Fic: Advanced Combinatorics (1 of 2)
words: ~13 600
rating: S for graphic sex
pairing: Meredith McKay/Teyla Emmagan
spoilers: general season four
notes: I started writing this back in October, thinking that I would write a short piece about Meredith (Rodney's-always-been-a-girl!Meredith) and Teyla, because - I thought - that would be hot. It got longer, and got abandoned a few times, and then, surprisingly, got finished. (Hilariously, this is also the story of that other genderfuck-femslash story that I wrote: I thought, I'll write 2000 words of porn! And then it didn't happen).
This would never ever ever have gotten finished without help: the_drifter prodded me extensively on characterization and suggested a few changes that turned out to be essential; also she did nitty-gritty beta work, for which, bless her. eruthros helped from the beginning, but most recently she suggested a couple of plot elements that actually gave the story an ending, which is kind of important. And monanotlisa encouraged and cheerled early on. Thanks, guys!
Advanced Combinatorics
"Are you warm enough, Doctor McKay?" Teyla asks, coming to sit beside her at the entrance to the tent. It's one of the little two-man numbers, which means it's too small for two men, but at least it's waterproof.
Meredith stares out the tent flap at the rain. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you."
After a long pause, Teyla speaks again. "I did not mean to disturb you. I will leave you to your thoughts." Usually, Meredith likes the politeness and formality with which Teyla operates; it makes her feel safe, somehow, like they've got a script to follow. But she doesn't really want to be left to her thoughts, either.
"That's ridiculous," she says, gesturing behind her at the tiny tent. "There's nowhere for you to go." She tries a smile, tries to tell Teyla that she's okay with some company. Teyla smiles back, and for once Meredith feels like she's not totally inept when it comes to women.
"I will join you, then." Teyla says, mirroring her cross-legged pose.
"I was just thinking," Meredith muses, "that we always split up this way. Boys in one tent, girls in the other."
Teyla nods. "I gathered from Doctor Weir that your culture has many concerns about paternity, and thus frowns on the possibility of extramarital sex."
Meredith laughs. "Yeah, I guess that's where it comes from. But really it's one of those old customs that doesn't make sense anymore. For one thing, we have contraceptives, so premarital sex isn't an issue."
She's mentioned birth control to Teyla before, and each time she's noticed the same result: Teyla's back tenses and she nods politely.
"And I guess the other concern is rape, but I don't think that's too likely in this situation either," Meredith continues blithely.
"Women on your world do not participate in combat training?"
She shrugs. "Not often. Or not enough, whatever. I took a self-defense class during undergrad, but I was never any good at it anyway." She smiles ruefully at Teyla. "I'm not so good at the physical stuff."
Teyla doesn't speak for a moment. "You are very good with your hands," she says eventually, her tone soft and intimate. Her gaze drops down momentarily to Meredith's hand where it rests against the tent floor, and she places her own hand next to it, carefully. Their fingers don't touch, but they nearly do. Teyla coughs, then continues in her normal voice. "And you took easily enough to the arms training that Major Sheppard gave you."
She smiles and gives Teyla an imperial wave of her hand. "I prefer to let you and Aiden and John handle those things, so long as you leave the brilliant thinking to me."
"Ah, of course." She can tell that she's being teased, Teyla-style, but she doesn't mind so much, sitting here quietly, breathing crisp air and watching the rain. It's odd; she's never felt particularly comfortable around Teyla, whose grace and competence and beauty seem so effortless. Teyla's exactly the kind of girl that she used to follow around in high school, talented and too kind to not hang out with her, even though Meredith was perennially uncool with her baggy jeans and her chess club and her curly hair that was just never going to look sexy.
Maybe it's this train of thought - remembering Michelle Zhang in grade eleven, first place in the Provincial Gymnastics Tournament and Student Council President, Michelle Zhang who kissed Meredith that one time in the chem lab after school - maybe it's that memory that makes Meredith press a little closer to Teyla, that makes her bold enough to brush their bare arms together.
"I could give you lessons," Teyla offers eventually, not pulling her arm away, and Meredith blinks, trying to remember the thread of the conversation.
"Oh, in self-defense."
"In combat, yes." When Teyla turns her head and smiles, the friendly little close-lipped smile of hers that doesn't often get trotted out during trade missions, Meredith gets that feeling that she always gets when she's about to do something desperately stupid.
Oh fuck, I am such an idiot, she thinks, while she presses her mouth to Teyla's.
Teyla's lips are soft and warm, pliant beneath hers for one long, glorious moment. Then she pulls back abruptly. Meredith's never seen Teyla blush before, so she's momentarily fascinated by the colour that covers her high cheekbones as she pulls back and away, breaking the contact between their bodies entirely.
"Doctor McKay," Teyla begins, her voice calm and rational and patient as it always is. Meredith can't bear to listen.
"Uh, no, listen, it's fine, I'm sorry, just - we'll forget I did that, okay? Just, just. I'm sorry." She listens to the babble coming out of her mouth with some detached horror.
"I - " Meredith's never heard Teyla stutter before, either. "It is all right." There's an awkward silence while Meredith scrubs two fingers against her forehead, avoiding Teyla's gaze.
"Perhaps we should get some rest," Teyla suggests eventually.
Meredith realises, suddenly, that this was probably the worst time to make a pass at your extremely not-into-chicks coworker, kind of ever, given that they're now trapped together for the night in a tent that could only, if they were being honest, be called one-and-a-quarter-man sized. But somehow Teyla doesn't let it get awkward; she just slips into her sleeping bag and lies on her back, same as always, and is almost immediately relaxed and breathing deeply. Meredith wants to stay awake and worry about the whole situation, except somehow Teyla's warm body lying beside hers, trusting and kind, is enough to make Meredith relax, too. So she closes her eyes and listens to Teyla's breathing and lets herself drift off into the forgiving darkness.
-
In the morning, Teyla acts as if nothing happened, shaking Meredith out of bed like she always does and giving her impatient looks until she gets up and takes on her share of the packing.
"I hate this part," Meredith grumbles as she tries to roll her sleeping bag small enough to fit back in its absurdly tiny nylon case.
"Here," Teyla says, coming over and helping her hold the thing down. Their arms brush easily as they stuff the material into the case, their hands slipping over each other as they try to keep it from escaping. At the last moment, the sleeping bag surges up unexpectedly, slipping out of their hands, and Teyla laughs that rough genuine laugh of hers. Meredith groans and buries her face in the inanimate nylon that has defeated her brilliance.
"Your people have many excellent technologies, Doctor McKay, but this is not one of them," Teyla says, still laughing, sticking her tongue between her teeth as she tries to recapture the rogue material.
"Hey, I didn't invent it," Meredith protests, holding the bag while Teyla finally gets the last of the thing inside. "I'm a physicist, not a camp counsellor."
"Okay," Teyla says briskly, standing up and brushing off her hands, "now you have to help me with mine."
Meredith flops onto the bare tent floor in mock-exhaustion and grins up at her. "Okay," she says.
-
As time passes and things go on as normal, Meredith starts to relax; it doesn't seem like Teyla holds that kiss against her. They don't talk about it - which Meredith takes as a mercy, since she suspects that "bad with feelings" is the one fault that they share - but Teyla doesn't avoid her or anything. In fact, it seems like Teyla is going out of her way to be nice to her, sitting next to her at team movie nights, offering to help turn on and experiment with all the weird Wraith technology they've picked up, corralling her and dragging her off to the mess hall for meals when she starts working too late. She starts getting used to seeing Teyla around the city, starts getting used to the warmth of her body when they stand too close together in the labs.
One night she shows up at Meredith's door just after dinner with a little leather bag in one hand.
"It is a game I thought you might like," Teyla says, speaking more softly than usual, almost shyly. "I used to play often with Halling, but since he and I no longer live near each other, I need a new partner."
Ky-Nill is played with a set of polished, carved stones, each of which has three sides; as the pieces move around each other, their allegiances can change.
"There's no board?" Meredith asks. "No playing surface? A boundary to the game?"
Teyla shakes her head. "No - the potential placements of the pieces are determined by their relation to the other pieces. See, this one - serpent - cannot be placed horizontally next to any of these," Teyla's fingers point out three pieces that she hasn't named yet, "and must be always in diagonal relation to one of these," she points to the large pieces that she called nodes.
"Oh," Meredith says, understanding: "Oh, it's topology, it's, it's combinatorics - it's a network, that's brilliant." For a moment, she just trails her fingers helplessly over the pieces, entranced by the Athosian symbols that she doesn't recognise; then she looks back up at Teyla.
