AN: Okay, so I'm not really sure what to call this (hopefully short) story...and here's why. Originally, it was gonna be a cute little drabble-type thingy where John & Rodney spend some time with Torren. But then it turned into an actual story with a kind of plot, and now I'm getting ideas beyond where it was gonna go. That ever happened to anyone else before?

So, for now, it's called LEGOs and Love. Until I find a better title. If anyone wants to help name this, that'd be awesome!

Oh, and please R&R!

LEGOs and Love

By scarlet79

Teyla walked into her room and stopped short, a look of surprise on her delicate features. The three males on the floor before her didn't even glance up, they were so absorbed in what they were doing. The lights were dimmed halfway, giving the room a warm glow, and she noticed that someone had found a television set somewhere and had plugged it in over by the corner. Right now, the screen was filled with the image of a crudely drawn stick figure who was bouncing around and singing the Earth Alphabet, as the letters – each of them a different color of the rainbow – flew by the figure's head.

Her son, Torren, was lying on his stomach nearest to the door, his chubby two-year-old limbs and thick, ebony curls unmistakable. She couldn't keep a smile from her lips as she realized for the first time that he was developing a cowlick, right on the top of his head. And speaking of cowlicks, she mused as she glanced beside her son, where John Sheppard's lanky form mimicked Torren's, his long legs sprawled out behind him as he worked. She wasn't all that surprised to see him there, as he was the one who had agreed to watch Torren. It was the man who lay similarly sprawled on Torren's other side whom she was startled to see. That man was none other than Rodney McKay, his eyebrows knitted together in concentration as his large fingers moved over his masterpiece.

In the center of the floor was the mountainous pile of LEGOs that John had bought Torren on his last trip to Earth, the brightly colored blocks intermixed with each other in a jumbled rainbow. Periodically, the three of them dug through the pile, grabbing certain pieces as they each worked on building something. The men shot remarks and jokes back and forth, while Torren happily babbled in his toddler language. Perhaps fittingly considering the state she had just found them in, John seemed to understand what the boy said, often putting in a reply to Torren's garbled comments.

"That's never gonna work, Rodney," John said, pointing at the catapult his scientist friend was building. "Too much weight at that end."

"Please, FlyBoy, don't insult me by pretending you know anything about physics. It's gonna work just fine," McKay retorted, taking the time to glance at John's castle. "Besides, that hovel isn't much better."

At the word "hovel", Torren looked up and giggled, and that was when he finally noticed his mother standing there. Momentarily abandoning his toys, he jumped up and hugged her around her legs.

"Mama!" He cried, and as she bent down to pick him up in her arms, the two men shared a shocked glance before glancing up at her.

"Hello, Torren," Teyla replied, snuggling her nose against his soft cheek. She looked back down at the pile of blocks and smiled as she asked, "What are you all doing?"

Slightly embarrassed that she had caught them playing with Torren's LEGOs, John and Rodney both blushed and quickly stood up, each trying to find somewhere to look instead of meeting her eyes.

"We...um...we were helping Torren with his blocks," John finally managed.

"Yes! Exactly!" Rodney cried, shooting John a relieved smile. John always knew how to bail them out, and once again he didn't disappoint. "Helping."

Grinning at their obvious discomfort, she made no further comment and instead turned back to her son, giving his cheek a kiss. "And were you a good boy for Uncle John?" She asked him.

"Uncle John!" Torren squealed, lifting his arms straight up in the air and grinning as wide as his little face could possibly handle.

Confused by this new gesture, she lifted an eyebrow at John, whose own grin nearly matched her son's perfectly. When he saw her bewildered expression, he explained, "He's doing the sign for a touchdown. We were watching my football tapes again, and he saw the ref doing...well, that," he chuckled as he pointed at Torren's arms, which were still held upward.

Teyla smiled and put her son back on the floor, where he again began to play with the Legos. "Well, thank you for watching him for me. Both of you," she added as she caught Rodney's eye.

"It's no problem," John told her honestly. "He's a good kid."

"Yes, he is," Rodney added, his tone surprisingly gentle. "Though I think it'll be a while before he can actually build a stable structure out of those LEGOs. All he can do now is stack them."

"He's two years old, McKay," John replied, exasperated. "Give 'em a break."

"So? I was building molecular structures out of toothpicks when I was three! He's only a few months off of that."

John decided to call him out on that. "You were not."

Rodney tried to bluff right back, but he was just as horrible a liar as they all thought. "Well, okay," he finally conceded, "I was six. But still..."

