fic: In The Game - Chapter Five, PG-13
TITLE: In The Game - Chapter Five
SUMMARY: All in all, John had a good senior Homecoming.
CATEGORY: high school AU, drama
CHARACTERS: John, Teyla, Rodney, Elizabeth, Ronon, Carson, Cadman...and many others...
RATING: PG-13
BETAS: Immense and supreme thanks goes to my patient betas, sjhw_tolerance, who beta'd this even though she doesn't like high school AUs; erica_w, who looked it over although she only has the vaguest idea about Atlantis; and vipersweb, who's been plunged into the deep end of my crackerrific stories upon volunteering to beta for me. If there are mistakes that haven't been picked up, they're entirely mine.
NOTES: Of all the possible universes I could have written in, of all the possible games, I had to pick one of which I have nearly no knowledge: American high school football. As a result, reality may not bear a lot of resemblance to this AU, although I hope the setting is sufficient to suspend disbelief.
To all the people reading this post: have a very safe and pleasant Christmas (or equivalent celebration) and a Joyous New Year!
In The Game: Chapter Four - Pep Talks
Chapter Five - Full Of Grace
John had a lot of good memories from Homecoming that year.
--
Mara Tower's knuckles occasionally brushed against the small of John's back as she sewed him into a cheerleader skirt for the 'cheer squad demo'. It was probably casual, although, knowing Mara, possibly not.
If he hadn't already been going to Homecoming with Teyla, John might have considered Mara as a date.
Maybe, when all this was over, he'd ask Mara out and see where things went.
"At least you're not as big as Evan," she said, her voice slightly muffled as she plied needle and thread in and out of her spare skirt. "We couldn't even get the zipper up on him. Good thing he's wearing white jocks. There, you go." She stood up and grinned at him, daringly resting her hands on his hips as she looked around his shoulder. "Ready to go and wow them?"
In the hot pink eyeliner someone had dug out of their purse - and John hoped to God that the makeup remover Teyla had would get this stuff off their faces, or it would be the Shermer High Transvestites playing St. Rait's Basilisks tonight, instead of the Shermer High Panthers - John figured that he was going to wow someone.
If nothing else, it might get a few laughs out of the crowd.
John nearly asked for a kiss for good luck. Which might have taken him anywhere and gotten him into all kinds of trouble - Mara wasn't exactly a shy girl - if not for a slew of appreciative murmurs and a wolf whistle from the corridor outside.
"Do not even think of saying anything, Slick," Teyla was saying when John poked his head out the door into one of the waiting rooms backstage.
Harrison hadn't needed sewing into his cheerleader's outfit, although it looked like a dress on a scarecrow. However, he had a grin the size of Texas on his skinny face, and the reason was standing in front of him, looking very un-scarecrow-like indeed.
Unlike some of the other schools in the area, Shermer had an all-girls cheerleading squad. That was probably going to change in the next couple of years, especially after Teyla had earned her position on the football team. Apparently equal opportunity went both ways.
At any rate, there were no guy-cheerleaders, and therefore, no guy-cheerleader outfits, so about half the football team was eased, buttoned, zipped, squished, and sown into traditional cheerleader outfits.
The results were mixed - at least when it came to the guys.
When it came to Teyla, the outfit was definitely an unmitigated success.
It was never possible to entirely forgot that Teyla was a girl. But in the padding they wore to practise, it wasn't too hard to just think of her as another player.
There wasn't any padding in a cheerleader outfit.
There was only a little padding on Teyla, and all of it was what John was going to mentally refer to as 'girl padding' so as not to get himself in trouble.
"Who's said anything about thinking?" Harrison quipped with the casual confidence of a guy teasing a girl he was pretty sure could take it.
"You fail to do that most of the time anyway, Slick," Ford retorted.
"Then Teyla's not in much danger of me making a smart comments."
Laura Cadman snorted, her arms full of striped cheerleader skirt. "Yeah, and hell is due for a cold spell."
Teyla rolled her eyes but only turned to Cadman. "There will be photos?"
"Oh, you can count on it. Carson's got it covered," Cadman said as she sailed down the corridor, smirking at John as she passed. "Nice legs, Sheppard."
John stepped out of the room and was about to answer her when Mara goosed him, nearly making him jump. He narrowed his eyes at her and got a saucy smirk in return before she sashayed out of the backstage area. Definitely not a shy girl.
"You'd better get out there," said Annette Myers, the cheerleading captain
Teyla nodded, shot one glance around the backstage waiting room, and shook her head. Then she bounded out of the change room with a flirt of the skirt that would have done a professional cheerleader proud. Annette glanced around at the boys, shook her head, and followed after.
"I vote that we kill Sheppard after the game tonight," Harrison said in a mock-whisper, glancing around at the assembled guys in their cheerleading outfits. "Then Teyla might go to Homecoming with one of us. Who's with me?"
"Ha-ha," John retorted. "Knowing Teyla, she'd probably just go stag." Or she'd take Rodney as a date.
"A man can hope," Harrison said as he sat down, and stretched out his legs, pulling the neck of his outfit open to stare down into the space where his boobs would have gone if he'd had any boobs to speak of. "You know, I think I need some oranges here."
John checked out his own rack - or lack thereof. "I think I might need a couple of cantaloupe," he quipped, and received a few raucous smirks from the others and a butt smack from Mara as she sashayed past.
"Don't even think about it," said Annette as she came back in. "You wreck that uniform, Slick, and I'll tear strips off you. Same goes for you, John." She turned to regard the ten guys who'd volunteered to dress up and perform a cheerleading routine pre-game. "All right, boys. Line up and let's see you."
They shuffled along, trying to get used to the lack of material around their thighs and the tightness of the stretchy tops. Annette took a look along the line and heroically tried not to laugh - then gave up when Harrison started primping and posing. "Well," she said at last, "At least Teyla's presentable. Pity she's only doing the announcing."
"Just for the record, I can't believe I'm doing this," Ford muttered.
Harrison stuck his hand on his hip, stuck his hip way out in left field and lisped, "Ford, you just gotta lie back and think of the team."
"Oh, God," said John. "Bad imagery."
"So, this is classed as taking one for the team?" Ford asked, looking like he wanted to smile but didn't dare. "I knew I should have gone for hockey instead. They don't have to do this."
"Too much, too soon; too little, too late," Lichfield commented. His eyeshadow was a lurid blue, and the lipstick was slut-red. The effect was...disturbing. Really disturbing.
There was a clatter in the doorway as Ms. Doran appeared. "Well, well," she said, her husky voice amused. "I see we've got them cleaned up and squeezed into the uniforms. Very good." The drama teacher jerked one shoulder at the corridor behind her. "You're on after the next act, so you'd better get up there."
"All right," Annette said as the guys stood up and began filing out. "Try not to screw up too badly, okay?"
"So comforting, Annette," John commented as he rubbed at his lipstick, then grimaced at the smudges on his fingers.
"I know," she said, producing a tissue with which she cleared the smudge away. "You won't win any championships for cheerleading, I can tell you that. But you might get a few cheers."
--
Mostly, what they got from the 'cheer squad demo' was laughs.
Which was okay and expected, even when half of the boys forgot which way they were supposed to be stepping and what moves they were supposed to be doing.
