at first, then relaxes, lets him move the weapon and shift the angles of her arms. "You gotta snug it up against your shoulder. Like this."

She's never used a projectile weapon before, though she's seen them, and she finds it heavy and unwieldy. The muzzle jerks when it fires, moving it out of position for the next shot. At least she and John are the only people on the firing range. She has already learned that Atlantis people judge quickly, and forgive slowly; she does not want them to see her struggling with something that is apparently easy and familiar for them.

"I think the design of these weapons could be improved," she says half an hour later, her arms trembling and aching. Her muscles are strong, but this weapon uses unfamiliar muscles and cants her arms at angles that she is not accustomed to. She can feel the ache of a bruise blossoming under her vest, across her abused shoulder.

"You did good though," John says, and smiles at her, his rare crooked smile that crinkles his eyes at the corners. It catches her off guard, and she smiles back.

******

Teyla and Ronon have been teammates for almost two years before he lets her use his gun. Well, technically the first one is Rodney, but only because he's faster.

It's after the city flies, after they lose Elizabeth, after so much loss and movement and change. John is occupied with the city's daily concerns until Earth sends another commander, and every time Teyla sees him he looks more worn down, the circles under his eyes deeper. It means the team is grounded, too. They don't have trouble filling their hours; she and Ronon both take advantage of the opportunity to pursue their own interests -- she takes frequent trips to New Athos; he goes through the gate on travels of his own -- and Rodney is thoroughly busy with the city's repairs. However, John still insists, in his mellow but implacable way, that they put in their time on the firing range. And that's how Ronon ends up holding out his gun, butt up, and saying, "Who wants a turn?"

Both of them just stare. The only time Teyla has seen anyone else holding Ronon's gun was when John returned it to him on Sateda, after the Wraith captured him. But Rodney has wanted to get his hands on Ronon's gun for years, and after a brief startled pause, he snags it with the speed that he normally reserves for the last chocolate muffin in the mess hall. He turns it over and over in his hands, examining the intricate safety catch and the firing mechanism.

"You're supposed to shoot it, McKay, not sleep with it."

"Ha," Rodney says dryly, and with a last careful look, he aims the gun in an awkward two-handed grip. The first shot flings his hands up in the air -- Teyla ducks involuntarily, although he manages not to squeeze the trigger a second time. The target is undamaged, but there's a large crater in the heavy backstop.

"Jesus! I think this thing broke my arm!"

"Her turn," Ronon says, nodding at Teyla.

Teyla takes the gun from Rodney, who immediately clutches his wrist, but watches curiously -- the gun itself, not her. She aims carefully, remembering how Ronon holds it, and braces her wrist rather than the butt of the gun. Thinking of her first time handling the P90, she sets her feet and imagines an opponent swinging at her, sets her body to take the blow as she squeezes the trigger --

The shot doesn't hit the target dead center, but it tears a huge hole just to the left of the center ring. She feels the recoil like a blow to her arm, absorbed into her muscles, and barely moves. Looking over at her two teammates, she sees Rodney staring at her with what might be actual open admiration, and Ronon wearing a bright, little-kid grin.

"Nice," Ronon says, giving her a sharp nod. "You drifted a little when you took the shot. Next time, compensate for it. Go."

Rodney scowls at him. "How come she gets to go again?"

"Because she's better at it, McKay."

Teyla smiles and takes aim. This time, she plans to hit the target dead-on.

[tielan]

Elizabeth - the voices in your head

[elegantpi]

The silence in Elizabeth's apartment presses in on her, so she opens the windows. The night also is silent; once upon a time, what seems a very long time ago, she chose this apartment because of its quiet location. Tonight, she would be glad of a wind to stir the trees and make them rustle, or better yet a thunderstorm to shake her windows. Street noise, people noise, anything to break the silence that so pointedly reminds her of where she is not.

Curled up in the chair beside her window, Elizabeth shivers just a little in the late September air. She reaches down to pull a blanket off the floor, wraps it around herself and draws her knees up to her chest. Somewhere in the night, she hears the laughter of a girl and the patter of high heels on the sidewalk.

The phone rings. It's on the other side of the room, across a living room that she hasn't bothered to tidy up for a couple of days. Must remember to throw out those take-out boxes, she thinks, as the phone trills again. They're starting to smell. She turns her head to breathe in air from the window. It smells flat, lusterless, lacking the salty tang to which she has become accustomed. Moving to the sofa, she drags the blanket with her and curls up under it just as the answering machine picks up.

