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TITLE: Unexpected Compassion
SUMMARY: He wishes she would tell him. He wishes he was better at this kind of thing. For a moment, he even wishes he was Sheppard, if only because the other man would probably know what to do, what to say.
CATEGORY: Episode Epilogue, Romance
PAIRING: Rodney/Teyla
SPOILERS: 2.13 - Critical Mass
NOTES: Written at the behest of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
blacksquirrel and neonhummingbird - I hope you find it stays true to the characters! It could also serve for the 7DS challenge at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sga_flashfic, but I have other stories in mind for those.
Unexpected Compassion
Although the rest of the expedition would disagree, Rodney always thinks of curiosity as his besetting sin - after all, it's not pride if you really are as good as you are. And he is good.
He's also curious.
So when he hears a soft, choked noise in the room he's just passed, he can't resist peeking in to see who it is.
The external lights of Atlantis gleam over Teyla's bowed head as it rests on her curled-up knees, and bleaches her hair from it's usual dark caramel to a kind of honey blonde, not entirely unlike Cadman's. Of course, this is Teyla and not Cadman, because Rodney can't imagine Cadman crying under any circumstances.
Until now, he would have said the same of Teyla.
It takes a few seconds for even his brain to process what it all means. Hey, he's been up for over forty-eight hours now, going through the systems in Atlantis and making sure Colonel Caldwell's Goa'uld didn't leave any more hooks in the system. Oh, he could have taken a rest, but this was important.
Rodney could take a rest now, but he has a feeling this is important, too. So he takes a deep breath, eases himself around the doorjamb and asks, "Teyla?"
Her head jerks up, eyes wide. "Rodney."
It's pretty obvious she wasn't expecting him. It makes them even: Rodney wasn't expecting her, either.
"Are...are you okay?" Stupid question, Rodney. You can see that she's not okay! But what did she expect from him?
"I am fine. Thank you." Even with her voice all choked she manages to sound formal, and he feels like he's been put in his place.
Usually, he'd leave it at that.
Unexpectedly, he finds himself taking a few steps into the room. "You don't look very fine." Her head comes up and he has a moment to rethink his words, "I mean..."
This time, a smile forms on her lips. "I understand."
He could go to bed. He's done his part. But he goes and sits down next to her. He's not quite sure why, either. "You know, you should probably be in bed like the rest of the expedition."
"You are not."
"Ah, but that's because I had important work to do - cleaning up the systems and defusing the bomb..." He pauses, his mind latching onto a curious detail. "Weren't you and your people supposed to evacuate the city? Only, I remember you weren't in any of the groups and..." He trails off. Carson said something about Teyla and her people staying behind. Something about a death. Rodney wasn't listening - it wasn't important.
From the look on her face, he deduces that it was important to Teyla.
Rodney's not stupid. Occasionally oblivious and monofocused, but not stupid - no, not even socially stupid. And he does care about the people around him, he's just not so great at showing it.
This is probably one of those times when he should.
Except compassion isn't his forte. Well, anything emotional isn't his forte. Except mockery, which would be bad right now. As in really bad.
Still, he tries. "You could talk about it," he offers. "To me. I mean, I could listen and you could talk."
He's babbling. She's looking uncomfortable. This is why he doesn't do the sensitive thing.
Teyla's regarding him with something almost like a smile. Rodney feels embarrassed - really embarrassed, not just momentarily taken aback the way he normally is - but her hand steals out to touch his, strong fingers resting lightly on the back of his wrist. "Thank you," she says. "I do not wish to... Your offer is kind."
He wishes she would tell him. He wishes he was better at this kind of thing. For a moment, he even wishes he was Sheppard, if only because the other man would probably know what to do, what to say. John's good with women.
Not that Rodney's bad with women, of course, he's just...himself.
Then Teyla leans over and kisses him on the cheek. A light brush of lips that tingles his skin and fills him with pleasure. Oddly impulsive, Rodney slips his arm around her shoulders and draws her into a small hug. Just a small one.
Elizabeth is skinnier across the shoulders, Teyla's more fleshed-out - her shoulderblades are firm but not pointy. And they're not both soaked to the skin and in the hands of a madman. It's just them, the empty room, and the sleeping city.
It's nice to rest his arm there and feel her settle into his side - a nice change from women who argue all the time. Rodney's got enough of them in his life.
He's not sure who kisses whom first. Of course, she kissed him, but that was just the cheek. This is mouth on mouth and unexpected, sweet and slow and really quite surprising, and she tastes of cinnamon and smells of something pine-scented or maybe sandalwood, and her hand is firm on his thigh and she's not objecting to him resting his hand against the outer curve of her breast...