She looks . . . happy, in a way that she usually doesn't; she's often amused, or content, or relieved, but Meredith has seldom seen her look like this, relaxed and delighted. Her face is lit up, her eyes dancing, as if it's she who has been given a gift. Meredith can't help but fall a little more in love with her, even though she knows it's a bad idea. "I knew that you would like it," Teyla says, sounding satisfied.
"I do, I like it," Meredith says, and if she keeps looking at Teyla she'll do something dumb like kiss her again, so she just brushes her hair out of her eyes and bends down over the pieces again. It's almost like chess, except that in chess you can't win a rook over to your side, or change the mind of a knight just by placing it in the right context. The range of possible configurations is already spinning forth in Meredith's mind; each piece laid out, one at a time, forming a different network with every round of play. As Teyla begins to name the pieces, Meredith thinks: the rules stay the same, but the pieces change.
She slides her thumb slowly over the serpent - which is also the water-bearer, which is also the change of seasons - relishing the slick feel of the polished stone beneath her skin.
"Okay," she says, shifting to pick up another piece, "so what does this one do?"
Teyla grins. "At first, it is always a snowfall."
-
Some months later, they arrive at the gay planet.
"Oh wow, it's the gay planet," John drawls, raising an eyebrow from behind his sunglasses.
"I think I was here once when I was running," Ronon offers. "Good caves."
The Minister for Trade and her wife smile at them. "We're making some pie," the Minister says.
"Come and have pie," the Minister's wife adds.
Teyla is polite and complimentary throughout the pie. Later, she negotiates easily and establishes a fair and profitable trade agreement. Meredith can't help but wonder: she's never seen any of the Athosians in same-sex pairs.
"You don't have, uh. Homosexuals? On Athos?" Meredith tries, later that day, when she's probably had too much pie and the pastry in her blood is affecting her judgment. It comes out mumbled and half-incoherent; her mouth feels dry.
Teyla purses her lips for a moment, then smiles and meets her eyes. "It is not a problem, Doctor McKay."
"Okay," Meredith says.
-
Meredith hangs out with John sometimes. They talk about tv shows, or play video games, or eat meals together. Meredith is pretty sure that he's gay, too, so they have that in common, even if they never talk about it.
"Vincent Price," John says, as they walk along the corridor.
"Shame?" Meredith guesses. "No, wait. The Eggman! He was the Eggman, Cliff Robertson was Shame."
"You got it," John agrees. "Okay, here's a tough one: Shelley Winters."
-
"New node," Teyla intones finally, placing her piece in diagonal relation to the old woman that Meredith has just played. "Waterfall becomes spaceship."
"I never understand that one," Meredith says with a laugh. Then she considers. Teyla is possibly consolidating power near that node to change her desert into a river.
"The connections between the different sides of the pieces are not set," Teyla says, shrugging one shoulder. "The associations do not always make sense immediately, and they emerge differently in each round of play. This is why the game is such an excellent meditational tool."
Meredith pauses, about to set a singing bird in horizontal relation to the spaceship. "Wait," she says, "meditational tool? Is this - are these tarot cards?"
Teyla grins at her as if she's going to pretend to not understand the reference. "I do not understand the reference," she lies.
"Oh, you do so. Have we been meditating all this time, or what?"
Teyla shrugs. "Whatever you call the state of mind you are in when you play."
Meredith eyes her suspiciously. "Uh huh." She plays the singing bird. "So, can they tell the future?" she asks sarcastically.
"Nobody can tell the future, Meredith," Teyla mutters absently, already scanning the network and looking for her next move.
-
Meredith's busy working on the Replicator nanites when the news comes out, so she doesn't hear about it until the next day when John sets his tray down next to hers at breakfast. He places it carefully, studying his eggs with uncommon intensity, and Meredith wishes that she knew what that meant.
"Did you know?" he asks a moment later, after shoveling a forkful of breakfast into his mouth and not looking at her.
Meredith blinks. "I know a lot of things, Colonel," she says, "but you're going to have to get a little less cryptic if you want an answer."
John meets her eyes then, his gaze hard and steady. "Did you know about Teyla's pregnancy?"
Holy shit. "Teyla's pregnant?" They played Ky-Nill just last night; two days ago, they were on a mission together; a few days before that, Teyla spent hours with her in the labs playing with the genetic keys on the Wraith data recorders.
John winces. "A little louder, McKay."
"Well, you're the one who's going around telling people!" she hisses. An argument with John is a good idea; an argument with John will keep her attention off of the idea of losing Teyla from their team. It's Jeannie all over again.
"I am not going around telling . . ." John starts, his voice rising on each word. A few heads turn to look at them, and John purses his lips before continuing in a subdued half-whisper. "I'm not going around telling people, okay? I just thought she might have, you know. Said something."
Meredith scowls. "Oh, she might have said something. Maybe when we were braiding each others' hair and painting our toenails last week?"
"Shut up, you know what I meant."
"She didn't tell me," Meredith says, her eyes on the food in front of her. "I didn't know."
-
Later that day, she gets a radio call from Teyla, inviting her to lunch.
"I have something I would like to tell you," Teyla says.
"Colonel Sheppard already told me," Meredith answers. "I'm too busy for lunch."
There's a long, cold silence on the line, and then it goes dead.
Later, Meredith sends Teyla an email telling her that she won't be able to make it to their Ky-Nill game that evening.
The next morning, when Meredith walks into the mess hall, Teyla gets up and leaves just as Meredith starts walking towards their usual table. When she sits down, Ronon and John stare at her disbelievingly.
"Wow," Ronon says eventually. "She's pissed at Sheppard, too, but at least she ate with him. What'd you do to piss her off?"
"Nothing," Meredith mutters. "It's nothing."
-
It goes on like that for days, Teyla leaving rooms just as she enters them, Teyla skipping team movie nights, Teyla not dropping by her quarters to talk or play Ky-Nill or work on the Wraith technology. Meredith tries to avoid her, too, but then after about a week she's tired of it, and has half-forgotten why she was avoiding Teyla, and she keeps turning on her radio with the intention of telling Teyla something, or asking her to lunch, or asking for help in translating some bizarre Ancient scientific text, and each time she has to purse her lips and turn her radio off again. It makes her feel lost, unmoored: she feels as if someone has suddenly changed the speed of light without telling her, universal constants going up in smoke.
Every day she wakes up with the intention of apologising - though she's not sure what she's apologising for - and every night she goes to bed without having spoken to Teyla.
Which is why it's a surprise when she opens the door to her quarters one morning to find Teyla standing right there on the threshold.
"May I speak with you?" she asks, the moment the doors open.
"Auuugh!" Meredith says, startled enough to jump backwards and spill hot coffee all over her wrist. "Jesus, Teyla, don't do that."
"I am inviting John and Ronon to Athos with me tomorrow, to meet Kanaan." At Meredith's blank look, Teyla continues, "the father of my child. I would like you to come too."
Meredith licks at her wrist and scowls at Teyla. "What, just like that? You're trying to tell me you're not still mad at me?"
"Oh," Teyla says, turning to walk away, "I am still mad at you. 17:00 hours in the gateroom. Do not be late."
-
Kanaan is exactly like Teyla: serious and wry, beautiful and considerate. He even has the Wraith gene, it turns out. Meredith tries very hard to make small talk with him, to be nice, as if to prove to Teyla that she doesn't feel the deep heat of jealousy every time she sees them together. But maybe the uncharacteristic niceness is more of a giveaway than anything, because she feels Teyla's eye lingering on her consideringly whenever they're all together, feels that every word she says to Kanaan is being weighed, evaluated.
"We're all really excited for you and Teyla," she says, inanely, the first time they meet, as if she's spent this last week hanging out with Teyla and knitting baby blankets rather than having a fight and avoiding her. They're all sitting around a table in one of the Athosian tents, Ronon and John and Teyla and Kanaan, with Meredith sitting alone on the end.
"Thank you," Kanaan answers, smiling. Meredith gets the feeling that he has to try hard, too. "We were hoping for a child; too few have been born recently."
Meredith nods. "I guess population growth is pretty important, right now. With the Wraith and all." Teyla glances up sharply, at this, but says nothing. Everyone is quiet.
Down the table, John shifts uncomfortably and stabs at his food with his chopsticks. "So, you guys picked out any names?"
