Fic: Five Men Teyla Emmagan Was Never Attracted To

[shetiger]

Title: Five Men Teyla Emmagan Was Never Attracted To
Author: tigerlady
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Rating: PG
Pairings: Um. No real pairings, but it's Teyla and five men (seperately), plus a smidge of McShep
Summary: Teyla is used to sublimating.

Notes: Thanks to kathryn_arwen for looking this over and giving encouragement.



Strike block step twist. An opening. Blocked. Step strike lift. And there--

Teyla was used to sublimating her passions. As leader of her people, she was often required to keep a cool head in hot situations. As a leader, she tried to avoid playing favorites, and as a woman she kept any liaisons she chose to engage in straightforward and simple. She would undoubtedly take a mate one day, but it was not her priority. Survival was.

"Ow!"

Teyla pulls back as Major Sheppard cradles his fingers near his mouth, shaking and blowing them like a child who has snatched a too-hot treat. She can't help smiling.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah," he says, dropping into a graceful crouch to retrieve his training sticks. "Don't worry about little old me."

She raises an eyebrow at his bluster, but resumes the fighting stance.

The Atlanteans, the people from Earth, had brought turmoil and upheaval to her people. She knew it was not their fault, however, and she was quick to take advantage of their strength. They were a bold people, confident and strong. She hoped that the Athosians would benefit from alliance with them.

If she came to enjoy their company, well, that was only a side benefit.

The major faces her with a determined look. It is something she respects about him. Even when he is aching and sore, he presses on.

They circle, each looking for an opening. Teyla usually allows him to attack first, but sometimes she tests him with advances of her own. More and more often she pushes her own abilities to meet his growing skill. He learns unnaturally fast, but then, he is blessed with the blood of the Ancestors.

He brings the right stick at her head in a furious blow. She deflects it, but almost misses the second attack aimed at her ankles. She spins into his body to avoid the strike, and they go down as one.

Teyla was used to sublimating her passions, so when she first met the humans from Atlantis, she was able to measure each with the eye of a leader, while her woman's heart sat in the back of her mind, waiting and watchful. And so it was she first weighed John Sheppard-as a stranger who seemed earnest and respectful, someone whom she might trust if he proved to be what his manner claimed. But she was not a fool, and so part of her noticed herself noticing his easy smile on that beautiful face. Part of her noticed the way her heart beat faster as he fastened the necklace around her neck, and how her mouth went dry as his hands ghosted above her flesh.

But she was used to sublimating her passions.

Teyla rolls to the side, but he has her ankle trapped with his own. He grabs at her wrist, so she lets the force of his move pull her back toward him. His leg shifts, she pulls hers free and straddles his thighs with her own. One stick meets the softness of his throat.

John blinks up at her. "Damn," is all he says.

They hold the position for a long moment, gathering their breath. His forest-smudged eyes lock on her own, and she feels her stomach squirm like a fledgling trying to take flight. She knows that she should not feel this, but it has been waiting in the back of her mind, trying to break free, since the moment she met him.

She almost let the attraction become more than that, the night after he rescued her from the Wraith. But the leader in her was still in control, whispering that her people could not afford an ill-fated decision born of passion and gratitude. She was glad, later, when friendship and respect grew between them as teammates.

Yet sometimes the burn flickered within her, and she found it hard to turn away from the temptation.

John's mouth curves into a cocky smirk, then he bends his knees, lifts his thighs. She is shifted forward, and his face reddens a little with the pressure of the stick at his throat. He persists, though, shifting his hips in a provocative way that matches the look on his face.

"Waiting for something, Teyla?"

She flushes at his audacity, and pulls the stick back so she can smack some respect into him. But the major is one step ahead of her for once, and with a sharper thrust and twist of his lower body she sails over his shoulder and onto the floor. She rolls and comes up in a fighting stance, no longer feeling so amused.

Every time she considered crossing that line, however, he would do something that reminded her that there was more to John Sheppard than she probably wanted to deal with. A darkness sat beneath his pretty eyes, and time and time again she had watched him use his easy sexuality as a tool, as a weapon even. So she reminded herself that he was her colleague, her friend, and that was enough.

Perhaps that was how Aiden snuck in without her noticing.

