A Pegasus Shower by graffitiegg (Family Challenge)
Title: A Pegasus Shower
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2561
Summary: Sheppard and McKay throw a baby shower of sorts. Humor.
Characters: Gen; team, smidges of Zelenka and Keller
Spoilers: Small spoilers for The Kindred.
Author’s Notes: I have two midterms on Thursday, and yet this bunny wouldn’t let go. First flash fic response, and first SGA fic in months, so I’m a little nervous! *gg* Hope I did it properly, aside from the whole very much past the deadline matter.
----------------
Somehow John knew it would be one of those days when the very first thing he saw - besides the smiling, eyelash batting newcomer from the Daedalus who fed him a bright smile and a pile of unidentified mush - was none other than one Rodney McKay, looking disheveled, bright-eyed, and overall like an overenthusiastic puppy.
John quickly smothered the smile that came with that mental image.
"There’s a disparity we need to fix," Rodney said.
"Had a late night?" John said, discreetly surrendering his cup of coffee. He had become accustomed to preparing his coffee the McKay way; Rodney required a certain amount of the stuff to function, and John knew by now that it was easier to just prepare his coffee as though he were to encounter the McKay black hole of coffee-snatching-and-gulping-doom.
"Yes, yes," Rodney waved a hand dismissively, sniffed the cup, mumbled a thanks, and then leaned in conspiratorially. "I’ve been thinking - "
"Don’t hurt yourself."
"Oh haha, you’re hilarious, and that’s the oldest insult in the book. Now immature, uncreative, overdone pot shots aside, I’ve been thinking."
John waited. A second passed, then two, and still Rodney sat there, practically bouncing in his chair, eyes dancing.
He sighed and played along. "Okay, I’m intrigued."
Rodney’s face split into a huge grin. "Teyla."
"Teyla?"
"Teyla."
Fighting amusement, John leaned back in his chair and said, "Wow."
The sarcasm, unfortunately, was lost. "Yes, wow," Rodney said, "Just think. She’s bound to be frightened. Well, maybe not frightened," he amended, at John’s raised eyebrow, "But she’s in another galaxy filled with beings that either want to eat us or kill us, or sometimes inconveniently, both actions simultaneously, and she’s pregnant, with a father who is most likely dead, and she and the baby are the last of her people, all that, and that baby’s been exposed to a murderous Hive Queen - "
"You’ve been attending the mandatory sensitivity training, haven’t you?"
"Exactly!" Rodney snapped his fingers.
It was likely a frightening thing that John had somehow managed to follow Rodney’s bizarre logic, but he’d long resigned himself to their occasional mental synchronization. "You think we should do something to cheer her up?"
"Genius, thank you. Cue applause."
John rolled his eyes and clapped once, twice, prompting a few other expedition members to pause, look up from their meal, and flick a glance in their direction.
"So a baby shower of some sort?" he surmised.
Rodney’s expression went from happy to horrified so quickly, John was almost surprised he wasn’t reeling from the whiplash. "Oh God no! Do you even know the first thing about those? There’s pink and frilly things, and - baby items, Diaper Genies - and don’t women usually throw those?"
"You could ask Jeannie."
"Because that’s a well thought out plan. Jeannie, I could use your help throwing a baby shower for a friend of mine whose having an alien baby - "
"Seriously, sensitivity training," John sighed.
"Please," Rodney snorted, "Weren’t you the one who was Colonel Crankypants after she told us the news?"
"Colonel Crankypants," John repeated, slowly, just to make sure he had really heard that one right. "You studying to be a father already?"
Immediately after the words left his mouth, he realized the relative unlikelihood of Rodney and father being used together in the same sentence, and the look on Rodney’s face was worth it.
"What, no!" Rodney panicked.
John grinned, feeling rightfully revenged for the Colonel Crankypants line. "So, I’m guessing that’s a no on the baby shower idea."
"Yes, it’s a no," Rodney said, the implied what are you, stupid? echoing the tone.
"Well," John drawled, "I’m running a little late for a briefing with Colonel Carter, but I’ll keep your idea on the backburner. We’ll think of something."
