Title: Dance
Rating: T
Disclaimer: The characters, etc, of SGA don't belong to us. For fun, not profit.
Comments: This fic was written for the Beya Valentine Challenge, Hearts That Beat As One. Thanks to my wonderful beta reader, kariesue.
Dance
John adjusted his tie, trying to loosen it without looking sloppy. Right before Atlantis had returned to Pegasus, Richard Woolsey had taken him aside.
"Colonel, I just wanted to let you know that you might want to pack a nice suit this trip," he'd said genially. "After the trial with the Coalition, the IOA is committed to flexing our muscle more through diplomacy than, well... muscle." Woolsey had lifted an eyebrow at him. "And as I understand it, you're not too fond of your dress uniform."
It was true. John had always hated wearing dress blues. Mostly because it felt so pretentious, but also because he'd had to wear the goddamn thing throughout his court martial hearings.
So he'd picked out a great suit. How to choose the right fabrics, how to find a good tailor—that much he'd learned from his father. The weight of the suit was just right and he was grateful that Woolsey had warned him about it in time for this Adian reception.
The Adians were an odd people. Obsessed with the Ancients, not for technological or spiritual reasons, but for aesthetics. Wanting to emulate the Ancestors, they'd compiled quite a collection of Ancient artifacts, everything from furniture and art to technology and even jewelry.
An Ancient research facility had become the Adians' headquarters and the citadel of their town. Rodney had nearly salivated when the team had walked into the Adian art museum and found a vast collection of Ancient devices, and the party they now attended was in honor of the burgeoning new trade agreement between Atlantis and Adia.
Of course, McKay wasn't here for the requisite formal party, John reflected. Funny how Rodney always managed to squirm out of stuff like this. John had to admit it wasn't bad as formal functions in Pegasus went. It was a nice night, with a breeze blowing off the ocean into what the Adians had designated as a ballroom. The décor was early Ancient—Gothic with a touch of Star Trek.
A Billie Holiday-wannabe was crooning over the sounds of a small orchestra, and John had to admit she sounded pretty good. He was drinking something that was not quite whiskey and not half bad. Lorne had accompanied them and looked distinctly uncomfortable in his dress blues and John suppressed a smile. Guess Woolsey hadn't gotten around to warning Lorne about the new dress code.
.
.
Sighing as the sleeve of her white dress snagged on the Ancient ring, Teyla tried to quell her irritation. She did not enjoy formal functions such as these—they felt stale and pretentious. But Mr. Woolsey had insisted and Teyla knew that she needed to be here; she was the one who had negotiated the initial agreement between the Adians and Atlantis.
The beaded fabric finally slid over the ring, and Teyla twisted it so the blue stone lay on top of her finger again. The Adians had loaned the rings to their Lantean guests for the evening as a gesture of friendship—and when John and Teyla had hesitated to take them, Woolsey shot them a glare that had them tripping over themselves to accept the proffered rings.
John had taken one first—a heavy silver band with a simple blue stone in the middle. The stone lit up as soon as he had slipped it onto his finger, and Arturo's eyebrows had gone up. "Truly you are a descendant of the Ancestors. I have never seen one of the trade rings glow."
John had chosen one for Teyla—a delicate thing with a swirl of filigree that swept up to her knuckle—and when had touched it, its stone had glowed blue, too.
Teyla adjusted the dress around her as she looked in the mirror. When the invitation to the ball had first been extended, Teyla had tried to extricate herself by saying she had nothing so formal to wear, but the eyes of Arturo's wife had lit up.
"Then allow me to dress you. Just let me get your measurements..." Lenai had cooed, and there had been no backing out after that.
And the gown did fit beautifully. Teyla wondered if she would be allowed to keep it.
.
.
The room was filling with more couples, and John spotted Lorne very carefully avoiding looking at a few of the women... apparently the Adian women didn't mind showing a little skin. John wondered what Teyla's dress would look like.
"John."
He turned to find an exotic creature and it took a full three seconds for him to realize that it was Teyla. Her hair was sleeked back from her face and something silver was dusted over her eyelids and swept up her temples. She looked so foreign that he felt a momentary shyness in front of this mysterious woman. Her silver dress was long sleeved with a high neck and fit like it had been made for her. John squelched the sudden wish that her dress were as low cut as some of the other women's.
"Teyla. You look great." More than great, he thought, but just smiled at her.
"Thank you. And you are looking handsome yourself." She smiled back, then glanced around the room. "Have you seen Mr. Woolsey?"
John gestured with his glass. "Next to the bar. Shmoozing."
"Thank you." Teyla turned to walk away, and suddenly John was choking on his almost-whiskey. The dress was completely backless, and her golden skin was exposed from the nape of her neck as far as... well, as far as was decent.