After the meal, Teyla ambushes her outside the tent while the others are still inside making small talk with Kanaan.
"Meredith?" Teyla asks, coming out of the shadows suddenly. Meredith jumps.
"God, would you stop doing that?" She sounds irritable even to herself. "What do you want?"
Now that she's standing in the light, Meredith can see Teyla's eyebrows, drawn together, and her mouth, corners drawn slightly down. She's known Teyla for four years, and she knows that look: Teyla's pissed.
"I do not know what you want," Teyla hisses suddenly, her words clipped. Meredith gets the feeling that this isn't what she was intending to say. "I just do not understand what it is that you want from me. I thought you would be . . . I thought we were friends," she finishes stiffly.
"We are," Meredith answers automatically, desperately. She's spent the last week trying to tell herself that she's better off without Teyla around, but looking at her now, arms crossed over her chest, angry and frustrated in the flickering light, Meredith can't keep up the pretense.
Teyla looks a little surprised by Meredith's sudden agreement, and she uncrosses her arms, then crosses them again. "I have missed our conversations," Teyla says, her tone almost accusatory.
"I have, me too," Meredith says. "I wanted to come talk to you." Teyla relaxes her arms to her side and steps up closer.
"I have missed you," she says, and strokes her fingers suddenly along Meredith's shoulder.
Meredith wishes she had the strength to pull away from that touch. "Don't you have Kanaan?" As soon as the words are out, she wishes she hadn't said them.
Teyla jerks as if she's been slapped, but doesn't look away. "It is not the same," she says. Her fingers squeeze at the muscle of Meredith's shoulder, cajolingly.
"Right," she says. "Look, I'm sorry I said that. I'm sorry I've been a, a jerk. This last week." She takes a breath and meets Teyla's gaze. "I'm happy for you, I am. It was all just so sudden."
Teyla's jaw clenches, but she doesn't speak; instead, she puts her other hand on Meredith's other shoulder.
It's confusing for a moment, but then Meredith sees what's going on and gets with the program, bending her head so that her forehead touches Teyla's. They've never done this before, and it feels strange, and Meredith doesn't know when she's supposed to pull away. Teyla's breath puffs against her face for a moment, and then she pulls back.
"I want to stay friends," Meredith says then, gulping. "I'm not so good at it, but I want to stay friends with you, Teyla. I missed you too."
Teyla looks confused, then nods and steps back. "All right," she says, slowly.
"I know you're staying here tonight," Meredith goes on, quickly, "but tomorrow after dinner you should come by and we can have a game of Ky-Nill."
"I would like that very much," Teyla says, so earnest, and something deep inside Meredith's chest unravels at those words.
-
Over the next few weeks they're cautious and polite around each other in a way they haven't been in years, carefully reenacting all the activities that never used to require planning. But it gets better with time; they don't mention Kanaan or Teyla's pregnancy, but they get more comfortable together, playing around in the labs or bending together over a game-network in Teyla's quarters. Meredith's heartbeat still picks up traitorously whenever Teyla bends near her, or brushes their hands together, but she does her best to tamp those feelings down, to tell herself that she's grateful just for Teyla's friendship.
But every time they play, or meet up in the conference room before a briefing - every time they're alone together, Meredith feels like she still hasn't finished the apology that she started on New Athos, that Teyla is still waiting for her to say more.
It's not until Teyla's almost four months pregnant that she actually gets up the nerve to do it. She's not completely out of her depth here, after all; she has a sister, she has a niece, she babysat for the next door neighbours that one time. She hates that it's her responsibility just because she's the other woman on the team, but can't quite shake the feeling that she's letting Teyla down by not saying something.
Teyla opens her door, seeming surprised to see Meredith standing there.
"Doctor McKay," she says, smiling a little. "I did not expect you. Did we have a game scheduled?"
"No, no," she says, trying not to fidget. "Is it a bad time? I can come back."
Teyla shakes her head. "Come in."
They sit down a little awkwardly on Teyla's couch. Meredith can't help the way her eyes keep drifting downwards to Teyla's stomach, even though there's no bulge there yet.
"Was there something you wanted to talk about?" Teyla prompts, gently. Her hand rests lightly on Meredith's shoulder, a gentle caress that speaks of concern. This is the way that she always touches Meredith, when they play Ky-Nill or when they're walking next to each other on an alien world: the locations change, but Teyla's touch remains constant, friendly, kind.
"Uh, yeah," Meredith says, turning so that Teyla's hand falls from her shoulder. "I just . . . I know you don't have a lot of female friends, here on Atlantis," she begins. Teyla raises her eyebrows at this assertion, but doesn't say anything. "And I thought that you might need someone around to talk to, about the, the pregnancy and all. I know you and I don't - I mean, we play Ky-Nill and hang out and whatever, but maybe we're not as close as we could be. Or, as close as we were, whatever. And if there are things you need, or things you can't say to John or Ronon . . . I just wanted to let you know that I'm here for you. I can be here for you." It's not as smooth as she practiced it, but it got the general point across, at least.
"Oh," is what Teyla says in answer.
After a little silence, Meredith shifts and speaks again. "I mean, you don't have to, but I just . . . I may not say it, but I do have the greatest respect, and, and admiration, for you." She tilts her chin up and manages to meet Teyla's eyes. "And I thought you might need a friend around here, since Kanaan's busy on New Athos and since, since Elizabeth's . . . gone, you know. Anyway, you can talk to me, is what I'm saying." She grimaces; she hadn't wanted to mention Elizabeth's name.
"You want to be closer," Teyla asks, hesitatingly.
Meredith feels a slow blush creep across her face, but keeps eye contact. "Yes, I suppose so," she says. "I mean, if that's what you want." Teyla's expression clears, a smile ghosting onto her face.
"Doctor McKay," she says warmly, "Meredith. I am honoured that you would come to me. Thank you for your offer."
Teyla does look honoured, is the thing; it sounds like a brush-off, and maybe it is, but it seems like her speech did make Teyla feel a little better. Meredith tries a smile and glances up into Teyla's eyes.
Teyla moves her hand from Meredith's shoulder to the back of her neck, leans in, and kisses her on the lips.
It doesn't last long; Teyla just presses their mouths together, warm and easy and lush, and then pulls back before Meredith can really do much about it.
"It is a little unusual," Teyla says, and maybe Meredith's imagining it, but it sounds like Teyla's breathing a little faster than usual. "I will speak with Kanaan about it, but . . . I have great respect for you, too, and would be honoured." The repetitive formality of her words is belied by her hand lingering on the back of Meredith's neck, the brush of Teyla's fingers against her hairline. Meredith gets the impression that Teyla is following a script of some kind.
She doesn't know what else to do, so she gives in to the longing that blooms rough inside her: she touches the side of Teyla's face, tentatively, and moves in, and kisses her the same way she's just been kissed: softly, quickly, almost like a sister, almost the way that she used to kiss Jeannie when they were little. Teyla kisses back.
"I will speak with Kanaan," Teyla says again, and stands. Meredith sits there for a moment, stupidly, before taking her cue to leave. At the door, she waves awkwardly.
"Bye." She doesn't know what else to say; she's not sure what just happened. Water-bearer becomes a change of seasons, she thinks, almost hysterically.
"I will see you tomorrow, Meredith," Teyla says.
-
She spends the next day in a sort of haze, unable to take her mind off of the sweet sensation of Teyla's lips pressing gently against hers, but it's not until mid-afternoon that she realises that she and Teyla have no plans to meet up; they have no team night scheduled, no off-world mission planned. There's no reason for Teyla to see her today.
She's just starting to panic - they did have something planned, they must've, and Meredith's just forgotten it, and meanwhile Teyla is sitting somewhere waiting for her - when her radio beeps. "Meredith?"
She flicks it on, relieved. "Hi, Teyla."
"I thought you might like to join me in the mess hall for dinner. I have secured some chocolate cake for afterwards."
Meredith smiles, absurdly pleased. "Sure. When did you have in mind?"
"Right now, unless you are presently engaged in saving the universe." She can almost see Teyla's lips twist in that teasing smile she gets when she's being ironic.
She glances over at the formulae on the screen; Zelenka and Ambrose's new work on wormhole formation dynamics. Flawed, of course, but fascinating. She grins.
"I think the universe'll keep," she answers.
When she gets to the mess hall, she finds Teyla standing next to the counter, chatting with the Marine pulling caf duty today. She glances up as Meredith approaches, and the smile that graces her face when she sees her makes Meredith catch her breath, just a little.