"Great, great," Rodney threw his hands up in the air, and John winced as the cup of coffee and its contents almost went flying. "I know what that means, Colonel. That means I’ll be doing the thinking, and you’ll be pretending to work or whatever frivolity you somehow manage to waste your days with."
"If you insist," John said, and grinned into his glass of orange juice as Rodney spluttered in indignation.
***
Roughly around the fifth time he crashed to the mats with Ronon standing in poorly veiled triumph above him, John decided to bring up the Teyla idea. It wasn’t technically a break after all, just a temporary respite in which they could strategize.
"So," he said, and then descended into a fit of coughs. He could have sworn the Satedan smirked at him, and John privately made a mental note to assign Ronon to accompany the most annoying scientist Rodney could suggest.
"Yeah?" Ronon wasn’t even breaking a sweat, damnit.
"Teyla’s, uh, well, you know, pregnant."
He wasn’t usually this awful with words. It must be a combination of having had his ass handed back to him far too many times in one day, and the dreaded ‘p’ word.
"Yeah," Ronon quirked an eyebrow, hauled him to his feet, and gave him a little shove backward.
"One sec, buddy," John said quickly, even as his body painfully settled back into the rhythms of the spar. "So McKay had this idea of doing something special for her."
Ronon nodded, circling. "Like a suri’nao."
"Yes, exactly," John said, as he did automatically to the new words the Pegasus galaxy consistently seemed to throw at them. He figured those people usually knew what the hell they were talking about anyway. Of course this had led to a few unfortunate diplomatic incidents and uncomfortable rituals - even one or two marriages or human sacrifices that had almost gone through - but in general, it was a good response. "We’re still thinking up ideas. You got anything?"
Ronon was surging forward, and John quickly ducked. He felt the rush of air tickle the sweat on his neck.
"Already made her one," Ronon said.
John re-evaluated his earlier definition of what Ronon’s Satedan word had been.
"A suri’nao?"
"Yup."
Ronon swung again, John sidestepped, but the attack had been a feint. With a low growl, Ronon crouched, and slammed upward, catching John under the ribs with a forceful elbow jab.
Ow.
He was seeing stars. Those were definitely stars.
"So mind telling me what that is?" he gasped.
Ronon’s teeth gleamed white, but he backed off a few steps. "Scalps."
"Scalps."
"Strung together," Ronon clarified, in a way that didn’t clarify anything at all because John was still fixating on the first word. When had Ronon found the time to go about scalping anything? And more importantly, what the hell had he scalped? Absurdly, John found himself running through a quick count of his men.
"Jeez, Ronon. Scalps?"
"What? They’re warm."
"Scalps? Of what, Wraith?"
"Maybe for the next one," Ronon said thoughtfully.
John decided that maybe he didn’t really want to know.
***
Still Ronon’s idea was a good one, and John decided that he would give Teyla a present for the baby. The only question now was what. Evidently Ronon had the baby blanket covered, and it wasn’t like Wal-Mart was within easy reach for all those other baby things.
What were those baby things anyway?
John gritted his teeth and went to see Keller.
Two hours later, he was rather wishing he hadn’t. She seemingly knew of all these matters he hadn’t even considered - baby nail clippers? The hell? - and was delightfully speaking of how she had spent hours in the mall choosing a car seat, a sling, a bottle warmer, a wash cloth, a burp cloth, a drool cloth…
"Don’t you have patients to see?" John asked faintly.
Which was a mistake, as Dr. Kusanagi just happened to be the patient in question, and she was more than willing to contribute to the discussion. "Teyla’ll need alcohol swabs," Keller was saying, "For cleaning out the baby’s belly button."
"A changing table," Kusanagi said, "Very important."
The two women beamed at one another.
They were good ideas, John thought grudgingly, even if he didn’t quite understand why the baby needed so many specifics, but the bottom line was they weren’t cool. They weren’t him. Teyla’s baby needed something damn special, something that would teach him that his galaxy wasn’t one plagued with Wraith, but one free and wonderful -
John’s booted feet hit the infirmary floor with a loud thud. Kusanagi gave a small shriek, Keller frowned, but John didn’t care, didn’t notice, because he had the perfect idea.