It was chaos. Funny chaos, but chaos all the same.
John much preferred it when they jogged onto the field in their regular uniforms; their faces clear of makeup, and their dignity mostly intact. Then they got cheered.
As it turned out, they needed it. The game against St. Rait's was tight.
Really tight.
Highlights included Ford making a forty-yard dash to score a touchdown which was promptly converted, and the personal satisfaction of tackling Michael Kenmore to the ground and 'accidentally' planting a hand in the Rait's belly when getting back up again.
The lowlights included watching St. Rait's score three touchdowns, the most recent one - the one that put St. Rait's firmly ahead - scored by Kenmore to the dismal roaring of blood in John's ears.
Not even John's fist in Kenmore's belly compensated for that.
They were in the last quarter with less than two minutes to go, and St Rait's was winning - 15-20.
John had the ball.
Someone slammed into him, tacking hard and solid. John hissed as his shoulder hit the ground. He caught a glimpse of pale eyes and pale hair beneath the shadows of the helmet, and glared up into Michael Kenmore's face as his shoulder protested at the abuse, along with his legs, his knees, and his right ankle.
Kenmore offered a hand up in a mockery of good sportsmanship. He'd see John beaten to a bloody pulp if he had the choice and they both knew it. "Having fun?"
"Heaps," John said flatly, taking the hand up. Kill him with kindness now. You can kill him off the field later.
"Good," hissed the other guy, grinning. "I am."
It had been like this all night. Kenmore had made the game personal - between him and John. Each time they met on the field, the pale smirk was like a challenge - a slap in John's teeth.
And John wasn't going to deny that he'd made it personal right back at the Rait. But he wasn't going to start a fight. Not right now, anyway.
"You should," John muttered as he walked away. "You won't be for much longer."
There was something to be said for Ronon's directness.
The next play - the Trench Run - got them ten yards. The next play lost them five.
Then one of the tailbacks fumbled the ball.
John saw it slip out of Gregson's reach in slow motion, saw Kenmore scoop it up. He lunged after the Rait, but his fingers slipped off nylon and padding. It didn't matter. Bates was on Kenmore, hitting him with the stocky solidity for which he'd been named safety.
The ball slipped again. Bounced…
He skidded in the mud to reach the ball, nearly joining the ranks of other players injured during this game. A glance around the field showed no running options; the Rait players were coming for him and the clock was trickling time - mere seconds.
John took two steps and a calculated risk. He snapped the pigskin into the air - a wing and a prayer.
Hail Mary, full of grace...
It wasn't Mary who caught the ball at the ten-yard line.
It wasn't Mary who dodged the Rait defenseman coming for her and ran the ball into the end zone.
It wasn't Mary who got the almighty cheer from the stands as the final horn went off, rocking the fields and the cool night air - an exultant roar that broke through John's game-focused shell like a tsunami would break through the roof of a beachside resort and swept him up in a rush of relief and adrenaline.
Halfway down the field, John whooped in triumph, punching his fist into the air before he ran for his team-mate.
Yes!
Helmets clashed as he reached her amidst a jubilant crowd of players, grabbed her around the shoulders in an exultant swing. "What a catch!"
"What a throw!" She told him, laughing behind the grill of her helmet in unusual joyousness. "Well done, John!"
John pulled off his helmet with one hand and rapped on hers with the other. "Take that off! We won the game!"
With another roll of her eyes, she took the helmet off and flung her arms around him. "We won the game." The initial glee was gone, but he could still hear the pleasure in her voice as the other players came up to them. Then there was hugging and backslapping from their team-mates, and the usual game-end handshakes with the other team and thanking the umpires.
And Kenmore's flat glare as he shook hands with John made everything worth it, even if it suggested that John had just been elevated from 'minor annoyance' to 'possible threat'. Right now, John didn't give a shit. They'd beaten St. Rait's and he felt good.
John slung a casual arm around Teyla's shoulders as they walked off the field - much the same way he would have flung an arm around any of the other guys' shoulders. Except that this would annoy the heck out of Kenmore - and John did it for that and that alone.
"Damn, we're good," he said, glancing down at her as she turned her helmet over in her hands.
"We are," she agreed, sounding about as smug as he felt.
"So," John leaned over to murmur in her ear as the Shermer supporters poured out of the stands to swamp them in jubilant celebration, "are you ready to party?"
--
John was ready to party.
He was ready to take a good-looking girl out to dinner with a bunch of their friends, and dance like he had the right to dance after being part and parcel of the Homecoming team.
He wasn't ready for the sea of faces that looked expectantly at him as he walked into Sharon Athos' living room to wait for Teyla to emerge from her room.
Six adults regarded him with gazes that ranged from coolly studying to appreciatively amused. John counted four kids staring at him with eyes as round as saucers. They were spread out all across the room, sitting in armchairs and on the arms of armchairs and sofas - one woman was cross-legged on the floor keeping the babies entertained - and they were all watching him.
Just smile and wave, boys. Just smile and wave. "Uh, hi."
In vain, John looked for Sharon, who'd vanished down the hallway with the reassurance that she'd see what was taking Teyla so long. No rescue from that quarter.
It looked like he was on his own.
"You must be John," said a lanky man who looked something like a misplaced hippie. "Halling Athos. I'm Teyla's brother."
"Foster-brother," corrected a woman whose skin was ebony-dark and whose eyes regarded John with glittering amusement - probably at his discomfort. "We're all Sharon's foster kids, actually," she said. "Or partners."
Great. A family turnout to vet the date. Just what John needed. Not.
"Pleased to meet you," he said, going for polite. "Uh, John Sheppard. As you probably already know."
"Yeah," said a big bald man, eyeing him with barely-disguised amusement. "The jock boy."
John tensed. The man looked like a biker. Or a pirate. One called Blackbeard. He was built big, and the goatee and moustache he sported were jet black, the same colour as his eyebrows over dark, shrewd eyes.
"Brian..." murmured another woman in warning, sitting in a rocking chair that looked antique. Her round face was cheerful and interested as she turned to John. "You're the captain of Teyla's football team? The one who threw the Hail Mary at the horn last night?"
"Tricia and I were at the game," said the ebony-skinned woman. "I'm Jackie, by the way. We were impressed."
"Yeah, well, Teyla's one of our best players," John said, relieved to have a topic of conversation he could engage in. "I'm proud to have her on side."
"It must have been quite a risky venture - including a girl on a high school football team," said Halling with a mildness that John immediately distrusted. "There aren't many guys who'd condone her playing."
John shrugged. "She was good enough, that's all that counted." And right now, he was immensely thankful that he hadn't given in to the little voice echoing Bates' opinion that a junior girl had no place on a varsity football team. And he had thought that for a moment, before he realised that if she was good enough, then she was good enough.
"She never did let anything stand in her way when she wanted it," chuckled Tricia. "Remember Ryan Stuart?"
"Oh, you've teased her about that more than enough now, Tricia," scolded one of the women playing with a toddler on the rug. "She's seventeen and far past that."
"Young Ryan Stuart wouldn't mind Teyla giving him a black eye now if it meant she kissed it better later," smirked Brian.
"Brian!"
"Chased him down and socked him in the eye for making one of her friends cry," Tricia told John with what he thought was slightly obscene cheerfulness. "Caught him, took him down, and punched him, tough as a steel bar."
