Safety Scissors & Glitter | Stargate SG-1: Baal/Sam

[misaffection]

Fandom: Stargate SG1
Characters: Baal, Vala and Sam Carter
Pairing: Sam/Baal
Rating: FRC
Written for: scifiland's Love, Actually Challenge
Word Count: 2,200


Baal is halfway through working through the antiquated dialling coding when he becomes aware of a fizzing in his bloodstream. It feels... different; less sweet than the sensation he usually gets and so knows the person hovering behind him is not Samantha.

Which means it can only be one person. He smothers a sigh, but doesn't look up as he says, “Hello, Qetesh. Did you want something?”

“It's Vala,” she corrects, but it sounds automatic. It probably is, since his tendency to call her the wrong name certainly is. “Do you know what the date is?”

This makes him stop and turn. He stares at her. “Has your mind finally slipped?”

She blinks, then flaps a hand. “Oh, I know, silly. But I was wondering if you did. Or rather, what the date will be in four days.”

Baal pinches the bridge of his nose and wonders if it's too late to request a reassignment to Area 51 after all. “Is there a point to this conversation that's going to become apparent in the next five minutes?”

“Oh, you don't.” Vala beams and bounces over, then plunks herself down on the next chair. “It's the fourteenth. Valentine's Day. You do know what that is, don't you?”

He does, but he fails to see the significance. “Yes, but I'm still not seeing-”

“What have you got Sam?”

“How do you mean?”

“Oh, really, you are so useless. You need to get her a present. It's romantic.” She tilts her head. “You can do romantic, can't you Baal?”

“If I truly have to.”

He doesn't want to discuss his relationship with Vala of all people and hopes that will be the end of it. However she looks utterly horrified.

“I don't know what she sees in you. I mean, Daniel's clueless, but he makes it seem cute. You...” She shakes her head. “If you love her, then you need to show her.”

“Have you been watching that movie again?” He shudders at the recollection of being forced to see through an hour and something of frothy love story with singing of all things. “I do not dance.”

Vala rolls her eyes. “The surprise is supposed to be pleasant,” she says, tone snide. “I'd stick with flowers and chocolates if I were you. Or something handmade. Ooh! You should make her a card!”

“Oh, I should not.”

“Yes!” She grabs his hand. “Come on. I'll help you. Not for you, before you say anything, but Sam's my friend. I don't want her disappointed.”

Baal sighs and gives up – Vala on a mission is a force that not even he can resist. He's dragged along the corridors, much to the amusement of the SF personnel they pass, and into one of the disused laboratories.

“What are we doing here?” he asks.

“You,” she says and jabs him in the chest with a finger. “Are staying here. I'm going to get us some supplies.”

She prances out. Baal briefly consists flight, then sinks onto a chair with a resigned sigh – it will be better to deal with this stupid frivolity now than Vala's fury later.

He waits, brain churning over what he knows about the looming holiday. It's supposed to be romantic, but he doesn't really see Samantha as the hearts and flowers kind. Not like Vala, who definitely is. No, Sam is more... well, practical than that. She's not going to expect him to present her with something fussy.

Leaning back in his chair, Baal folds his hands together and stares at the opposite wall, lets go of his irritation at Vala and his concerns over Samantha. He closes his eyes and breathes.

Earth has a quaint little saying – two heads are better than one. Well he has two, effectively, and they work seamlessly in tandem and within moments has come up with – and discarded – several ideas. Then the door bangs open and every thought is lost as Vala bustles in with arms brimming with items and a determined expression on her face.

“What's all this?” He is fairly sure he's going to regret that question as she spreads the table with paper and card and something in a small tub that glitters and is that a feather? “Vala,” he adds in a warning tone.

“Here,” she says and shuffles through the paper. After a moment, she finds and shoves something at him. He takes it from her with a glare, but then looks down at what she's handed over.

It's a piece of card, folded over. On one side of the outer fold is a sickeningly cute drawing of what he thinks are supposed to be rabbits, underneath the legend “To the One I Love”. There is an awful lot of the glittery stuff attached.

“That's a Valentine's card,” Vala tells him, in case he's somehow missed the point. “You can buy them, but it's better if you make them. It's more personal and... romantic.”

“I see,” he says dubiously. “I'm not sure that Samantha-”

“Will love it. Trust me. We girls love this stuff.”

Baal refrains from pointing out that Samantha is possibly the least girly female on the planet and tosses the card onto the table.

“So this is what we're doing? Making a card?” He stares down at the paper. On one hand he's annoyed at something so demeaning, on the other it's impossibly simple and presents no real challenge. “You do realise I could probably do this in my sleep?”

“Let's try it with your eyes open.” Vala smirks at him and hands him a pair of plastic scissors. He looks at them and then lifts an eyebrow at her. Her expression radiates innocence. “Can have you cutting yourself now, can we?”

“I'll cut you,” he mutters darkly.

“And that,” she says, “is why I brought those. I know what your temper's like.”

He curbs his irritation, knowing that she's enjoying baiting him, and settles down on a chair. His symbiote chooses to point out that he's being reduced to kindergarten level with safety scissors and glitter and that it's hardly a task worthy of a System Lord. He reminds the symbiote that they are lord of diddly squat and the sooner he does this, the sooner Vala will shut up.