Her eyelids are heavy, so she closes them. It's so easy just to go to sleep these days. Too easy. But she has no reason to stay awake. No crisis to manage, no team to wait for in the control room, no new discoveries to sort through, and no corridors to wander at night nor balconies to haunt that overlook a city and an ocean beneath alien stars. And sometimes, she dreams...

"You've reached Dr. Elizabeth Weir. Please leave me a message and your contact information, and I will return your call as soon as I can." BEEP.

"Um... yes. Elizabeth, this is, um, Rodney... well, you know who I am. I don't really... I just wanted to see how you're doing. Call me sometime? Or, you know, email me, or something. You've got my contact info and all that. At least, I think you do. OK, well, hope to hear from you soon." BEEP.

Maybe it's Rodney's voice that does it, overlapping with those moments of transition between her brain's Alpha and Theta waves, drawing her back to Atlantis. As his voice fades away, it's replaced with the sussurration of ocean waves and the hum of a city alive.

And it's Rodney's voice she hears, on that first incredible day. Oh. So the story of Atlantis is true. A great city that sank in the ocean. Yes, Rodney, it is true.

Then other voices, one on top of the other, but she can pick them out - so familiar, echoing in every room, every corridor.
John, jubilant. I shot him! In the leg!
Carson. I told you I was the wrong person!
Teyla's gentle voice. We have always lived in the shadow of the Wraith... Teyla, oh, Teyla...
Aidan - she can almost see him, too, grinning at her in his boyish way; he was so young! - I could tell my grandma what I've been up to all this time. Then, pleading, ...just let me prove it. Just give me something to do...
Ronon. Ronon rarely speaks, but she can sense him, a solid presence beneath the other voices.

Zelenka and Rodney, bantering, finishing each other's sentences. John's sarcastic interjections. Teyla, across the briefing room table, quirking a smile at her and rolling her eyes at "the boys". Ronon putting his boots up on the table - she knows he knows that it annoys her, and she's sure that's why he does it.

She can feel it coming back now, the familiar weight of responsibility for several hundred lives and perhaps the fate of a galaxy or two. The bustle of daily life and routine, the sharp surges of adrenaline when routine is interrupted. The hum of computers, the glow of an alien sun streaming through stained glass and pooling in colorful shapes on a silver-blue floor. And a different glow, white-hot, blue-tinged, rippling like water, sparking like lightning, tunneling through space and time. No mission reports describe the smell of a wormhole. It's like ozone, a scent like air before a summer storm.

And then another voice, fondly: Look at you - always worrying. You put too much pressure on yourself.

Not anymore, Elizabeth thinks, wandering down a blue hallway, trailing her hand over the intricate copper decorations. Bright water reflections ripple over the walls. The swoosh of a door sliding closed, the hum of the environmental system, the waves rocking against the piers far below, the call of a sea bird. The salty wind on her face, tangling in her hair, and the smooth rail of her balcony under her hands. The smell of Athosian cooking drifting out from the mess hall. Home, oh, home - the voice of home, the scent, the sound of it.

Then: Your guardianship of this city is no longer necessary. The city is now under my control. The cruelty of the words knocks Elizabeth breathless, spoken as they are in such a mild, reasonable voice. She's falling, shattering, space and time coming apart at their infinite seams, and she gasps and drags herself upright, shaking that voice out of her head, denying those words, trying to save herself, hold herself together.

She's surprised to find herself standing up, hands outstretched, reaching. Blanket pooled around her feet, the lights of her apartment on and her window open to the night. It's all fading away, now. The voices of her people, her city, Ronon's fierce presence, Rodney's brash chatter, the lift of John's voice, and Teyla's persistent hope and determination. Gone, stolen, as lost to her now as any legendary lost city had ever been.

Her answering machine is flashing a number in the double digits. She passes it on the way to get a bottle of water from the fridge. She reaches out, and with a brush of her finger, deletes all messages.

[tielan]

Teyla and Cadman - shoot first, ask questions later

[tielan]

Ronon/Cadman - they don't take prisoners

[less_star]

Massive congrats!

John/Ronon, growing up on Sateda together

[less_star]

Teyla/Kanaan, from childhood crushes to friendship and beyond

[less_star]

Sam/Rodney, many years from now

[nonniemous]

CONGRATULATIONS!!! AWESOME WORK! And hey, you beat me by at least five years. I didn't graduate until twenty-five years later.