Rodney tastes salt and pulls back.
The wet trail of her tears gleams on her cheeks and he runs his tongue over his lips and wishes he was someone else. Not Sheppard, but someone else who was better at this whole 'comforting' thing.
Except that if it was someone else then another guy would have just kissed her. And that would be a bad thing.
He can hear his hearbeat and wonders that she can't. Of course, she's wiping her tears away with one hand, something like a rueful smile on her face. "I am sorry, Rodney." Does she mean the tears, or the kiss? "I am not... It is not a good time."
Rodney watches her for a moment, and thinks he's not sorry. "You're tired," he says, feeling sage and a bit tired himself. "We should go to bed." Then he realises what he's said, and adds, "I mean, not 'we' as in the two of us together--" Although his body stirs at the thought and he drops his gaze to the floor so he doesn't have to see the amusement in her expression.
Did he mention how bad he was at this kind of thing?
"Rodney." Her hand touches his thigh, gentle and firm. "I think we should go to bed. Our beds," she adds, destroying any ideas certain parts of him developed with her touch and her words.
Still, Rodney can't help but think that she might be gentle yet firm with him in bed, too.
He doesn't say anything of the sort as they walk through the city, though. Even Rodney McKay has some sense of propriety. Sheppard would say it was just self-preservation - avoiding having his ass handed to him on a platter. Instead, as they make their way past the occasional sentries who eye them, Rodney talks about the things he had to do to fix the city systems and the frustrations and exasperations he encountered while doing it.
If she's not going to talk while he listens, then he might as well fill the quiet.
But he stutters into silence when she touches his hand as they reach the corridor junction that splits off to their respective rooms. Teyla looks very serene, Rodney feels very nervous. "Well, good night, then."
She kisses him again, and this time it's expected. Her lips just miss his mouth and he turns his head to kiss her back. Teyla smiles; he feels the curve of her cheek swell against his, cinnamon, pine, and sandalwood, and her voice is rich with amusement. "Good night, Rodney."
Teyla saunters off to her own room.
Rodney watches her go.
- fin -
SUMMARY: He wishes she would tell him. He wishes he was better at this kind of thing. For a moment, he even wishes he was Sheppard, if only because the other man would probably know what to do, what to say.
CATEGORY: Episode Epilogue, Romance
PAIRING: Rodney/Teyla
SPOILERS: 2.13 - Critical Mass
NOTES: Written at the behest of
blacksquirrel and neonhummingbird - I hope you find it stays true to the characters! It could also serve for the 7DS challenge at sga_flashfic, but I have other stories in mind for those.Unexpected Compassion
Although the rest of the expedition would disagree, Rodney always thinks of curiosity as his besetting sin - after all, it's not pride if you really are as good as you are. And he is good.
He's also curious.
So when he hears a soft, choked noise in the room he's just passed, he can't resist peeking in to see who it is.
The external lights of Atlantis gleam over Teyla's bowed head as it rests on her curled-up knees, and bleaches her hair from it's usual dark caramel to a kind of honey blonde, not entirely unlike Cadman's. Of course, this is Teyla and not Cadman, because Rodney can't imagine Cadman crying under any circumstances.
Until now, he would have said the same of Teyla.
It takes a few seconds for even his brain to process what it all means. Hey, he's been up for over forty-eight hours now, going through the systems in Atlantis and making sure Colonel Caldwell's Goa'uld didn't leave any more hooks in the system. Oh, he could have taken a rest, but this was important.
Rodney could take a rest now, but he has a feeling this is important, too. So he takes a deep breath, eases himself around the doorjamb and asks, "Teyla?"
Her head jerks up, eyes wide. "Rodney."
It's pretty obvious she wasn't expecting him. It makes them even: Rodney wasn't expecting her, either.
"Are...are you okay?" Stupid question, Rodney. You can see that she's not okay! But what did she expect from him?
"I am fine. Thank you." Even with her voice all choked she manages to sound formal, and he feels like he's been put in his place.
Usually, he'd leave it at that.
Unexpectedly, he finds himself taking a few steps into the room. "You don't look very fine." Her head comes up and he has a moment to rethink his words, "I mean..."
This time, a smile forms on her lips. "I understand."
He could go to bed. He's done his part. But he goes and sits down next to her. He's not quite sure why, either. "You know, you should probably be in bed like the rest of the expedition."
"You are not."
"Ah, but that's because I had important work to do - cleaning up the systems and defusing the bomb..." He pauses, his mind latching onto a curious detail. "Weren't you and your people supposed to evacuate the city? Only, I remember you weren't in any of the groups and..." He trails off. Carson said something about Teyla and her people staying behind. Something about a death. Rodney wasn't listening - it wasn't important.