But it's not until they're both sitting down, fork-deep in mashed potatoes, that Teyla touches her.
It's just their fingers brushing together across the table, but it's slow and deliberate: Teyla lifts her index finger and rubs slowly along the middle knuckle of Meredith's third finger, and just that one point of touch between their bodies feels intensely sexual, just the pad of Teyla's finger over the soft skin of Meredith's knuckle. Meredith swallows the bite of food she's taken, then puts down her fork, confused.
Then she turns her hand over, offering it palm-up. Teyla smiles, and strokes all four fingers slowly along the palm, not quite holding hands.
"There is a ceremony," Teyla says slowly, not meeting Meredith's eyes. She seems fascinated by the slow play of their fingers together.
"What kind of ceremony?" Meredith asks, suspicious, anxious.
"I promise that no one has to get naked, and that there is very little chanting." Meredith can't help but grin at little at Teyla's fond tone. "I spoke to Kanaan, and we have agreed that you could be my riahan. If - if that's what we want."
Meredith is distracted by Teyla's hand in hers, but then she catches up to the conversation and finds herself blinking. "Your - is that like your girlfriend?" Her voice squeaks ridiculously on the last word.
Teyla grimaces slightly. "Not quite. It is . . . more solemn, I think." Her eyes are hot and intense, holding Meredith's gaze. "It is a serious role that you have offered to play. Among other things, if both Kanaan and I die, you become our child's mother."
Meredith gapes. "I . . . Teyla, I'm not the one you want for that job," she sputters. "You should see me with my niece, I'm terrible, I don't know what to do with children - " Teyla's hand tightens on hers.
"I have thought about it since you came to me yesterday. I - want this," she says, her eyes dark. Meredith's chest feels tight, constricted, the way it does during an allergic reaction. As she watches, Teyla licks her lips slowly, as if trying to find the right words to say next.
"If I were being truthful, I would say that I have been thinking about it ever since I found out that I was carrying a child," she continues, and Meredith can tell that it took some effort for her to say that. Then, in a half-whisper, she adds, "Maybe even before then."
Meredith's trying to figure out how to respond to that when Teyla's gaze flicks over her shoulder, and she pulls her hand back easily. Meredith looks behind her just as John comes up and drops his tray next to hers.
"What are you ladies talking about?" he asks, with his usual attempt at gentlemanly charm.
Meredith opens her mouth out of habit, but then finds that she has nothing to say.
"Combat training," Teyla says, smiling sweetly and taking another bite of potatoes. "I am trying to convince Meredith to master a few new techniques."
"What, beyond the tuck and roll, you mean?" John asks, shocked. Meredith spares him a withering glance.
"Ha ha, Colonel. The tuck and roll has served me fine up until now."
"You've also mastered the strategic falling-down," John points out.
Meredith rolls her eyes and takes another bite of the food. "When you learn how to reprogram Ancient control crystals, I'll learn to kill people with my pinky fingers," she says.
"Okay," John agrees equitably. Meredith looks up at him, but can't tell if he's being sarcastic.
"Excuse me?"
"I said, okay, that's a good idea."
Teyla nods, as if this conversation is making any sense. "Yes, I think so too. We should all learn at least the basics."
"What are we doing?" Ronon asks, coming up to the table and sitting beside Teyla.
"We're exchanging skills," John answers promptly. "Teyla's gonna teach Meredith some hand to hand, Meredith's gonna teach me some Ancient programming, and I could teach you something."
Ronon stares impassively. "Like what?"
John juts out his chin, and his lips sort of slide to one side of his face. "I could teach you how to surf a tube," he suggests.
"Uh huh," Ronon says, digging into his food. They all eat in silence for a minute or two, then Ronon says, "I can build a bomb out of the common household objects of any planet I've been to."
"See, that's useful," Meredith says, pointing at Ronon. "I could learn that."
"Undoubtedly," Teyla grins. Under the table, just for a moment, her booted foot slides fondly against Meredith's calf.
Later, when they all stand to leave, Teyla lingers uncharacteristically. So Meredith goes slowly, too, letting John and Ronon go off to do whatever it is they do with their afternoons. Teyla glances at her, then walks out onto the balcony. Meredith follows, and finds herself immediately pressed against the warm stone of the balcony wall.
Teyla's mouth is warm, too, and demanding; she pushes Meredith gently against the wall, holding her there with her body, and kisses her thoroughly, the slow play of her mouth devastating and inescapable. Meredith kisses back greedily, hungrily, getting her hands into Teyla's hair and holding her there.
Eventually Teyla slides a hand up Meredith's neck to cup her jaw, then pulls back slowly.
"Think about it," she says.
-
The next day, she learns that Teyla was serious about the self-defense lessons, because she shows up at Meredith's door at six a.m. with a gym bag and an irritatingly sunny disposition.
"Come on, Doctor McKay, it is the best part of the morning," she grins.
Meredith cracks an eye open dubiously, then jams it shut again and pulls the blanket over her face. "You cannot be serious about this," she calls, her voice muffled.
"I am serious enough to take you out of that bed by force if you do not get up under your own power," Teyla answers warningly. Meredith pulls the blankets down past her neck and looks at Teyla appraisingly.
"That sounds like fun, actually," she says, letting her voice drop a register.
Teyla - death-dealing ass-kicking cucumber-calm Teyla - blushes. Meredith stares, fascinated.
But Teyla recovers quickly. "Come on, out of bed," she says. Meredith's witty reply is cut off by the workout clothes that hit her in the face.
"You're throwing things at me now?" she grumbles, but picks up the sports bra and the yoga pants and gets out of bed.
"Whatever it takes," Teyla answers primly.
-
The workout isn't as bad as she thought it'd be; for one thing, though she'll never admit it out loud, it actually feels good to stretch her muscles and sweat a little. After twenty minutes, Meredith's forgotten about how ridiculous she probably looks and is enjoying her newfound ability, under Teyla's instruction, to actually get her body to do what she wants it to do, sometimes.
For another thing - for another thing, Teyla is all over her: her hands positioning Meredith's arms, her palms holding her around the waist to demonstrate a turn, her leg nudging at the back of Meredith's knee to get her to bend properly. She could swear that Teyla lingers just a little longer than she needs to in each position, and when she lets go of Meredith's body, it is always slowly, with her fingers trailing along Meredith's flushed skin as she pulls back and away.
She's always known that Teyla is shorter than she is, but she's never had it dramatized like this. Teyla's breath skates across the nape of Meredith's neck when she sidles up behind her to show her a chokehold, and Meredith knows, suddenly, what it would feel like if Teyla kissed her there, if Teyla's mouth were just a half-inch closer to her skin.
"Now you escape," Teyla says, breathes, her muscled arms braced tight around Meredith's shoulders and neck.
Something daring and stubborn stirs inside her. "Maybe I don't want to," she says, just barely loud enough to be heard.
The arms encircling her stay in the same position, but the sensation against her neck changes: Teyla's lips pressing gently over the little protrusion of bone just below her shoulders. The kiss is slow, and soft, and deliberate. Meredith closes her eyes and presses her lips together.
Teyla drags her lips slowly up Meredith's neck and then noses at her ear. Teyla hasn't had to breathe hard through the whole lesson, but she's panting a little now, Meredith can feel it: the quick-drawn breaths push her chest against Meredith's back. Then, with no warning - no more warning than she gave of the kiss - she tightens her arms over Meredith's neck.
"Now you escape," she says again, right into Meredith's ear.
Her own breath is harsh now, too, but she manages to replicate the move that Teyla showed her before: leaning into the choke, turning, pulling down sharply. Teyla doesn't flip conveniently over her shoulder like they do in the movies, but she does lose - or give up - enough of her balance that it breaks her hold on Meredith.
"Good," Teyla says, beaming.
Meredith licks her lips. "You're not afraid - I mean, aren't you worried that you could hurt the baby, doing this?"
"You are not yet that great a danger to me, Doctor," Teyla says with a sly smile. "And besides, my balance is shifting these days, so it is good practice for me." She pauses, considering her next words carefully. "Pregnant mothers need combat training like any other parent. Like any other family member."
Meredith meets her eyes, and suddenly gets it.
"Oh," she says.
"Yes," Teyla answers. Then she just waits, patiently, standing barefoot on the gym mats as if expecting Meredith to leave. She could leave, could walk away from everything Teyla's offering her, all the possibility and the responsibility.
"So, uh, you should show me that again?" she says, finally.
