Fic: Some People Walk in the Rain, Others Just Get Wet
Written as a pinch hit for John/Teyla ficathon over at
john_teyla_fic.
Title: Some People Walk in the Rain, Others Just Get Wet
Author:
live_brave
Rating: PG
Genre: Gen, humor, friendship
Recipient:
muccamukk
Prompt: “Deciding to go undercover was their first mistake...” with John in an unusual outfit and Teyla covered in mud. Well, John ends up getting the mud but they both get pretty wet, and I hope that counts for something.
Summary: In which they go undercover, John learns the value of cultural offerings, and Teyla has a laugh at his expense.
Spoilers: None. This takes place in Season 2, sometime between The Tower and Coup d’Etat. Because it always bothered me that they gave up the “Atlantis has been destroyed” ruse so easily. You’d think they would try to spread the rumor around a little…
Going undercover was a bad idea. Going undercover was always a bad idea. The intentions were almost always good, but Teyla reflected that intentions and success had very little correlation.
Rodney was usually the voice of reason in such matters (or, more often, the grumbling voice of condemnation), but he was in the middle of working on a project with Dr. Zelenka and refused to go. And since he could not be bothered to go, he also could not be bothered to point out the folly of John’s plan.
Ronon was in the infirmary with the flu, and that just left John and Teyla to travel to Gethin.
“Are you sure about this?” Elizabeth said when John told her the plan was still on.
“Yeah. It’s not like we’re going to be the only ones guarding the suzerain. He’ll have his own guard for that. We’ll just be there to watch his kid. And we need Gethin’s allegiance.”
“The Gethins are nearly as powerful as the Genii,” Teyla added reluctantly. She did not want to encourage John, but she did not think the situation would be dangerous enough to warrant outright refusal. Besides, he had that determined look which meant it was best to go along with the plan until he figured out its flaws on his own. She’d found out long ago that sometimes, when it came to John, the best lessons were the hardest to learn.
“And a lot less crazy. No megalomaniacal delusions or anything. It’ll be fine.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “If you’re sure…”
John turned to Teyla. “Gear up,” he said, and trotted out of the office.
“You know this is a bad idea,” Elizabeth said, watching him through her office window as he ran down the Gateroom stairs.
Teyla sighed. “Yes, but unfortunately he does not.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Just so you’re aware.”
*
Teyla adjusted her hat so the brim would keep the continuous stream of rain from running down her neck and back and settled in for a long wait.
It turned out to be only twenty minutes - not nearly as long as she’d thought - before John came tromping out of the woods and down the hill towards her. He was similarly attired in a long, leather-like coat - its well-oiled fabric intended to keep off the rain. But he’d only been to Gethin once before and had obviously blocked out the memory of the deluge that they had been treated to on their previous visit.
Teyla, on the other hand, knew the Gethins well as they were favored trading partners of many of the Athosians. She had tried to warn John that the clothing the Gethins had offered him was not an affront to his personal taste but a matter of practicality, but her advice had been to no avail. She may have been dressed as though Harry Dresden and the Gunslinger had given fashion tips to a few medieval peasants (according to Rodney), but she was warm and dry, and that was certainly more than could be said for John.
He had eschewed the Gethins’ clothing in exchange for a variation on his normal BDUs - a half-zip top and BDU pants under the heavy coat - and still had on the same sullen face he’d been wearing for two days.
The hand not clutching his P-90 to his chest was clamped firmly on the shoulder of a young boy not yet ten years old.
John’s glare as they approached her seemed to encompass their entire surroundings - the woods, the valley, even the steady downpour of rain. When they reached Teyla, the young boy in John’s possession tipped up his head so Teyla could see his sheepish expression under the wide-brimmed hat.
“Hello, Lady Teyla.”
“Good day, my lord,” she replied, nodding slightly. Her eyes stole down to John’s feet - coated in a thick gray mud. “It seems there has been an adventure.”
“Someone decided that playing Hide and Seek in a strange forest would be fun,” John gritted out between clenched teeth. He shook one leg and a glob of mud plopped unto the grass and began sliding downhill before disintegrating under the rain’s onslaught.
Teyla raised an eyebrow at John, hoping to convey the message that maybe he shouldn’t have explained the game to the boy if he had no intention of playing. She looked back down at their young charge. “Yes, well, perhaps it is best if you did not run out of our view from now on.”
“Yes, Lady,” the boy replied, clearly ashamed of himself.
Teyla smiled at him. “Your father has been asking for you. Your supper has surely gotten cold by now.”
The boy smiled, too, and ran down the hill toward his father’s pavilion, slipping a little as he went.
John excused himself, muttering something about mud and followed the boy at a more leisurely pace. When he appeared again, he had exchanged his combat boots for a tall, sturdy pair of black boots into which he’d tucked his BDU pants.
“They are not a lost cause,” Teyla said when he took his spot beside her. “A good clean and they will be like new once more.”
John must have caught the amused look she was sending his way because he held up a stern finger and said, “Not a word. You can tell me what a bad idea this was till you’re blue in the face when we are dry, but I don’t want to hear one word about it now.”