So, are you going to walk and participate in commencement? And whither hence?

[sholio]

Thank you! :)

No, I'm not going to walk. I thought about it, but I'm not interested; that kind of social situation is more painful than fun for me, and my family wouldn't be able to come anyway, so I'd have to do it for me or not at all. I opted for "not at all". *g*

You're getting your Masters, right? I think that's awesome. :D I haven't decided if I want to go ahead and try for that, or even what I might pursue if I did. (My B.A. is in Art, with a Journalism minor, but I'm not sure if I actually want an MFA or not ...)

[less_star]

any pairing, amnesia

[abyssinia]

Sam & Zelenka - first encounter after Sam left Atlantis (gen or shippy)

[astridv]

Sam/Rodney and a mishap with Ancient tech. (gen or ship)

[schneefink]

"Hey, Sam," Daniel said absent-mindedly, not even looking up from his book. "So, who did you find to take Rodney overnight?"

"One of the engineers," she said lightly. "She already has two cats."

"Huh."

Sam ducked her head and turned back to the schematics of the device. She only had three more days until Sheppard´s ultimatum ran out and Landry sent Rodney and the device through the gate. As if the scientists in Atlantis had a better chance of figuring this out.

"Where is he, anyway?" Daniel said suddenly. "I thought he´s following you around all the time?"

"He discovered that some of the cooks think cats are incredibly cute and will give him chocolate if he stares long enough."

"Chocolate? For cats?"

"Well, I´m not giving him my coffee."

They shared a grin.

Sam didn´t say that Rodney really was kind of cute, as a cat. And his fur was really soft.

She wondered if Rodney would keep the memories of his time as a cat. If he ever told anyone that he´d slept in her bed she´d have to kill him.

[astridv]

Jennifer, Sam, and Rodney - Trio AU: in which they managed to open that red door and found that it was locked for a reason.
(gen or Sam/Rodney or Jennifer/Rodney)

[beatrice_otter]

What was Teyla up to when the Terrans were back on Earth and the Ancients were in Atlantis?

[tielan]

New Athos is a lovely planet, but it brings her little joy.

"Why could we not stay where we were?" One of the children looks up at her with big eyes, questioning. "I am tired of all this moving."

"Because we did not have access to a Ring," Teyla tells him. "Now, we have a whole planet to explore and a whole galaxy to travel through."

"But we had that before," says another child with unassailable practicality.

"Didn't you hear Teyla?" Another says with childish scorn. "We didn't have the whole planet - just the part that the Lanteans did not use."

The first speaker's jaw sets. "But if we live so far from the Ancestors, how will they protect us?"

Teyla looks up and away, meets the grim set of Ronon's jaw, and does not share the truth she fears: that the Ancestors do not intend to protect them at all.

--

"Although the Lantean supplies have been very helpful, we need someone to go out to the markets for seed. We do not have enough for the next planting," says Halling at the Council meeting.

"Because the Ancestors cast us out before we could complete the harvest."

Halling's frown falls upon Koria. "They did not cast us out..."

"We mince words," she tells the council, blunt in her age, sure in her right to speak. "They sent the Lanteans home, like children caught hiding in their neighbours' bedclothes. They dismissed us as less than that - would not even send a representative to meet with the Council, but told Teyla what their will should be, as though we were not worthy of standing in their presence."

Heads turn towards Teyla, but she keeps her expression studiously neutral.

She has no more faith in the Ancestors than Koria, but habit seals her lips, even if it cannot stifle the cry of her heart.

--

"You haven't heard anything?" Ronon asks as they walk through the marketplace towards the seed-sellers. He leaped at the chance to come with her, tired of the setting up of the Athosian camp and the preparation of the ground.

"From Atlantis?"

"From Sheppard and the others."

Teyla eases her way around a haggling party of seven or eight. "It has only been three weeks, Ronon. And all messages must come through Atlantis."

"And the Ancestors aren't talking to us."

"No." She contacted them once, to speak with Mr. Woolsey about the Lanteans returned to Earth. He answered her queries with politeness but the clear indication that he did not wish to prolong the conversation any further than necessary, and ended it with a request that she keep all 'non-urgent' messages for the next time Atlantis contacts Athos.

Teyla does not think that will be before the crops are full-grown.

--

Teyla can feel the minds in her head, scratching hunger that claws at her insides and makes her left palm ache. But she will not think about that now. What she thinks about is the first mind she can touch, the 'nearest' mind within her reach.