"She's always had a mind and will of her own," said Halling mildly. Although he wasn't as horribly cheerful about it as Tricia, John was pretty sure the man - in his mid-twenties, perhaps - was finding this whole situation just a little amusing behind the serious expression.
Time to let them know that he was well aware of what Teyla was capable of. "And a temper when she's angry," he said. When they looked at him, he shrugged. "She clocked a guy who sneered once too often at the tryouts," he explained. "Nice right hook."
"I taught her that." Brian smirked at John.
"She learned pretty fast," murmured Jackie. "Especially the bits about the elbow in the belly, the knee in the groin, and the stiletto on the instep."
Okay. John figured he'd just been given the 'touch her and what she doesn't smear across the ground won't fit in a jelly jar' speech.
Halling coughed gently. "I think that is as far as this conversation should go," he said gently.
"I agree," Teyla said padding around John in stocking feet. "Hey, John."
"Hey." He managed that much as he took her dress in. It was something soft and clingy, and, boy, was it clinging to her! Then he remembered that he was in the room with not only her, but also a whole platoon of her relatives. "You look...nice."
"Four years of high school and all he's coming up with is 'nice'? Girl, you should dump him and find someone who knows how to spin a compliment!"
John felt the flush crawl across the back of his neck.
"That's enough, Tricia," Sharon said from the door, in a tone of voice that was both gentle and firm. "I think John has put up with enough of this for the evening."
There were assorted innocent looks and one or two grins.
"I think I have put up with enough of this for the evening," Teyla said.
John turned to Teyla, who was glaring at her siblings. "You know, I think the dress code for Homecoming requires shoes." He pointed at her stocking feet.
The glance she levelled him could have carved stone. "If you wait a moment, I will find them and then we can go."
John winced. "Okay. This is me waiting a moment." He turned to the room and flashed them a quick smile. "We're due for dinner at six."
"Where?"
"The Melting Pot. With friends."
"Ooh, classy," Tricia murmured. "I take back my injunction for Teyla to dump you."
"Tricia," chided Sharon. She turned to John. "Teyla thinks you'll be back by one o'clock."
As curfews went, it wasn't bad. John was a latchkey kid, but he was a guy and his parents didn't really care much either way.
"When I was living in this household, my curfew was midnight!"
"This is Homecoming, Jackie. They're entitled to dance the night away."
"As long as it's the vertical kind and not the horizontal kind," Brian said pointedly, fixing John with an evil smile.
"If it was horizontal, I would never tell you, Brian," said Teyla as she re-entered the room carrying a pair of stilettos that looked about a mile high. "So you would never know anyway. I have my shoes." She looked at John. "We should leave before they go on about this any longer." She glared around at her foster-brothers and foster-sisters, then grabbed John's hand and dragged him out of the room.
"Don't forget to use a condom!" Jackie yelled after them.
Laughter echoed out of the room after them and John felt the flush crawl along his ears. The condom in his wallet was burning a hole in leather and trouser as they got out and into the house's front corridor. Okay, so he didn't really think he'd get lucky with Teyla. But it was good to be prepared.
Teyla scowled as she dropped John's hand and balanced against the doorframe to slip her shoes on. "They would keep us there all night, poking fun," she grumbled.
"And you did not when they went out?" Sharon asked.
"That was different," she protested. "I was younger than they were and less experienced at such things."
Her foster mother twinkled, amused at Teyla's defence. "Which did not stop you from being a pest, my dear."
"They deserved it."
"And now this is payback."
"Nobody expects the Athos Inquisition," John offered.
Sharon chuckled as she opened the door. "Enjoy yourself, my dears."
Teyla grabbed her purse from the side table, kissed Sharon on the cheek, and slipped out after John, closing the door firmly behind her and exhaling loudly when it was shut. "I am sorry about that."
She seemed embarrassed. John figured that now they were out, he could smile about it. After all, he wasn't going to be seeing them again. "It was...interesting."
"It is Halling's fault. He found out about Homecoming and decided that this weekend should be a family dinner."
Yeah, John figured that. Big brother keeping an eye on Teyla's dates.
"Sneaky." John paused at the car. "You look...gorgeous," he said, honestly, figuring that he owed her the compliment. "Really stunning. It's a bit embarrassing to say in front of your family, though."
Teyla laughed. "Thank you, John." She slid one arm over his shoulder, pulling him into a quick hug that pressed all kinds of interesting curves against him. Definitely no unnecessary padding on Teyla Emmagen. "You look good."
And good was how John felt when he climbed into the driver's seat.
"Ready for Homecoming?"
Her smile was limpid, a sparkling imp in her eyes. "Better to ask if Homecoming is ready for us!"
John started up the car. "Only one way to find out!"
--
He'd loosened his sleeves, tucked his bow tie in his pocket and left his jacket at the table for the salsa.
The last time John had danced with Teyla - at Founder's Dance - she'd been seeing Lorne and he'd been with Chaya. The invitation had been more challenge and show-off than dance, and John had enjoyed himself and the cool looks he got from Mark Lorne and his crowd.
This time around, John was still enjoying himself, but the dance felt a little more edgy and he felt a little more charged when the music finished with a flourish.
Maybe it was her dress - Teyla cleaned up pretty. Maybe it was the way she let John dance a little closer, allowed him a little more leeway than she usually did. Maybe it was just the fact that Mark Lorne was watching them with a narrow-eyed expression, while Chaya and her new boyfriend were studiously ignoring them, although more than a few of that crowd were watching the dance.
Chaya had been more than a little possessive after the last dance during Founder's, too. John had liked it then.
He rather liked it now.
Don't get mad; get even.
So what if he showed off a little more than usual?
"You have not been practising," Teyla murmured as the audience whooped and applauded them and the handful of other student dancers who'd dared the floor during that number.
John snorted. "When have I had time?" He slid his arms around her waist as the next song came on - a slow dance - and the floor began filling up with students again. She didn't protest or pull away, by which he guessed she was okay with staying on the floor. "But we did pretty well, didn't we?"
Her mouth twitched as she rested her hands on his upper arms and moved with him in time to the music. "Yes. We did," she agreed with a complacent grin up at him.
John grinned back, ignoring the lazy curl of his stomach doing loops.
He hadn't expected much more agreement from her. Teyla liked a challenge, but it was usually for the sake of being challenged. John preferred boasting rights. Or even just knowing rights - the right to know that you were better than someone else, even if you didn't rub it in.
And between their teamwork at last night's game and their partnership at tonight's dance, John Sheppard and Teyla Emmagen were hot property - and John knew it.
John was enjoying it.
Even during the Founders' Dance, he'd known they looked hot together. The looks they'd been getting tonight only confirmed that. There weren't too many guys who hadn't hated John's guts the instant he and Teyla had walked into the room. And John was pretty sure at least a few of the girls were bitching about Teyla behind her back because she was at Homecoming with him.
A glance around the room showed most of their gang still over at the table. Laura, Rodney, and Ronon were arguing again, while Liz and Carson rolled their eyes and made occasional comments about the argument or the dancers.
Dinner had been great. The food tasted fine, and the company of the gang made things easy. John had slipped back into hanging out with Rodney, Liz, Carson, and Teyla like he'd never left. And it was good, even with the additions of Ronon and Laura to the mix.
