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[personal profile] misaffection
Fandom: Stargate SG1
Characters: Baal, Sam Carter
Pairing: Baal/Sam
Rating: FRC
Written for: [livejournal.com profile] 10_orders (prompt "leave me alone")
Word Count: 995

Series so far: Sticks and Stones & A Rock and a Hard Place


Sam holds the bars and shifts her weight. Four weeks after surgery and her leg is finally beginning to strengthen, but she’s a lot way from healed. A red line curves around her shin from the operation to pin her fibula back together. She tries to ignore it, and the pain, in order to walk.

It’s easier to imagine than actually do.

The door opens and Baal strides in, all calm confidence, as if the two armed guards that shadow him don’t exist. He fits in frightening well in his green BDU trousers and tight black tee. Carolyn fixes him with a glare.

“I believe the sign says ‘Do not disturb’,” she points out coolly.

Baal shrugs and flops into Sam’s wheelchair. “Am I disturbing you, Samantha?”

She bites her lip to stop the smile and gives him a quelling look. “Did you want something in particular, or did you just come to see if I’d fall on my ass?”

He makes the wheelchair spin and then brings it to an abrupt stop, grinning at her. “Would I?”

“Um, yes?”

“Oh, Samantha, it pains me to know you think so little of me. I came to see how you were doing.” His gaze shifts to the soldiers. “Yes, I’m going to take over the SGC in a wheelchair with nothing more than my charming smile. Go. Away.”

Sam heaves herself down the rail. Even before she’s halfway, her leg is throbbing, but she refuses to let Baal see that. She nods at the guards and then leave, though not without a last glare in the System Lord’s direction.

“Sam?” Carolyn ventures. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. It’s very stiff though.”

The doctor nods. “It will be for a while.” Baal coughs and Carolyn gives him a withering look, before looking back at Sam. “Will you be okay with him?”

“I saved her life, you know,” he comments.

“Sure,” Sam says to her friend. “He knows what he’s doing.”

“That psyche evaluation is still open,” Carolyn tells her and gathers her notes. Baal is given the look that’s shut Jack up before now. He just grins, unrepentant. “She’s still to avoid putting too much weight on it,” she warns him, as if he’s not heard the lecture several times over. “And try not to raise her blood pressure.”

With that she stalks out, though Sam catches something about parasites that makes her snort. She transfers her weight experimentally.

“Do you want spanking?” Baal asks, conversationally.

“I was just–”

“I know what you were just.” He pushes down on the armrests and stands smoothly from the wheelchair. Sam can only wish for such grace. “But I’ll end up back in the detention room if Doctor Whiplash thinks I’ve been pushing you.”

“Don’t call her that,” Sam giggles, then sighs as she swings her leg from the knee. “I’m bored, Baal. And it damn well hurts.”

“I offered to do something about that, but you refused.” He steps between the bars and she winds an arm around his broad shoulders as his hands span her hips. “Steadily,” he warns and she rolls her eyes. “So really, you only have yourself to blame.”

“I think things are tense enough without my running around with a symbiote in my head,” she notes. “Have the IOA decided what they’re going to do with you yet?”

His grin makes her heart skip even as her stomach sinks. She’s given up trying to work the paradox out, settling for accepting that he’s always going to confuse her.

“Baal?”

“Well, since I proved myself admirably in the saving of your frankly delicious ass, they have allowed me a... ah, trial period, I believe they called it. It seems to have upset Colonel Mitchell somewhat.”

Her jolt nearly tumbles herself from his hold. She stares at him as he gathers her closer. “They put you on SG-1?!”

“Absolutely. Are you just delighted, my love?”

She should have known. No wonder he came in looking like the cat that’d gotten the cream. With a sigh, she extracts herself and gives him a small shove. “I don’t want to know how you managed that. And I am not your anything, so quit calling me that.”

“Deny it all that you wish,” Baal says airily. “I know that you like me really.”

The thing is, she does. He’s been about all that’s kept her sane these last few weeks, stealing into the infirmary with jello and stories about how he’s wound up Woolsey. Oh, the others have been to see her, but no one can make her laugh like Baal can.

“If that gets out, I’ll have your balls,” she warns him. He just laughs and grabs the chair, having clearly seen that she’s starting to tire. “Help me down?”

He does, and he’s gentle about it. She locks her arms around his neck. He arches an eyebrow. Sam wonders if the cameras are on, then decides she doesn’t care. His eyes shutter as she brushes his lips with her own. They haven’t really talked about what happened in the cave, just taken things from there on some unspoken agreement. Sam thinks she should worry about being on the same page as a Goa’uld System Lord, but he has ways of making her not give a damn.

“No,” he breathes when she pushes him away. His eyes glow with an unearthly light and his voice carries the alien echo that has long stopped unnerving her. “Not my anything at all, are you?”

She smirks and tilts her head; aping an expression she received plenty of times. It’s nice to turn it on him for a chance. “No, but you are mine.”

He gazes into her eyes, an intensity that raises gooseflesh on her bare arms. Then he gives her a slow, sure smile and her spine turns to water. Her breath catches in her throat as he leans over and murmurs a single word into her ear.

“Absolutely.”

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