sga_santa | Fic: Super-Mom Vs The Influenza (Emmagan/Sheppard, G)

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Title: Super-Mom Vs The Influenza
Author:

gaffsie
Recipient:

espressomorning
Pairing: John/Teyla
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Author's Notes: Future-fic set after Atlantis' inevitable return to the Pegasus galaxy. Beta-read by

caersmane, who is as efficient as she is helpful.
Summary: Even Super-Mom has off-days.

---

Okay, so this wasn't what John had been hoping for when he'd turned up at Teyla's door after spending an excruciating week at the SGC. But if life had taught him anything, it was that you had to roll with the punches.

~*~

“Guess what!” A wide-eyed Torren had greeted him when the door had opened. “Mommy threw up!”

John winced. “That doesn't sound good.”

It was really gross,” Torren confided. “Aunt Marie said she had influ-enza.”

John took a few steps inside and looked around the room. Teyla was conspicuous in her absence, but it wasn't like her at all to leave Torren unattended.

“Where is your mom then, buddy – in the infirmary?” Marie was a force to be reckoned with, and if she wanted someone in the infirmary, that someone might as well just trot down there like a good little patient and spare themselves the humiliation of having her dragging them bodily down there. Not that John knew from experience or anything.

Torren wrinkled his nose. “Mommy says I'm too little to be alone.” He sounded so disgruntled that John had a hard time hiding his smile.

“Moms are like that,” John said. “So your mom's in the bedroom?”

“Yeah. It's really boring. Aunt Marie was playing Star Wars with me, but then she had to go back to work and mommy's too tired to play. She just sleeps and sleeps.”

“Well in that case,” John offered, “how about you keeping me company?”

~*~

The romantic evening he'd hoped for was a total bust, as was any hope of getting to spend any real quality alone time with Teyla, but this wasn't too bad. Torren was a great kid. John did like to hang out with him, and Teyla might be red-nosed and covered in snot, but it was kind of nice being able to take care of her and Torren like this. Made him feel like family, like maybe he had a chance of carving out his own place in their little family unit.

Teyla's voice was shot to hell and she was mostly sleeping anyway, but John made a point of checking in on her from time to time, making sure that she had all the water, tea, juice, Tylenol, tissue, Afrin, cough drops and blankets she needed. She didn't as much as roll her eyes when he insisted on taking her temperature for the second time in as many hours. That was all the proof John needed that she was pretty damn sick.

Torren, on the other hand, was in great shape. He was zooming around the room like a squirrel on speed, but John let him be as long as he didn't try to get in to Teyla. She would never forgive him if he let Torren get sick, no matter how many blankets he brought her.

When dinnertime rolled around Torren refused to leave his mom alone to go down to the mess hall to eat. John just shrugged and asked one of the marines to get them dinner. He usually didn't take advantage of his rank, but this was a worthy cause and it wouldn't hurt Corporal Dennison to bring him and Torren their plates on her way back from dinner. He briefly toyed with the idea of getting dinner for Teyla as well, but she was soundly asleep. If she did get hungry later on she had a mini fridge stocked with healthy snacks.

It was lemon chicken night and Torren ate with gusto, unaffected by his own stories of the time he caught a stomach bug and spent the whole night throwing up. “It was really gross,” he said and shoveled chicken and lumpy sauce in his mouth. “And then daddy got sick too and he threw up on the floor. “

“Gross,” John said and eyed his own chicken.

Torren was on his best behavior the whole evening. He did hit John on the shin with his plastic light saber at one point, but since John was a Sith at the time, it was justified. He didn't even put up a fuss when John declared it to be bedtime. John had bought him The Hobbit during an impulse visit to Barnes and Nobles, and he read the two first chapters to Torren, who listened in rapt attention and then declared that when he grew up, he was going to be a wizard.

“I thought you wanted to be a Jedi?” John said. Torren had been obsessed with Luke Skywalker ever since he'd watched the original trilogy with John and Rodney. John had tried to point out how much cooler Han Solo was, but it was no use. A cool ship and a blaster simply couldn't measure up to the novelty of a light saber.

Torren thought it through. “I can be both,” he decided.

John smiled at him, helplessly charmed. “I'm sure you can, buddy.”

Later, when Torren had been safely asleep in his bed for hours, John padded into Teyla's room on soft feet and sat down beside her on the bed.

Teyla grumbled unintelligibly.

“It's just me,” John said. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

“It is fine,” Teyla croaked. She still looked a mess, sweaty hair glued to her forehead, nose red and skin clammy; but her eyes were clear. “What time is it?”

“After midnight,” John said. “You've been asleep all day”

“Torren?”

John smiled and brushed her tangled fringe from her face. “Asleep. I put him to bed hours ago.”

“Thank you.” She closed her eyes again, and John could feel her relaxing against him.

“It's no trouble. He's a good kid.”

Teyla smiled tiredly. “Mm.”

Nothing more needed to be said. He'd already told her a long time ago that he'd always be there for her and Torren, and he knew she'd never doubted it.

He didn't leave, distractedly stroking her hair while listening to her breath even out. He let his mind wander for a while, and finally, when she was snoring quietly, he bent down and kissed her on the forehead.

I love you, he thought but didn't say, because the first time he told Teyla that, he wanted her to be awake for it.

He threw the used tissues that were littered around the bed into the wastepaper basket under her desk, refilled her water glass and quietly walked back to the living room. He checked in on Torren, carefully feeling his forehead for any signs of an impending fever. When John found him no warmer than usual, he retreated to the living room.

The couch was a little too short and lumpy and the blanket a little too scratchy, but that night John went to sleep feeling more at peace with the world than he had for a long time.

The End