He and Teyla had shared a good-natured, easy companionship, including Rodney in their banter while the other couples in the gang flirted like they'd never dated before.
It was funny to watch.
Teyla lifted one hand to wave at Carson when he turned towards the dance floor. "They should come over."
John glanced their way. It didn't look like the three debaters were going to let up anytime soon. Laura and Rodney were ferocious when they were going on about something, and Ronon could be just as pig-headed and argumentative as those two, and much less moveable about it. "Maybe they don't want to. Not everyone can move like us."
One eyebrow arched. "Modesty is clearly not one of your virtues."
"Hey, when you're good, you're good."
"And you are good?"
"No." John leaned in close, serious and intense and testing her boundaries. "I'm damn good."
To her credit, she didn't pull back although, after a moment, her smile dimpled one cheek. "Remind me who caught your throw?"
Sharp girl. "That's the other reason I'm good," he told her blithely.
"Because I caught the ball and scored the winning touchdown?"
"Because I asked you to Homecoming."
Laughter hovered around her mouth, tilting the corners up. "And I receive no credit for accepting?"
John pretended to consider it. "Okay," he said. "I'll share the credit with you."
"So we can be damn good together?"
Judging from her sudden flush, she hadn't meant it quite the way it sounded, but John gave her points for holding his gaze, almost challengingly. He managed a brief smile amidst the gentle curl of his stomach tying in knots, before he shut it down.
"You know," he said with a smile that was carefully light, "we already are."
--
John thought about it as they drove back to her house after the dance. Seriously thought about it.
Teyla hummed harmony to the songs playing on the radio. In spite of being musically challenged, John found himself humming along as well, and caught her occasional sideways smile at his attempts to keep the tune.
Like she'd said - albeit unintentionally - they were good together. Easy friends.
She was incredibly good at playing football and kicking ass, she could hold a conversation with an edge of teasing or in dead seriousness, and she didn't feel the need to jabber on and on when John was feeling quiet; plus, she was hot stuff when she was dressed up and cool as a river in August when she wasn't. And they could salsa the balls off any other couple at Shermer, except maybe Mr. T and the Domestic Tech teacher who had at least fifteen, maybe twenty years on them.
Why not date?
Maybe because they were friends and team-mates, and good as both? Why wreck a good thing?
Plus, John didn't want to go out with anyone right now. Flirt, yes. Casual date, sure. Steady date? No. Definitely no.
"Tired?"
He glanced over at her in the passenger seat. "No. Why?"
"You stopped talking." She didn't quite smile, but he got the impression she was amused all the same. It was amazing what she could do with nothing more than a twitch of the lips.
John shot her a glare. "I'm not Rodney, you know." She arched a brow at him, and he rolled his eyes and figured it was time for someone else to take some heat. "He was going to ask you to Homecoming."
"Rodney?" Teyla turned to look at him, and he grinned at her wide-eyed astonishment. "That is...quite a compliment."
John stopped at the set of lights, took his eyes off the road for a few more seconds, and looked at her in disbelief. "A compliment?"
"His usual preference is for blondes," Teyla said, apparently in earnest. "Or the very smart girls."
As if John didn't already know that! "So?"
Teyla sighed. "In case you have not noticed, John, I am neither blonde, nor smart."
"You're no dummy," he frowned as the lights went green and he eased the car through the intersection, passing the group of shops at the lights. "And I'd have liked to see one of the 'geek' girls catch that throw yesterday night!"
"Perhaps," she said, "but I fit neither of Rodney's usual preferences." Teyla turned her head to look out the passenger window as they turned into her street, but John could hear the smile in her voice. "So it is a compliment of sorts that he would even consider me as a partner for Homecoming."
She had this all turned about and John didn't get it. "You don't figure it might be the other way around? That you'd have been doing him a favour to go to Homecoming with him?"
Teyla looked bewildered. "Relationships are not about doing favours for someone else." She eyed him. "At least, mine are not."
"Okay," John conceded. "Bad wording."
"Yes."
"After last week's game, you could have had your pick of guys at Shermer."
She didn't answer. Not immediately. But when she did, there was an odd note to her voice. "Perhaps I do not want any of the guys at Shermer?"
John frowned briefly, stung by her words. It wasn't an off-hand or teasing comment, not the way she'd said it. And he was one of the guys at Shermer, too. Which made tonight...what?
A pretty good night, he told himself. And you don't want to go out with her - or anyone - right now. Remember?
Right. His pride was still injured after Chaya. But what was so bad about the guys at Shermer?
As he drove up her driveway, John decided he wasn't going to think about it. He wasn't going to ask about it. He wasn't going to question it. It was none of his business and it didn't matter to him at all.
Even if he felt a bit stung at her dismissal.
"Well," he said, forcing himself to be off-hand as he turned off the car, "the captain of the football team took you to Homecoming. You can't do much better than that!"
It got the response he wanted - a slow turning-up of the corners of her mouth. He grinned back at her and hopped out. "Come on, I'll walk you to the house."
Teyla swung her legs out, closing the door behind her. The fingers she placed in his hand were cool, their touch firm and brisk. "You do not have to, you know."
"I know," he said. "But after your family terrorised me..."
Even in the garden lights, her amusement was plain. "So I should not invite you in for milk and cookies, then?" At his raised brow, she tilted her nose in the air and sniffed once. "Sharon has been baking. Doubtless for the children."
Now that he took a sniff, John could smell the chocolate and peanut butter scents in the air. In spite of the huge dinner they'd had several hours earlier, it made his stomach rumble in anticipation. Teyla laughed again.
"I'll take a raincheck on that," he said. "But you won't get out of it the next time I have to drop you home after practise."
"If you say so." Teyla paused. Looked at him as though she was trying to decide what to do with him. "Thank you for tonight," she said at last. "I enjoyed myself."
"You're welcome," he replied. Then John leaned down for a kiss, figuring that if he didn't try something risky during Homecoming, he'd never get another chance.
Her finger on his lip was gentle. "I am not that thankful," Teyla said, although her smile took some of the sting out of her words. Then she rose up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek, light as a whisper.
John felt the shiver of desire down his spine. Thought about turning his head and kissing her - really kissing her in a serious, tonsil-hockey kind of way. Quelled it. She'd already nixed it and he didn't much feel like pushing himself on a girl who didn't want him.
Teyla was already pulling back, casual and easy, unaware of John's inner turmoil.
"Drive carefully."
"Yeah. You go inside first," John said, keeping his voice even.
"Polite," she observed, pushing open the front door.
"You'd kick my ass if I wasn't."
She grinned. "Good night, John."
"'Night, Teyla."
As he walked back to his car, John ignored the wound-up sensation in his belly that grumbled at him for letting her put him off like that. She wasn't interested and - really - neither was he. It was the right thing to do.
They were friends. That was good enough for him.
--
So, yeah, all in all, John had a good senior Homecoming.
- TBC -
NOTES: We've reached a milestone - the end of Act One. Everyone's in place, you've met the characters and their nemesis, you've got the basis of the story, and in the next chapter we're going to shake things up! You won't know what's holding true when I've done with you!
