To: Sab

From:

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis

Threesome: Ronon Dex/John Sheppard/Elizabeth Weir

Title: Tactics

Requested Element: Ronon's teaching John how to fight

Notes: I've co-opted a couple of lines of dialogue directly from episodes, and there are potential spoilers up through "Critical Mass."

Summary: All's fair in love and war.

Aside from his ever-present and well-armed shadow, Ronon was alone a lot during his first few weeks in the city of the Ancestors. He had no complaints; there was a lot to be learned from silent observation. Seven years on the run had taught him to take every advantage he could.

He learned their command structure, studied their training methods, evaluated their strengths, and catalogued their vulnerabilities. He discovered what made them uncomfortable.

For Dr. Weir, all it took was a calm, steady gaze to make her flustered and distracted.

Colonel Sheppard didn't betray much, but his eyes turned dark when he watched Ronon fight.

Ronon's skills in battle were unparalleled. Fighting the Wraith had taxed his body in almost every way imaginable, but they weren't an enemy vulnerable to the more uniquely human weaknesses, so he'd never had much use for tactical seduction.

Strategy was strategy, though. The difference between a killing blow and a caress was just a matter of degree.

"Look, it's not that I don't trust you or value any contributions you may have to make—" Dr. Weir stumbled over the words, but Ronon kept his expression impassive and made no move to come to her rescue. "Or that you will make if you do join us," she continued. "It's just— It is a rather big decision."

Ronon had known the words were coming. He had even anticipated the sincere and earnest tone. "We could use a guy like you around here, and you look like you could use a place to stay," Colonel Sheppard said.

Infiltration

It didn't take long before they were all used to seeing him wandering the corridors of the city. The Atlantians were more trusting than his own people would have been in similar circumstances; of course, Sateda had been reduced to rubble and Atlantis still stood, a compelling argument for either their tactics or their luck.

Or possibly for their determination.

Ronon respected determination. It was sheer force of will that had gotten him through most of the last seven years. He hadn't thought that was something that would work on a larger scale—a city or a world against the whole of the Wraith—but these people might convince him to change his opinion.

Dr. Weir smiled at him. It was tentative, like she thought maybe he'd bite, but there was honest concern under the nervousness. "I understand you were injured during the mission. Colonel Sheppard said something about an arrow…?"

"That was a pretty smooth move, back there," Sheppard said. "You'll have to teach me that one sometime." He paused a second, then continued, his tone still deceptively casual, "Next time? Don't make me make it an order."

Engagement

The fact that he had an ulterior motive when he offered to train Sheppard—and, incidentally, the other soldiers—in the fighting techniques he'd picked up over the years didn't change the fact that they'd benefit from the skills. They were the best allies he was going to find. Anything he could do to improve their odds would also improve his own.

The idea that anyone could beat the Wraith…. Well, he'd been idealistic once, in his youth, but seven years on the run had stripped away his illusions and left him functioning more on instinct than on rational thought.

For the first time in a long time, though, Ronon believed in the impossible. Or maybe he just wanted to believe.

"Ronon?" When he turned to face her, Dr. Weir smiled awkwardly at him. "Thank you for what you did to help Colonel Sheppard. I'm sure he's already expressed his appreciation, but I wanted you to know that we're all very grateful."

Sheppard kicked Ronon's booted foot lightly as he and McKay passed. "C'mon. We're heading to the mess for lunch. Rumor has it there are brownies for dessert."

Feint

There was nothing Ronon hated more than feeling helpless; his worst memory was of time spent trapped in a Wraith cocoon. At least that had been his worst memory, until Sheppard disappeared through the stone archway and there was nothing Ronon could do to bring him back.

If Teyla and McKay hadn't been there, Ronon would have stepped through himself. It was easier to take any action at all than to stand around, impotent, and wait for someone else to mount a rescue. He'd learned to believe in his team, though, and so when McKay told him to stay put, he did; not because he thought he had to take orders from McKay, but because he trusted him.

That trust didn't stop him from directing all of his anger and frustration at McKay, though. He knew McKay would recognize the fear that was at the heart of it all and take it in stride

And once he knew Sheppard was safe again, it was easy enough for Ronon to keep his voice casual. "Yeah, well, it was only a couple of hours for us, so—"

Weir blushed, but she reached out and took the bottle from his hand. "What a thoughtful gift. Thank you." She paused and her gaze went to the floor for a second, then she looked back up at him. "Would you care to have a glass with me?"

"Going easy on me? Figured that six months without PT made me soft?" Sheppard's expression changed from self-satisfied to surprised as he shifted to pin Ronon's wrists more securely and ended up pressing against the hard length of Ronon's arousal. There was a pause, neither of them seeming to breathe for several long seconds, then the corner of Sheppard's mouth turned up. "Huh," he said thoughtfully.

Finish

Early on, Sheppard had taught him an Earth saying: "It's easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission." Ronon wasn't used to doing either, but he understood the logic. He also understood that timing was key.

Nothing made life seem as sweet or people feel as joyful as surviving a close brush with death.

Ronon smiled at Weir and winked; she blushed and turned away, mumbling an excuse and leaving the control room. He waited a few minutes—long enough for her to get to his quarters—and then bumped his shoulder against Sheppard's and tilted his head toward the corridor.

Outwardly, Sheppard seemed casual enough, but Ronon could feel the tension radiating from him, and by the time they were outside Ronon's door Sheppard was almost vibrating with it. A quick glance each direction, and then Ronon pinned Sheppard to the door, kissing him slow and easy.

Without breaking the kiss, he palmed the door sensor and pushed Sheppard backward into his quarters. He smiled against Sheppard's mouth as he heard Weir's gasp.

Timing was key.

"That was…unexpected," Weir said, thoughtfully. She looked up from where she'd been lightly tracing the scars on Ronon's stomach and chest with her fingertips.

Sheppard took her hand and guided it down to the evidence of Ronon's renewed interest. "Yeah," he agreed. "But good."