***
John drafted a rudimentary plan of how he wanted his idea to be, and then went in search of Rodney. Unfortunately Rodney was untimely detained with a problem of potentially exploding toilets, and so John decided to find Zelenka.
"I am very busy," Zelenka said, the second he produced his diagram.
"C’mon, Radek, I don’t see you working on the exploding toilets."
"The City has numerous other failing circuitry and situations that require my absolute attention," Zelenka sniffed.
John sidled closer, put on his best roguish smile. "I can’t believe what I’m hearing, Radek," he said, all friendly, warm tones, "Teyla’s your friend, isn’t she? Your pregnant friend. You’re saying you can’t spare an hour of your time to give her the greatest gift ever known to mankind?"
Zelenka glared at him, and snatched the paper from his hands. "This plan," he said, muttering under his breath in Czech, "I do not think you have thought it through."
"That’s what you’re for, Doc," John clapped the scientist on the back, "Knew you’d come through."
He was reasonably sure the string of rapid-fire Czech that followed wasn’t complimentary.
***
He caught up with Rodney later that evening, plunking down his tray opposite the scientist.
"Do not," Rodney growled, "look perky."
"Ronon’s rubbing off on you," John took a bite of his meatloaf, watching as Rodney moodily swirled his fork in the mess of gravy and something resembling mashed potatoes. He frowned. It was very rare indeed that McKay didn’t feel like devouring whatever was in front of him. "Hey, c’mon. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to play with your food?"
"I have three doctorates," Rodney grumbled, "I’m not a plumber."
"Degree doesn’t equal career."
Rodney waved his fork in a vaguely threatening way at him. "You’re a real Einstein, aren’t you?" he sniped, "Is that your own special theory of relativity, Colonel? God, you must have been a genius when you were growing up, brainwashed by the Baby Sheppard videos of absolutely convoluted and mundane logic - " he trailed off, his eyes widening.
"McKay?"
"Wait, wait, shut up for a second, thinking," Rodney said, and then just like that, he was happy again, all sulkiness forgotten in the blink of an eye. "Brilliant. So brilliant. I am a genius."
It seemed safe to tease. "Apparently Carter thinks you make a better plumber."
"Very funny, Colonel," but Rodney was starting to eat again.
"So what’d you think up?"
"The most ingenious gift for Teyla’s baby."
John processed that. "Wait a second," he said, frowning, "If you’re giving something to Teyla, and Ronon’s giving something to Teyla, and I’m giving something to Teyla - doesn’t that mean we’re throwing her a baby shower of sorts?"
Rodney thought it over.
"Fuck," he said.
***
The day of the not-baby-shower came quickly, and John had to work hard to keep anything from showing on his expression as he very, very carefully sparred with her.
"You should not be treating me any differently," Teyla warned him, "I am still perfectly capable."
"No worries," John said, even as he pulled back every blow and manfully endured bruise after bruise for his efforts. After he felt like every part of him had been hit twice over, and Teyla was likely sufficiently sidetracked, he signaled for a break and asked, "Say, do you want to take a walk to the North Pier?"
Her eyes narrowed. "A walk and not a brisk run?"
"No, no, I didn’t mean it like that," John tried to quickly backtrack, blabbering some reassurances about how he absolutely was not treating her pregnancy as some sort of bodily weakness, but rather as the amazing, magical thing that it was. Truly. Absolutely.
Fortunately he must have looked contrite and sincere enough that she relented, and John exhaled a sigh of relief. When they finally reached the door leading out to the North Pier, he sucked in a quick breath, thought open, and pushed her gently forward.
It was near the end of the day, the sun just setting over the crisp blue water, and bathing the pier in warm hues. There were ribbons, balloons, tables stacked high with wrapped gifts, plates laden with food, and everywhere, everywhere beaming faces.
John heard Teyla’s breath catch as she took in the sights.
"Surprised?" he said, grinning widely.