Again, have a very safe and pleasant Christmas (or equivalent celebration) and a Joyous New Year!
SUMMARY: All in all, John had a good senior Homecoming.
CATEGORY: high school AU, drama
CHARACTERS: John, Teyla, Rodney, Elizabeth, Ronon, Carson, Cadman...and many others...
RATING: PG-13
BETAS: Immense and supreme thanks goes to my patient betas, sjhw_tolerance, who beta'd this even though she doesn't like high school AUs; erica_w, who looked it over although she only has the vaguest idea about Atlantis; and vipersweb, who's been plunged into the deep end of my crackerrific stories upon volunteering to beta for me. If there are mistakes that haven't been picked up, they're entirely mine.
NOTES: Of all the possible universes I could have written in, of all the possible games, I had to pick one of which I have nearly no knowledge: American high school football. As a result, reality may not bear a lot of resemblance to this AU, although I hope the setting is sufficient to suspend disbelief.
To all the people reading this post: have a very safe and pleasant Christmas (or equivalent celebration) and a Joyous New Year!
In The Game: Chapter Four - Pep Talks
Chapter Five - Full Of Grace
John had a lot of good memories from Homecoming that year.
--
Mara Tower's knuckles occasionally brushed against the small of John's back as she sewed him into a cheerleader skirt for the 'cheer squad demo'. It was probably casual, although, knowing Mara, possibly not.
If he hadn't already been going to Homecoming with Teyla, John might have considered Mara as a date.
Maybe, when all this was over, he'd ask Mara out and see where things went.
"At least you're not as big as Evan," she said, her voice slightly muffled as she plied needle and thread in and out of her spare skirt. "We couldn't even get the zipper up on him. Good thing he's wearing white jocks. There, you go." She stood up and grinned at him, daringly resting her hands on his hips as she looked around his shoulder. "Ready to go and wow them?"
In the hot pink eyeliner someone had dug out of their purse - and John hoped to God that the makeup remover Teyla had would get this stuff off their faces, or it would be the Shermer High Transvestites playing St. Rait's Basilisks tonight, instead of the Shermer High Panthers - John figured that he was going to wow someone.
If nothing else, it might get a few laughs out of the crowd.
John nearly asked for a kiss for good luck. Which might have taken him anywhere and gotten him into all kinds of trouble - Mara wasn't exactly a shy girl - if not for a slew of appreciative murmurs and a wolf whistle from the corridor outside.
"Do not even think of saying anything, Slick," Teyla was saying when John poked his head out the door into one of the waiting rooms backstage.
Harrison hadn't needed sewing into his cheerleader's outfit, although it looked like a dress on a scarecrow. However, he had a grin the size of Texas on his skinny face, and the reason was standing in front of him, looking very un-scarecrow-like indeed.
Unlike some of the other schools in the area, Shermer had an all-girls cheerleading squad. That was probably going to change in the next couple of years, especially after Teyla had earned her position on the football team. Apparently equal opportunity went both ways.
At any rate, there were no guy-cheerleaders, and therefore, no guy-cheerleader outfits, so about half the football team was eased, buttoned, zipped, squished, and sown into traditional cheerleader outfits.
The results were mixed - at least when it came to the guys.
When it came to Teyla, the outfit was definitely an unmitigated success.
It was never possible to entirely forgot that Teyla was a girl. But in the padding they wore to practise, it wasn't too hard to just think of her as another player.
There wasn't any padding in a cheerleader outfit.
There was only a little padding on Teyla, and all of it was what John was going to mentally refer to as 'girl padding' so as not to get himself in trouble.
"Who's said anything about thinking?" Harrison quipped with the casual confidence of a guy teasing a girl he was pretty sure could take it.
"You fail to do that most of the time anyway, Slick," Ford retorted.
"Then Teyla's not in much danger of me making a smart comments."
Laura Cadman snorted, her arms full of striped cheerleader skirt. "Yeah, and hell is due for a cold spell."
Teyla rolled her eyes but only turned to Cadman. "There will be photos?"
"Oh, you can count on it. Carson's got it covered," Cadman said as she sailed down the corridor, smirking at John as she passed. "Nice legs, Sheppard."
John stepped out of the room and was about to answer her when Mara goosed him, nearly making him jump. He narrowed his eyes at her and got a saucy smirk in return before she sashayed out of the backstage area. Definitely not a shy girl.
"You'd better get out there," said Annette Myers, the cheerleading captain
Teyla nodded, shot one glance around the backstage waiting room, and shook her head. Then she bounded out of the change room with a flirt of the skirt that would have done a professional cheerleader proud. Annette glanced around at the boys, shook her head, and followed after.
"I vote that we kill Sheppard after the game tonight," Harrison said in a mock-whisper, glancing around at the assembled guys in their cheerleading outfits. "Then Teyla might go to Homecoming with one of us. Who's with me?"
"Ha-ha," John retorted. "Knowing Teyla, she'd probably just go stag." Or she'd take Rodney as a date.
"A man can hope," Harrison said as he sat down, and stretched out his legs, pulling the neck of his outfit open to stare down into the space where his boobs would have gone if he'd had any boobs to speak of. "You know, I think I need some oranges here."
John checked out his own rack - or lack thereof. "I think I might need a couple of cantaloupe," he quipped, and received a few raucous smirks from the others and a butt smack from Mara as she sashayed past.
"Don't even think about it," said Annette as she came back in. "You wreck that uniform, Slick, and I'll tear strips off you. Same goes for you, John." She turned to regard the ten guys who'd volunteered to dress up and perform a cheerleading routine pre-game. "All right, boys. Line up and let's see you."
They shuffled along, trying to get used to the lack of material around their thighs and the tightness of the stretchy tops. Annette took a look along the line and heroically tried not to laugh - then gave up when Harrison started primping and posing. "Well," she said at last, "At least Teyla's presentable. Pity she's only doing the announcing."
"Just for the record, I can't believe I'm doing this," Ford muttered.
Harrison stuck his hand on his hip, stuck his hip way out in left field and lisped, "Ford, you just gotta lie back and think of the team."
"Oh, God," said John. "Bad imagery."
"So, this is classed as taking one for the team?" Ford asked, looking like he wanted to smile but didn't dare. "I knew I should have gone for hockey instead. They don't have to do this."
"Too much, too soon; too little, too late," Lichfield commented. His eyeshadow was a lurid blue, and the lipstick was slut-red. The effect was...disturbing. Really disturbing.
There was a clatter in the doorway as Ms. Doran appeared. "Well, well," she said, her husky voice amused. "I see we've got them cleaned up and squeezed into the uniforms. Very good." The drama teacher jerked one shoulder at the corridor behind her. "You're on after the next act, so you'd better get up there."
"All right," Annette said as the guys stood up and began filing out. "Try not to screw up too badly, okay?"
"So comforting, Annette," John commented as he rubbed at his lipstick, then grimaced at the smudges on his fingers.
"I know," she said, producing a tissue with which she cleared the smudge away. "You won't win any championships for cheerleading, I can tell you that. But you might get a few cheers."
--
Mostly, what they got from the 'cheer squad demo' was laughs.
Which was okay and expected, even when half of the boys forgot which way they were supposed to be stepping and what moves they were supposed to be doing.
It was chaos. Funny chaos, but chaos all the same.