Lieutenant Ford catches her eye, smiles up at her from beside Calla's bedside. Their elderly storyteller is in full force, sharing tales of her youth one after another. Teyla had worried that the lieutenant might become restless and bored, as she had seen so many young ones do, but his attention does not waver.

"You know," he says in a pause as he helps Calla sip tea, "that reminds me of a story my granddad told me."

Calla's gnarled hand reaches up, pats the lieutenant's strong one resting beside the bed. "Do tell, my dear. I so love a good story, and I rarely get to hear new ones anymore."

The lieutenant smiles, almost shyly, glances up at her as if checking to see that is all right. She nods and he launches into his story.

Perhaps she had been too busy sublimating her attraction to Major Sheppard to really give Aiden his due-at least at first. She barely remembered him from that first meeting, most of her attention taken by the way Sumner looked at her like fresh manure, and the way Sheppard looked at her like new sky. In comparison the lieutenant was polite but reserved, and she had paid him little mind until he blew open the Wraith cage.

That was the first time she truly looked at him.

His grin flashes as he talks, fast words about fighting in a great war and exploring ice caves and building airplanes. His references fly about with little regard for their audience, but she understands his point. Calla looks delighted, and Teyla is glad she asked Lieutenant Ford to accompany her this day.

"My granddad used to take me to the park to fish, and he'd tell stories all day long," he explains at Calla's question. "Didn't realize so many had stuck."

He was a handsome man, certainly, and a highly competent soldier as well. Aiden was brave, and sure, and fought like a fiend when necessary. She was always amused at the grin that would light up his face whenever he talked about the explosives that were his specialty. They worked well together, yet she found that his abilities on the field were not what drew her to him.

Aiden had a gentleness to him that came through whenever he dealt with the helpless. And he also looked at her rather than through her. He respected her abilities, and explained things that she did not know without acting annoyed. Teyla could see the makings of a leader within him, and she respected that.

As they walk back through the flowering meadow together, toward Dr. Beckett and the waiting jumper, she gives in to her curiosity.

"You speak warmly of your grandfather, Lieutenant."

He shrugs. "My grandparents raised me since I was six. They're good people."

Teyla nods, but does not inquire further. She understands the loss of a parent at a young age, and it is not something that needs to be spoken of in the daylight.

"You can call me Aiden, if you'd like," he says after a moment.

She smiles, and realizes she has smiled much this day. "Thank you, Aiden." She brushes his shoulder, and when they reach the jumper draws him in to touch her head to his. "Thank you," she tells him again.

Aiden's smile is warm, and it feels like the touch of the sun above them. Comforting.

He was attractive, and Teyla enjoyed his company. She truly considered it for a while; she was not blind to the way Aiden looked at her at certain times. But the attraction never truly sparked. Instead it mellowed with time and inaction, until it was something to look upon as a pleasant tingling memory.

It was the exact opposite with Dr. Beckett; a tentative acquaintance that suddenly blazed into attraction with a single touch.

"Hand me that pipette, my dear," Carson says, brushing her shoulder with his warm fingers.

She looks up, startled at the sensation and not understanding what he wants. "I'm sorry, doctor?"

His smile is self-deprecating. "Never mind, I'll get it."

He leans back, his body a long line of muscle under his white shirt. She can't take her eyes off of him, doesn't even see what object he retrieves.

"Now," he says, "let's see if we can figure out your puzzle."

Teyla blinks at him, wondering whether he can solve this new thing that has sprung up from nowhere. Wondering whether he would want to do so.

She didn't have a lot in common with the doctor, though she admired his gentleness and the way he cared about everyone. And she knew that he admired her, from the way he spoke of her fighting skills and complimented her on her bravery. It was enough to keep her finding excuses to seek out his company.

The muscles in his forearms flex and relax as he thumbs the wheel on the long thin contraption he holds. Her eyes cannot get enough of his body. They take his measure without her permission, stripping away the layers to acknowledge the muscle beneath. She had never thought about how beautiful a man he is, but he truly is. She wonders whether his chest is smooth, or if it is heavily covered in hair. She wonders if his skin is as soft as she thinks it will be.

"That should do it," he says, clearly satisfied. His voice is liquid, the words flowing and fuzzy in a manner of speech none of the others have. It makes her shiver. "Now we have to wait for a wee bit."

Teyla nods.