"John, are you all right?" Teyla had turned back, concerned.
"Fine," he choked, eyes watering and throat burning. "Just went down the wrong pipe," he explained, indicating his glass, trying not to think about how the small of her back curved into her— "I'm fine." he coughed again, nodding.
"Very well." She turned and walked away, and John looked away to see Lorne across the room, grinning at him.
.
.
"Teyla," called Mr. Woolsey, as she approached him. "You look so lovely," he said, voice full of admiration.
"Thank, Mr. Woolsey." She took in the broad smile on his face, his relaxed demeanor. "You are enjoying yourself immensely," she observed, happy to see him so at ease.
"Yes, I suppose I am. I do feel most at home in this type of environment," Woolsey mused, twirling a fluted glass of Adian champagne between his fingers.
"I confess it is not my first choice of ways to spend an evening," Teyla said, "but there are worse ways to pass the time." She smiled up at him, then turned to survey the room. The dance floor was filling already, and she spotted John weaving his way toward her through the crowd .
"I see you have recovered," she said solemnly when he reached her side. She tried to hide her amusement only a little—she was suspicious that his coughing fit had been more about the back of her dress than about swallowing his drink.
He seemed sheepish, but just grinned down at her. "I'm fine now." He hesitated, then asked, "Would you like to dance?"
Teyla was surprised by the question, and although his body language did not betray it, she got the distinct impression that he was nervous about whether she would accept his offer.
"Of course," she said slowly. "But I did not realize you knew how to dance."
"Like it's so hard?" he teased.
"No, I suppose it is more accurate to say that I did not realize you would want to dance," she explained.
He smiled a little at that. "My parents used to have these big parties for my dad's work. Early on I figured out that the evening went by a lot faster if I danced with a pretty girl."
Teyla laughed. "Very well." She thought she detected a shade of bitterness in his voice, perhaps toward his parents, but she felt anxiety there, too, so she headed toward the dance floor, wondering at how transparent John seemed tonight. It was usually difficult to read him, but tonight he seemed an open book to her.
As they reached the floor, an Adian man passing by slid his eyes appreciatively down Teyla's body and back up, leering a little.
Back off, asshole, John snarled behind her.
Stunned, Teyla whirled to see the man walk past John without incident. John's face was smooth and innocent, and she realized suddenly that she had not actually heard his voice.
"John?" she asked, confused.
"Hmm?"
"Did you say something?" she gazed up at him searchingly.
"No," he shook his head. "You ready to dance?"
.
.
John took Teyla into his arms and they began to sway to the music. They started off with a kind of two-step that turned into a modified fox-trot. John was surprised by how quickly she picked up the dance—it was like sparring only easier because she wanted him to win. They circled the dance floor easily, and it seemed to John as though she could read his mind, following his lead with effortless grace.
He looked over at Woolsey surrounded by a group of politicians, clearly in his element. John used to hate going to these kinds of parties. They were always full of pressure to schmooze with his father's colleagues and make a good impression, present a good front, all that crap. But he didn't have any responsibilities here, and John relaxed a little, reflecting that Woolsey was more than capable of handling the diplomatic situation.
And he was dancing with Teyla. He'd surprised even himself by asking her, but as John had approached her and Woolsey by the bar, he had gotten the impression that she was feeling out of place and uncertain, and he had impulsively offered to dance.
He carefully kept his hand on her upper back, resisting the temptation to slide it lower, and looked down at her. She kept gazing up at him with an odd expression, and he got the feeling that he was being examined.
.
.
John was an excellent dancer, Teyla realized. He had great rhythm and seemed to know instinctively how she liked to be led. They circled the dance floor again, and he seemed more and more relaxed as they swayed to the music. So relaxed that it seemed she could read his thoughts—he seemed absurdly happy to be dancing with her.
Teyla looked over at her hand in John's and noticed that the blue stones in both of their rings were glowing even more brightly than before, and suddenly things began to make sense. She looked up at him appraisingly.
John.
"Yes?" he answered, looking down at her questioningly.
"I did not say anything," Teyla replied quietly.
"Oh." He looked confused.
But you can hear me, she thought.
"Of course I can hear y—" His eyes widened and he grew abruptly silent.
You can hear me, can you not? Teyla held his gaze.
I can. His expression was stunned. I can hear your thoughts.
Yes, she thought. It is the rings. It must have happened gradually.
He glanced down at the glowing stones. I must have activated them when I touched them. Think the Adians know about this little feature?
No, I do not think they are aware, she responded.
You can hear what I'm thinking. John's mental voice was full of a realization that suddenly turned into alarm, and he stumbled a little as they danced. She held his hand more firmly, trying to ease his fears, but he was sliding into a tailspin of panic at the idea that Teyla could read his thoughts. Walls flew up and doors closed, and she could not help but be impressed at the mental discipline he possessed.