John much preferred it when they jogged onto the field in their regular uniforms; their faces clear of makeup, and their dignity mostly intact. Then they got cheered.
As it turned out, they needed it. The game against St. Rait's was tight.
Really tight.
Highlights included Ford making a forty-yard dash to score a touchdown which was promptly converted, and the personal satisfaction of tackling Michael Kenmore to the ground and 'accidentally' planting a hand in the Rait's belly when getting back up again.
The lowlights included watching St. Rait's score three touchdowns, the most recent one - the one that put St. Rait's firmly ahead - scored by Kenmore to the dismal roaring of blood in John's ears.
Not even John's fist in Kenmore's belly compensated for that.
They were in the last quarter with less than two minutes to go, and St Rait's was winning - 15-20.
John had the ball.
Someone slammed into him, tacking hard and solid. John hissed as his shoulder hit the ground. He caught a glimpse of pale eyes and pale hair beneath the shadows of the helmet, and glared up into Michael Kenmore's face as his shoulder protested at the abuse, along with his legs, his knees, and his right ankle.
Kenmore offered a hand up in a mockery of good sportsmanship. He'd see John beaten to a bloody pulp if he had the choice and they both knew it. "Having fun?"
"Heaps," John said flatly, taking the hand up. Kill him with kindness now. You can kill him off the field later.
"Good," hissed the other guy, grinning. "I am."
It had been like this all night. Kenmore had made the game personal - between him and John. Each time they met on the field, the pale smirk was like a challenge - a slap in John's teeth.
And John wasn't going to deny that he'd made it personal right back at the Rait. But he wasn't going to start a fight. Not right now, anyway.
"You should," John muttered as he walked away. "You won't be for much longer."
There was something to be said for Ronon's directness.
The next play - the Trench Run - got them ten yards. The next play lost them five.
Then one of the tailbacks fumbled the ball.
John saw it slip out of Gregson's reach in slow motion, saw Kenmore scoop it up. He lunged after the Rait, but his fingers slipped off nylon and padding. It didn't matter. Bates was on Kenmore, hitting him with the stocky solidity for which he'd been named safety.
The ball slipped again. Bounced…
He skidded in the mud to reach the ball, nearly joining the ranks of other players injured during this game. A glance around the field showed no running options; the Rait players were coming for him and the clock was trickling time - mere seconds.
John took two steps and a calculated risk. He snapped the pigskin into the air - a wing and a prayer.
Hail Mary, full of grace...
It wasn't Mary who caught the ball at the ten-yard line.
It wasn't Mary who dodged the Rait defenseman coming for her and ran the ball into the end zone.
It wasn't Mary who got the almighty cheer from the stands as the final horn went off, rocking the fields and the cool night air - an exultant roar that broke through John's game-focused shell like a tsunami would break through the roof of a beachside resort and swept him up in a rush of relief and adrenaline.
Halfway down the field, John whooped in triumph, punching his fist into the air before he ran for his team-mate.
Yes!
Helmets clashed as he reached her amidst a jubilant crowd of players, grabbed her around the shoulders in an exultant swing. "What a catch!"
"What a throw!" She told him, laughing behind the grill of her helmet in unusual joyousness. "Well done, John!"
John pulled off his helmet with one hand and rapped on hers with the other. "Take that off! We won the game!"
With another roll of her eyes, she took the helmet off and flung her arms around him. "We won the game." The initial glee was gone, but he could still hear the pleasure in her voice as the other players came up to them. Then there was hugging and backslapping from their team-mates, and the usual game-end handshakes with the other team and thanking the umpires.
And Kenmore's flat glare as he shook hands with John made everything worth it, even if it suggested that John had just been elevated from 'minor annoyance' to 'possible threat'. Right now, John didn't give a shit. They'd beaten St. Rait's and he felt good.
John slung a casual arm around Teyla's shoulders as they walked off the field - much the same way he would have flung an arm around any of the other guys' shoulders. Except that this would annoy the heck out of Kenmore - and John did it for that and that alone.
"Damn, we're good," he said, glancing down at her as she turned her helmet over in her hands.
"We are," she agreed, sounding about as smug as he felt.
"So," John leaned over to murmur in her ear as the Shermer supporters poured out of the stands to swamp them in jubilant celebration, "are you ready to party?"
--
John was ready to party.
He was ready to take a good-looking girl out to dinner with a bunch of their friends, and dance like he had the right to dance after being part and parcel of the Homecoming team.
He wasn't ready for the sea of faces that looked expectantly at him as he walked into Sharon Athos' living room to wait for Teyla to emerge from her room.
Six adults regarded him with gazes that ranged from coolly studying to appreciatively amused. John counted four kids staring at him with eyes as round as saucers. They were spread out all across the room, sitting in armchairs and on the arms of armchairs and sofas - one woman was cross-legged on the floor keeping the babies entertained - and they were all watching him.
Just smile and wave, boys. Just smile and wave. "Uh, hi."
In vain, John looked for Sharon, who'd vanished down the hallway with the reassurance that she'd see what was taking Teyla so long. No rescue from that quarter.
It looked like he was on his own.
"You must be John," said a lanky man who looked something like a misplaced hippie. "Halling Athos. I'm Teyla's brother."
"Foster-brother," corrected a woman whose skin was ebony-dark and whose eyes regarded John with glittering amusement - probably at his discomfort. "We're all Sharon's foster kids, actually," she said. "Or partners."
Great. A family turnout to vet the date. Just what John needed. Not.
"Pleased to meet you," he said, going for polite. "Uh, John Sheppard. As you probably already know."
"Yeah," said a big bald man, eyeing him with barely-disguised amusement. "The jock boy."
John tensed. The man looked like a biker. Or a pirate. One called Blackbeard. He was built big, and the goatee and moustache he sported were jet black, the same colour as his eyebrows over dark, shrewd eyes.
"Brian..." murmured another woman in warning, sitting in a rocking chair that looked antique. Her round face was cheerful and interested as she turned to John. "You're the captain of Teyla's football team? The one who threw the Hail Mary at the horn last night?"
"Tricia and I were at the game," said the ebony-skinned woman. "I'm Jackie, by the way. We were impressed."
"Yeah, well, Teyla's one of our best players," John said, relieved to have a topic of conversation he could engage in. "I'm proud to have her on side."
"It must have been quite a risky venture - including a girl on a high school football team," said Halling with a mildness that John immediately distrusted. "There aren't many guys who'd condone her playing."
John shrugged. "She was good enough, that's all that counted." And right now, he was immensely thankful that he hadn't given in to the little voice echoing Bates' opinion that a junior girl had no place on a varsity football team. And he had thought that for a moment, before he realised that if she was good enough, then she was good enough.
"She never did let anything stand in her way when she wanted it," chuckled Tricia. "Remember Ryan Stuart?"
"Oh, you've teased her about that more than enough now, Tricia," scolded one of the women playing with a toddler on the rug. "She's seventeen and far past that."
"Young Ryan Stuart wouldn't mind Teyla giving him a black eye now if it meant she kissed it better later," smirked Brian.
"Brian!"
"Chased him down and socked him in the eye for making one of her friends cry," Tricia told John with what he thought was slightly obscene cheerfulness. "Caught him, took him down, and punched him, tough as a steel bar."
