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Mack Sumner was off-world when his firstborn made her way into the universe outside her mother’s body, letting out an unholy wail that made Teyla beam with exhausted pride.
He didn’t plan it that way; he’d intended, all along, to be right there when she arrived. Teyla was due any day when the mission came up – when he considered putting it off on Sheppard’s team, she lay her hand on his arm and said go. So he’d gone, curbing his impatience to be back in the city and setting to the task at hand with ruthless efficiency.
Sheppard had ended up coming anyway, showing up as the cavalry, cocky as ever. Mack made a mental note to beat some manners into the younger man in their next training session. It was morale boosting – Ronon certainly enjoyed it. Besides, he could knock Sheppard on his ass every day and twice on Sundays and still not get rid of that damned annoying grin.
Elizabeth called it ‘male bonding’, Teyla called it ‘childish’ unless she wanted to play too, and he was pretty sure Heightmeyer was reading things into it that weren’t there.
All of these things left his mind when the first thing Elizabeth said, upon his bruised but relatively triumphant return to his city, was: “Let’s get you to the infirmary. As soon as Carson has looked at you, Teyla’s got someone she’d like you to meet.”
It took him a second to remember how to breathe. He was pretty sure that every single thing running through his mind was perfectly clear to the grinning diplomat as she watched him process what she’d just said to him. “Mack?”
He swallowed and raised one eyebrow, only to find himself with an armful of Elizabeth Weir. Damned woman was a hugger, which in his view was about on par with used car salesmen and telemarketers. He patted her back awkwardly until she let go of him, and cleared his throat, nodding towards the door. “’Scuse me, doctor.” When she nodded, still smiling, he began to move swiftly towards the infirmary.
Sheppard followed at his heels like an overeager puppy (after casting a look at Elizabeth that Mack didn’t even want to admit existed, let alone try to decipher), joined quickly by Ronon and McKay. He swallowed his irritation; they were Teyla’s teammates, and Ronon was fairly tolerable on his own merits. They could have a few minutes before he booted their collective ass into the corridor.
Submitting to examination didn’t help the rising tension, but Beckett was fairly understanding about the situation and it was over quickly. For him, at least – the doctor seemed to take vicious pleasure in drawing out Rodney’s experience. There was something he didn’t want to see psychoanalysed, either – thinking about it, the same went for a lot of Lantean interactions.
He hoped that his relationship with Teyla wasn’t on a similar list compiled by someone else. Not that he had a list. If he did have a list, though, by God, Heightmeyer would have kittens if she ever got to see it. And maybe one puppy.
The remarkable way he was distracting himself from what he was about to do would probably be of interest to the unnecessarily pretty doctor, too. He didn’t analyze it too deeply himself, viewing it as necessary self-defense to prevent himself turning into a gape-mouthed idiot before he even saw the brat. Teyla wouldn’t appreciate it if he couldn’t even form words for all her hard work.
Teyla probably wouldn’t appreciate him dragging his feet, either, and if he waited any longer then one of those clowns on her team was going to see his child before he did, and there was no way in hell or any other place that was an acceptable outcome. He made his way over to her bedside and his natural inclination to take a seat on her bedside in order to poke at her had to take a backseat, because there was a little crib in the space between her bed and the next.
She was still sleeping – he wasn’t sure how she managed to sleep through the riot of elephants that was her team, but he also wasn’t sure how Sheppard and McKay had even survived this long, so maybe some mysteries weren’t meant for the knowledge of man – and so was his daughter. Or at least, that’s what he thought, until the kid opened her eyes and stared up at him, silent.
He was pretty sure he was imagining the critical analysis in her eyes.
“Hey there,” he said, his voice low and quiet and just a little rough. She blinked slowly up at him and stuck her fingers in her mouth, unimpressed. She was so tiny, he marveled, and then kicked himself because she was a baby and she’d come out of an awful goddamn small place. What in God’s name was he expecting, an elephant? The bizarre image of Teyla giving birth to a zoo made him choke on a slightly hysterical laugh.
“Guess this is parenthood,” he commented, dryly, and picked her up. It took him a minute to get her settled in his arms, but when one of the nurses tried to help he all but bared his teeth at her. He’d been around kids before, he could figure it out – and he did, brushing his fingertips lightly down his daughter’s cheek. She seemed to have all the requisite parts, she wasn’t a funny colour and Carson hadn’t said anything to him about any horrible illnesses or deformities…
She wrinkled her nose and resettled herself, wriggling like a fish in his grasp. “Stop that,” he chided. “I’m your dad—“ saying it had the immediate effect of making it more real, “—and as such you get the joy of doing what I want you to.”
Teyla laughed and he started, turning. He hadn’t realised she’d woken up, and it was a while since the last time she’d managed to put that one over him. She held her arms out, sleepy-eyed. “Come here. You have much to learn about parenting.”