Disclaimer: I don't own SGA or Angel. That's Brad Wright or Robert Cooper or Joss Whedon.

Set after Unfamiliar Warmth (A1) and Cold (A2)

Fandoms: Stargate Atlantis/Angel

Prompt word: Size

Pairing: Ronon/Connor

Small Packages

Nearly everyone had gotten used to the fact that the kid that followed Ronon like a shadow wasn't as young as he looked. He was just petite, especially because he was always standing next to Ronon, who towered over pretty much everyone.

Sheppard had been kind enough not to demand that Connor display his abilities for everyone to see until he'd gotten settled, but they had a joint team mission with Lorne's team coming up and several of the marines were making noise about allowing an unknown entity loose in the field with both the Commander and XO of the city's military. Reed and Coughlin seemed to be especially wary, not surprising since they'd be in the field as part of Lorne's team. So a little show and tell had become necessary to nip the rumbling discontent in the bud.

"Don't worry," Ronon said, clapping a hand on Connor's shoulder. "You'll do fine." He watched as the training room slowly filled with wary military personnel and added absently, "Just don't break anybody."

Connor snorted, shrugging away the petting hand, making Ronon bite back a smile. Connor liked affection but the more people that were present, the more he shied away.

"They're not the first Normals I've sparred with," Connor murmured, glancing around.

His origins were mostly still secret, with only AG-1 and the top leaders of Atlantis knowing exactly where he came from and what he could do, and Ronon knew Connor preferred it that way.

Ronon shook his head and began moving away from him. "Fine, no broken bones, then," he said loud enough for several others to hear and watched as Connor's face crumpled into a pout. Most of the bystanders probably didn't understand that he wasn't talking about Connor's bones.

He smirked and went to stand next to Sheppard who was leaning with studied casualness against a training dummy. As both Commander of the Atlantis military contingent and his teammate, Sheppard knew exactly what Connor was capable of: knew that Connor's diminutive size hid savagery and strength unparalleled in Atlantis. He was more worried about the men who'd be sparring with Connor if his frowny glances were any indication.

"He won't break anybody," Ronon muttered, suddenly protective. Connor wasn't military, scientist, or Pegasus native. It'd be entirely too easy to boot him back to Earth.

"He might if they try playing with him," Sheppard countered.

"Then they'd deserve what they got," Ronon shrugged and Sheppard must have agreed because he didn't argue.

Connor stepped out onto the mat and tension in the room ratcheted up. He was such a small guy, especially compared to Landrum, who stepped up scowling. Connor kept his arms loosely down at his side and Ronon was pretty sure he'd already faded into that headspace marked 'Violent Motherfucker.'

The bout was shorter than it probably should have been. Connor ghosted away from most of the maneuvers and shrugged off the few glancing blows Landrum managed to land. A wild swing allowed Connor to catch his arm, swing him up, then flatten him to the mat with a loud SMACK!

Connor stepped away and Landrum rolled to his feet, massaging his shoulder joint. Landrum took a step forward and Sheppard must have come to some decision because he called, "Teyla."

She shifted through the crowd, stepping onto the mat as Landrum moved petulantly off to the sidelines. She handed Connor his set of bantos rods and they both moved into starting positions. There was some starting signal because suddenly there was a flurry of movement, bodies moving in a continuous twirling, circular motion as the wooden rods clanked against each other, every blow blocked in a dangerous game of trust. Ronon thought it was the most breathtaking thing he'd ever seen.

Then they sped up, becoming blurs until there was a shattering crack and splinters of wood went flying as one of each of their rods went to pieces. The entire room seemed to hold its breath until Teyla dropped what was left of her sticks and stepped into Connor's space, delicately pulling slivers of wood from his cheek.

"Everybody clear out!" Sheppard ordered to the silent, stunned crowd. Bantos rods were notorious for being made of extremely stout wood. Sheppard cut a swath through the crowd, Ronon following in his wake until they reached the center of the mat where Connor kept shifting Teyla in front of him so that Beckett couldn't reach him. "Teyla, Connor, you both okay?"

"We are fine," Teyla said calmly, still plucking bits of wood from Connor's face.

"I think you can go, Doc," Sheppard offered, trying to move Beckett along.

The doctor wasn't having it, stabbing a finger in their direction as he ordered, "They'll be in my infirmary at 08:00 tomorrow morning for an exam or I'll have your entire team grounded, Colonel."

Sheppard winced even as Teyla said, "We will be there. Goodbye, Dr. Beckett."

It was a clear dismissal and the Scotsman wandered away muttering to himself.

Connor's face twisted and he borderline whined, "I don't need a doctor." Teyla raised one stern eyebrow and he huffed, "Fine."

She patted his cheek, then tipped their foreheads together. "Very good. Now, I believe that is all."

Teyla was the only person on Atlantis that got away with such easy affection. It was as though Connor didn't know how to pull away without risking her feelings and that was the last thing he wanted to do. She patted his cheek again and they moved apart.

Teyla stepped into Sheppard, the two murmuring to each other with barely a foot between them. Ronon wasn't sure who they thought they were fooling.

Connor stepped up to Ronon, glaring. "See? Nobody broke."

The demand for a prize was implied and Ronon smirked. Guess he knew what he was doing with the rest of his day.