"She's always had a mind and will of her own," said Halling mildly. Although he wasn't as horribly cheerful about it as Tricia, John was pretty sure the man - in his mid-twenties, perhaps - was finding this whole situation just a little amusing behind the serious expression.
Time to let them know that he was well aware of what Teyla was capable of. "And a temper when she's angry," he said. When they looked at him, he shrugged. "She clocked a guy who sneered once too often at the tryouts," he explained. "Nice right hook."
"I taught her that." Brian smirked at John.
"She learned pretty fast," murmured Jackie. "Especially the bits about the elbow in the belly, the knee in the groin, and the stiletto on the instep."
Okay. John figured he'd just been given the 'touch her and what she doesn't smear across the ground won't fit in a jelly jar' speech.
Halling coughed gently. "I think that is as far as this conversation should go," he said gently.
"I agree," Teyla said padding around John in stocking feet. "Hey, John."
"Hey." He managed that much as he took her dress in. It was something soft and clingy, and, boy, was it clinging to her! Then he remembered that he was in the room with not only her, but also a whole platoon of her relatives. "You look...nice."
"Four years of high school and all he's coming up with is 'nice'? Girl, you should dump him and find someone who knows how to spin a compliment!"
John felt the flush crawl across the back of his neck.
"That's enough, Tricia," Sharon said from the door, in a tone of voice that was both gentle and firm. "I think John has put up with enough of this for the evening."
There were assorted innocent looks and one or two grins.
"I think I have put up with enough of this for the evening," Teyla said.
John turned to Teyla, who was glaring at her siblings. "You know, I think the dress code for Homecoming requires shoes." He pointed at her stocking feet.
The glance she levelled him could have carved stone. "If you wait a moment, I will find them and then we can go."
John winced. "Okay. This is me waiting a moment." He turned to the room and flashed them a quick smile. "We're due for dinner at six."
"Where?"
"The Melting Pot. With friends."
"Ooh, classy," Tricia murmured. "I take back my injunction for Teyla to dump you."
"Tricia," chided Sharon. She turned to John. "Teyla thinks you'll be back by one o'clock."
As curfews went, it wasn't bad. John was a latchkey kid, but he was a guy and his parents didn't really care much either way.
"When I was living in this household, my curfew was midnight!"
"This is Homecoming, Jackie. They're entitled to dance the night away."
"As long as it's the vertical kind and not the horizontal kind," Brian said pointedly, fixing John with an evil smile.
"If it was horizontal, I would never tell you, Brian," said Teyla as she re-entered the room carrying a pair of stilettos that looked about a mile high. "So you would never know anyway. I have my shoes." She looked at John. "We should leave before they go on about this any longer." She glared around at her foster-brothers and foster-sisters, then grabbed John's hand and dragged him out of the room.
"Don't forget to use a condom!" Jackie yelled after them.
Laughter echoed out of the room after them and John felt the flush crawl along his ears. The condom in his wallet was burning a hole in leather and trouser as they got out and into the house's front corridor. Okay, so he didn't really think he'd get lucky with Teyla. But it was good to be prepared.
Teyla scowled as she dropped John's hand and balanced against the doorframe to slip her shoes on. "They would keep us there all night, poking fun," she grumbled.
"And you did not when they went out?" Sharon asked.
"That was different," she protested. "I was younger than they were and less experienced at such things."
Her foster mother twinkled, amused at Teyla's defence. "Which did not stop you from being a pest, my dear."
"They deserved it."
"And now this is payback."
"Nobody expects the Athos Inquisition," John offered.
Sharon chuckled as she opened the door. "Enjoy yourself, my dears."
Teyla grabbed her purse from the side table, kissed Sharon on the cheek, and slipped out after John, closing the door firmly behind her and exhaling loudly when it was shut. "I am sorry about that."
She seemed embarrassed. John figured that now they were out, he could smile about it. After all, he wasn't going to be seeing them again. "It was...interesting."
"It is Halling's fault. He found out about Homecoming and decided that this weekend should be a family dinner."
Yeah, John figured that. Big brother keeping an eye on Teyla's dates.
"Sneaky." John paused at the car. "You look...gorgeous," he said, honestly, figuring that he owed her the compliment. "Really stunning. It's a bit embarrassing to say in front of your family, though."
Teyla laughed. "Thank you, John." She slid one arm over his shoulder, pulling him into a quick hug that pressed all kinds of interesting curves against him. Definitely no unnecessary padding on Teyla Emmagen. "You look good."
And good was how John felt when he climbed into the driver's seat.
"Ready for Homecoming?"
Her smile was limpid, a sparkling imp in her eyes. "Better to ask if Homecoming is ready for us!"
John started up the car. "Only one way to find out!"
--
He'd loosened his sleeves, tucked his bow tie in his pocket and left his jacket at the table for the salsa.
The last time John had danced with Teyla - at Founder's Dance - she'd been seeing Lorne and he'd been with Chaya. The invitation had been more challenge and show-off than dance, and John had enjoyed himself and the cool looks he got from Mark Lorne and his crowd.
This time around, John was still enjoying himself, but the dance felt a little more edgy and he felt a little more charged when the music finished with a flourish.
Maybe it was her dress - Teyla cleaned up pretty. Maybe it was the way she let John dance a little closer, allowed him a little more leeway than she usually did. Maybe it was just the fact that Mark Lorne was watching them with a narrow-eyed expression, while Chaya and her new boyfriend were studiously ignoring them, although more than a few of that crowd were watching the dance.
Chaya had been more than a little possessive after the last dance during Founder's, too. John had liked it then.
He rather liked it now.
Don't get mad; get even.
So what if he showed off a little more than usual?
"You have not been practising," Teyla murmured as the audience whooped and applauded them and the handful of other student dancers who'd dared the floor during that number.
John snorted. "When have I had time?" He slid his arms around her waist as the next song came on - a slow dance - and the floor began filling up with students again. She didn't protest or pull away, by which he guessed she was okay with staying on the floor. "But we did pretty well, didn't we?"
Her mouth twitched as she rested her hands on his upper arms and moved with him in time to the music. "Yes. We did," she agreed with a complacent grin up at him.
John grinned back, ignoring the lazy curl of his stomach doing loops.
He hadn't expected much more agreement from her. Teyla liked a challenge, but it was usually for the sake of being challenged. John preferred boasting rights. Or even just knowing rights - the right to know that you were better than someone else, even if you didn't rub it in.
And between their teamwork at last night's game and their partnership at tonight's dance, John Sheppard and Teyla Emmagen were hot property - and John knew it.
John was enjoying it.
Even during the Founders' Dance, he'd known they looked hot together. The looks they'd been getting tonight only confirmed that. There weren't too many guys who hadn't hated John's guts the instant he and Teyla had walked into the room. And John was pretty sure at least a few of the girls were bitching about Teyla behind her back because she was at Homecoming with him.
A glance around the room showed most of their gang still over at the table. Laura, Rodney, and Ronon were arguing again, while Liz and Carson rolled their eyes and made occasional comments about the argument or the dancers.
Dinner had been great. The food tasted fine, and the company of the gang made things easy. John had slipped back into hanging out with Rodney, Liz, Carson, and Teyla like he'd never left. And it was good, even with the additions of Ronon and Laura to the mix.