Teyla nods. "I can do that."
-
part two
rating: S for graphic sex
pairing: Meredith McKay/Teyla Emmagan
spoilers: general season four
notes: I started writing this back in October, thinking that I would write a short piece about Meredith (Rodney's-always-been-a-girl!Meredith) and Teyla, because - I thought - that would be hot. It got longer, and got abandoned a few times, and then, surprisingly, got finished. (Hilariously, this is also the story of that other genderfuck-femslash story that I wrote: I thought, I'll write 2000 words of porn! And then it didn't happen).
This would never ever ever have gotten finished without help: the_drifter prodded me extensively on characterization and suggested a few changes that turned out to be essential; also she did nitty-gritty beta work, for which, bless her. eruthros helped from the beginning, but most recently she suggested a couple of plot elements that actually gave the story an ending, which is kind of important. And monanotlisa encouraged and cheerled early on. Thanks, guys!
Advanced Combinatorics
"Are you warm enough, Doctor McKay?" Teyla asks, coming to sit beside her at the entrance to the tent. It's one of the little two-man numbers, which means it's too small for two men, but at least it's waterproof.
Meredith stares out the tent flap at the rain. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you."
After a long pause, Teyla speaks again. "I did not mean to disturb you. I will leave you to your thoughts." Usually, Meredith likes the politeness and formality with which Teyla operates; it makes her feel safe, somehow, like they've got a script to follow. But she doesn't really want to be left to her thoughts, either.
"That's ridiculous," she says, gesturing behind her at the tiny tent. "There's nowhere for you to go." She tries a smile, tries to tell Teyla that she's okay with some company. Teyla smiles back, and for once Meredith feels like she's not totally inept when it comes to women.
"I will join you, then." Teyla says, mirroring her cross-legged pose.
"I was just thinking," Meredith muses, "that we always split up this way. Boys in one tent, girls in the other."
Teyla nods. "I gathered from Doctor Weir that your culture has many concerns about paternity, and thus frowns on the possibility of extramarital sex."
Meredith laughs. "Yeah, I guess that's where it comes from. But really it's one of those old customs that doesn't make sense anymore. For one thing, we have contraceptives, so premarital sex isn't an issue."
She's mentioned birth control to Teyla before, and each time she's noticed the same result: Teyla's back tenses and she nods politely.
"And I guess the other concern is rape, but I don't think that's too likely in this situation either," Meredith continues blithely.
"Women on your world do not participate in combat training?"
She shrugs. "Not often. Or not enough, whatever. I took a self-defense class during undergrad, but I was never any good at it anyway." She smiles ruefully at Teyla. "I'm not so good at the physical stuff."
Teyla doesn't speak for a moment. "You are very good with your hands," she says eventually, her tone soft and intimate. Her gaze drops down momentarily to Meredith's hand where it rests against the tent floor, and she places her own hand next to it, carefully. Their fingers don't touch, but they nearly do. Teyla coughs, then continues in her normal voice. "And you took easily enough to the arms training that Major Sheppard gave you."
She smiles and gives Teyla an imperial wave of her hand. "I prefer to let you and Aiden and John handle those things, so long as you leave the brilliant thinking to me."
"Ah, of course." She can tell that she's being teased, Teyla-style, but she doesn't mind so much, sitting here quietly, breathing crisp air and watching the rain. It's odd; she's never felt particularly comfortable around Teyla, whose grace and competence and beauty seem so effortless. Teyla's exactly the kind of girl that she used to follow around in high school, talented and too kind to not hang out with her, even though Meredith was perennially uncool with her baggy jeans and her chess club and her curly hair that was just never going to look sexy.
Maybe it's this train of thought - remembering Michelle Zhang in grade eleven, first place in the Provincial Gymnastics Tournament and Student Council President, Michelle Zhang who kissed Meredith that one time in the chem lab after school - maybe it's that memory that makes Meredith press a little closer to Teyla, that makes her bold enough to brush their bare arms together.
"I could give you lessons," Teyla offers eventually, not pulling her arm away, and Meredith blinks, trying to remember the thread of the conversation.
"Oh, in self-defense."
"In combat, yes." When Teyla turns her head and smiles, the friendly little close-lipped smile of hers that doesn't often get trotted out during trade missions, Meredith gets that feeling that she always gets when she's about to do something desperately stupid.
Oh fuck, I am such an idiot, she thinks, while she presses her mouth to Teyla's.
Teyla's lips are soft and warm, pliant beneath hers for one long, glorious moment. Then she pulls back abruptly. Meredith's never seen Teyla blush before, so she's momentarily fascinated by the colour that covers her high cheekbones as she pulls back and away, breaking the contact between their bodies entirely.
"Doctor McKay," Teyla begins, her voice calm and rational and patient as it always is. Meredith can't bear to listen.
"Uh, no, listen, it's fine, I'm sorry, just - we'll forget I did that, okay? Just, just. I'm sorry." She listens to the babble coming out of her mouth with some detached horror.
"I - " Meredith's never heard Teyla stutter before, either. "It is all right." There's an awkward silence while Meredith scrubs two fingers against her forehead, avoiding Teyla's gaze.
"Perhaps we should get some rest," Teyla suggests eventually.
Meredith realises, suddenly, that this was probably the worst time to make a pass at your extremely not-into-chicks coworker, kind of ever, given that they're now trapped together for the night in a tent that could only, if they were being honest, be called one-and-a-quarter-man sized. But somehow Teyla doesn't let it get awkward; she just slips into her sleeping bag and lies on her back, same as always, and is almost immediately relaxed and breathing deeply. Meredith wants to stay awake and worry about the whole situation, except somehow Teyla's warm body lying beside hers, trusting and kind, is enough to make Meredith relax, too. So she closes her eyes and listens to Teyla's breathing and lets herself drift off into the forgiving darkness.
-
In the morning, Teyla acts as if nothing happened, shaking Meredith out of bed like she always does and giving her impatient looks until she gets up and takes on her share of the packing.
"I hate this part," Meredith grumbles as she tries to roll her sleeping bag small enough to fit back in its absurdly tiny nylon case.
"Here," Teyla says, coming over and helping her hold the thing down. Their arms brush easily as they stuff the material into the case, their hands slipping over each other as they try to keep it from escaping. At the last moment, the sleeping bag surges up unexpectedly, slipping out of their hands, and Teyla laughs that rough genuine laugh of hers. Meredith groans and buries her face in the inanimate nylon that has defeated her brilliance.
"Your people have many excellent technologies, Doctor McKay, but this is not one of them," Teyla says, still laughing, sticking her tongue between her teeth as she tries to recapture the rogue material.
"Hey, I didn't invent it," Meredith protests, holding the bag while Teyla finally gets the last of the thing inside. "I'm a physicist, not a camp counsellor."
"Okay," Teyla says briskly, standing up and brushing off her hands, "now you have to help me with mine."
Meredith flops onto the bare tent floor in mock-exhaustion and grins up at her. "Okay," she says.
-
As time passes and things go on as normal, Meredith starts to relax; it doesn't seem like Teyla holds that kiss against her. They don't talk about it - which Meredith takes as a mercy, since she suspects that "bad with feelings" is the one fault that they share - but Teyla doesn't avoid her or anything. In fact, it seems like Teyla is going out of her way to be nice to her, sitting next to her at team movie nights, offering to help turn on and experiment with all the weird Wraith technology they've picked up, corralling her and dragging her off to the mess hall for meals when she starts working too late. She starts getting used to seeing Teyla around the city, starts getting used to the warmth of her body when they stand too close together in the labs.
One night she shows up at Meredith's door just after dinner with a little leather bag in one hand.
"It is a game I thought you might like," Teyla says, speaking more softly than usual, almost shyly. "I used to play often with Halling, but since he and I no longer live near each other, I need a new partner."
Ky-Nill is played with a set of polished, carved stones, each of which has three sides; as the pieces move around each other, their allegiances can change.
"There's no board?" Meredith asks. "No playing surface? A boundary to the game?"
Teyla shakes her head. "No - the potential placements of the pieces are determined by their relation to the other pieces. See, this one - serpent - cannot be placed horizontally next to any of these," Teyla's fingers point out three pieces that she hasn't named yet, "and must be always in diagonal relation to one of these," she points to the large pieces that she called nodes.
"Oh," Meredith says, understanding: "Oh, it's topology, it's, it's combinatorics - it's a network, that's brilliant." For a moment, she just trails her fingers helplessly over the pieces, entranced by the Athosian symbols that she doesn't recognise; then she looks back up at Teyla.
