For tielan who requested "Stargate Atlantis, John/Teyla, stuck in the mud."

Title: Nothing Like Pay-per-View
Fandom: SGA
Rating: Gen.
Words: Apx 1800

It isn't often that Teyla's innate skills of diplomacy fail her, but she isn't quite able to keep her displeasure from showing as she struggles to climb out of the slickest mud pit this side of Atlantis. Ronon shoves his hand in front of her face and for a moment she's tempted to pull him in before she grasps it and allows him to pull her back onto solid ground. He, at the very least, has managed to keep a straight face through this debacle, unlike John.

The mud on her skin begins to harden slightly and even starts to flake in spots as she exchanges the necessary formalities with the tribal leaders. After they leave Teyla manages to avoid looking at John altogether while Rodney babbles on about trade contracts and the impending agony of formal dinners that might contain the Pegasus Galaxy's equivalent of citrus. She knows he's still laughing and under other circumstances she'd be amused as well, but at the moment she's far too uncomfortable. Besides, there are times when that sparkle in John's eyes can render her temporarily incapable of rational thought and at the moment she requires all the clarity she can manage. It isn't until he touches her that she meets his eye.

"Doesn't look like it was too bad," he says as he plucks a limp, muddy strand of her hair from where it had begun to adhere to her shoulder. "It doesn't seem to be very gritty mud, at least." Teyla's shoulders clench slightly, resisting the unbidden urge to swing at him. "You know on my homeworld women pay a lot of money for skin treatments with clay like this." He swipes a finger along her collarbone and pensively rubs the residual mud between his thumb and forefinger as he speaks. "Facials and stuff."

"That's very interesting, I'm sure --," Teyla begins before Rodney's derisive snort cuts her off.

"This was hardly a day at the spa," Rodney quips. "I'd equate this little 'ritual' more with hillbilly barroom mud-wrestling than anything else."

"C'mon Rodney," John responds mildly, "it wasn't anything like that."

"No? Granted, I've never actually seen a hillbilly barroom mud-wrestling match, but, in case you missed some memo, I'm pretty intelligent and I have a fairly active imagination. Oh! And back at on Earth I had cable! Sometimes even pay-per-view so…"

"A warning would have been nice," Ronon interjects. "They made it sound like their priestess was going to just do some formal ritual, swipe Teyla's cheeks with some dirt and be done with it." He pauses for a moment to scratch the side of his nose, "I know I wasn't expecting a brawl. I'd have brought snacks."

"She was a warrior-priestess," Teyla says a little stiffly, tossing Ronon a heated glance and willing her shoulders to relax. "As unconventional as this practice may seem I'm sure it is merely a long-standing tradition designed to gauge both the trustworthiness and strength in a potential ally." She eyes her teammates wryly as she allows her short-lived annoyance to fade. "It is very good that none of you attempted to interfere when she first attacked me."

"Ronon didn't let me." John's voice is almost sulky, but his tone quickly switches to amused. "And then it just was too much fun to watch."

Teyla lets the arch of her eyebrow speak for her, although the full effect of the gesture is lost behind a thin layer of caked-on mud. A fleeting look of panic crosses Rodney's face and Ronon half covers a smile with his hand and a shuffling of feet. John remains unperturbed. "I just mean it was entertaining, that's all," he persists. "Besides, it was pretty obvious from the start that she was no match for you."

Ronon snorts. "That's an understatement."

"You probably shouldn't have broken her arm though," John added. "That might have been a little over the top."

"It was…regrettable," Teyla agrees without a trace of regret. "I'm ashamed to admit that she caught me off guard. My reaction was instinctive." She reaches up to rub at her shoulder absently, only now beginning to notice a few twinges of pain from where the priestess had landed a successful blow. "And it was only her wrist, John, not her arm. I'm certain she will recover fully."

"Well, as much as I'd like to stay and continue the play-by-play, there's some Ancient technology to be studied and maybe a zed P.M. to be found," Rodney says, impatiently tapping on his data tablet. "I'd like to get a head start before I'm forced to sit through this feast our hosts have planned."

"Sure. Sure. Go ahead. And take Ronon with you," John said.

"I am going to wash. Our new allies have informed me that it is customary to make use of the local hot springs after a…ceremony. Besides," Teyla adds, "I have a feeling that parts of me will find the heat more than welcome."

"Are you hurt?" John asks, all amusement evaporated. "We could hop back to Atlantis and have the doc take a look at you.

"I am fine, thank you," Teyla answers. "It has simply been a day of surprises."

"Aren't they all?" John grin flashes like sunshine as he glances at his watch. "Rodney!" he calls after their retreating teammates. "How much time do we have to kill before this evening's ritualistic feast-thing?"