Teyla granted him a placid smile. “I believe that anyone would gladly let you borrow some spare clothing.” She looked at the two dozen tents dotting the valley. “The suzerain was adamant that we should be comfortable.”
“I thought my hodge-podge would play up our parts. You know, the vagabonds of Pegasus - wandering the galaxy after the destruction of Atlantis.” John pushed his wet hair off of his forehead. “I’m partly dry, at least. That’s something.” He squinted up at the sky, a seamless stretch of deep gray extending from horizon to horizon. “Although we might want to think about rounding up two of each animal, just in case.”
Teyla raised an eyebrow at his reference but he just shook his head. “Sorry. Earth thing.” He held up an arm and pointed at the beads of water that rolled off. “What is this stuff, anyway? It looks like leather except I haven’t seen any cows around.”
“It is called norantha,” she answered. “And it is not much different from leather. I have” - Teyla remembered her part, caught herself, and made the correction - “had several pairs of boots made out of norantha at home. It makes especially sturdy clothing, good for those who live in harsh conditions.” She gestured down to where several large pack animals grazed near the tents. “It is made from the tanned hides of the lonat.”
John frowned. “I’m wearing a coat made from a long-haired, buck-toothed donkey? My day gets better and better.”
Teyla smiled. It astonished her how her companions could be so complacent about how things were on their own world and yet so troubled by something not so dissimilar on another world. But, as Charin had always said, how surprised the nakshi and the alnor would be to find that they make their nests in the same way. It was a shame that John would not understand such a reference. He might begin to wonder why he had never questioned making clothing out of a placid, dim-eyed beast with four stomachs.
One of the suzerain’s guards climbed up the hill to greet them. He bowed and said, “His Beneficence, Suzerain Brannoc, sends his greetings and begs me inform you that there is food and hot baths waiting for you at your convenience.” He bowed again, this time to John. “I will take you to your tent, Lord Colonel.” He swept a hand behind him to indicate another guard that had followed him part way up the hill. “Piala will show you to your tent, milady.”
As they followed the guards back down the hill, John leaned over and whispered to Teyla, “Do you think I could get people at home to start calling me ‘Lord Colonel’?”
Teyla ducked her head with a laugh. “Do you want to risk it?”
John pushed his wet hair out of his face again. “I could have been king once, you know.”
Teyla smiled sweetly. “Perhaps you still can. I am sure Evan would love a promotion. The top ranking military officer is generally quite highly regarded I understand.”
“I guess ‘Lord Colonel’ will have to do. Almost makes up for a rotten few days.”
“I thought it might.”
john_teyla_fic.
Title: Some People Walk in the Rain, Others Just Get Wet
Author:
live_brave
Rating: PG
Genre: Gen, humor, friendship
Recipient:
muccamukk
Prompt: “Deciding to go undercover was their first mistake...” with John in an unusual outfit and Teyla covered in mud. Well, John ends up getting the mud but they both get pretty wet, and I hope that counts for something.
Summary: In which they go undercover, John learns the value of cultural offerings, and Teyla has a laugh at his expense.
Spoilers: None. This takes place in Season 2, sometime between The Tower and Coup d’Etat. Because it always bothered me that they gave up the “Atlantis has been destroyed” ruse so easily. You’d think they would try to spread the rumor around a little…
Going undercover was a bad idea. Going undercover was always a bad idea. The intentions were almost always good, but Teyla reflected that intentions and success had very little correlation.
Rodney was usually the voice of reason in such matters (or, more often, the grumbling voice of condemnation), but he was in the middle of working on a project with Dr. Zelenka and refused to go. And since he could not be bothered to go, he also could not be bothered to point out the folly of John’s plan.
Ronon was in the infirmary with the flu, and that just left John and Teyla to travel to Gethin.
“Are you sure about this?” Elizabeth said when John told her the plan was still on.
“Yeah. It’s not like we’re going to be the only ones guarding the suzerain. He’ll have his own guard for that. We’ll just be there to watch his kid. And we need Gethin’s allegiance.”
“The Gethins are nearly as powerful as the Genii,” Teyla added reluctantly. She did not want to encourage John, but she did not think the situation would be dangerous enough to warrant outright refusal. Besides, he had that determined look which meant it was best to go along with the plan until he figured out its flaws on his own. She’d found out long ago that sometimes, when it came to John, the best lessons were the hardest to learn.
“And a lot less crazy. No megalomaniacal delusions or anything. It’ll be fine.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “If you’re sure…”
John turned to Teyla. “Gear up,” he said, and trotted out of the office.
“You know this is a bad idea,” Elizabeth said, watching him through her office window as he ran down the Gateroom stairs.
Teyla sighed. “Yes, but unfortunately he does not.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Just so you’re aware.”
*
Teyla adjusted her hat so the brim would keep the continuous stream of rain from running down her neck and back and settled in for a long wait.
It turned out to be only twenty minutes - not nearly as long as she’d thought - before John came tromping out of the woods and down the hill towards her. He was similarly attired in a long, leather-like coat - its well-oiled fabric intended to keep off the rain. But he’d only been to Gethin once before and had obviously blocked out the memory of the deluge that they had been treated to on their previous visit.
