This is just a fun little one-shot inspired by the signature song in "Miss Potter." (hence, I did not write the lyrics). Hope you like it!

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

When You Taught Me How to Dance

Let me teach you how to dance

Let me lead you to the floor

Simply place your hand in mine

And then think of nothing more

Let the music cast its spell

Give the atmosphere a chance

Simply follow where I lead

Let me teach you how to dance...

"I sorta figured out the sound system in the sparring room," Rodney said through his mouthful of salad.

"So there is a sound system?" John said, his brow creasing. Rodney glanced up at the man sitting across from him.

"Sure. There's the city-wide communication system, and apparently, each room's speakers can be accessed and controlled by individual monitors."

"So...CD players?" John guessed hopefully.

"Well, yeah," Rodney allowed, taking another forkful. "I rewired a few things so that it would work with a standard CD player from Earth."

"So what? Now we can listen to music while we beat the crap out of each other?" Ronon cocked an eyebrow, nonplussed. He sat next to Rodney, and leaned back in his chair. Teyla, sitting next to John, also felt skeptical.

"I agree," she spoke up. "That sounds a little strange."

Rodney shot John a look.

"Hey, it was his brilliant idea," he said, taking a drink. John crossed his arms as the other two glanced questioningly at him.

"Yeah," John answered with light defensiveness. "I thought it would be cool. On Earth, I used to lift weights with music going, and there's music at every ballgame on Earth---well, except golf, which isn't really a ballgame---and I kinda miss it." He gestured to Rodney. "I asked McKay to see what he could do to help me out with that, 'cause the volume on my computer doesn't go loud enough and I don't want to bring it in that room to get whacked. And, naturally, there are no plug-ins for a CD player."

"Cool. Music to kick John's butt by," Ronon grinned wickedly. John glared at him.

"Well, I'm afraid you won't find much 'kicking' music, yet," Rodney admitted.

"Why not?" Teyla wondered, beginning to get slightly interested.

"Because, so far, the system will only play music that has certain cadences."

Teyla watched John's brow furrow.

"Such as?" he asked.

"Music that's in 3/4."

They stared at him. He looked at them all in disbelief.

"Did no one ever take a music appreciation class?"

John bit his lip, and Teyla realized that he probably had, but either had not paid attention, or did not want to admit it.

Rodney sighed.

"It's a time-signature, okay? It just means it won't play most kinds of music. Don't ask me why yet. It's some silly Ancient quirk." He pointed his fork warningly at John. "So don't mess with it. I obviously still have to get some bugs out."

"Scout's honor," John swore. However, Teyla could see in his eyes that he meant to disobey.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Later that evening, Teyla strolled through Atlantis, heading for one of the open balconies. Sometimes, on quiet nights, she liked to go out there, enjoy the cool breeze and listen to the sound of the waves breaking distantly against the base of the city.

A soft noise interrupted the silence. She slowed to a halt and canted her head, listening. It took her a moment to discern that it was some kind of music---and it was coming from the sparring room. Teyla smiled wryly.

John.

Swiftly and silently, wishing to sneak up on him, she whispered through the hallways until she came to the sparring-room door. She leaned her head against it, closed her eyes and tried to hear.

The music within consisted of stringed instruments, and had a masterful lilt to it that Teyla thought sounded pleasant, and the sound-system was so perfect that if she did not know better, she would think an entire orchestra stood inside. It was splendid. However, John apparently did not think so, for she soon caught the words:

"Well, crap," being muttered. "Five CDs and only one works..."

She waved her hand over the controls, and the door opened with a loud whoosh.

John sat in the corner, bent over a small CD player. His head whipped around, and he gazing back at her with widened eyes, like a little boy who has just been caught stealing some forbidden dessert. She could not help but chuckle.

"I thought Rodney told you not to do anything with that," she raised an eyebrow coyly and stepped toward him. He hurriedly got to his feet, the music still playing all around them.

"I...I, well, I just wanted to hear what it sounded like," he managed, clearing his throat. "I didn't break anything!"

Teyla laughed out loud this time.

"Don't worry," she assured him. "I won't tell him."

"Good," John said shortly. He stood there awkwardly, his thumbs in his belt loops.

"So," Teyla took a breath and glanced around. "What kind of music is this?"

"Strauss," John answered quickly, lifting his head.

"Um..." Teyla showed she did not follow.

