Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: general audiences, whatever.
Set: er... season two.
Pairings: Liz/Tea, Teyla/Ronon Notes: This is because of qwirky crack!fic, which was written in chat and there was this thing about a pink sweater.

by ALC Punk!

A weekly ritual.

Just a simple cup of tea, perhaps a few exchanged words. A gesture of trust.

Something that began as an uneasy truce between two very capable women who saw things differently, and were willing to compromise and discuss. Until it became something more, something they both required, as time moved on. And then when Elizabeth came back from Earth she had more than enough tea to keep them happy for months, if not years. Enough flavors to amuse them, at least.

"You were right, Elizabeth," Teyla sounded amused as she sat back in her chair, mug in her hand.

Elizabeth Weir raised an eyebrow and took a careful sip of her tea. "Right? I'm always right, or didn't you hear that from Sgt. Hadrian's long-suffering crew?"

Not to be distracted from her original point, Teyla still paused a moment to consider Elizabeth's handling of the irritating marine. Then she snorted, "I suppose you haven't seen him, then."

"Seen who?" Elizabeth asked, innocence in her gaze.

Teyla took a sip of her drink, not falling for it for an instant. "You have seen him. And almost laughed in his face, did you not?"

"I would never laugh in anyone's face," Elizabeth defended herself, eyes widening. "Teyla, that would break the rules, not to mention being a diplomatic insult."

"Ronon is not an ambassador."

Ignoring Teyla's inscrutable logic, Elizabeth continued, "Not to mention that laughing at a subordinate could be construed as dislike. And there are enough problems on Earth with employee complaints against over-bearing supervisors--"

Teyla held up her free hand, "What is it young Ford was trying to show the children? Ah, yes," She flattened her palm, gesturing towards Elizabeth, "Talk to the palm, 'cause the face is not listening."

"It's talk to the hand, actually." Elizabeth corrected her, laughter bubbling at the back of her throat.

"Then talk to the hand, Elizabeth."

The laughter broke free, and she set her mug down, leaning forward to brace herself as she let the paroxysm pass through her. Once it was finished, she sniffed a bit and looked at Teyla, "Pink is definitely his color."

"It is. And such a pity you had to give up your scarf, Elizabeth."

"But," Elizabeth raised her mug, "To such a fine cause... So, how'd you convince him?"

Teyla grinned and leaned forward, "I said, very sweetly, 'I thought you might get cold'." Her eyes went wider, and she suddenly exuded an earthy innocence. "And he agreed, and wrapped it around his neck, and smiled. You know the smile most men have when they're humoring a woman in case she suddenly dumps them?"

"Ah, yes." Drinking more of her tea, Elizabeth considered. "I don't suppose he'll wear it forever."

"Possibly not. But the battle was well-won, in this instance."

They both sipped, and then Elizabeth sighed, "I should get back to work."

"And I," Teyla finished her tea and set the mug down, "Must make a trip to the mainland and discuss provisions for the winter with my people."

Elizabeth stood and held out a hand. "Thank you for coming, this has been very... fruitful."

"Indeed." A smirk touched Teyla's lips, and she shook Elizabeth's hand, then released it. "I assume you will require me to report at the same time, next week?"

"Yes." Elizabeth grinned, "I'll be opening the peach. I don't think I've introduced you to peach yet."

"Indeed not."

With a perfect understanding between them, Teyla left the glassed-in room Elizabeth had taken as an office. Both were relaxed, far more than they had been two hours before. Elizabeth settled back down at her desk and began sorting out the reports. She paused to sip the last of the mint tea from Earth, and smiled. This had definitely been the best idea she'd had in a long time.