Rating: PG-13 (for gory imagery)
Summary: it’s too short to rate one
Disclaimer: neither Stargate nor AtS belongs to me, more’s the pity. I make no money from this.
FFA holiday marathon pairing 268: Illyria/Teal’c
Living The Low Life
„I am unsure as to the nature of this exercise.“
“I believe it is customary to these humans. More evidence of their lowly nature. Polluting everything with their base needs.” She actually curled her upper lip in disgust, Teal’c noticed with interest.
Rising murmurs could be heard in the distance.
“That notwithstanding we are drawing an increasing amount of attention to ourselves. I believe General O’Neill is about to throw peanuts.”
“As soon as he does I will gladly tear his intestines out through his navel and crush them…”
“That might inadvisable.”
That made Illyria look at him more closely.
“You are not a part of this world.”
Teal’c raised an eybrow.
“I am from a place called Mozambique.”
“You are lying.” She looked down at his belly. “Intriguing.”
Teal’c’s hand grabbed her wrist.
The murmurs changed to actual shouts, still rising.
“How do you know such things?”
“You will unhand me this instant or I will smite you down and leave your broken body for these humans to gawk at.” She glared at him with her strange violet eyes.
“Are you a false god?” His grip hardened, eliciting not even a groan.
Her gaze seemed to burn with an unsettling intensity.
“I am not false. I am a god. Kings knelt before me in supplicance, armies bowed to my will.” Then the expression of arrogance and utter superiority shifted and for a brief instant Teal’c thought he saw someone else looking back at him. “But that was before my fall from grace. Now I am as you see me. Degraded, besmirched and so… small.”
“You are indeed no false god.” He let go of her wrist. “Nonetheless I must ask you to accompany me. I have many questions to ask of you.”
“Murray, buddy, you’re not supposed to talk her ear off. Just get with the program here.” General O’Neill’s voice rose above the din.
“It might be prudent to acquiesce to this tradition lest the General resorts to … tactics, again.”
“It would maybe not be utterly despicable. The shell remembers pleasurable sensations concerning this activity. Proceed.”
So an ex-First Prime was found to be kissing an Old One under the mistletoe to the cheers and good natured catcalls of the bar patrons.