She looks . . . happy, in a way that she usually doesn't; she's often amused, or content, or relieved, but Meredith has seldom seen her look like this, relaxed and delighted. Her face is lit up, her eyes dancing, as if it's she who has been given a gift. Meredith can't help but fall a little more in love with her, even though she knows it's a bad idea. "I knew that you would like it," Teyla says, sounding satisfied.
"I do, I like it," Meredith says, and if she keeps looking at Teyla she'll do something dumb like kiss her again, so she just brushes her hair out of her eyes and bends down over the pieces again. It's almost like chess, except that in chess you can't win a rook over to your side, or change the mind of a knight just by placing it in the right context. The range of possible configurations is already spinning forth in Meredith's mind; each piece laid out, one at a time, forming a different network with every round of play. As Teyla begins to name the pieces, Meredith thinks: the rules stay the same, but the pieces change.
She slides her thumb slowly over the serpent - which is also the water-bearer, which is also the change of seasons - relishing the slick feel of the polished stone beneath her skin.
"Okay," she says, shifting to pick up another piece, "so what does this one do?"
Teyla grins. "At first, it is always a snowfall."
-
Some months later, they arrive at the gay planet.
"Oh wow, it's the gay planet," John drawls, raising an eyebrow from behind his sunglasses.
"I think I was here once when I was running," Ronon offers. "Good caves."
The Minister for Trade and her wife smile at them. "We're making some pie," the Minister says.
"Come and have pie," the Minister's wife adds.
Teyla is polite and complimentary throughout the pie. Later, she negotiates easily and establishes a fair and profitable trade agreement. Meredith can't help but wonder: she's never seen any of the Athosians in same-sex pairs.
"You don't have, uh. Homosexuals? On Athos?" Meredith tries, later that day, when she's probably had too much pie and the pastry in her blood is affecting her judgment. It comes out mumbled and half-incoherent; her mouth feels dry.
Teyla purses her lips for a moment, then smiles and meets her eyes. "It is not a problem, Doctor McKay."
"Okay," Meredith says.
-
Meredith hangs out with John sometimes. They talk about tv shows, or play video games, or eat meals together. Meredith is pretty sure that he's gay, too, so they have that in common, even if they never talk about it.
"Vincent Price," John says, as they walk along the corridor.
"Shame?" Meredith guesses. "No, wait. The Eggman! He was the Eggman, Cliff Robertson was Shame."
"You got it," John agrees. "Okay, here's a tough one: Shelley Winters."
-
"New node," Teyla intones finally, placing her piece in diagonal relation to the old woman that Meredith has just played. "Waterfall becomes spaceship."
"I never understand that one," Meredith says with a laugh. Then she considers. Teyla is possibly consolidating power near that node to change her desert into a river.
"The connections between the different sides of the pieces are not set," Teyla says, shrugging one shoulder. "The associations do not always make sense immediately, and they emerge differently in each round of play. This is why the game is such an excellent meditational tool."
Meredith pauses, about to set a singing bird in horizontal relation to the spaceship. "Wait," she says, "meditational tool? Is this - are these tarot cards?"
Teyla grins at her as if she's going to pretend to not understand the reference. "I do not understand the reference," she lies.
"Oh, you do so. Have we been meditating all this time, or what?"
Teyla shrugs. "Whatever you call the state of mind you are in when you play."
Meredith eyes her suspiciously. "Uh huh." She plays the singing bird. "So, can they tell the future?" she asks sarcastically.
"Nobody can tell the future, Meredith," Teyla mutters absently, already scanning the network and looking for her next move.
-
Meredith's busy working on the Replicator nanites when the news comes out, so she doesn't hear about it until the next day when John sets his tray down next to hers at breakfast. He places it carefully, studying his eggs with uncommon intensity, and Meredith wishes that she knew what that meant.
"Did you know?" he asks a moment later, after shoveling a forkful of breakfast into his mouth and not looking at her.
Meredith blinks. "I know a lot of things, Colonel," she says, "but you're going to have to get a little less cryptic if you want an answer."
John meets her eyes then, his gaze hard and steady. "Did you know about Teyla's pregnancy?"
Holy shit. "Teyla's pregnant?" They played Ky-Nill just last night; two days ago, they were on a mission together; a few days before that, Teyla spent hours with her in the labs playing with the genetic keys on the Wraith data recorders.
John winces. "A little louder, McKay."
"Well, you're the one who's going around telling people!" she hisses. An argument with John is a good idea; an argument with John will keep her attention off of the idea of losing Teyla from their team. It's Jeannie all over again.
"I am not going around telling . . ." John starts, his voice rising on each word. A few heads turn to look at them, and John purses his lips before continuing in a subdued half-whisper. "I'm not going around telling people, okay? I just thought she might have, you know. Said something."
Meredith scowls. "Oh, she might have said something. Maybe when we were braiding each others' hair and painting our toenails last week?"
"Shut up, you know what I meant."
"She didn't tell me," Meredith says, her eyes on the food in front of her. "I didn't know."
-
Later that day, she gets a radio call from Teyla, inviting her to lunch.
"I have something I would like to tell you," Teyla says.
"Colonel Sheppard already told me," Meredith answers. "I'm too busy for lunch."
There's a long, cold silence on the line, and then it goes dead.
Later, Meredith sends Teyla an email telling her that she won't be able to make it to their Ky-Nill game that evening.
The next morning, when Meredith walks into the mess hall, Teyla gets up and leaves just as Meredith starts walking towards their usual table. When she sits down, Ronon and John stare at her disbelievingly.
"Wow," Ronon says eventually. "She's pissed at Sheppard, too, but at least she ate with him. What'd you do to piss her off?"
"Nothing," Meredith mutters. "It's nothing."
-
It goes on like that for days, Teyla leaving rooms just as she enters them, Teyla skipping team movie nights, Teyla not dropping by her quarters to talk or play Ky-Nill or work on the Wraith technology. Meredith tries to avoid her, too, but then after about a week she's tired of it, and has half-forgotten why she was avoiding Teyla, and she keeps turning on her radio with the intention of telling Teyla something, or asking her to lunch, or asking for help in translating some bizarre Ancient scientific text, and each time she has to purse her lips and turn her radio off again. It makes her feel lost, unmoored: she feels as if someone has suddenly changed the speed of light without telling her, universal constants going up in smoke.
Every day she wakes up with the intention of apologising - though she's not sure what she's apologising for - and every night she goes to bed without having spoken to Teyla.
Which is why it's a surprise when she opens the door to her quarters one morning to find Teyla standing right there on the threshold.
"May I speak with you?" she asks, the moment the doors open.
"Auuugh!" Meredith says, startled enough to jump backwards and spill hot coffee all over her wrist. "Jesus, Teyla, don't do that."
"I am inviting John and Ronon to Athos with me tomorrow, to meet Kanaan." At Meredith's blank look, Teyla continues, "the father of my child. I would like you to come too."
Meredith licks at her wrist and scowls at Teyla. "What, just like that? You're trying to tell me you're not still mad at me?"
"Oh," Teyla says, turning to walk away, "I am still mad at you. 17:00 hours in the gateroom. Do not be late."
-
Kanaan is exactly like Teyla: serious and wry, beautiful and considerate. He even has the Wraith gene, it turns out. Meredith tries very hard to make small talk with him, to be nice, as if to prove to Teyla that she doesn't feel the deep heat of jealousy every time she sees them together. But maybe the uncharacteristic niceness is more of a giveaway than anything, because she feels Teyla's eye lingering on her consideringly whenever they're all together, feels that every word she says to Kanaan is being weighed, evaluated.
"We're all really excited for you and Teyla," she says, inanely, the first time they meet, as if she's spent this last week hanging out with Teyla and knitting baby blankets rather than having a fight and avoiding her. They're all sitting around a table in one of the Athosian tents, Ronon and John and Teyla and Kanaan, with Meredith sitting alone on the end.
"Thank you," Kanaan answers, smiling. Meredith gets the feeling that he has to try hard, too. "We were hoping for a child; too few have been born recently."
Meredith nods. "I guess population growth is pretty important, right now. With the Wraith and all." Teyla glances up sharply, at this, but says nothing. Everyone is quiet.
Down the table, John shifts uncomfortably and stabs at his food with his chopsticks. "So, you guys picked out any names?"
After the meal, Teyla ambushes her outside the tent while the others are still inside making small talk with Kanaan.
