Black Dress, White Shirt. Black Suit, White Dawn 2, Teyla/John & Teyla/Bruce, 'SGA/The Dark Knight'
Title: Black Dress, White Shirt. Black Suit, White Dawn, part 2
Summary: “It’s John,” she murmured, “he’s been attacked by the Wraith.”
Characters: Teyla, Alfred & Bruce
Pairing: Teyla/Bruce
Rating: T
“Wayne Manor.”
Teyla smiled at the familiar English accent but her happiness was short lived as the wind gusted painfully cold rain against her back. Her hair lashed at her face and she had long since stopped trying to get it back into the elastic grip that had been holding it.
“Alfred,” she said loudly, though she was sure the wind swallowed her words, “it’s me.”
“Ah, Miss Emmagan,” he said in welcome, even as the electric buzzer sounded to grant her entrance.
She didn’t pause to hear if he said anything more; instead, she ran up the long drive way, the wind pushing her this way and that. She almost tripped on the cobbled ground, her hell sticking between the gaps but she managed to regain her balance and continued her journey up to the Manor. At night, it was lit by up-lighters and was visible from the top of both the Wayne and Sheppard Enterprise Buildings but tonight she could not afford to stop at watch it with the usual awe.
At the door, Alfred was already waiting, blanket in hand and arm outstretched to take her heavy woollen coat from her. She thanked him as she slid into the warmth of the building, seeing that Alfred had lit the fire in the main hall - hopefully the one in the lounge was as full and warm as the one she was currently staring at.
“I don’t know why Master Wayne doesn’t just give you the pass code,” Alfred continued as he hung her jacket up and began to rub the ends of her hair with a large towel.
She turned to him, taking the towel from his hands and thanked him. She was not used to others tended to her as Alfred did every time she arrived at the Manor and, despite her pleas to stop, he still dedicated his evening to serving her every wish. She supposed it was what made him so very good at his job but sometimes... her working class background could not understand it.
“Is he in, Alfred?” She asked, knowing better than to converse with the butler about the pass code to the Manor. It was a sticking point between the three of them and when asked if he trusted her, Bruce replied in the affirmative. But still, she wasn’t allowed access to the Manor.
“I’m afraid not, dear,” he said regretfully as he led her to the kitchen where a pot of soup was steaming away on the stove. Teyla recognised the scent and smiled enigmatically at Alfred. “It’s your favourite,” he said knowingly with a wink and Teyla smiled at him.
He didn’t ask as he ladled some of the steaming broth into a bowl and handed it to her, a piece of crusty bread appearing beside the bowl a moment later.
“Thank you, Alfred.”
“That should warm you up until Master Wayne gets here.”
She smiled and she spooned soup into her mouth, glad of the heat that quickly spread through her body. The first time she had come to the Manor, it had been winter and Alfred had offered her a bowl of his carrot and parsnip soup and in the three years that followed, she’d become addicted to it.
“I should learn to cook this,” she said as she pushed the empty bowl away, nibbling on the last pieces of bread. “Though,” she said with a laugh, “I don’t imagine it would turn out any better than my turtle root soup.”
Alfred made a face and she laughed, a light sound that echoed off the vast walls of the spacious kitchen.
“Even the name, dear, never mind your cooking, make that soup less appetising.”
She raised a challenging eyebrow which he returned. They stared at one another for long moments before she laughed, conceding defeat.
“You’re right, Alfred.” She chuckled as he lifted the plate. “Maybe I should employ you in the winter months so you can keep me fed and warm.”
He turned back to her and a lazy smile spread across his face. He studied her for a moment before looking away.
“Perhaps by next winter you will have.” She frowned and he shook his head. “Never mind.”
“No Alfred,” she protested, placing a hand on his wrist, “what were you saying?”
He shook his head and turned away from her and the blanket fell around her shoulders as she reached out to grip onto him again.
“It is not my place,” he told her knowingly. She arched an eyebrow but he moved away. “Master Wayne should be home soon; I’ll get the lounge ready for you.”
--
“Alfred said something interesting to me earlier,” Teyla told Bruce as they lay in bed together later that night. She shivered slightly as he drew lazy patterns on her back and she smiled up at him as he ducked his head down to hers.
“Yeah?” She nodded. “And what was it?”
There was a tone in his voice that told Teyla he already knew what she was talking about. She stilled as her meandering finger came across a raised graze on his shoulder and she sat up, and investigated the marks.
“How does a business man get so many bruises?” She asked inquisitively and she felt Bruce tense beneath her. She raised her to meet his and was startled to see the apprehension in his eyes. “What is it Bruce?”
He took a breath and for a moment, Teyla thought he was about to open up to her. Instead, he smiled and shook his head, drawing her to his body.
“It’s just those classes at the gym.” She lifted an amused eyebrow and he kissed her forehead. “The guys are tough.”
“So are you,” she replied as she peppered his neck with feather light kisses. “I should know,” she murmured against his chest, relishing in the way he groaned at her touch, “I trained you.”
He gripped her head and tugged her up her body, and she smiled down at him as he traced her features, his eyes drawing her in. His sharp features were highlighted against the moonlight that filtered into the room, the growth he would shave off in the morning delightful to her touch.
“Yes,” he murmured as he tugged her down to meet his lips. “You did.” She moaned as his words vibrated against her lips. “Now let me train you.”
She was helpless to contest.
--
Teyla woke to the sound of ringing and the feel of an empty bed. Outside the large bay windows, the rain still feel, falling vertically from the sky in the absence of the wind. The sound was almost soothing and she felt herself slip back into slumber as the incessant ringing stopped. It was a short lived reprieve, as the sound started once again and Teyla groaned, tucking her head into the pillow.
“Hello?” She mumbled against the pillow as she drew her cell phone to her ear. Normally, Wayne Manor was a fortress against cell signal but as she listened to the words the speaker on the other end of the line uttered, she was so very glad these radio waves had breached her fortress.
Fleeing the bed quickly, her hands shaking, she tried to pull on the clothes that lay discarded around the room. Her legs shook as she tugged on her still damp work trousers, her arms shook as she lifted them to pull on her shirt and her stomach rolled with each step she took.
The hallways of Wayne Manor were dark, except for a few up-lighters at the edges of the rugs like a runway. She found the stairwell with practiced ease and slid down it, turning right at the bottom and making her way down the partially lit corridor to the bureau. Light seeped out from under the door and she put her shaking hand on the handle.
The door opened and Bruce walked out, straight into her and she let out a startled shriek. He gripped her shoulders, the concern in his eyes evident.
“What’s wrong?”
Then the tears fell, burning down her face and she fell into his chest, his arms wrapping her to his chest.
“What is it?” He asked but she barely heard him through her sobs. “Teyla, tell me what’s wrong.”
She pulled back from him slightly and hiccupped as she tried to control her sobs but it was no use. The tears flowed over her eyelids despite her minds protests and she collapsed into his chest again.
“It’s John,” she managed through in a strangled voice, “he was attacked by the Wraith.” She sobbed again as Bruce held her tighter. “Jeannie just called from the hospital; they don’t think he’s going to make it.”
Bruce drew back from her looked down to her face and she was barely aware of his fingers brushing away the tears on her face.
“We’ll take the Lamborghini.”