He was tense now, stiff as they danced across the floor, trying to keep time and keep her out all at once.
It is all right, John. I promise not to hold anything you think against you, she teased, trying to calm him. He smiled tightly and looked down at her, but she did not need to read his expression to taste his thoughts.
At first she saw the party through his eyes, how bored he had been before she arrived; then she watched him thinking of Atlantis and felt his love for the city; felt him reading the faces of those around them as they danced, always on alert for danger.
And underneath that a current of thought so strong that he could not hide it from her. He tensed as he sensed her approach, but could do nothing to keep her from it, and she saw the great wave of emotion he felt for her, was always feeling for her at every moment. He was in love with her.
It nearly took her breath away, and he tried to pull away from it, using all his efforts to shut down any wayward thoughts. Of course, trying not to think of them made him think of them even more, and she caught flashes of heated desire and hidden longing.
John angled his head away from hers, his face strained, and a rush of sympathy for his obvious embarrassment filled her.
John, it is all right, she repeated. Here. She opened her mind to him, made herself warm and approachable, inviting him in so that he did not feel so defensive.
.
.
She was amazing. It was all John could do to keep step with her, in the dance and in her thoughts. Her mind was incredibly strong, remarkably like a Wraith Queen, although a Queen was all cold stone where Teyla was warm heart. He realized that Teyla could do some serious mental damage to him, just as she had once feared a Queen would crush Torren.
And she was not afraid to let him in, to let him see her response to her discovery of how much he cared for her—because she felt as much for him. He was stunned and humbled to realize that all these years, he had been her compass, her center point, even when she had been with Kanaan so briefly.
I didn't know you felt that way, he thought quietly.
Teyla smiled slightly. I know, she replied.
They were still dancing and he realized that he had stopped leading and she had stopped following; they were dancing together, each knowing exactly how the other would move. The music was slow now and the couples spun languidly on the floor, and he pulled her closer, up against his chest.
What they were doing seemed positively indecent in public, although to those around them they seemed to be merely dancing closely. But her thoughts were in his and he was in her mind and to John it felt like an incredibly intimate act. He closed his eyes and the embarrassment he'd felt at her discovery of his affections slipped away, and he relaxed into her thoughts, allowing her into his own mind.
The song began to wind down, and when she silently wondered if they should join the rest of their group, he led her into a room off the dance floor. It was empty except for the light of Adia's twin moons and he pulled her closer and set his mouth to hers fiercely, not asking if she wanted to be kissed, because he knew she did.
.
.
To kiss John under normal circumstances would have been exhilarating, but this kiss was so much more. Teyla reveled in the feel of his mouth against hers and his arms around her, but she was also aware of how the kiss was affecting John—she could sense the excitement and eagerness he felt and could feel the arousal that swept through his body at her reaction to him. And he knew that she knew he could feel her response and it all spiraled higher and higher, each acutely aware of the other's experience.
The intensity of sharing each other's thoughts as they kissed left them both a little breathless, and finally John pulled away.
Wow. He stared at her, wide-eyed, and she could feel the blood thrumming in his veins and pounding in his head.
Teyla laughed, enjoying his stunned excitement, and looked down at the ring on her finger. I wonder...
She slid the Ancient ring from her finger, and it was like stepping out of a warm bath into cool air. The sudden solitude in her mind was jarring, and she could see on John's face that he felt it too. She slipped the ring back over her knuckle, and the stone lit up again. The warm flavor of his mind was in hers once more, and she wondered at how quickly she had become accustomed to his presence.
John pulled her body tightly up against his, and she felt his disappointment as he remembered that they would have to give the rings back eventually. Teyla found herself wondering if the Adians would allow them to keep the rings until morning, imagining what it would be like to wear them in bed all night with John. At that thought, a wave of desire from John crashed over her, and she realized that John's stranglehold on his self control was all that kept him from taking her hand and finding a bed right then.
Instead he bent and kissed her again, slowly this time, lingering in the sensations from both of them.
When Teyla became aware again of the sounds of the party in the ballroom, she thought reluctantly, We should go back.
He was loath to end their private moment, but his sense of obligation was stronger. She also felt a hope and a lightness in him that she realized was new even to him—he was thinking about how things would stand between them after tonight. She allowed him to feel her own hope, and he smiled down at her, his expression softer than she had ever seen it.
So do you want to keep dancing with me? he asked.
It came to her that John was asking not one but two questions, and one was not about literal dancing. He held her gaze, and she saw that he was asking much more.
"Yes, I want to keep dancing," Teyla said aloud, and answered his other question silently. Yes. She took his hand and led him back onto the dance floor.
FIN