"Meredith?" Teyla asks, coming out of the shadows suddenly. Meredith jumps.
"God, would you stop doing that?" She sounds irritable even to herself. "What do you want?"
Now that she's standing in the light, Meredith can see Teyla's eyebrows, drawn together, and her mouth, corners drawn slightly down. She's known Teyla for four years, and she knows that look: Teyla's pissed.
"I do not know what you want," Teyla hisses suddenly, her words clipped. Meredith gets the feeling that this isn't what she was intending to say. "I just do not understand what it is that you want from me. I thought you would be . . . I thought we were friends," she finishes stiffly.
"We are," Meredith answers automatically, desperately. She's spent the last week trying to tell herself that she's better off without Teyla around, but looking at her now, arms crossed over her chest, angry and frustrated in the flickering light, Meredith can't keep up the pretense.
Teyla looks a little surprised by Meredith's sudden agreement, and she uncrosses her arms, then crosses them again. "I have missed our conversations," Teyla says, her tone almost accusatory.
"I have, me too," Meredith says. "I wanted to come talk to you." Teyla relaxes her arms to her side and steps up closer.
"I have missed you," she says, and strokes her fingers suddenly along Meredith's shoulder.
Meredith wishes she had the strength to pull away from that touch. "Don't you have Kanaan?" As soon as the words are out, she wishes she hadn't said them.
Teyla jerks as if she's been slapped, but doesn't look away. "It is not the same," she says. Her fingers squeeze at the muscle of Meredith's shoulder, cajolingly.
"Right," she says. "Look, I'm sorry I said that. I'm sorry I've been a, a jerk. This last week." She takes a breath and meets Teyla's gaze. "I'm happy for you, I am. It was all just so sudden."
Teyla's jaw clenches, but she doesn't speak; instead, she puts her other hand on Meredith's other shoulder.
It's confusing for a moment, but then Meredith sees what's going on and gets with the program, bending her head so that her forehead touches Teyla's. They've never done this before, and it feels strange, and Meredith doesn't know when she's supposed to pull away. Teyla's breath puffs against her face for a moment, and then she pulls back.
"I want to stay friends," Meredith says then, gulping. "I'm not so good at it, but I want to stay friends with you, Teyla. I missed you too."
Teyla looks confused, then nods and steps back. "All right," she says, slowly.
"I know you're staying here tonight," Meredith goes on, quickly, "but tomorrow after dinner you should come by and we can have a game of Ky-Nill."
"I would like that very much," Teyla says, so earnest, and something deep inside Meredith's chest unravels at those words.
-
Over the next few weeks they're cautious and polite around each other in a way they haven't been in years, carefully reenacting all the activities that never used to require planning. But it gets better with time; they don't mention Kanaan or Teyla's pregnancy, but they get more comfortable together, playing around in the labs or bending together over a game-network in Teyla's quarters. Meredith's heartbeat still picks up traitorously whenever Teyla bends near her, or brushes their hands together, but she does her best to tamp those feelings down, to tell herself that she's grateful just for Teyla's friendship.
But every time they play, or meet up in the conference room before a briefing - every time they're alone together, Meredith feels like she still hasn't finished the apology that she started on New Athos, that Teyla is still waiting for her to say more.
It's not until Teyla's almost four months pregnant that she actually gets up the nerve to do it. She's not completely out of her depth here, after all; she has a sister, she has a niece, she babysat for the next door neighbours that one time. She hates that it's her responsibility just because she's the other woman on the team, but can't quite shake the feeling that she's letting Teyla down by not saying something.
Teyla opens her door, seeming surprised to see Meredith standing there.
"Doctor McKay," she says, smiling a little. "I did not expect you. Did we have a game scheduled?"
"No, no," she says, trying not to fidget. "Is it a bad time? I can come back."
Teyla shakes her head. "Come in."
They sit down a little awkwardly on Teyla's couch. Meredith can't help the way her eyes keep drifting downwards to Teyla's stomach, even though there's no bulge there yet.
"Was there something you wanted to talk about?" Teyla prompts, gently. Her hand rests lightly on Meredith's shoulder, a gentle caress that speaks of concern. This is the way that she always touches Meredith, when they play Ky-Nill or when they're walking next to each other on an alien world: the locations change, but Teyla's touch remains constant, friendly, kind.
"Uh, yeah," Meredith says, turning so that Teyla's hand falls from her shoulder. "I just . . . I know you don't have a lot of female friends, here on Atlantis," she begins. Teyla raises her eyebrows at this assertion, but doesn't say anything. "And I thought that you might need someone around to talk to, about the, the pregnancy and all. I know you and I don't - I mean, we play Ky-Nill and hang out and whatever, but maybe we're not as close as we could be. Or, as close as we were, whatever. And if there are things you need, or things you can't say to John or Ronon . . . I just wanted to let you know that I'm here for you. I can be here for you." It's not as smooth as she practiced it, but it got the general point across, at least.
"Oh," is what Teyla says in answer.
After a little silence, Meredith shifts and speaks again. "I mean, you don't have to, but I just . . . I may not say it, but I do have the greatest respect, and, and admiration, for you." She tilts her chin up and manages to meet Teyla's eyes. "And I thought you might need a friend around here, since Kanaan's busy on New Athos and since, since Elizabeth's . . . gone, you know. Anyway, you can talk to me, is what I'm saying." She grimaces; she hadn't wanted to mention Elizabeth's name.
"You want to be closer," Teyla asks, hesitatingly.
Meredith feels a slow blush creep across her face, but keeps eye contact. "Yes, I suppose so," she says. "I mean, if that's what you want." Teyla's expression clears, a smile ghosting onto her face.
"Doctor McKay," she says warmly, "Meredith. I am honoured that you would come to me. Thank you for your offer."
Teyla does look honoured, is the thing; it sounds like a brush-off, and maybe it is, but it seems like her speech did make Teyla feel a little better. Meredith tries a smile and glances up into Teyla's eyes.
Teyla moves her hand from Meredith's shoulder to the back of her neck, leans in, and kisses her on the lips.
It doesn't last long; Teyla just presses their mouths together, warm and easy and lush, and then pulls back before Meredith can really do much about it.
"It is a little unusual," Teyla says, and maybe Meredith's imagining it, but it sounds like Teyla's breathing a little faster than usual. "I will speak with Kanaan about it, but . . . I have great respect for you, too, and would be honoured." The repetitive formality of her words is belied by her hand lingering on the back of Meredith's neck, the brush of Teyla's fingers against her hairline. Meredith gets the impression that Teyla is following a script of some kind.
She doesn't know what else to do, so she gives in to the longing that blooms rough inside her: she touches the side of Teyla's face, tentatively, and moves in, and kisses her the same way she's just been kissed: softly, quickly, almost like a sister, almost the way that she used to kiss Jeannie when they were little. Teyla kisses back.
"I will speak with Kanaan," Teyla says again, and stands. Meredith sits there for a moment, stupidly, before taking her cue to leave. At the door, she waves awkwardly.
"Bye." She doesn't know what else to say; she's not sure what just happened. Water-bearer becomes a change of seasons, she thinks, almost hysterically.
"I will see you tomorrow, Meredith," Teyla says.
-
She spends the next day in a sort of haze, unable to take her mind off of the sweet sensation of Teyla's lips pressing gently against hers, but it's not until mid-afternoon that she realises that she and Teyla have no plans to meet up; they have no team night scheduled, no off-world mission planned. There's no reason for Teyla to see her today.
She's just starting to panic - they did have something planned, they must've, and Meredith's just forgotten it, and meanwhile Teyla is sitting somewhere waiting for her - when her radio beeps. "Meredith?"
She flicks it on, relieved. "Hi, Teyla."
"I thought you might like to join me in the mess hall for dinner. I have secured some chocolate cake for afterwards."
Meredith smiles, absurdly pleased. "Sure. When did you have in mind?"
"Right now, unless you are presently engaged in saving the universe." She can almost see Teyla's lips twist in that teasing smile she gets when she's being ironic.
She glances over at the formulae on the screen; Zelenka and Ambrose's new work on wormhole formation dynamics. Flawed, of course, but fascinating. She grins.
"I think the universe'll keep," she answers.
When she gets to the mess hall, she finds Teyla standing next to the counter, chatting with the Marine pulling caf duty today. She glances up as Meredith approaches, and the smile that graces her face when she sees her makes Meredith catch her breath, just a little.
