Disclaimer: Don't own anything.
Summary: Written while I was at work. The teacher I was subbing for didn't leave any lesson plans, so I didn't actually have to teach anything and had a moment to get some writing done. Just a blurb, takes place after Missing but before Quarantine.
"All military and civilian personnel making scheduled, even routine visits to friendly or unknown planets must be armed at all times," Carter reads off of the list she holds in her hand. "It is recommended that you learn to carry concealed weapons. If the Wraith or Genii are going to play dirty, I say we can, too."
Ronon stands leaning against a wall in the gate room next to John and Rodney, arms crossed. He nods at Sam when she looks at him, mentioning the concealed weapons part.
"Anyone needing tips on how to hide your weapons, I would recommend talking to Ronon," Samantha half-jokes, although everyone can easily hear the tone of her voice suggesting that it isn't just for a laugh. Ronon is definitely the person to go to for lessons in self-preservation.
Which is why, six hours later, when Jennifer is scheduled to make a short trip to drop off medical supplies to a local village, John sends Ronon to suit her up.
"Hey," he says when he strides into the locker room.
"Hey," she replies. She smiles at him.
He doesn't smile back, but doesn't frown, either. Instead, he looks as though he is thinking very intensely. Ronon is carrying a small hide bag full of blades and a roll of painter's tape. He puts the bag down on the bench next to her. Jennifer reaches out, opens the bag a little, and peers into it. About thirty blades rest there.
"Exactly how many knives are we planning on hiding here?" she asks, somewhat amused.
His tone is serious. "As many as we can."
She wants to laugh in disbelief, but he looks too somber. Instead, she looks him in the eye. "Thanks, by the way."
Ronon shrugs. "If everyone does this from now on we may not have as many casualties."
Ronon does not let on that he has been worried about her going on missions since she and Teyla were kidnapped by the Genii. Somewhere inside, he tells himself it's because she is a member of the team; a good, sweet, innocent friend who has not been trained to take care of herself the way the others are seasoned in combat. She must be protected. Somewhere that is also deep inside is whispering to him that he would like to have her as more than a friend. Ronon pictures this thought resting down in his anatomy, and pretends that he can squash the thought away somewhere between his liver and pancreas by flexing. Pretending does not work, though, and the same place where the thought comes from also hopes that she is impressed by his flexing his muscles.
Jennifer is.
Ronon kneels down, and before Jennifer can say anything or protest, he is lifting up her left pants leg, pulling aside her sock, and taping a knife there. He does the same to the inside of her ankle, before carefully pulling her pants hem down. He copies his actions on her right ankle. She already has four knives hidden, and is surprised at how much more secure she feels. Ronon moves his way up her leg, placing knives in the various flat pockets that are sewed into her pants. He reaches into the bottom of the bag, and pulls out a leg holster. Jennifer jumps when he reaches through her legs to fasten the band around her thigh.
It's not that she minds that startles her. It's that she doesn't.
He looks up at her. "Too tight?"
Jennifer shakes her head briskly. "No-uh, just…No. It's fine." She flushes with embarrassment.
Ronon motions for her to stand up. Using his index finger, he pulls a section of the fabric of her pants away from her waist, exposing a tiny bit of skin by her hip and her purple cotton Hanes underwear.
She jerks when he does this, because never before has she been touched with such striking intimacy. Jennifer wishes fleetingly that she'd worn something more…lacy, she supposes, sexy, something small and black from Victoria's Secret, but then vituperates herself inside her head, reminding herself, "He is a friend. A fr-ie-nd. A colleague."
When she nearly yelps, Ronon's eyes meet hers questioningly.
"Ticklish," Jennifer explains.
She misses the smile that is hiding in the right corner of Ronon's mouth that curves into a smirk when he sees her panties. He takes a knife, places it, cool and sharp, into a sheath, and tapes it to the creamy skin of her hip, then somewhat reluctantly removes his finger. One knife hiding there would have been fine, but Ronon suddenly finds himself unable to help placing one on the other hip, too. Then, his hands rest on her hips a second more than they need to while he turns her around. He lifts up the back of her shirt, and tapes a knife there at the small of her back, before lifting her shirt up just a little more, and taping one along her spine. He carefully puts her shirt back down, then reaches up, pulls the neck of her shirt down to expose the area between her shoulders, and tapes a weapon there.
Ronon turns her back around and takes her wrist. Jennifer's heart drops into her ribcage for a moment, then bounces back up and beats rapidly to make up for lost time. Ronon has her left wrist in his right, and he uses his left hand to push her shirt sleeve back while he places a knife there, and copies the hiding place on her other wrist. His hand lingers longer than need be before her hand drops to her leg.
"I think that's all you're going to be able to hide for now," Ronon tells her. I'll hide some in your bag for you, and you can always carry some in your medical supplies, but, for the moment…"
They stare at each other, silent. Ronon clears his throat as if to say something, but the words die before they reach his tongue. There is static in the air and they both know it. Ronon steps away abruptly, and, inexplicably, Jennifer suddenly feels cold.
She comes to her senses, aware that the silence between them has grown entirely far too large. "Thanks for your help." Her words are near a whisper.
Her lips feel dry suddenly. She wants to speak, to tell him something, but she can't find the words, nor accurately describe the emotion she is feeling. It is not lust and it is not need, but it is lost somewhere between the two. And, for a terrible moment, Jennifer feels so lonely, and tears nearly spring to her eyes. She turns away quickly.
Ronon reaches out in a swift moment and captures her hand. "Jen."
Jennifer whips her head back so quickly to face him she almost swears she hears her neck pop. "Yeah?"
"Be careful." He has not been assigned to go with her on this trip, and will not be there to protect her, a thought that is eating him alive.
She nods and swallows hard.
Ronon begins to walk away backwards, still holding her hand as his arm stretches out, sliding down her finger when he steps back too far, then his hand drops lifelessly as he tears himself away.
Her hand tingles, and her lips that were so dry a moment ago are now smiling.