Radek spoke of 'feedback loops', Chuck of 'pinging the server', John of actions and opposing reactions.

She never questioned why she could feel the Wraith in her head; it was simply so. It was not until Michael was made that she questioned whether she could make herself felt.

Skill is beyond her, what she has is blunt force - and the advantage of surprise. Her head aches as she strikes out at that spot in her mind where the Wraith have always been. Surprise floods back into her - a sudden, shocking fear coupled with a melting of resistance.

One of the darts drops away from the others, ploughs into the ground to create a great furrow of dirt.

"Teyla!" Ronon grabs her arm but she shakes him off in spite of the pain.

Her mind is so little against the many darts sent to cull this world, but she tries and tries again until she passes out from the pain.

--

"How long have you known you could do that?" Ronon demands after the tent has cleared.

Dissembling before Ronon would be foolish. He knows what she is, even if the other Athosians - even Kanaan, who shares this gift - do not.

Bloodtainted.

"Since the attempt to humanise the Wraith from the hiveship."

"Michael."

"He was the start of it." Teyla regards him over the rim of her cup.

A weakness, she'd thought then. It was only when she watched the Wraith walk through the corridors of Atlantis that she saw the other half of the coin - Wraith male to Wraith Queen: servitude and love, fear and devotion, trust and uncertainty. Michael's actions and emotions only cemented her surety - his betrayal of the hive, the need and connection between Wraith male and Queen. Cut adrift, untrusted, unvalued, he had no allegiances, no loyalties - a Wraith truly free of the hive.

She isn't sure Ronon will understand; his hatred of the Wraith runs too deep.

Fear holds her tongue this time; he is her last and surest ally from Atlantis. She is not so sure she could keep him if he saw the pattern Teyla is beginning to see in herself.

--

The tents are up, the seeds planted, the trails marked, the river netted.

Athos will survive on this new planet, their lifestyle continuing on as it always has after cullings and change.

Yet on the way back from the hunt, a yearling buck slung over her shoulders, Teyla pauses to watch the children play with Ronon in the riverfall, learning to swim as few of their parents ever did.

A step beside her heralds someone's coming; the familier sense in her mind tells her it is Kanaan. "The children like him."

"He is fearless; much like them in many ways." Only he learned his fearlessness at the hands of the Wraith: change or die. A lesson we Athosians could stand to learn, she thinks. We are too caught up in the way things have always been, and they are no longer that way.

"Times are changing," says Kanaan.

"It is a different age." One in which Pegasus has been cast adrift, deserted by the Ancestors, separated from Earth, left to unkind mercies of the Wraith. And in this new age, Teyla's people - and all Pegasus - will have to make their own destiny.

"Do you think Ronon will stay?"

On the surface, it is a simple question. But they have never been ones for only the surface. And the answer Kanaan seeks is not something Teyla even knows herself.

fin

[renisanz]

John/Teyla, glomp

[kristen999.livejournal.com]

The world flashed in blossoms of bright purple and yellow lighting, the crackling thunder rumbling the ground. Teyla stared up in a daze, unable to recall how or why she was dizzy and alone. Stumbling to her feet, the trees continued to spin, sending her sideways into the mud. Soaked to the bone, she forced herself to her knees, and stood again, wiped gunk onto her filthy BDUs and marched forward.

She recalled gunfire and explosions, her numb fingers tracing the tether of her P-90, the ends ripped and tangling from her tac vest. Pulling back strands of her wet splattered hair, she listened to the forest, her boots sinking into ground.

Keep moving, don’t stop. This way.

Warm blood trickled down her face from a gash to her temple; fat rains drops washing it out of her eyes. A gust of wind nearly knocked her down, but she defied its attempt, forging her own path through the muck rising toward her knee. The feeling in her toes was gone; her lips and face an icy clay-mask of determination. The sky split open in a zigzag of bright white and under the booming crash that followed—she heard her name.

Running toward the voice, Teyla screamed, “Over here!”

Through the sheets of rain and howling madness, John staggered out of the woods, slipping and catching his balance and plowed toward her. Nearly crashing into each other, strong arms embraced her, lifting Teyla off her feet in a crush of needy desperation.

“Thank goodness,” he whispered in her ear.

He smelled of wet leather and sweat, and Teyla breathed him in. John squeezed tighter, pressed his cheek to hers, carding his fingers through her matted hair.

