This is just a super short thing that popped into my head while reading 'A Moment Of Change' by gategirl. Her fic inspired me :) Enjoy.
THE LAST OF THE POPCORN
Sundown (Part 1/1)
At dusk he makes his way to a balcony on the far side of the tower. He does it every day.
It's a rarely used path, and that portion of the tower just as rarely sees people.
Except for him.
And one other person.
Every day at dusk she makes her way down to the same spot. It was a happy accident the first time, then after that it was just something they did. The two of them. There were chairs there now, and a little table. Sometimes John brought beer. Sometimes Teyla brought Athosian wine.
This night though, the table and chairs were empty.
John stood by the railings, watching the sun fade, and waiting for Teyla.
He could hear her soft footsteps rounding the bend, but he didn't turn to her approach.
She slides up beside him, and he extends his arm out, pulling her in. Her arm slips around his waist, and that's how they stand; watching the sun sink into the ocean, even as the water reflected the light like a swath of liquid gold.
The sky was so brilliantly red; he could swear it was on fire. But the cool blues and purples blunted the effect and the stars were coming out. The moon would usher in the dark of night, and after a while they'd walk back to civilization, hand in hand.
The sea breeze wafted up, over the sleek metal of the city and around the two of them. Out of the corner of his eye he watched her hair move with the wind. Candid moments, when she didn't know he was looking, were his favorite. She looked unassuming and carefree. His favorite look on her.
He turned, bringing his other arm up to close her in an embrace. Her other arm would always follow suit, wrapping around him and trapping him in a trap he wouldn't ever want to escape. Her head found his chest, and his cheek would find the top of her head.
Then he would close his eyes and just breathe her in and learn the curves of her body. Most days, that's how the sun set on them.
Other days, he'd end up lounging on the ground, against the tower (those chairs didn't leave much room for physical contact). Teyla would end up with her elbows on his knees as she leaned back into this chest. He forgot about the sky then, he couldn't keep his fingers from her hair. Brown silk, he loved the feel of it.
And one of these days, they'd walk back to civilization, hand in hand, and they wouldn't let go before someone saw.