For the first time since he had met her, he saw her speechless. Her lips moved, curved upward, and to his delight and dismay, there was something suspiciously gleaming in the corners of her eyes as she reached and took his shoulders. "Thank you," she breathed, and John bowed his forehead to touch hers, breathing in the familiarity of her, feeling her lithe limbs tremble.
And then she was enveloped by the others - the women of Atlantis, all gushing their congratulations, offering gifts and waving clothes - so many tiny little outfits, matching shoes, and where had they acquired them all so quickly?
He was content to stand back and watch her enjoy herself, feeling a little bubble of warmth from her obvious joy and delight. He watched as Ronon drew her away for a few minutes, handing her a beautifully wrapped bundle, watched as they met foreheads and held their moment of tranquility for several seconds longer.
Finally, as the celebration was winding down, he took her arm and led her to his present.
Zelenka congratulated her with formal grace, and only a bit of fluster.
And then John pulled the tarp off his (all right, and Zelenka’s) masterpiece.
"It’s a swing set," he explained, running a hand over the perfectly smooth components, the secure lines, the comfortable, adjustable, brightly colored safety seat, the automated swinger and failsafes that he’d asked Radek to include. "Feels like flying."
"It is wonderful," Teyla said, her smile bright as the sun, and John remembered his first swing ride, of his feet leaving the ground, everything behind, the sky open, welcoming, his legs scissoring across the expanse of all that freedom and promise.
Teyla’s kid was going to know that feeling. John was going to make damn sure of it.
***
It wasn’t until after the party had ended, and Teyla was safely back in her room surrounded by gifts, that John found Rodney down in the lab.
"I didn’t see you there," he said, not quite accusing.
"I was there, had cake. And I told Teyla I’d give her my gift tomorrow."
John frowned. "While I’m sure she’d appreciate that - "
"It took me longer to make it than I thought!" Rodney said defensively, "There was a great deal of material to cover, and I didn’t want to cover refraction without including birefringence!"
"Uh-huh," John said, very slowly.
"Think of it this way," Rodney continued, "This way, it was only you who was throwing her the baby shower."
John groaned. "Your genius at work?"
Rodney waved the tapes in his hands, beaming. "After this, Teyla’s baby is going to be a genius too," he said happily.
end
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2561
Summary: Sheppard and McKay throw a baby shower of sorts. Humor.
Characters: Gen; team, smidges of Zelenka and Keller
Spoilers: Small spoilers for The Kindred.
Author’s Notes: I have two midterms on Thursday, and yet this bunny wouldn’t let go. First flash fic response, and first SGA fic in months, so I’m a little nervous! *gg* Hope I did it properly, aside from the whole very much past the deadline matter.
----------------
Somehow John knew it would be one of those days when the very first thing he saw - besides the smiling, eyelash batting newcomer from the Daedalus who fed him a bright smile and a pile of unidentified mush - was none other than one Rodney McKay, looking disheveled, bright-eyed, and overall like an overenthusiastic puppy.
John quickly smothered the smile that came with that mental image.
"There’s a disparity we need to fix," Rodney said.
"Had a late night?" John said, discreetly surrendering his cup of coffee. He had become accustomed to preparing his coffee the McKay way; Rodney required a certain amount of the stuff to function, and John knew by now that it was easier to just prepare his coffee as though he were to encounter the McKay black hole of coffee-snatching-and-gulping-doom.
"Yes, yes," Rodney waved a hand dismissively, sniffed the cup, mumbled a thanks, and then leaned in conspiratorially. "I’ve been thinking - "
"Don’t hurt yourself."
"Oh haha, you’re hilarious, and that’s the oldest insult in the book. Now immature, uncreative, overdone pot shots aside, I’ve been thinking."
John waited. A second passed, then two, and still Rodney sat there, practically bouncing in his chair, eyes dancing.
He sighed and played along. "Okay, I’m intrigued."
Rodney’s face split into a huge grin. "Teyla."
"Teyla?"
"Teyla."
Fighting amusement, John leaned back in his chair and said, "Wow."