She nestled under his chin, pressed lips to the pulse point of his throat, and allowed everything else to slip away without the need of words.

[renisanz]

Ronon/Amelia, not what I expected

[sgafan]

VERY insistent muse + fun prompt + no beta (is that ok? LOL) =

He’d looked at her with open admiration, even though it’d taken the stunner in his hands to finally bring down Michael’s hybrid.

“You can fight?”

He’d sounded almost disbelieving, but she couldn’t blame him. How would he know? On duty she was one egghead amongst many, quietly doing her job. Off duty, they apparently had different interests, she never saw him. But, she never really saw him on duty either, just the occasional passes through Ops, usually with his team.

So her surprise was, to her, justified when he ambled up to her table in the mess hall one day and nodded at the empty chair across from her. “Taken?”

She blinked twice, doing her best impression of a deer in headlights before shaking her head. “No,” she gestured at the chair. “Please.”

He smiled. Not the feral grin she’d seen when he fought, but something resembling affectionate. Warm and quiet.

He turned his attention to eating, and she did the same, but their eyes would occasionally meet. She wasn’t sure what hers said, surprise probably, but in his, the soft warmth remained.

“How’s your head?” She finally asked, the silence pushing her to speak.

He shrugged. “Doc says fine. Back on duty in a few days.”

“I’m glad,” she said, picking at her salad. “You scared me.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wished she could take them back and she felt a flush race along her cheekbones.

He set his fork down. “Scared you?”

She shrugged. “Well, I mean all of us. You could’ve been killed you know…” her voice trailed off as her flushed cheeks turned hot. He was still, not saying a world as she took a few, hopefully discreet, breaths. Smooth, Amelia, really smooth! She looked up and straight into his gaze.

He smiled slightly, in almost a knowing way, before pushing back from the table. He stood and looked down at her one more time. “Thanks for the company.” He grabbed his tray and paused. “Show me those kickboxing moves sometime?”

She drew in a deep breath. Embarrassed or not, she was never one to let opportunity pass. That’s how she got to Atlantis in the first place. She looked up, directly into his gaze. “Practice tonight. Come by my quarters around seven. You can walk to the gym with me.”

His brows rose and his smile deepened, if slightly. He nodded once, took his tray and walked away.

She watched him go, wondering where her bout of courage came from, but she’d wondered that when she’d taken on the hybrid. A slight smile turned up a corner of her mouth as she watched Ronon exit the mess. Maybe he had something to do with it.

------------------
She was almost mad at herself… almost. He was only walking with her to the gym, so why was she so nervous? She shifted the contents of her duffle bag again, and checked, only for the third time, that she had a full water bottle before rubbing her hands on the smooth material of her running pants.

The door chime made her jump. “Get a grip,” she muttered to herself as she walked to the door. But when it opened, all the grip in the world didn’t help. For the second time in the same day, the deer in headlights look took control.

He looked a little tense, but stood quietly, a single purple blossomed flower in his hand. She recognized it instantly as a Maana, the Pegasus version of a rose. Teyla had shown her, when they’d run into each other in the botany lab one day.

He shifted his weight slightly, and waved the flower just a little. “Teyla thought I should give you this. Said it was a good idea.”

She took the flower, all nervousness disappearing. “She was right.”

[elegantpi]

Any.

Song lyric: "I misunderstand and am misunderstood, so love me 'cause you can and not because you should..."

[livrelibre]

Congratulations! *high fives*

Torren, it takes a village

[sholio]

Thank you! :) (And this is such an awesome prompt - just gotta figure out what I want to write with it!)

[renisanz]

I totally forgot to congratulate you. Yay! for art majors. :D

[sholio]

Thank you very much! :D (Whee, art!)

[rhianona]

John/Teyla - reflection

[indusnm]

Torren's first steps?

Or the gang from the SGC are all visiting (including Jack, Landry and all of SG-1) and there's a big meeting and Teyla's there with a baby? I just like the juxtaposition of the no-nonsense official military and the Teyla as a warrior mother from a people who probably always had children running around councils of war! And I watched babies last night and it reminded me of growing up in another culture, and how funny I found it when this westerner visited and he was totally shocked and discomfited where at a nice dinner my aunt just put a shawl on and started breastfeeding... I suppose I want to see the SGC get that bit of culture shock because while they have lived/visited with other cultures, it's generally been OVER there and not in the SGC itself.

[indusnm]

Sorry for the capital letters, they made sense in my head.