Disclaimer: I own none of the Stargate franchise.

A/N: This is my second fic for SAWS 2009 – Spanky a Week Summer. For this summer there will be one Ronon/Teyla story a week posted by a number of different authors.

This is a story inspired by a fic fyd818 wrote, called Bleeding Love. If you haven't read it yet – go read it, 'cause its awesome. I quoted one part from that fic, which is in Italic – so all credit goes to her for that one!
Also, thanks for the beta fyd! :)

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Ronon stared into the eyes of his opponent, unblinking. He waved one of the sticks in his hand, twirling it around in an attempt to distract the other. His other arm twitched slightly in response at the movement, his muscles tensed and begging for movement.

Narrowing slightly, the chocolate brown eyes gazing into his did the same, glaring at Ronon in annoyance for attempting to break his concentration.

Smirking cheekily in response, Ronon edged forwards.

His opponent didn't give him the chance to attack first, and Ronon had to duck swiftly to avoid the stick colliding with his head. Grunting, he chose to stay low while he rapidly swung one of his sticks at the legs standing before him, while keeping the other stick close to his head for protection. His rod merely met air as the pair of legs jumped high to avoid it, and it brought him slightly out of balance, stumbling forward and stretching back to his full height. Dex twisted around just in time to block two sticks, inches away from crushing his windpipe.

Pleased with the challenge his opponent provided, Ronon grinned proudly, stepping forwards while trapping the sticks with his own. As he had anticipated, he had to bring up his leg to block the kick aimed at his kneecap.

Taking advantage of his longer legs, Ronon hooked his foot around the leg that had tried to kick him, and pulled his leg back sharply – forcing the other to the ground. He moved with him as he fell, keeping their sticks tangled as they hit the mat. He trapped the shorter pair of legs under him with his own longer ones, protecting his ribs from bruising. Gently pressing the sticks against the others' windpipe, Ronon lowered his head to stare into brown eyes once again – this time clearly showing disappointment. "Do you yield?" he demanded, raising one eyebrow in challenge – keeping his smile in check.

Torren sighed heavily, relaxing his grip on his sticks. "I yield," he answered reluctantly.

Ronon allowed his grin to show finally, moving his sticks away from Torren's neck, and standing back up while offering his hand to the boy.

Pouting slightly as he let Ronon pull him up, Torren frowned up at Ronon. "How did you know I was going to kick your knee?" he asked him.

Ronon shrugged, taking Torren's pair of rods from him, and moving towards the window.

"It's one of your favourite moves, plus I can tell by the way you shift your weight in advance, and the way your eyes focus on my legs," he explained, winking at him.

"But you did great, you lasted longer than last time," Ronon said, smiling proudly at the ten year old boy.

Torren rolled his eyes. "I still don't last half as long as mom," he mumbled, his eyes moving away from Ronon, toward their spectator sitting by the window, a slight smile on her face.

Ronon chuckled, sharing an amused glance with Teyla.

"Well, your mom has been training for a lot longer than you have," Ronon told him. "And I still only win from her by cheating," he admitted, enjoying the way Teyla's eyes sparkled brightly at his comment.

Teyla came to see their practise as often as she could, silently watching from the sidelines.

Ronon thought back to all those years ago, when Torren was still a baby, and Teyla had asked him if he would train Torren. He'd been lying in the infirmary, Torren sleeping in his arms, with Teyla sitting opposite of him.

"When Torren gets older – will you train him?" Teyla finally released him from her gaze so she could look down at her son. "I want him to be able to take care of himself. This is a dangerous galaxy, as yesterday proved yet again. Should something happen to me – I want him to be able to defend himself. And you are the best warrior I know." She lifted her eyes again, meeting his firmly.

Ronon looked down at Torren, then up at Teyla again. Leaning forward a little, he carefully took Teyla's hand in his. Squeezing gently, he said, "I am honoured that you asked me, Teyla. But – but don't you want the privilege of training him to yourself?" He wanted to train Torren – maybe more than he'd wanted anything ever before. But he didn't want to take that away from Teyla.

Teyla's hand joined his on Torren's back as she scooted a little closer. "You know things I do not," she said. "And—" She hesitated, as if debating whether or not to say what she was thinking. Her fingers brushed up and down her son's back absently as she considered. Ronon waited quietly, watching her expression shift from emotion to emotion. When she looked up again, he saw nothing but hope. "I want you to be a part of his life," she whispered.

Ronon blinked, the memory fading away.

Teyla's wish had been granted. Ronon had started training Torren when he was eight, first simply strengthening his muscles, and eventually teaching him forms of self defence. They had only recently started their sparring sessions, letting Torren get used to attacking someone, while still defending himself. He was a fast learner, always willing to learn something, from science to fighting.

Torren's frown was still present as he looked at Ronon again. "But how come you didn't attack me back, when I tried to kick you? You could have kicked me first," he concluded, thinking back to the fight.

Ronon shrugged again, looking at Torren. "The fight was over once I got you trapped, I knew what your next move would be," he explained.

Torren snorted. "I think you're just scared that mom will kick your ass if you bruise me too much," he answered, biting his lip in anticipation for what he knew was coming next.

Ronon heard Teyla laugh loudly from beside them at Torren's comment, and he couldn't keep the laugh from bubbling up his own throat. Narrowing his eyes in retaliation, Ronon tackled Torren to the ground, locking two tiny wrists in one hand. "I can think of something much worse than bruising," he threatened.

The boy was laughing hysterically even before Ronon's fingers touched his ribs, tickling them mercilessly, ignoring Torren's pleas between giggles to stop it.

He had to be merciful eventually, when Torren began to look a little blue from the lack of oxygen. Gasping for breath, Torren kept his mouth shut wisely once Ronon released him. Another lesson learned – for now.

Teyla was still smiling, shaking her head at her son's cheekiness.

Ronon moved towards her, grinning still. She made room for him, scooting over to the side, and he sat down beside her.

She leaned into him happily, and he entwined their fingers, brushing his thumb against the inside of her palm. They sat beside each other for a while longer, watching Torren go through his routines with the bantos rods, twirling them expertly and moving with ease. He looked so much like Teyla, not only from the outside – but the way he hid his smiles when he was amused… How he respected those around him, and his kindness. Teyla made a great mom, and Ronon was sure Torren would grow up to be just as amazing as her.

And he was proud to have become a part of his life.

-fin-

I'll leave it up to the readers' imagination – which I know they all have – to decide where Teyla and Ronon stand after ten years.

Thanks for reading!