Why He Prefers Jumpers Of The Mechanical Kind
John had his first riding lesson at seven, wanting to be a cowboy. It was a pony, dappled grey. When he kicked it, it galloped at a full-out pelt the length of the field, and then stopped dead at the edge of the pond.
By the time he surfaced, spitting weed and brackish water, John had decided he liked the bit where he got to go really fast, but wasn't so keen on the actual pony part. He discovered aeroplanes shortly after and his fate and future were sealed.
His father wouldn't have minded the 'planes, trains, and automobiles' if only John had kept it as a hobby. Fortunately for John, his parents were not well-versed in how to deal with an adolescent rebel, and so he went into the Air Force instead of the colleges considered appropriate for a scion of the Sheppard clan.
"But you have still ridden a horse," Teyla says, eyeing the field with more than a little doubtfulness.
"Okay, yeah, I have. But that was a long time ago. And if I'm going to do this, then you're going to do this. All for one and one for all."
She eyes him. "Should not Ronon and Rodney be here if we are musketeering?"
"They sneaked out of it," he says as the stable master leads the horses out. "You're the only sucker."
Her mutter contains something about not listening to John's cowboy stories in future, and he grins as he checks his horse's saddlegirth and reins.
Her foot slips the first time she triest to mount, and although nothing's broken or bruised when she lands, she's a little shaken. It's comforting. She can deal with the Wraith and the Lanteans, the IOA and every culture from here to Atlantis; but the prospect of mounting a horse makes her nervous.
"If you laugh..."
John coughs. "I wouldn't do that to you."
The second time, she gets her leg up enough, and the horse sidles a little, but stays calm.
"So?"
"It is...high."
"You've been much higher than this."
"On things that I trust more, with people whom I trusted to control it."
He tilts his head. "You don't trust yourself?"
"I do not trust this creature," comes her tart reply, making the stablemaster laugh.
"I wouldn't let her know that," he says, slapping the horse's rump. "They can sense your fear."
Teyla's glare promises dire consequences for John as he climbs into the saddle. His seat's more like a sack of potatoes than a cowboy, but these days all the real cowboys are in the air.
"Remind me why I did not opt out of this as did Ronon and Rodney?"
"Because the alternative was listening to Rodney argue with Jeannie about his equations while Ronon watched daytime television."
"Ah."
They walk out of the yard, John keeping alongside Teyla to watch her seat, handing out instructions as he remembers them and watching her as she falls into the rhythm of riding. They move up to a trot around the dressage course.
"It is different to flying in a 'jumper," she says, her body moving with the rhythm of the horses. "More...immediate."
He knows she's teasing, but he responds on instinct. "Nothing wrong with a 'jumper."
"I did not say there was." From the corner of his eye, he sees her head turn, knows she's smiling at him. "But this is a more...immediate experience. We are not insulated from the wind and the weather."
John hides his smile. He figured she'd like it - one reason he made the invitation to her very definitively, while it was a tossed off note to the other two. A look at 'old Earth ways' and the peace of it, out of the city where the pace is slower and the countryside looks more like a Pegasus planet. "Wanna try a gallop?"
She takes a deep breath, but no-one ever accused Teyla of cowardice. "Yes."
There's wind in his hair and on his face, she's keeping up with him, holding on breathless but with a face alight with enjoyment, and John grins as he turns his view back to where they're passing - along a curved railing that runs past a pond.
He never sees what runs out in front of his horse, causing the creature to shy. His view is full of pond and duck and mud.
Teyla's still laughing half an hour later when they get back to the house.
- fin -