She almost asked him. The invitation was on the tip of her tongue many times. She did not think he would reject her, not outright anyway. But she remembered the way he had been devastated by Perna's death, and decided she should not try if she was not willing to invest more in the relationship than the physical. His heart went deep. So she contented herself with watching and admiring, enjoying the flush of arousal whenever she was in his presence.

The day she found herself attracted to Sergeant Bates, she knew she had been sublimating too long.

"I'm sorry if you think it's unfair," he says, but she can tell he does not mean what he says. "But it's necessary to ensure the safety of every one in Atlantis."

She steps closer, tired of being reasonable and calm. "You know that is not true. This is just one more measure to marginalize my people."

Bates does not back down; instead he tilts his head to the side and squares his shoulders. Teyla wants to smack the look off his face, knock him into the wall and teach him a lesson. Her breath is short with the fury that races through her.

She had experienced attraction born of tension and aggression before, and knew that it was easy to confuse emotions when one was over-stimulated. Yet she had never found herself excited by someone so inappropriate before, someone she loathed so completely.

"Listen," he snaps. "I don't really care what you think. Get your people together and do it!"

He stares into her eyes, clearly challenging her will. His eyes are so dark, deep and black, and she can smell him as she breathes, a heavy masculine scent layered with something that reminds her of the forest.

She wants to throw him to the floor, and it's a cold slap when she realizes that hurting him is the farthest thing from her mind. Aghast, she steps back, first one step then two turning to many as she retreats from his presence.

The solution was obvious. At the first opportunity, she went to the mainland and sought out an old friend, a warm bed, and a comfortable evening by the fire.

On the way back she felt much more in control. Plus, she was able to watch Carson surreptitiously as he concentrated on flying the jumper.

Her attraction to Dr. McKay should have been surprising, shocking even, but it grew over such a long period of time that it seemed natural. That did not mean she understood it. Hardly; but then, she did not understand anything about Dr. McKay. He was arrogant, he was abrasive, he knew things she could never dream of understanding, but he was so much more than that.

Teyla walks the dim corridors quickly, with a purpose. It is late, yet she knows that she will find her quarry still in his daytime habitat. She has already checked his quarters.

She pauses in the hall just beyond the lab door, hearing the non-stop patter of his voice. She smiles. She has come to enjoy the way he uses words, shaping and caressing them, using them as weapons and warmth both. She can't tell whether he is speaking to himself or another person, though he seems in a good mood.

She hopes he is alone.

Dr. McKay was a man of thought, yet he had made himself a man of action out of necessity. Teyla appreciated both sides of him. She was drawn to the easy way he cradled his gun in his strong hands; pulled to the way his lips would lift while he was thinking and glide to the side when he was smiling; captivated by the way his fingers flew over his computer like a harp stroked by a master.

She pondered a long time, but finally she decided to act. Dr. McKay was a man of logic. He would see the prudence of slaking a thirst with someone of mutual trust. She did not think that it would go too far; they already cared for each other, but they were too different for more to grow between them.

His voice falls silent. She pauses in the open door of his laboratory, surprised when she doesn't see him right away. He is here most of the time, always devoted to the mysteries of the Ancestors. She almost leaves, but then she spies his black shoes and the edge of his trousers behind a tower of equipment.

Teyla glides forward, nervous anticipation in her stomach. It makes her tentative, and so she moves quietly, as she would in the forest stalking prey. She peeks around the equipment shelf, as if she is playing Wraith like a child, but it is not innocence she spies.

Major Sheppard and Dr. McKay are kissing fervently, hands clutching each other tightly.

She pulls back, covering her mouth to prevent any sound from escaping. She leaves the room more carefully than she entered.

But she had waited too long. She told herself that she was not hurt, that she was happy that two of the people she cared the most about had each other. The twinges of pain were a sign that it had been a bad idea. Teyla could not afford to be drawn further into the world of Atlantis. She needed a clear head to tend to her duties, to see to her people.

So she returned to sublimating. Passion could be used. Passion could be a dangerous thing.

Strike block twist lift. Step and slide, glide and dip.

Teyla flows with the pattern of her sticks. Her body is her own, under her control. This is not practice. This is dance, this is a part of her soul.

She has never had to sublimate this.

Strike block lift twist. Repeat.