Teyla, on the other hand, knew the Gethins well as they were favored trading partners of many of the Athosians. She had tried to warn John that the clothing the Gethins had offered him was not an affront to his personal taste but a matter of practicality, but her advice had been to no avail. She may have been dressed as though Harry Dresden and the Gunslinger had given fashion tips to a few medieval peasants (according to Rodney), but she was warm and dry, and that was certainly more than could be said for John.
He had eschewed the Gethins’ clothing in exchange for a variation on his normal BDUs - a half-zip top and BDU pants under the heavy coat - and still had on the same sullen face he’d been wearing for two days.
The hand not clutching his P-90 to his chest was clamped firmly on the shoulder of a young boy not yet ten years old.
John’s glare as they approached her seemed to encompass their entire surroundings - the woods, the valley, even the steady downpour of rain. When they reached Teyla, the young boy in John’s possession tipped up his head so Teyla could see his sheepish expression under the wide-brimmed hat.
“Hello, Lady Teyla.”
“Good day, my lord,” she replied, nodding slightly. Her eyes stole down to John’s feet - coated in a thick gray mud. “It seems there has been an adventure.”
“Someone decided that playing Hide and Seek in a strange forest would be fun,” John gritted out between clenched teeth. He shook one leg and a glob of mud plopped unto the grass and began sliding downhill before disintegrating under the rain’s onslaught.
Teyla raised an eyebrow at John, hoping to convey the message that maybe he shouldn’t have explained the game to the boy if he had no intention of playing. She looked back down at their young charge. “Yes, well, perhaps it is best if you did not run out of our view from now on.”
“Yes, Lady,” the boy replied, clearly ashamed of himself.
Teyla smiled at him. “Your father has been asking for you. Your supper has surely gotten cold by now.”
The boy smiled, too, and ran down the hill toward his father’s pavilion, slipping a little as he went.
John excused himself, muttering something about mud and followed the boy at a more leisurely pace. When he appeared again, he had exchanged his combat boots for a tall, sturdy pair of black boots into which he’d tucked his BDU pants.
“They are not a lost cause,” Teyla said when he took his spot beside her. “A good clean and they will be like new once more.”
John must have caught the amused look she was sending his way because he held up a stern finger and said, “Not a word. You can tell me what a bad idea this was till you’re blue in the face when we are dry, but I don’t want to hear one word about it now.”
Teyla granted him a placid smile. “I believe that anyone would gladly let you borrow some spare clothing.” She looked at the two dozen tents dotting the valley. “The suzerain was adamant that we should be comfortable.”
“I thought my hodge-podge would play up our parts. You know, the vagabonds of Pegasus - wandering the galaxy after the destruction of Atlantis.” John pushed his wet hair off of his forehead. “I’m partly dry, at least. That’s something.” He squinted up at the sky, a seamless stretch of deep gray extending from horizon to horizon. “Although we might want to think about rounding up two of each animal, just in case.”
Teyla raised an eyebrow at his reference but he just shook his head. “Sorry. Earth thing.” He held up an arm and pointed at the beads of water that rolled off. “What is this stuff, anyway? It looks like leather except I haven’t seen any cows around.”
“It is called norantha,” she answered. “And it is not much different from leather. I have” - Teyla remembered her part, caught herself, and made the correction - “had several pairs of boots made out of norantha at home. It makes especially sturdy clothing, good for those who live in harsh conditions.” She gestured down to where several large pack animals grazed near the tents. “It is made from the tanned hides of the lonat.”
John frowned. “I’m wearing a coat made from a long-haired, buck-toothed donkey? My day gets better and better.”
Teyla smiled. It astonished her how her companions could be so complacent about how things were on their own world and yet so troubled by something not so dissimilar on another world. But, as Charin had always said, how surprised the nakshi and the alnor would be to find that they make their nests in the same way. It was a shame that John would not understand such a reference. He might begin to wonder why he had never questioned making clothing out of a placid, dim-eyed beast with four stomachs.
One of the suzerain’s guards climbed up the hill to greet them. He bowed and said, “His Beneficence, Suzerain Brannoc, sends his greetings and begs me inform you that there is food and hot baths waiting for you at your convenience.” He bowed again, this time to John. “I will take you to your tent, Lord Colonel.” He swept a hand behind him to indicate another guard that had followed him part way up the hill. “Piala will show you to your tent, milady.”
As they followed the guards back down the hill, John leaned over and whispered to Teyla, “Do you think I could get people at home to start calling me ‘Lord Colonel’?”
Teyla ducked her head with a laugh. “Do you want to risk it?”
John pushed his wet hair out of his face again. “I could have been king once, you know.”
Teyla smiled sweetly. “Perhaps you still can. I am sure Evan would love a promotion. The top ranking military officer is generally quite highly regarded I understand.”
“I guess ‘Lord Colonel’ will have to do. Almost makes up for a rotten few days.”
“I thought it might.”