Teyla rolled her eyes at John, who took hold of Rodney's jacket and began to pull him toward the door.

"I'm gonna get him down to the Mess before he pops a blood vessel," John explained to her as he waved the door open. He glanced down at his favorite little boy and gave him a broad smile. "Bye, TJ!"

Seeing that John was leaving, Torren instantly got up off the floor and ran to him, plaintively crying, "Uncle John!" as he wrapped his small arms so tightly around the colonel's legs that if he'd tried to move he would have fallen.

John let got of Rodney in favor of scooping the boy up in his arms, cradling him against his chest. "Hey," he cooed to Torren, "I'll be back later. You know that."

"No!" Torren wailed, his face pressing into John's neck. "No, Uncle John!"

John's heart wrenched at the sadness he heard in the boy's voice. Kanaan had been gone for a little over a month, having tired of sharing Teyla with the team, of fearing for her life each time she left the city on this mission or that trade agreement. Though Teyla had said that their breakup was a mutual decision, John had gotten the feeling even back then that it wasn't, and that she would take it hard.

And she had. She put on a brave face for a while, but finally broke down in the Gate room just before they were about to leave on a mission, her sobs echoing dully through the space like the chime of a broken bell. Dropping his gear and gathering her into his arms before she could collapse to the floor, he'd called for a hold on the mission and spent the better part of two days with her, assuring her that he – and the rest of Atlantis – was there for her anytime she needed them. That was just over a week ago, and so far, it seemed that she was slowly, but surely, getting used to the idea of being a single mom.

However, he had no idea that Torren would react to his father leaving like this, if that was indeed what this was. He was so young, John had just assumed that eventually, he would forget the man. He should have known better, however, as the boy was half of Teyla, and while she was nowhere near as smart as Rodney, her sense of intuition could give anyone a run for their money. Hoping that Torren would forget Kanaan was probably just wishful thinking on John's part, a particularly strong bit of his mistrust and anger showing through. And, okay, maybe a little jealousy, he admitted. Here, Kanaan had a great little family, two people who loved him greatly, and he had just thrown them away. Meanwhile, John, who had already tried the family route when he was much younger and had failed miserably, was helpless to stand by and watch as the two people he loved the most were forced to live alone.

He wasn't just jealous, he decided. He was mad as hell.

Shocked at her son's sudden outburst, Teyla leaned forward and rubbed gentle circles on Torren's back, then glanced up into John's eyes, her own gaze filled with something he could only identify as pain. He could understand that; Torren had all but ignored her as he ran to John. Any mother would be upset by being abandoned by her own child in favor of their uncle, and it had to sting worse when that uncle wasn't really even related.

Rodney stood at the threshold, knowing that he should covertly make his exit yet somehow unable to move. He had to admit that from the moment he had helped deliver Torren onboard the Wraith ship, the normally happy little boy had won him over. Rodney never did well with children, being unable to relate to their innocent yet constant questions and the need to touch everything they saw, but more and more over these past few years, he had found himself strangely drawn to Torren, even offering to watch him so that Teyla could spend some time alone. She had been reluctant at first, knowing that the scientist could often be clumsy and forgetful, but every time her mind was pulled back to his helping with her son's birth, and so she eventually gave in.

He, too, was upset to see how Torren clung to John so tightly, how he sobbed into the man's shirt as if he would never see him again. Not because he was jealous – his fear of messing up kept him just distant enough to be comfortable without being aloof – but because the boy had never really acted that way before. The few times Rodney had joined John in his babysitting duties, they would stay and play for a few hours, and when Teyla came back they would give Torren a hug or two and leave, easy as pie. Never had he seen Torren cry so desperately for someone other than his mother, and even that was rare.

"Um," Rodney finally said, shifting nervously from one foot to another, "you could stay, John. If you want. I mean, it's not like I don't know where the Mess Hall is."

"Or," Teyla put in, her head tilted to one side as she regarded Rodney, "you could both stay, and I will have some food brought here for us."

John stared down into her eyes, silently asking her if that was really okay with her, and she smiled shyly back up at him.

"Are you sure?" Rodney asked aloud. "If it's any trouble..."

"It is no trouble," she assured him as she searched her workout bag for her radio. "Please, come back inside and sit down."

"Well, TJ," John said to the boy in his arms as he stepped back into the room, "looks like we're staying for lunch."

"Lunch?" Torren sniffled, pulling back to let his nearly black eyes peer into John's hazel ones.

He nodded as Teyla called the cafeteria and put in an order for them.