Point made, he heaves a sigh and takes a sheet of card.

Vala sits opposite, chin on her clasped hands. He glowers at her, but she simply simpers in response and continues to watch him like he's the most entertaining thing on base. Which he probably is right now, considering.

“You truly believe that Samantha will be pleased by this?” He isn't, but maybe she knows something he doesn't. There's a first for everything, after all.

Vala snorts. “If it comes from you, yes. She loves you. God knows why, when you're such a pain in the ass.”

“Been talking to O'Neill again, by any chance?” he says as he cuts a perfectly symmetrical heart out of red paper.

“I'm just saying.” She tosses hair back over her shoulder. “I wouldn't put up with half the crap she does. I mean, what was that argument with Barrett about? Threatening an IOA agent doesn't seem the wisest of things to do.”

“The man is an ass.” Baal screws his face up at the mere thought. “Apparently he would be with Samantha if I were not in the way. Such claims I might accept from O'Neill – and seriously, is it truly my fault the man did nothing? - but from Barrett? Please, even you are more intelligent than that.”

“They're still looking at getting you to Area 51?” She sounds surprised. He has no idea why.

“Still, yes.”

Something that might be sympathy crosses her face. He ignores it and applies glue to the card. Oddly, she says nothing, just watches him up end the tub of glitter. It lands on the table in a shimmering pile.

Vala giggles. He glares at her and digs the card out. Stares at it. He really doesn't see how this is going to impress anyone, and he probably could do better, but even if he was more convinced about it's purpose, he's limited to the resources to hand.

Or... not. He blinks and then smirks as an idea forms. Paper crafts might not be his forte but he has other talents. He just needs time. He glances at Vala. And space.

“Pen?” he asks, holding out a hand. She hands me out and he scrawls a message in the code he and Samantha have devised. Then he folds the card over and tosses it at Vala. “There you go. Give that to her while I... clean up here.”

She looks surprised. “You? Clean up?” Her forehead creases. “What are you planning?”

“I'm planning on not getting raked over any more coals today.” He waves her off. “Go. She'll know where I am if she requires me.”

“So romantic,” Vala says, but she picks up the card and flounces out of the room. He smirks at the closed door and sets to work.

#

When he slips into Samantha's lab some time later, he's gratified to see the card sits atop of her computer monitor. She stands as he approaches and her smile quirks.

“Something amusing?” he asks, trying for censure and failing when her arms circle his neck. She smells of strawberry and vanilla and it has a definite effect on his body. Her eyebrows lift, then she chuckles.

“Apart from that,” she says and ruffles his hair. “You’re all sparkly, Baal.”

He glances down and notes she is right. He sighs. “Yes, well, the idea was Vala's and she decided to natter at me until I did something, so... I did something.”

“It's lovely,” Samantha tells him, which he knows is a lie.

“It's not very original.”

“I don't care.”

“And the glitter is coming off.”

“I don't care.”

“And-”

“Baal!” She's laughing at him, a tender smile on her face. She kisses him and he closes his eyes, breathes her in. “It doesn't have to be perfect, you just have to mean it.”

“You know that I love you.”

Her eyes shine at those words. “I love you,” she murmurs and kisses him again. “It's very sweet.”

He gives her a pained look. “Please, I do not do sweet.”

“Romantic?” she tries.

“Perhaps.” He hitches a shoulder. “I believe there should also be a present.”

“Oh, you don't need to-”

“Too late.”

He digs in his pocket and pulls out his earlier work, holds it out on the palm of his hand. Watches her face as she picks up the dime-sized gem.

“What is it?”

“Hold it up to the light,” he instructs and grins as she does and her eyes widen.

“Oh.”

“Cards are so... human and-”

He gets no further in his practised defamation of her species because she's flung her arms around his neck and welded her lips to his.

“Thank you,” she breathes when she's done, then pulls back to examine the gem again. “Now that is romantic.”

“I try my best.” He shrugs, pretending an offhandness he really doesn't feel – her reaction is better than he'd imagined. She roots on the bench. “What are you doing?”

“I have an idea,” she tells him and finds a small ring of metal. He watches her work it around the gem and then she offers him a rather shy smile as she undoes the simple gold chain that encirles her neck.

Oh, he thinks as she slips the pendant onto the chain and refastens it. Her face is glowing, her eyes shining with love. It was, he decides, definitely one of his better ideas.

“That suits you,” he says and she grins.

“You suit me.” She comes closer and toys with his hair, scattering glitter everywhere. “I didn't get you anything. How terrible is that?”

“I do not require anything.” He smiles and runs his fingers through her blonde hair. “Nothing more than I already have.”

She smiles widely. “In that case I might have something for you after all. You'll have to wait until later though.” She kisses him, slow and lingering and blood rushes south. “I'll make it worth your while.”

He coughs, adjusting his trousers to better accommodate his reaction to her proximty. “Yes. I'm confident in your ability to do so.”

“You'd better believe it.”

She is all blonde insolence in a tight black tee and a dark promise in her blue eyes. And he loves it, loves her. He hooks her hips, pulls her close and smirks down at her.

“I do.”