There are always new things to learn about Ronon, Teyla has found. Even though they are on the same team, which is a bonding experience more intense and singular than any other on Atlantis, and share time on their off-hours, she does not know him as completely as one would expect.
He wears clothing made of sturdy materials--leathers and hides and tightly-woven fabrics--because they are another layer of protection between his flesh and that which would hurt him.
But she watches him at the markets they sometimes encounter on their missions, and she notices that he will go out of his way to pass by the textile stalls on his way to the weapons vendors. She sees his hand brush draped fabrics, a casual gesture that he seems shamed of. The fabrics are always lush, always soft and smooth, flimsy by their very design. His fingers turn outward, the very tips of them sweeping across the materials with studied nonchalance.
Teyla pays close attention after the first time she notices, and when she takes leave from the city for her own purposes, she follows the wandering markets and barters away the Earth items she is often given by well-meaning Lanteans who believe that she would prefer their conventions to her own.
She gathers arm lengths of sleek thin material, body lengths of soft dense fabric, folded piles of smooth weaves that change hue depending on the direction in which they are stroked. Teyla has never had skill at sewing, so she retains the services of one of the nurses on Atlantis who makes all manner of things as a hobby.
It takes many weeks from start to finish, but finally Teyla slips into Ronon's rooms one evening when he is accompanying a science team on an exploration of a newly powered section of the city. She strips his bed of the rough sheets, scratchy blankets, and hard pillows. With care, she fits the silken sheets in place, drapes the velvet blanket over them, and finishes it off with a large filled quilt that Nurse Ackens sold Teyla for a very reasonable price. Finally, she fits the casings over three new plush pillows and sets them at the head of Ronon's bed.
When Ronon returns he looks at the newly made bed for a long time, silent and offering nothing in the way of facial expressions for Teyla to read.
"If you mind the changes, Ronon--"
"No. It's good." He approaches the bed hesitantly and reaches out, his fingers only glancing against the fabrics in the same way he would steal touches as he passed stalls in the market. He looks at her from the corners of his eyes. "I like it."
The admission is quiet, hushed, almost guilty-sounding.
Teyla smiles at him, then crosses the room to the bed and climbs onto it. She settles on her knees and holds out a hand. Ronon takes it slowly and Teyla has to use slight force to get him to join her. "It is not as durable as this--" She touches the leather of his pants. "--but neither is it delicate."
Ronon's eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles at her and then he lets her take his clothes off and lay him out, naked against and among decadent textures. He removes Teyla's clothing as well before they slip under the covers, and it's luxury and indulgence to be like this, to experience this, and Ronon's eyes drift shut in pleasure before Teyla even touches him.
.End
Story Notes:
Written for dessert_first on LJ.