"It's a...It's a waltz," John kept explaining. Teyla grinned. So he did understand some musical terms.

"What is a waltz?" she questioned. He shrugged.

"It's a dance...that people do...in ballrooms and such---formal occasions---back on Earth," he replied, a bit haltingly. Teyla lifted her eyebrows.

"Oh! Could you teach me?"

He stared at her, caught. Teyla fought back her smile.

"Uh...Well, not too many people know...how..." he tried.

"Do you?" she pressed. He shrugged, distinctly uncomfortable.

"Well I...yeah, but..." John colored deeply. Teyla felt a prick of sympathy and decided to relent. She did not want to bother him.

"You don't have to," she told him with a smile. "Goodnight, Colonel."

She turned and headed for the door.

"Wait, wait," he suddenly called. "Come back here."

Again forcing herself not to smile, Teyla turned around and came back to him. He glanced down at the floor.

"You've taught me all the bantos fighting I know--I might as well teach you something if you ask," he muttered. He cleared his throat again. "Okay, the step's pretty simple, actually. You just count: one, two, three; one, two three; one two three, like that." He demonstrated the steps, and Teyla could tell that he was still embarrassed, but he was going to ignore that for her sake. She found it rather touching.

She mimicked his steps at first, doing exactly what he did, until he glanced up and caught sight of what she was doing.

"No, no, you're...The woman's the mirror image of the man," he explained. "If I step with my right, you step with your left. You go where I go. See, watch. Try it."

Standing a few feet in front of each other, Teyla mirrored John as he stepped in this one two three fashion from side to side, then back, and then forward.

"I am still rather confused by this," Teyla admitted, stopping. "Why must I follow you? In none of the dances my people know do the women stand like this in front of the men and do everything they do."

John hesitated a moment.

"It's so we can dance together," John told her. "So you don't...step on my feet."

And then, taking a breath, he held out his left hand to her. She stopped for a moment, unsure, then slowly reached out and took his hand in her right. His fingers were warm. He stepped closer and slid his right hand around her waist.

"Put your hand on my shoulder," he instructed, albiet rather breathlessly. Swallowing as she obeyed, Teyla suddenly realized why he had blushed earlier.

Teyla had never stood this close to him before, simply looking up into his eyes. She had never felt him hold her this way. She found she could not breathe, and severely doubted whether or not she would be able to remember a single thing he had just taught her.

"And...this is the way...the dance goes?" Teyla murmured tightly. He gave her a small smile.

"This is the way the dance goes."

The music suddenly swelled, surrounding them both and surging through Teyla's awareness. With it, John pulled just slightly on her waist and urged her into the dance.

Instantly, Teyla was caught in a whirl of singing music, light steps and swirling feeling. Effortlessly, John traversed the whole floor of the sparring room, and Teyla---incredibly---followed him flawlessly. She felt the one two three rhythm in her heart, in her muscles, and was highly attuned to every hint John gave her, whether it was a slight lean of his body, a pull or push on her waist, or a flicker of his vibrant hazel eyes. Truth be told, however, he rarely looked away from her face, and she never took her eyes from his.

Once, he easily threw her out into a graceful twirl, and she followed as if she had read his mind. When he pulled her back in and they seamlessly continued, they both grinned unguardedly.

"That was pretty good, huh?" he beamed.

"Yes, yes," Teyla whispered, and he twirled her again.

Finally, the music slowed and the CD ended. The two came to a halt, then just stood there for a moment, looking at each other. John swallowed, then cleared his throat for the third time, glanced down and dropped his hands. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"How did you learn that, John Sheppard?" she asked, managing to gather her senses enough to inquire.

"I took a class...once," he mumbled. She laughed.

"But Teyla," he gave her an imploring look. "Don't gell McKay and Ronon that I know how to...you know..." He trailed off. She smiled.

"Your secret is safe with me," she told him, and started toward the door again. "But I have changed my mind about the sound-system. I think I like it."

"Yeah," he agreed, folding his arms in a bit of satisfaction. "It sounds pretty good, doesn't it?"

Teyla stopped in the doorway and looked at him for just another moment, dwelling on his handsome features, then nodded.

"Yes, it does. Goodnight, John."

"Goodnight, Teyla."

When you taught me how to dance

Years ago with misty eyes

Every step and silent glance

Every move a sweet surprise

Someone must have taught you well

To beguile and to entrance

For that night you cast your spell

And you taught me how to dance

THE END