"About three hours," Rodney hollers back before he and Ronon disappear behind a vegetation-covered stone wall.

"Perfect." John says to himself before turning to Teyla. "So, is this hot spring by chance a communal thing?"

The hot spring is both delightfully primitive and wonderfully relaxing; all Teyla wishes to do, now that her hair and skin are free of clay and soil, is to lean back against the rock seats the villagers have built into the pool and soak away the lingering pain and vague sense humiliation of the day. It is going to take all her resources to make it through whatever secondary traditional hoops this planet's inhabitants are going to expect her to jump through this evening and she wants to be as centered as possible before having to face them again. However all tranquility is lost soon after she closes her eyes with John's arrival.

"This is nice," he gushes, both splashing and water level alterations telling Teyla that he'd slipped into the water. "I didn't expect anything fancy, but this is a better setup than I thought it would be."

"Mmmm." Teyla murmurs noncommittally. "Nice. Yes."

"And hot."

"Mmmhmm." She keeps her eyes closed and centers herself again, clearing her mind of all distractions. For a time all she can hear is the bubbling of the pool and the distant animal and insect sounds that speak of life, productivity and prosperity. She is very close to achieving a perfect state of calm.

"So is your shoulder doing any better?" John's voice is practically by her ear and the nearness of it startles her so badly that she backpedals away gasping. "Woah. Hey." He holds his hands up defensively, apologetically, and drifts a little backward in the water himself. "Okay then. I didn't mean to freak you out." He tilts his head and affects a half whisper, "What is it? Are you naked?"

"No."

"Not that I'd mind..."

"John." Teyla says with a tone of warning in her voice.

"I can't say I'd blame you either; this water is incredible." He leans into a floating position and paddles around in a lazy circle. "Hell, if I had my way I'd be naked too."

"I said I am not…" she eyes him narrowly. "You are…what is the phrase…messing with me?"

"Maybe a bit."

"Why?"

"Could be because I haven't seen you smile since we landed on this rock." His feet bump into the side of the pool and he sits up, draping his long form onto one of the low rock benches.

"That is not true, John." Teyla settles back into her seat, sinking down until she is immersed to her chin. "I am sure I smiled quite graciously while accepting our host's congratulations."

"Big old crocodile grins."

"What are those?"

"Crocodile grins? Like crocodile tears only scarier."

"I meant what are crocodiles."

"Oh. They're animals. Big ones. Old. And…toothy?"

"I see? I think."

John flaps a hand dismissively, scattering droplets of water. "Forget it. Point is I haven't seen a real smile out of you yet and it almost has me worried."

Teyla shrugs, a gesture that loses a great deal of significance when almost completely obscured by water. "It has been a difficult day."

"You know I would have sent Ronon in had they not insisted on it being a 'woman's ritual,'" John airquotes.

"Yes, I know. I just wish…"

"What?"

Teyla sighs, "I am not fond of hurting people, John."

"The way I see it she had it coming."

"Perhaps, but even under those circumstances I would prefer to exercise some degree of restraint." Teyla raised somber eyes to his. "I lost a measure of control there for a moment, and I dislike the feeling."

John's mouth narrows and he nods a little before moving across to sit beside her. "How's the shoulder?" he asks.

"Sore, but nothing serious."

"Turn around." She angles away from him and leans against the bank while his hands lift her hair to the side before coming to rest, warm and firm on her shoulder. "Let me know if I'm being too rough."

"You will not hurt me, John."

"I won't on purpose, but I may hit a sensitive spot."

Minutes pass while his fingers knead into her flesh, unerringly finding knots of tension that Teyla hadn't even known she was carrying. It feels so wonderful she nearly groans. "I could become accustomed to this."

"Don't get too cozy. We still have a feast here in a bit."

"We do not have to go." She turns around to face him with mischief in her eyes. "Certainly Ronon can eat our portions."

"Now that's what I love to see." The corners of his eyes crinkle familiarly, teasingly. "That's exactly the kind of smile everyone's gonna expect from the guest of honor."

"I am more myself now," she replies, rising to find her towel. "It would have helped my temper had you not laughed so much, John."

"I'm sorry." She throws him a speculative glance as he climbs out of the water behind her. "Okay. Maybe not that sorry," he amends. "What can I say? It was hilarious!"

"You could have waited and we could have laughed at the situation afterward." Teyla tosses him a towel. "Together."

"You're right." He towels himself off a bit and then catches up with her on the path back to the village.

"So, does this mean that we're not going to get a reenactment back on Atlantis?"

fin