misaffection (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
misaffection) wrote2011-07-20 09:47 am
misaffection) wrote2011-07-20 09:47 am
Entry tags:
Wine, Dine and Disagree | Stargate SG-1: Baal/Sam
Fandom: Stargate SG1
Characters: Baal, Sam Carter
Pairing: Baal/Sam
Rating: PG
Written for:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sg_15_fics
Prompt: # Together
Word Count:
Trial by Goa'uld | Lorem Ipsum | Oscillation | No Going Back
What surprises her is that he asks her if they can do dinner first. She gives him an amused smile, but his expression is serious.
“Really?” she asks.
“Yes, really. Or did you think that I was only interested in the sex?”
She has no idea what he’s interested in. Of what he wants. Hitching a shoulder, she shakes her head. “I guess not.”
They end up in a small Italian restaurant. It’s half full and the atmosphere is quiet and friendly. Baal opts for a corner booth. Sam wishes he’d given her longer to change, but supposes that jeans and blouse will have to do. The way he ogles her chest, it’s clear he’s not fussy about what she’s wearing.
“Eyes up, Baal,” she says. He grins at her, unabashed. She doesn’t mind; it’s been too long since anyone looked at her like that.
“Just admiring the view.” He picks up a menu and peruses it. They, ah, I mean I don’t get out much.”
She laughs, shakes her head, and takes a menu for herself. Given how she wants the evening to end, anything with garlic is out. Something light is probably a good idea. A smirk curves her lips. High carbs for slow energy burn.
“Can I get you guys a drink?” The waitress is young, blonde and has a ready smile for Baal. He smiles politely, but doesn’t engage beyond asking for a beer.
“I’ll have a glass of house white,” Sam says. The girl writes the order down, throws a simpering smile at Baal and then sashays away. Sam chuckles. “Seems you have a fan.”
“Oh, please. I’m not interested in anyone whose bust size is greater than her IQ.” A frown creases his brow as he thinks about that. “Relatively speaking.”
“Meaning that if my bust size matched my IQ, you wouldn’t complain?”
“Am I complaining now?”
She shrugs. His gaze drops. Rolling her eyes, she bats his hand with her menu. “You’re such a breast man.”
“I am not. In fact, I was slightly disappointed that you opted for jeans and not that very short skirt.” His smile is lascivious. “I suppose you could say that I’m an equal opportunities ogler.”
A small squeal makes them both look up. The waitress is beet red. She transfers the beer bottle and wine glass off her tray. Reddens more as Baal leans forward, wicked grin in place. Sam kicks him under the table. He throws her a look, but the waitress uses that break in his attention to scuttle off.
“Was that entirely necessary?” Sam asks.
“I didn’t want her getting any ideas. You are the one I want.”
His glance is heated and she’s glad the wine is well chilled. Pleasure buzzes through her. It’s too long since she’s been the object of anyone’s desire. To be coveted by someone like Baal, who still has the power and charm to whoever he wishes, is rather a heady concept.
“Why?”
Baal arches his eyebrows in the expression that says he think she’s being stupid. “Why not?” he counters.
She snorts. “Aside from my being a lowly human?”
“I have never said such a thing.”
“Not as such, but you’ve insinuated more than once.”
He props his elbows on the table and laces his fingers together. His expression is thoughtful as he tilts his head. “Why are you angry with me? I am not aware of doing anything to warrant it.” After a pause, he adds, “At least not today.”
Sam shakes her head. “I’m not. I’m just... I don’t know what you want. It makes me... nervous.”
His eyes widen. “You’re afraid of me.”
Quite frankly, “Yes.”
“Samantha, I will not hurt you. I mean that.”
She allows him a small smile, but his promise means nothing to her. “Not physically.” Even telling him this much lets him dangerously close. “But there are other ways of hurting a person. I’m not... I can’t be a distraction for you, Baal. What do I do when your interest passes? How do I cope with that?”
“You’re assuming it would.”
“I’m not under any illusions otherwise. You’re going to outlive me, by a long time. You barely age. And I’m... just human.”
He drops his gaze and picks at the label on his beer bottle. His lips are twisted into a bitter line, as if he’s bitten something sour. She wants to take it back, but in truth this is the real reason she hesitates. It shouldn’t be – it should be about regulations and not sleeping with the enemy – but basically she’s afraid that he’ll find someone else.