The sarcasm, unfortunately, was lost. "Yes, wow," Rodney said, "Just think. She’s bound to be frightened. Well, maybe not frightened," he amended, at John’s raised eyebrow, "But she’s in another galaxy filled with beings that either want to eat us or kill us, or sometimes inconveniently, both actions simultaneously, and she’s pregnant, with a father who is most likely dead, and she and the baby are the last of her people, all that, and that baby’s been exposed to a murderous Hive Queen - "
"You’ve been attending the mandatory sensitivity training, haven’t you?"
"Exactly!" Rodney snapped his fingers.
It was likely a frightening thing that John had somehow managed to follow Rodney’s bizarre logic, but he’d long resigned himself to their occasional mental synchronization. "You think we should do something to cheer her up?"
"Genius, thank you. Cue applause."
John rolled his eyes and clapped once, twice, prompting a few other expedition members to pause, look up from their meal, and flick a glance in their direction.
"So a baby shower of some sort?" he surmised.
Rodney’s expression went from happy to horrified so quickly, John was almost surprised he wasn’t reeling from the whiplash. "Oh God no! Do you even know the first thing about those? There’s pink and frilly things, and - baby items, Diaper Genies - and don’t women usually throw those?"
"You could ask Jeannie."
"Because that’s a well thought out plan. Jeannie, I could use your help throwing a baby shower for a friend of mine whose having an alien baby - "
"Seriously, sensitivity training," John sighed.
"Please," Rodney snorted, "Weren’t you the one who was Colonel Crankypants after she told us the news?"
"Colonel Crankypants," John repeated, slowly, just to make sure he had really heard that one right. "You studying to be a father already?"
Immediately after the words left his mouth, he realized the relative unlikelihood of Rodney and father being used together in the same sentence, and the look on Rodney’s face was worth it.
"What, no!" Rodney panicked.
John grinned, feeling rightfully revenged for the Colonel Crankypants line. "So, I’m guessing that’s a no on the baby shower idea."
"Yes, it’s a no," Rodney said, the implied what are you, stupid? echoing the tone.
"Well," John drawled, "I’m running a little late for a briefing with Colonel Carter, but I’ll keep your idea on the backburner. We’ll think of something."
"Great, great," Rodney threw his hands up in the air, and John winced as the cup of coffee and its contents almost went flying. "I know what that means, Colonel. That means I’ll be doing the thinking, and you’ll be pretending to work or whatever frivolity you somehow manage to waste your days with."
"If you insist," John said, and grinned into his glass of orange juice as Rodney spluttered in indignation.
***
Roughly around the fifth time he crashed to the mats with Ronon standing in poorly veiled triumph above him, John decided to bring up the Teyla idea. It wasn’t technically a break after all, just a temporary respite in which they could strategize.
"So," he said, and then descended into a fit of coughs. He could have sworn the Satedan smirked at him, and John privately made a mental note to assign Ronon to accompany the most annoying scientist Rodney could suggest.
"Yeah?" Ronon wasn’t even breaking a sweat, damnit.
"Teyla’s, uh, well, you know, pregnant."
He wasn’t usually this awful with words. It must be a combination of having had his ass handed back to him far too many times in one day, and the dreaded ‘p’ word.
"Yeah," Ronon quirked an eyebrow, hauled him to his feet, and gave him a little shove backward.
"One sec, buddy," John said quickly, even as his body painfully settled back into the rhythms of the spar. "So McKay had this idea of doing something special for her."
Ronon nodded, circling. "Like a suri’nao."
"Yes, exactly," John said, as he did automatically to the new words the Pegasus galaxy consistently seemed to throw at them. He figured those people usually knew what the hell they were talking about anyway. Of course this had led to a few unfortunate diplomatic incidents and uncomfortable rituals - even one or two marriages or human sacrifices that had almost gone through - but in general, it was a good response. "We’re still thinking up ideas. You got anything?"
Ronon was surging forward, and John quickly ducked. He felt the rush of air tickle the sweat on his neck.
"Already made her one," Ronon said.
John re-evaluated his earlier definition of what Ronon’s Satedan word had been.
"A suri’nao?"
"Yup."
Ronon swung again, John sidestepped, but the attack had been a feint. With a low growl, Ronon crouched, and slammed upward, catching John under the ribs with a forceful elbow jab.