From the look on her face, he deduces that it was important to Teyla.
Rodney's not stupid. Occasionally oblivious and monofocused, but not stupid - no, not even socially stupid. And he does care about the people around him, he's just not so great at showing it.
This is probably one of those times when he should.
Except compassion isn't his forte. Well, anything emotional isn't his forte. Except mockery, which would be bad right now. As in really bad.
Still, he tries. "You could talk about it," he offers. "To me. I mean, I could listen and you could talk."
He's babbling. She's looking uncomfortable. This is why he doesn't do the sensitive thing.
Teyla's regarding him with something almost like a smile. Rodney feels embarrassed - really embarrassed, not just momentarily taken aback the way he normally is - but her hand steals out to touch his, strong fingers resting lightly on the back of his wrist. "Thank you," she says. "I do not wish to... Your offer is kind."
He wishes she would tell him. He wishes he was better at this kind of thing. For a moment, he even wishes he was Sheppard, if only because the other man would probably know what to do, what to say. John's good with women.
Not that Rodney's bad with women, of course, he's just...himself.
Then Teyla leans over and kisses him on the cheek. A light brush of lips that tingles his skin and fills him with pleasure. Oddly impulsive, Rodney slips his arm around her shoulders and draws her into a small hug. Just a small one.
Elizabeth is skinnier across the shoulders, Teyla's more fleshed-out - her shoulderblades are firm but not pointy. And they're not both soaked to the skin and in the hands of a madman. It's just them, the empty room, and the sleeping city.
It's nice to rest his arm there and feel her settle into his side - a nice change from women who argue all the time. Rodney's got enough of them in his life.
He's not sure who kisses whom first. Of course, she kissed him, but that was just the cheek. This is mouth on mouth and unexpected, sweet and slow and really quite surprising, and she tastes of cinnamon and smells of something pine-scented or maybe sandalwood, and her hand is firm on his thigh and she's not objecting to him resting his hand against the outer curve of her breast...
Rodney tastes salt and pulls back.
The wet trail of her tears gleams on her cheeks and he runs his tongue over his lips and wishes he was someone else. Not Sheppard, but someone else who was better at this whole 'comforting' thing.
Except that if it was someone else then another guy would have just kissed her. And that would be a bad thing.
He can hear his hearbeat and wonders that she can't. Of course, she's wiping her tears away with one hand, something like a rueful smile on her face. "I am sorry, Rodney." Does she mean the tears, or the kiss? "I am not... It is not a good time."
Rodney watches her for a moment, and thinks he's not sorry. "You're tired," he says, feeling sage and a bit tired himself. "We should go to bed." Then he realises what he's said, and adds, "I mean, not 'we' as in the two of us together--" Although his body stirs at the thought and he drops his gaze to the floor so he doesn't have to see the amusement in her expression.
Did he mention how bad he was at this kind of thing?
"Rodney." Her hand touches his thigh, gentle and firm. "I think we should go to bed. Our beds," she adds, destroying any ideas certain parts of him developed with her touch and her words.
Still, Rodney can't help but think that she might be gentle yet firm with him in bed, too.
He doesn't say anything of the sort as they walk through the city, though. Even Rodney McKay has some sense of propriety. Sheppard would say it was just self-preservation - avoiding having his ass handed to him on a platter. Instead, as they make their way past the occasional sentries who eye them, Rodney talks about the things he had to do to fix the city systems and the frustrations and exasperations he encountered while doing it.
If she's not going to talk while he listens, then he might as well fill the quiet.
But he stutters into silence when she touches his hand as they reach the corridor junction that splits off to their respective rooms. Teyla looks very serene, Rodney feels very nervous. "Well, good night, then."
She kisses him again, and this time it's expected. Her lips just miss his mouth and he turns his head to kiss her back. Teyla smiles; he feels the curve of her cheek swell against his, cinnamon, pine, and sandalwood, and her voice is rich with amusement. "Good night, Rodney."
Teyla saunters off to her own room.
Rodney watches her go.
- fin -
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It's just them, the empty roo, and the sleeping city.
Do you mean 'room?'
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Tee-hee! I loved that line. Rodney does seem like the sort that just about any woman would have to take by the hand and lead to the garden, so to speak.
I loved this piece. You have captured Teyla's character so well, her reluctance to blather on about what's concerning her, and her show of appreciation (and maybe something more) for Rodney's caring. They really make an interesting pair, one whose relationship I love to see explored in fic. And, of course, you have Rodney down to a t. Here: "Something about a death. Rodney wasn't listening - it wasn't important." That is just so very, very Rodney.