"That's right, buddy," John assured him. "Now, I gotta put you down 'cause my arms are killing me."

Bending at the waist, John carefully untangled Torren's arms from around his neck and set him down on the floor. Understanding that John wasn't leaving after all, Torren went willingly enough, releasing his death-grip on the man's neck with the shuddered sigh so typical of a toddler whose crying fit had just ended. John reached for the tower Torren had been building and grabbed it, setting it back in front of the boy. "Here," he said as he added another handful of blocks to the small pile near Torren's feet, "play with these while the grown-ups talk for a minute."

Once the toddler was again happily occupied by his toys, John moved over to where Teyla and Rodney stood. Teyla's gaze was fixed on her son, her mouth turned down in a frown of concern.

"I do not know why he suddenly acted that way," she told John. "He is normally so very content with just me here."

"Maybe he's missing his Dad," John offered, even as speaking the words pricked his heart. He had once held out hope that one day, he'd gather the courage to begin a relationship with Teyla. But then, she had come to him with the news that she was bearing a child – someone else's child, and his dream had fallen apart in his hands.

"Perhaps, but why only now, so long after he has gone?" She asked, her arms wrapping around herself protectively. John ached to reach out to her, but his fear got in the way, keeping his hands shoved deep in his pockets, and he stayed put.

"Maybe he's just tired," Rodney tried, nodding toward Torren then. The other two adults followed his gaze and just caught the tail end of a huge yawn – one that definitely belonged on someone bigger than Torren. "I know I used to get a little clingy when I was tired."

John smirked at him. "Rodney, where do you come up with this stuff? You cannot honestly remember what you were like at 2! No one does."

Rodney gave him a saintly, patient look. "My mother told me, okay? You telling me your mom never cackles over stories of your childhood? Someone like you, she should have enough to last two lifetimes."

Teyla winced and bit her tongue as John's face fell and he suddenly looked away from them. She had learned of his mother's early death during one of their late-night conversations on the mainland when she had been mourning Charin. In a bid to help ease her pain, John had offered to take her there just to sit, or to talk, if she wanted to. At first, they had only sat silently, looking out at the still waters of the ocean, but as the moon rose in the sky she felt more and more drawn to speak of her close relationship with Charin, of her best memories of them together. Something about her gentle words soon broke open the defenses John usually put up in his mind, and he found himself spilling every detail about his childhood, about his mother's illness and eventual death. Teyla pretended not to see the tears that had escaped and rolled down his nose, knowing that he would be ashamed to acknowledge them, but they were there, nevertheless.

His face still turned away, he softly said, "She never even lasted one."

Realizing what had just happened, Rodney's eyes widened into saucers, and he subconsciously took a step back. "John, I...no one ever told me...I would never..."

"I know, Rodney," John interrupted. "It's okay."

"No," McKay replied with a shake of his head. "I mean, I know I'm not good at...people, in general, but even I wouldn't say something like that on purpose. You'd have to be some kind of an idiot to bring up..."

"McKay!" John cried, as gently as he could so as not to freak Torren out. "Just drop it, okay?"

Sufficiently chastened, Rodney nodded. "Sorry. Yeah. Okay."

Just then, Torren ran to them on his chubby legs, his hands clutching something tightly between them. "Wodney!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. "Wook, Wodney!"

John couldn't stifle the chuckle that escaped him at the way Torren pronounced Rodney's name, his grin only widening as the physicist glared at him in disgust.

"Wook!" Torren chirped again, pushing the object he'd been holding into Rodney's face. To his credit, Rodney merely pulled his head back a few inches so he wouldn't get clobbered by Torren's waving fists, his face holding none of the usual irritation he had when dealing with kids.

"I'm looking, Torren," Rodney said to the boy, holding his hand out for the object Torren had been trying to show him. "What is it?"

Torren babbled what sounded like a mixture of English and Athosian words all strung together, and then proudly dumped his treasure into Rodney's hand.

"Wodney," Torren said again, beaming up first at the scientist, then at his mother, and finally at John.

Curious, Rodney looked down at his hand, his eyebrows knitted together.

"Huh!" he said as he turned the object first one way, and then the other. He was so intrigued by it that without even realizing it, his knees bent further and further until he was sitting on the couch.

John stepped forward and likewise stared down. "It's your catapult," he said, shrugging as he wondered what Torren – and now Rodney – found so special about it.

"No. My catapult is over there," Rodney breathed, tilting his head toward the pile of blocks. "I...I didn't build this."

TBC...