But it's not until they're both sitting down, fork-deep in mashed potatoes, that Teyla touches her.
It's just their fingers brushing together across the table, but it's slow and deliberate: Teyla lifts her index finger and rubs slowly along the middle knuckle of Meredith's third finger, and just that one point of touch between their bodies feels intensely sexual, just the pad of Teyla's finger over the soft skin of Meredith's knuckle. Meredith swallows the bite of food she's taken, then puts down her fork, confused.
Then she turns her hand over, offering it palm-up. Teyla smiles, and strokes all four fingers slowly along the palm, not quite holding hands.
"There is a ceremony," Teyla says slowly, not meeting Meredith's eyes. She seems fascinated by the slow play of their fingers together.
"What kind of ceremony?" Meredith asks, suspicious, anxious.
"I promise that no one has to get naked, and that there is very little chanting." Meredith can't help but grin at little at Teyla's fond tone. "I spoke to Kanaan, and we have agreed that you could be my riahan. If - if that's what we want."
Meredith is distracted by Teyla's hand in hers, but then she catches up to the conversation and finds herself blinking. "Your - is that like your girlfriend?" Her voice squeaks ridiculously on the last word.
Teyla grimaces slightly. "Not quite. It is . . . more solemn, I think." Her eyes are hot and intense, holding Meredith's gaze. "It is a serious role that you have offered to play. Among other things, if both Kanaan and I die, you become our child's mother."
Meredith gapes. "I . . . Teyla, I'm not the one you want for that job," she sputters. "You should see me with my niece, I'm terrible, I don't know what to do with children - " Teyla's hand tightens on hers.
"I have thought about it since you came to me yesterday. I - want this," she says, her eyes dark. Meredith's chest feels tight, constricted, the way it does during an allergic reaction. As she watches, Teyla licks her lips slowly, as if trying to find the right words to say next.
"If I were being truthful, I would say that I have been thinking about it ever since I found out that I was carrying a child," she continues, and Meredith can tell that it took some effort for her to say that. Then, in a half-whisper, she adds, "Maybe even before then."
Meredith's trying to figure out how to respond to that when Teyla's gaze flicks over her shoulder, and she pulls her hand back easily. Meredith looks behind her just as John comes up and drops his tray next to hers.
"What are you ladies talking about?" he asks, with his usual attempt at gentlemanly charm.
Meredith opens her mouth out of habit, but then finds that she has nothing to say.
"Combat training," Teyla says, smiling sweetly and taking another bite of potatoes. "I am trying to convince Meredith to master a few new techniques."
"What, beyond the tuck and roll, you mean?" John asks, shocked. Meredith spares him a withering glance.
"Ha ha, Colonel. The tuck and roll has served me fine up until now."
"You've also mastered the strategic falling-down," John points out.
Meredith rolls her eyes and takes another bite of the food. "When you learn how to reprogram Ancient control crystals, I'll learn to kill people with my pinky fingers," she says.
"Okay," John agrees equitably. Meredith looks up at him, but can't tell if he's being sarcastic.
"Excuse me?"
"I said, okay, that's a good idea."
Teyla nods, as if this conversation is making any sense. "Yes, I think so too. We should all learn at least the basics."
"What are we doing?" Ronon asks, coming up to the table and sitting beside Teyla.
"We're exchanging skills," John answers promptly. "Teyla's gonna teach Meredith some hand to hand, Meredith's gonna teach me some Ancient programming, and I could teach you something."
Ronon stares impassively. "Like what?"
John juts out his chin, and his lips sort of slide to one side of his face. "I could teach you how to surf a tube," he suggests.
"Uh huh," Ronon says, digging into his food. They all eat in silence for a minute or two, then Ronon says, "I can build a bomb out of the common household objects of any planet I've been to."
"See, that's useful," Meredith says, pointing at Ronon. "I could learn that."
"Undoubtedly," Teyla grins. Under the table, just for a moment, her booted foot slides fondly against Meredith's calf.
Later, when they all stand to leave, Teyla lingers uncharacteristically. So Meredith goes slowly, too, letting John and Ronon go off to do whatever it is they do with their afternoons. Teyla glances at her, then walks out onto the balcony. Meredith follows, and finds herself immediately pressed against the warm stone of the balcony wall.
Teyla's mouth is warm, too, and demanding; she pushes Meredith gently against the wall, holding her there with her body, and kisses her thoroughly, the slow play of her mouth devastating and inescapable. Meredith kisses back greedily, hungrily, getting her hands into Teyla's hair and holding her there.
Eventually Teyla slides a hand up Meredith's neck to cup her jaw, then pulls back slowly.
"Think about it," she says.
-
The next day, she learns that Teyla was serious about the self-defense lessons, because she shows up at Meredith's door at six a.m. with a gym bag and an irritatingly sunny disposition.
"Come on, Doctor McKay, it is the best part of the morning," she grins.
Meredith cracks an eye open dubiously, then jams it shut again and pulls the blanket over her face. "You cannot be serious about this," she calls, her voice muffled.
"I am serious enough to take you out of that bed by force if you do not get up under your own power," Teyla answers warningly. Meredith pulls the blankets down past her neck and looks at Teyla appraisingly.
"That sounds like fun, actually," she says, letting her voice drop a register.
Teyla - death-dealing ass-kicking cucumber-calm Teyla - blushes. Meredith stares, fascinated.
But Teyla recovers quickly. "Come on, out of bed," she says. Meredith's witty reply is cut off by the workout clothes that hit her in the face.
"You're throwing things at me now?" she grumbles, but picks up the sports bra and the yoga pants and gets out of bed.
"Whatever it takes," Teyla answers primly.
-
The workout isn't as bad as she thought it'd be; for one thing, though she'll never admit it out loud, it actually feels good to stretch her muscles and sweat a little. After twenty minutes, Meredith's forgotten about how ridiculous she probably looks and is enjoying her newfound ability, under Teyla's instruction, to actually get her body to do what she wants it to do, sometimes.
For another thing - for another thing, Teyla is all over her: her hands positioning Meredith's arms, her palms holding her around the waist to demonstrate a turn, her leg nudging at the back of Meredith's knee to get her to bend properly. She could swear that Teyla lingers just a little longer than she needs to in each position, and when she lets go of Meredith's body, it is always slowly, with her fingers trailing along Meredith's flushed skin as she pulls back and away.
She's always known that Teyla is shorter than she is, but she's never had it dramatized like this. Teyla's breath skates across the nape of Meredith's neck when she sidles up behind her to show her a chokehold, and Meredith knows, suddenly, what it would feel like if Teyla kissed her there, if Teyla's mouth were just a half-inch closer to her skin.
"Now you escape," Teyla says, breathes, her muscled arms braced tight around Meredith's shoulders and neck.
Something daring and stubborn stirs inside her. "Maybe I don't want to," she says, just barely loud enough to be heard.
The arms encircling her stay in the same position, but the sensation against her neck changes: Teyla's lips pressing gently over the little protrusion of bone just below her shoulders. The kiss is slow, and soft, and deliberate. Meredith closes her eyes and presses her lips together.
Teyla drags her lips slowly up Meredith's neck and then noses at her ear. Teyla hasn't had to breathe hard through the whole lesson, but she's panting a little now, Meredith can feel it: the quick-drawn breaths push her chest against Meredith's back. Then, with no warning - no more warning than she gave of the kiss - she tightens her arms over Meredith's neck.
"Now you escape," she says again, right into Meredith's ear.
Her own breath is harsh now, too, but she manages to replicate the move that Teyla showed her before: leaning into the choke, turning, pulling down sharply. Teyla doesn't flip conveniently over her shoulder like they do in the movies, but she does lose - or give up - enough of her balance that it breaks her hold on Meredith.
"Good," Teyla says, beaming.
Meredith licks her lips. "You're not afraid - I mean, aren't you worried that you could hurt the baby, doing this?"
"You are not yet that great a danger to me, Doctor," Teyla says with a sly smile. "And besides, my balance is shifting these days, so it is good practice for me." She pauses, considering her next words carefully. "Pregnant mothers need combat training like any other parent. Like any other family member."
Meredith meets her eyes, and suddenly gets it.
"Oh," she says.
"Yes," Teyla answers. Then she just waits, patiently, standing barefoot on the gym mats as if expecting Meredith to leave. She could leave, could walk away from everything Teyla's offering her, all the possibility and the responsibility.
"So, uh, you should show me that again?" she says, finally.
Teyla nods. "I can do that."
-
part two