Disclaimer: Not mine!

Well, I apologize for the long wait. Thank you everyone for your awesome feedback! I'm getting the Psych/Atlantis ball rolling once again. :D

Thanks to my beta, Geeky! Go team P/K! *wink*

Chapter Twelve: To Spar or Not to Spar

"I don't know why I'm asking this, but... are you sure you know what you're getting yourself into?" Gus whispered to Shawn as they followed John and Teyla to the sparring room. Shawn gave his friend a knowing, confident smile. But it was all a lie. Ok, more like 78 percent lie. The other 27 percent was just hopeful wishes, dreams and old Kung Fu: The Legend Continues fragments running through his mind.

Weir had left prematurely after getting an a-okay from Sheppard that Shawn wouldn't meet his death from a ruptured spleen or some other dastardly demise. Knowing John had his back eased Shawn's nerves somewhat, especially after realizing he really had provoked the lion this time around. Usually Shawn would be laughing at some moron's antics on a man vs animal show on the Discovery channel. But this time, he himself was the moron. And Ronon was pure animal.

The short walk to the sparring room was quiet otherwise. Once they were at the entrance, John and Teyla smiled at Shawn.

"You'll be fine. Ronon is... letting off steam." Teyla's hundred-watt grin was soothing, somewhat.

"Steam? Like he's a mobile sauna of some sort?" Shawn matched Teyla's smile. "It'll be good for my crow's feet..."

John's and Gus's eyes were about to fall out of their heads due to being rolled so aggressively in annoyance.

Shawn walked into the sparring room with the other three and watched as Ronon lifted a poor, young Marine by the collar of his shirt only to then throw him into an opposing wall. Apparently he was getting a warm-up. Shawn's breath caught in his chest.

"Dude, Ronon ate his wheaties this morning..." Shawn whispered to a wide-eyed Gus.

Gus managed to peel his eyes away from the sight before him and look over at his soon-to-be hospitalized friend. "Wheaties made of some sort of titanium alloy."

Ronon watched Shawn and Gus from across the room. "Spencer..."

Shawn's face lit up like a tiki torch. "Aww, you remembered my last name!"

The warrior with the unruly hair narrowed his eyes and tossed two sticks in Shawn's general direction. "Are you ready?"

Shawn caught the short sticks in mid-air. "Ow..." His palms were now throbbing. Oh, God. He was going to die.

Gus was now tucked away in a corner, trying to not break out into a nervous sweat; his light pink shirt was already sticking to his skin. Teyla and John were now huddled around Shawn giving him pointers.

"Despite his large frame, Ronon is quick on his feet. So you might want to..."

"He has the uppercut of a wildebeest. Be careful of..."

But Shawn wasn't paying attention, he simply stared at the two weapons in his hands. "Escrima."

John and Teyla paused.

"What?" His brother asked..

Shawn looked up and grinned wildly. "Escrima! Stick and sword fighting... You know, the Filipino martial art?"

Teyla looked at John, clearly confused.

John was scratching the back of his neck. "Well, yeah... it is similar... but how would you..."

"I taught it during my sixth month stint while living in Manila."

"You lived in Manila?"

Gus spoke up from out of nowhere. "It was right before the concessions vendor job at Turner Field in Atlanta."

John set his jaw and raised a brow. "The Philippines?... Georgia?"

"Are we going to do this?" Ronon asked gruffly.

Shawn side-stepped Teyla and John while twirling one of the rattan sticks in his left hand. "I'd say bring it on, but... it's already been brought!"

Seemingly unsure why Shawn was so confident, Ronon wasted no time advancing forward. Sure enough, his uppercut was that of the Hulk and Captain America. Combined.

But somehow Shawn caught his stick with one of his own and a heavy 'THOCK' resonated around the room. If Shawn's palms had been aching before, they now felt like they were going to fall off entirely. Along with his forearms, shoulder blades and thoracic cavity. Still, he held his ground.

Soon Ronon and Shawn were engaged in a volley of jabs and fancy footwork. The room was in stunned silence. Marines and Lieutenants were frozen in their spots, watching the sparring display. John, meanwhile, could have caught flies with his open mouth.

It was then and there that John Sheppard realized that he really didn't know Shawn at all. It made him slightly melancholy that he had missed out on so much of his life. Fake psychic or not. Shawn Spencer had evolved into quite an established guy.

Now it was John's turn to finally get to know his little brother.

Ronon was the first to break the stunned reverie of the room. "You're pretty good..." His rough voice hitched, as though he had a hard time giving the smaller man a compliment. In fact, in Ronon's mind, he was entirely pleased. He hadn't had such a thorough sparring session since meeting Teyla. And now he and the Athosian were all too familiar with their own styles, it wasn't much of a challenge anymore.

But this Spencer person, he was very challenging. And right then and there, a small budding of respect started to form in Ronon's being. Just enough respect to want to keep him around to spar with him again, rather than obliterate him completely.

"Oh you're just saying that to be nice." Shawn was now trying to catch his breath. Well versed in Escrima or not, he was certainly out of shape. I need Gus to buy me a treadmill or something, he thought distantly while throwing a parry Ronon's way. Who am I kidding... I'm not going to use a treadmill. For traditional purposes at least. I do need something to hang my ironing on. Wait, I don't iron either.

Right then, Ronon unwittingly spotted a moment of opportunity. Shawn's defenses had lowered slightly and the larger man whacked Shawn across the shin while simultaneously using his other arm to whack his knees from behind, making them buckle under. Shawn yelped like a whipped puppy and found himself flat on his back, staring up at the Atlantian ceiling.

Next Ronon and his Rastafarian hair came into view. Shawn struggled to catch his breath.

"Uncle?"

"So, if you really are a psychic..." Ronon started, "what am I going to do next?"

Shawn smiled lazily. "We're going to put away our sticks, call it a night and become good buds for life."

With that answer in mind, Ronon raised a brow and held out his hand to help Shawn up. "You're alright, Spencer."

John sidled up to Gus. "Please tell me what just happened."

Gus was just as shocked. "You tell me."

The next chapter will be much longer! Thanks for reading! :D