Title: Water
Author: Pares
Recipient: lilac_way
Pairing/Rating: Teyla/Rodney, G
Length: ~1,300 words
Request: lilac_way who asked for cuddling, among other things.
Notes: Thanks to linabean for helpful suggestions. I apologize for the lateness, lilac_way!

Water
by Pares

Teyla means water in the oldest speech. It is not Ancient; it is not Latin, like the strong perfume that John keeps in a heavy green glass bottle. It is one of the First Words. Water, Earth, Fire, Sky. Water nourishes the earth, refreshes the people, clears the sky, fights back flame. Water is First; it is Before. In Athosian lore, there was water before there was sky, but Rodney has tried many times to tell her otherwise. She is willing to believe him, but she knows very well that without water, every world would be as bald as a skull and just as dead, so she thinks there is some room for interpretation concerning true beginnings.

Her second night back in Atlantis, she is getting ready for bed when the door chimes. Even though her people, what is left of her people, have been at last returned to her, she is not sure that luxuries such as hot showers and the ready availability of clean sheets are worth the loss of the culture she and generations of her people had grown up with, but they are some recompense just the same. Anticipating some emergency, she finds Rodney at her door looking harried, a laptop clutched in his arms.

"Do you mind if I work in here for a little while? Half an hour, tops. No one will think to look for me here."

She wonders whom he is avoiding, who would not be easily dissuaded by the tart dismissal she has often heard Rodney deliver.

"Certainly."

As Rodney taps at his laptop, Teyla logs on to her own, finishes her own report on the viability of treating with the Nizi for a portion of their next crop and reviews those of another team's recent trip through the ring. When these activities are complete, Rodney is still frowning at his screen, face intent, fingers absently nimble on his keyboard. She envies that skill; her typing is slow and her spelling is regrettable. That the reports are in a language not her own is no excuse.

She rises more slowly than she would like; the child is very near now, and has made her ungainly. Still, she showers and dresses for bed, and when she comes out of the washroom, combing out her wet hair, Rodney finally looks up. He blinks at her, confused, then abashed. His cheeks are pink and he mutters, "Um, time got away from me there. I should go. Thanks. For the, for the hospitality." He rushes out, and she turns the lights off, turns down her blankets and eases herself beneath them. She thinks of Kanan, his absence a raw ache that makes her child kick fretfully. She thinks of the lake on Athos for which Kanan was named; deep and cool, with strong currents twisting beneath its placid surface.

*

Four days pass (training, meetings, she sews a little buttoned jacket for her son-to-be, she brokers a trade agreement with the Nizi for part of their jyto leaf harvest; Keller believes it could be a new and non-addictive pain medication) and her door chimes again. This time Rodney has a laptop under one arm and a sweating bottle of grape soda under the other. "I figured if I was going to hit you up for a hideout, I should at least make it worth your while."

Teyla is surprised that Rodney remembers that she favors the fizzy purple drink; she does not often drink it, and never in front of the Athosian children, because she knows that Halling has (valid) concerns about the nutritive value of such a sugary beverage, and even ready access to Atlantean dental technology does not ease Halling's vigilance about oral health. Smiling, she brings out two tea mugs and Rodney lets the soda gush into them to the brim, a cool breeze of strange, candied fruit that she can taste on the back of her tongue even before she takes her first sip. Rodney knocks their mugs together, his fingers brushing hers briefly, and says, "Bottoms up," knocking back his soda in one swallow. Taking rather more time to savor the tickle and almost overpowering sweetness of the drink, Teyla retires to her bed, tucking her feet beneath her while Rodney opens his laptop and all but disappears behind it, his face a mask of focused concentration. Much later, the soda now flat and warm in her cup, she realizes she has been drowsing; the child demands much of her, it seems, and her dreams have been restless. She lifts her head to find Rodney's eyes on her, peering past the dull gray luster of his laptop monitor. He looks thoughtful, sober, even anxious—and then he realizes she has caught him watching her and blushes much as he had the last time he had been in her room. "I'll just get out of your way and let you get to bed. Thanks. Again."

"I am glad to offer you such refuge, Rodney," she says wryly, but she means it, and from Rodney's pleased expression, she knows he can hear that.

*

Rodney is sweating freely, his fingers almost a blur as he keys in the new coding for the shields—it no longer only absorbs the Wraith's energy weapons, but reflects them, obliterating darts, cruisers, and finally, twelve of the sixteen descending motherships. When the remaining ships turn tail, Rodney does not quite faint, but Ronon shores him up anyway, and John brings them all frosted bottles of beer (she takes only a single ceremonial sip) and they drink to him in turn. Three or four thirsty swallows later, Rodney sets his own bottle down with deliberate steadiness and states that he will be in his bed for the next 48 hours. When he leaves, Teyla paces behind him, and when he stands in front of his room for a long moment, looking vaguely baffled by his own doorway, she touches his shoulder. He startles and turns his head.

"Teyla?"

Without speaking, she folds her hand around his and leads him into his room, turning down his bed and helping him under the blankets. When he has hidden his face in the pillow, she strokes his hair and his rapid breathing eases.

"You. You must be exhausted, too."

"I am rather tired," she agrees.

Beneath her hands, Rodney stills, as if steeling himself for something. She caresses the rather graceful curve of his skull and bends her head to kiss his temple.

"If you would make room, I could rest with you," she tells him.

Turning his head, one eye of startling blue peers up at her, wide and almost frightened. A moment passes before he shifts, lifting the blankets so she can settle against him, his arm hesitant but warm around the low hill of her belly as he tucks his knees into the crooks of her own, his breath soft against her hair.

"Is that... is he kicking?" He cups a hand against her, firm, even pressure, and together they feel the child moving within. "Have you decided on a name yet?"

She shakes her head and tells him, "Ronon means 'chosen'. He says it is a fine name for a boy or a girl."

"Well. It has a certain... gravitas."

"What does 'Rodney' mean?"

"'Famous'," he says immediately. "Also 'from the island clearing'."

"That is very nice," Teyla decides.

"I was named after my mother's favorite uncle." He pats her belly once, cautiously, and then seems to relax against her. "Is Teyla a family name? Did you have a warrior princess as a great aunt?"

"Teyla is a traditional name for the first daughters of those who lead. It means 'water'." She can almost hear Charin’s voice, wry and soothing, telling her that Teyla meant many things: strength and serenity and persistence. The fluid acceptance of constant change. And as she turns, slowly, even gracelessly, to face Rodney and draw him close, grazing her lips against his cheek, she recalls that it is also a body that surrounds an island.

END