Title: Gooseberry Inflation
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Your stung senses strain to divine such interwoven immensity.
Notes: No spoilers
The latest planet was a series of endless fields, warm and blooming and bright. Teyla had been there twice before, and Ronon never. It was rich in a coffee-like crop, however, and they were accompanied by another team in hopes of a positive outcome. McKay bargained with the local baron, and Sheppard dismissed Ronon and Teyla for the afternoon, assured by the extra security, as well as the placidity of the planet. After a quick meal in a small pub, Ronon followed Teyla as she sauntered to the fields beyond the town's borders.
Insects buzzed in the trees, and the sun's warmth kneaded his muscles. He settled against a tree trunk and took a sweet, long draught of water from his canteen. There were workers in the distance, winnowing plants Ronon had never seen. He scratched his knee, breathed deep.
"It is very peaceful here," Teyla observed. He looked up at her, and she smiled, sank onto the ground next to him.
"Yeah," he responded. He offered her his canteen, and she bowed her head in thanks. "I wish I'd seen more planets like this."
"Really?" She handed the canteen back, touching her tongue to her top lip for just a moment. "I would think you would grow restless in a place like this."
"Maybe." He set the canteen down, set it next to his pack, though he kept his weapon holstered. "But it's a nice change."
Teyla shifted in the grass, and he noticed a clump of flowers, just beyond her. He leaned across her, and she laughed, touched his shoulder as he plucked one flower from the bunch. It was delicate-looking, five-petaled and waxy white. He fell back to his seat and offered her the blossom with a grin.
"Thank you," she said. "It's lovely." She twirled the blossom between her fingers for a moment, then tucked it behind her ear, slightly crooked. It was silly and beautiful at once.
Ronon tilted his head, reached up and adjusted the flower's stem. Her hair fell around his fingers, and her breath caught.
"Ronon," she murmured, and he dipped his head, caught her mouth with his. She tasted like honey, like tea. Her lips parted, and she pressed forward, her arm sliding around his neck, catching a handful of his dreads. Her tongue darted against his, and he pulled her across his lap, palms pressing against the warmth of her skin. She twisted, straddled him, clutched his vest in her hands. He groaned as she rocked against him, and she laughed into his mouth.
Beside them, Ronon's comm crackled to life. "Ronon, you there?"
Teyla pulled back, her fingertips trailing against Ronon's throat. She raised her eyebrows.
Ronon picked up the comm, gaze still locked on her. "Here," he said, his thumb tracing circles against Teyla's hip.
"We're still negotiating here," Sheppard said, "but the baron's offered us dinner when we break. You guys getting hungry?"
"Um." Teyla tilted her head villageward, and he nodded. "Teyla and I found a place to eat in town already."
"Oh. Okay." More crackling. "I guess we'll check in later, then. You guys are good?"
Ronon smiled. "We're good."
"Okay. Stay safe." Then, silence.
Teyla traced the lacings of his vest. "We could return to the town."
"We could," Ronon responded, and her hands trailed lower. "Later."
"Later," she affirmed, and he lifted his face to her, and the sunlight poured from the sky.
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Daniel Wolff's Honey Suckles.