Trick or Treat, Baal/Sam, PG
15 Oct 2010 01:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
misaffectionFandom: Stargate SG1
Pairing: Sam Carter/Baal
Rating: PG
Word Count: 506
Summary: Baal is unimpressed with the portrayal of a certain vampire...
“All I’m saying,” Baal says in a tone of worn patience, “is that it’s unnatural.”
Sam rolls her eyes. “Of course it is – they’re vampires. There’s nothing natural about them.”
“Not that.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, chin on his folded hands. “I mean, if they’re a hunted species, why give themselves away? And in such an obvious fashion?”
“I don’t think they can help it.” Sam considers this. “It’s the way they were written.”
“By an imbecile, clearly.”
“A very rich imbecile.” She grabs his shoulder and hauls him back. “You’re in the way.”
“You’re actually watching this rubbish?”
“I’m trying to. And how do you know it is rubbish?”
“I have eyes.” He winces at a line. “And ears. Oh please, no one says that sort of thing!”
Sam tosses an unpopped kernel at him. “You don’t say that sort of thing. That doesn’t mean other... people don’t.”
He swivels and stares at her. “Seriously, you’d buy that line?”
She holds his gaze for a moment, tries to imagine him saying that. Fails. Wrinkling her nose, she examines the remains of the popcorn.
“No,” she admits. “Okay, fine, so the movie is crap. What do you suggest we do instead?”
His eyes brighten. She hits his arm.
“What?” he protests. “I was going to suggest the usual tradition.”
“Trick or treat? And where, exactly? You’re confined to base and I’m already in enough trouble without breaking you out.”
“Not where,” Baal says. “Whom. I believe Colonel Mitchell is still on base.”
He sits, hands folded in his lap and Sam gets the impression he’s trying not to bounce. She sighs and wonders how she managed to end up stuck with a two thousand year old System Lord that acts more like he’s eight.
“Grow up,” she tells him. He sighs dramatically.
“You spoil all my fun,” he says and actually pouts. Sam fights the urge to throttle him. Baal brightens again. “Well, if the movie is a no go and I’m not allowed to torment Cam, then I guess there’s only one thing left to do.”
It occurs to Sam that she’s done this to herself.
Not that she really minds, because at least she’s keeping him occupied and out of trouble, and he’s pretty good at what he’s doing and-
“Ow!” She thumps his shoulder and shoves him back. “What the hell are you doing?”
“It looked like fun,” he explains and waves a hand at the screen.
“Well, it didn’t feel very fun.” She rubs her neck. “It’s bad enough that you’re a Goa’uld without the Dracula impression, thank you very much.”
“See, now that was a good movie.” Baal gathers her back into his arms. “Real vampires don’t sparkle.”
Sam blinks, then dissolves into laughter. She hits his head with a cushion and there’s a brief, mock tussle that scatters popcorn everywhere and results in her flat on her back on the sofa, with a non-sparkly System Lord sprawled on top.
When the film ends, neither of them notice.
Pairing: Sam Carter/Baal
Rating: PG
Word Count: 506
Summary: Baal is unimpressed with the portrayal of a certain vampire...
“All I’m saying,” Baal says in a tone of worn patience, “is that it’s unnatural.”
Sam rolls her eyes. “Of course it is – they’re vampires. There’s nothing natural about them.”
“Not that.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, chin on his folded hands. “I mean, if they’re a hunted species, why give themselves away? And in such an obvious fashion?”
“I don’t think they can help it.” Sam considers this. “It’s the way they were written.”
“By an imbecile, clearly.”
“A very rich imbecile.” She grabs his shoulder and hauls him back. “You’re in the way.”
“You’re actually watching this rubbish?”
“I’m trying to. And how do you know it is rubbish?”
“I have eyes.” He winces at a line. “And ears. Oh please, no one says that sort of thing!”
Sam tosses an unpopped kernel at him. “You don’t say that sort of thing. That doesn’t mean other... people don’t.”
He swivels and stares at her. “Seriously, you’d buy that line?”
She holds his gaze for a moment, tries to imagine him saying that. Fails. Wrinkling her nose, she examines the remains of the popcorn.
“No,” she admits. “Okay, fine, so the movie is crap. What do you suggest we do instead?”
His eyes brighten. She hits his arm.
“What?” he protests. “I was going to suggest the usual tradition.”
“Trick or treat? And where, exactly? You’re confined to base and I’m already in enough trouble without breaking you out.”
“Not where,” Baal says. “Whom. I believe Colonel Mitchell is still on base.”
He sits, hands folded in his lap and Sam gets the impression he’s trying not to bounce. She sighs and wonders how she managed to end up stuck with a two thousand year old System Lord that acts more like he’s eight.
“Grow up,” she tells him. He sighs dramatically.
“You spoil all my fun,” he says and actually pouts. Sam fights the urge to throttle him. Baal brightens again. “Well, if the movie is a no go and I’m not allowed to torment Cam, then I guess there’s only one thing left to do.”
It occurs to Sam that she’s done this to herself.
Not that she really minds, because at least she’s keeping him occupied and out of trouble, and he’s pretty good at what he’s doing and-
“Ow!” She thumps his shoulder and shoves him back. “What the hell are you doing?”
“It looked like fun,” he explains and waves a hand at the screen.
“Well, it didn’t feel very fun.” She rubs her neck. “It’s bad enough that you’re a Goa’uld without the Dracula impression, thank you very much.”
“See, now that was a good movie.” Baal gathers her back into his arms. “Real vampires don’t sparkle.”
Sam blinks, then dissolves into laughter. She hits his head with a cushion and there’s a brief, mock tussle that scatters popcorn everywhere and results in her flat on her back on the sofa, with a non-sparkly System Lord sprawled on top.
When the film ends, neither of them notice.