Ow.
He was seeing stars. Those were definitely stars.
"So mind telling me what that is?" he gasped.
Ronon’s teeth gleamed white, but he backed off a few steps. "Scalps."
"Scalps."
"Strung together," Ronon clarified, in a way that didn’t clarify anything at all because John was still fixating on the first word. When had Ronon found the time to go about scalping anything? And more importantly, what the hell had he scalped? Absurdly, John found himself running through a quick count of his men.
"Jeez, Ronon. Scalps?"
"What? They’re warm."
"Scalps? Of what, Wraith?"
"Maybe for the next one," Ronon said thoughtfully.
John decided that maybe he didn’t really want to know.
***
Still Ronon’s idea was a good one, and John decided that he would give Teyla a present for the baby. The only question now was what. Evidently Ronon had the baby blanket covered, and it wasn’t like Wal-Mart was within easy reach for all those other baby things.
What were those baby things anyway?
John gritted his teeth and went to see Keller.
Two hours later, he was rather wishing he hadn’t. She seemingly knew of all these matters he hadn’t even considered - baby nail clippers? The hell? - and was delightfully speaking of how she had spent hours in the mall choosing a car seat, a sling, a bottle warmer, a wash cloth, a burp cloth, a drool cloth…
"Don’t you have patients to see?" John asked faintly.
Which was a mistake, as Dr. Kusanagi just happened to be the patient in question, and she was more than willing to contribute to the discussion. "Teyla’ll need alcohol swabs," Keller was saying, "For cleaning out the baby’s belly button."
"A changing table," Kusanagi said, "Very important."
The two women beamed at one another.
They were good ideas, John thought grudgingly, even if he didn’t quite understand why the baby needed so many specifics, but the bottom line was they weren’t cool. They weren’t him. Teyla’s baby needed something damn special, something that would teach him that his galaxy wasn’t one plagued with Wraith, but one free and wonderful -
John’s booted feet hit the infirmary floor with a loud thud. Kusanagi gave a small shriek, Keller frowned, but John didn’t care, didn’t notice, because he had the perfect idea.
***
John drafted a rudimentary plan of how he wanted his idea to be, and then went in search of Rodney. Unfortunately Rodney was untimely detained with a problem of potentially exploding toilets, and so John decided to find Zelenka.
"I am very busy," Zelenka said, the second he produced his diagram.
"C’mon, Radek, I don’t see you working on the exploding toilets."
"The City has numerous other failing circuitry and situations that require my absolute attention," Zelenka sniffed.
John sidled closer, put on his best roguish smile. "I can’t believe what I’m hearing, Radek," he said, all friendly, warm tones, "Teyla’s your friend, isn’t she? Your pregnant friend. You’re saying you can’t spare an hour of your time to give her the greatest gift ever known to mankind?"
Zelenka glared at him, and snatched the paper from his hands. "This plan," he said, muttering under his breath in Czech, "I do not think you have thought it through."
"That’s what you’re for, Doc," John clapped the scientist on the back, "Knew you’d come through."
He was reasonably sure the string of rapid-fire Czech that followed wasn’t complimentary.
***
He caught up with Rodney later that evening, plunking down his tray opposite the scientist.
"Do not," Rodney growled, "look perky."
"Ronon’s rubbing off on you," John took a bite of his meatloaf, watching as Rodney moodily swirled his fork in the mess of gravy and something resembling mashed potatoes. He frowned. It was very rare indeed that McKay didn’t feel like devouring whatever was in front of him. "Hey, c’mon. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to play with your food?"
"I have three doctorates," Rodney grumbled, "I’m not a plumber."
"Degree doesn’t equal career."
Rodney waved his fork in a vaguely threatening way at him. "You’re a real Einstein, aren’t you?" he sniped, "Is that your own special theory of relativity, Colonel? God, you must have been a genius when you were growing up, brainwashed by the Baby Sheppard videos of absolutely convoluted and mundane logic - " he trailed off, his eyes widening.
"McKay?"
"Wait, wait, shut up for a second, thinking," Rodney said, and then just like that, he was happy again, all sulkiness forgotten in the blink of an eye. "Brilliant. So brilliant. I am a genius."