He and Teyla had shared a good-natured, easy companionship, including Rodney in their banter while the other couples in the gang flirted like they'd never dated before.
It was funny to watch.
Teyla lifted one hand to wave at Carson when he turned towards the dance floor. "They should come over."
John glanced their way. It didn't look like the three debaters were going to let up anytime soon. Laura and Rodney were ferocious when they were going on about something, and Ronon could be just as pig-headed and argumentative as those two, and much less moveable about it. "Maybe they don't want to. Not everyone can move like us."
One eyebrow arched. "Modesty is clearly not one of your virtues."
"Hey, when you're good, you're good."
"And you are good?"
"No." John leaned in close, serious and intense and testing her boundaries. "I'm damn good."
To her credit, she didn't pull back although, after a moment, her smile dimpled one cheek. "Remind me who caught your throw?"
Sharp girl. "That's the other reason I'm good," he told her blithely.
"Because I caught the ball and scored the winning touchdown?"
"Because I asked you to Homecoming."
Laughter hovered around her mouth, tilting the corners up. "And I receive no credit for accepting?"
John pretended to consider it. "Okay," he said. "I'll share the credit with you."
"So we can be damn good together?"
Judging from her sudden flush, she hadn't meant it quite the way it sounded, but John gave her points for holding his gaze, almost challengingly. He managed a brief smile amidst the gentle curl of his stomach tying in knots, before he shut it down.
"You know," he said with a smile that was carefully light, "we already are."
--
John thought about it as they drove back to her house after the dance. Seriously thought about it.
Teyla hummed harmony to the songs playing on the radio. In spite of being musically challenged, John found himself humming along as well, and caught her occasional sideways smile at his attempts to keep the tune.
Like she'd said - albeit unintentionally - they were good together. Easy friends.
She was incredibly good at playing football and kicking ass, she could hold a conversation with an edge of teasing or in dead seriousness, and she didn't feel the need to jabber on and on when John was feeling quiet; plus, she was hot stuff when she was dressed up and cool as a river in August when she wasn't. And they could salsa the balls off any other couple at Shermer, except maybe Mr. T and the Domestic Tech teacher who had at least fifteen, maybe twenty years on them.
Why not date?
Maybe because they were friends and team-mates, and good as both? Why wreck a good thing?
Plus, John didn't want to go out with anyone right now. Flirt, yes. Casual date, sure. Steady date? No. Definitely no.
"Tired?"
He glanced over at her in the passenger seat. "No. Why?"
"You stopped talking." She didn't quite smile, but he got the impression she was amused all the same. It was amazing what she could do with nothing more than a twitch of the lips.
John shot her a glare. "I'm not Rodney, you know." She arched a brow at him, and he rolled his eyes and figured it was time for someone else to take some heat. "He was going to ask you to Homecoming."
"Rodney?" Teyla turned to look at him, and he grinned at her wide-eyed astonishment. "That is...quite a compliment."
John stopped at the set of lights, took his eyes off the road for a few more seconds, and looked at her in disbelief. "A compliment?"
"His usual preference is for blondes," Teyla said, apparently in earnest. "Or the very smart girls."
As if John didn't already know that! "So?"
Teyla sighed. "In case you have not noticed, John, I am neither blonde, nor smart."
"You're no dummy," he frowned as the lights went green and he eased the car through the intersection, passing the group of shops at the lights. "And I'd have liked to see one of the 'geek' girls catch that throw yesterday night!"
"Perhaps," she said, "but I fit neither of Rodney's usual preferences." Teyla turned her head to look out the passenger window as they turned into her street, but John could hear the smile in her voice. "So it is a compliment of sorts that he would even consider me as a partner for Homecoming."
She had this all turned about and John didn't get it. "You don't figure it might be the other way around? That you'd have been doing him a favour to go to Homecoming with him?"
Teyla looked bewildered. "Relationships are not about doing favours for someone else." She eyed him. "At least, mine are not."
"Okay," John conceded. "Bad wording."
"Yes."
"After last week's game, you could have had your pick of guys at Shermer."
She didn't answer. Not immediately. But when she did, there was an odd note to her voice. "Perhaps I do not want any of the guys at Shermer?"
John frowned briefly, stung by her words. It wasn't an off-hand or teasing comment, not the way she'd said it. And he was one of the guys at Shermer, too. Which made tonight...what?
A pretty good night, he told himself. And you don't want to go out with her - or anyone - right now. Remember?
Right. His pride was still injured after Chaya. But what was so bad about the guys at Shermer?
As he drove up her driveway, John decided he wasn't going to think about it. He wasn't going to ask about it. He wasn't going to question it. It was none of his business and it didn't matter to him at all.
Even if he felt a bit stung at her dismissal.
"Well," he said, forcing himself to be off-hand as he turned off the car, "the captain of the football team took you to Homecoming. You can't do much better than that!"
It got the response he wanted - a slow turning-up of the corners of her mouth. He grinned back at her and hopped out. "Come on, I'll walk you to the house."
Teyla swung her legs out, closing the door behind her. The fingers she placed in his hand were cool, their touch firm and brisk. "You do not have to, you know."
"I know," he said. "But after your family terrorised me..."
Even in the garden lights, her amusement was plain. "So I should not invite you in for milk and cookies, then?" At his raised brow, she tilted her nose in the air and sniffed once. "Sharon has been baking. Doubtless for the children."
Now that he took a sniff, John could smell the chocolate and peanut butter scents in the air. In spite of the huge dinner they'd had several hours earlier, it made his stomach rumble in anticipation. Teyla laughed again.
"I'll take a raincheck on that," he said. "But you won't get out of it the next time I have to drop you home after practise."
"If you say so." Teyla paused. Looked at him as though she was trying to decide what to do with him. "Thank you for tonight," she said at last. "I enjoyed myself."
"You're welcome," he replied. Then John leaned down for a kiss, figuring that if he didn't try something risky during Homecoming, he'd never get another chance.
Her finger on his lip was gentle. "I am not that thankful," Teyla said, although her smile took some of the sting out of her words. Then she rose up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek, light as a whisper.
John felt the shiver of desire down his spine. Thought about turning his head and kissing her - really kissing her in a serious, tonsil-hockey kind of way. Quelled it. She'd already nixed it and he didn't much feel like pushing himself on a girl who didn't want him.
Teyla was already pulling back, casual and easy, unaware of John's inner turmoil.
"Drive carefully."
"Yeah. You go inside first," John said, keeping his voice even.
"Polite," she observed, pushing open the front door.
"You'd kick my ass if I wasn't."
She grinned. "Good night, John."
"'Night, Teyla."
As he walked back to his car, John ignored the wound-up sensation in his belly that grumbled at him for letting her put him off like that. She wasn't interested and - really - neither was he. It was the right thing to do.
They were friends. That was good enough for him.
--
So, yeah, all in all, John had a good senior Homecoming.
- TBC -
NOTES: We've reached a milestone - the end of Act One. Everyone's in place, you've met the characters and their nemesis, you've got the basis of the story, and in the next chapter we're going to shake things up! You won't know what's holding true when I've done with you!
Again, have a very safe and pleasant Christmas (or equivalent celebration) and a Joyous New Year!