It seemed safe to tease. "Apparently Carter thinks you make a better plumber."
"Very funny, Colonel," but Rodney was starting to eat again.
"So what’d you think up?"
"The most ingenious gift for Teyla’s baby."
John processed that. "Wait a second," he said, frowning, "If you’re giving something to Teyla, and Ronon’s giving something to Teyla, and I’m giving something to Teyla - doesn’t that mean we’re throwing her a baby shower of sorts?"
Rodney thought it over.
"Fuck," he said.
***
The day of the not-baby-shower came quickly, and John had to work hard to keep anything from showing on his expression as he very, very carefully sparred with her.
"You should not be treating me any differently," Teyla warned him, "I am still perfectly capable."
"No worries," John said, even as he pulled back every blow and manfully endured bruise after bruise for his efforts. After he felt like every part of him had been hit twice over, and Teyla was likely sufficiently sidetracked, he signaled for a break and asked, "Say, do you want to take a walk to the North Pier?"
Her eyes narrowed. "A walk and not a brisk run?"
"No, no, I didn’t mean it like that," John tried to quickly backtrack, blabbering some reassurances about how he absolutely was not treating her pregnancy as some sort of bodily weakness, but rather as the amazing, magical thing that it was. Truly. Absolutely.
Fortunately he must have looked contrite and sincere enough that she relented, and John exhaled a sigh of relief. When they finally reached the door leading out to the North Pier, he sucked in a quick breath, thought open, and pushed her gently forward.
It was near the end of the day, the sun just setting over the crisp blue water, and bathing the pier in warm hues. There were ribbons, balloons, tables stacked high with wrapped gifts, plates laden with food, and everywhere, everywhere beaming faces.
John heard Teyla’s breath catch as she took in the sights.
"Surprised?" he said, grinning widely.
For the first time since he had met her, he saw her speechless. Her lips moved, curved upward, and to his delight and dismay, there was something suspiciously gleaming in the corners of her eyes as she reached and took his shoulders. "Thank you," she breathed, and John bowed his forehead to touch hers, breathing in the familiarity of her, feeling her lithe limbs tremble.
And then she was enveloped by the others - the women of Atlantis, all gushing their congratulations, offering gifts and waving clothes - so many tiny little outfits, matching shoes, and where had they acquired them all so quickly?
He was content to stand back and watch her enjoy herself, feeling a little bubble of warmth from her obvious joy and delight. He watched as Ronon drew her away for a few minutes, handing her a beautifully wrapped bundle, watched as they met foreheads and held their moment of tranquility for several seconds longer.
Finally, as the celebration was winding down, he took her arm and led her to his present.
Zelenka congratulated her with formal grace, and only a bit of fluster.
And then John pulled the tarp off his (all right, and Zelenka’s) masterpiece.
"It’s a swing set," he explained, running a hand over the perfectly smooth components, the secure lines, the comfortable, adjustable, brightly colored safety seat, the automated swinger and failsafes that he’d asked Radek to include. "Feels like flying."
"It is wonderful," Teyla said, her smile bright as the sun, and John remembered his first swing ride, of his feet leaving the ground, everything behind, the sky open, welcoming, his legs scissoring across the expanse of all that freedom and promise.
Teyla’s kid was going to know that feeling. John was going to make damn sure of it.
***
It wasn’t until after the party had ended, and Teyla was safely back in her room surrounded by gifts, that John found Rodney down in the lab.
"I didn’t see you there," he said, not quite accusing.
"I was there, had cake. And I told Teyla I’d give her my gift tomorrow."
John frowned. "While I’m sure she’d appreciate that - "
"It took me longer to make it than I thought!" Rodney said defensively, "There was a great deal of material to cover, and I didn’t want to cover refraction without including birefringence!"
"Uh-huh," John said, very slowly.
"Think of it this way," Rodney continued, "This way, it was only you who was throwing her the baby shower."
John groaned. "Your genius at work?"
Rodney waved the tapes in his hands, beaming. "After this, Teyla’s baby is going to be a genius too," he said happily.
end