“My symbiote is two thousand years old, Samantha. I am... well, truthfully, I’ve lost count, but much older than I appear. I no longer have access to a sarcophagus and so...”
He shrugs a shoulder. He doesn’t need to finish – she knows.
“Oh my God.”
“Not for a while.”
She can’t laugh. Before she can couch her new fears into words, the waitress returns. Baal orders easily, as if he’s not just been discussing his mortality. Sam can’t think, so opts for the same thing. She didn’t even hear what it was.
“You knew that when you made the offer to the IOA, though?” It’s not really a question, but she can’t quite grasp the concept. “Did they know?”
“Of course they did. That is the deal, Samantha: that I live on Earth as a human, providing them with what information they desire on the Goa’uld. Not that there are many of us left now.”
“But you... you didn’t do that for me. That was because there was nothing else for you to do. We either destroyed you, or you made a deal.”
Baal chuckles and lifts his beer to his mouth. He takes two deep swallows before putting it back down. “True enough. I realised that my continued existence was more likely if I became your ally rather than your enemy.” He shrugged again. “And this planet isn’t without its charms, you being one of them.”
A thousand and one questions line up in her head, but she closes her eyes and breathes out through her nose. Let it be. It’s all she can do. She has to trust him; otherwise she might as well stop this now. That is one thing she can’t do.
When she opens her eyes again, she finds him watching her. The usual sardonic smirk is nowhere in sight – instead he looks serious and somewhat regretful. The realisation that he knows how hard this is for her makes her vision blurry.
“Alright,” she says, and her voice is husky. “You win.”
His lips twitch into the briefest of smiles. “Good. I do so like winning.”
“I’d not noticed.”
“You should have done. Perhaps my prize this time is not as great as some, but it is more precious.”
“What?” It dawns on her that he means her, and her mouth drops open at the blatant endearment. Her cheeks heat. “Oh, don’t.”
“Why not? I like you. And not just because I want to get in your panties.”
“Though there is that.”
He grins. “Oh, indeed.”
She’s saved from having to come up with an answer to that by the arrival of their dinners. It turns out Baal ordered shrimp risotto, a choice that surprises her for some reason. She doesn’t know what she expected, really.
It’s good. Not too moist, and the shrimp are fresh and plump. The first mouthful reminds her that the last thing she ate was a late breakfast in the SGC’s mess. She tries not to shovel the food down, but her hunger is awakened and she finishes before Baal.
He chuckles and shoves his bowl over. “Here, I’m not that hungry.”
“Are you sure?”
“I had lunch.”
That’s all the permission she needs and she finishes his dinner. Washing it down with the last of her wine, she wonders if he plans on dessert and whether she can order another glass.
“So, what now?”
“I’m unsure. I wanted to take you to dinner in order to talk, but we seemed to have spent most of it arguing. Perhaps talking is a bad idea.”
She arches an eyebrow. “And of course you have a better one?”
He smirks. “You argue less when your mouth is busy. I was thinking of keeping it engaged.”
“I’m sure you were.”
“With my own.”
“I got that, actually.” The recall of their last kiss is vivid. A hot chill races through her veins. “I’m assuming dessert is out, then?”
Baal’s smile is wicked. “Oh, there’ll be dessert. Just not here.”
Well, she walked into that one. “Classy.”
“I thought so.” He clicks his fingers at a passing waiter and she kicks his shin again. Without missing a beat, he requests the bill and then smirks at her. “Now, are you being independent and paying half, or am I allowed to be a gentleman and pay for us both?”
“You can be a gentleman if I’m allowed to take pictures. You know, record the moment for prosperity?”
“Oh ha-ha, so funny.”
He doesn’t look that amused. She doesn’t rightly care. “We’ll split. That way I don’t feel like I owe you anything.”
“You’ll be begging me by the evening is out.” His eyes rake her, a dangerous knowledge reflected in their depths. “And I shall savour every breathless plea.”
Oh dear God. Sam presses her thighs together, trying to ignore the burn between them. The dark promise of his words fans the flames of her need. Unfortunately, she’s run out of wine.
She grabs the bill as it arrives. It’s itemised, which makes working out her share easy. It needs to be easy, since he’s fried most of her brain cells. All she wants is to get it paid and get the heck out of here. Go somewhere dark and private so he can do all the things he’s been threatening to.
Characters: Baal, Sam Carter
Pairing: Baal/Sam
Rating: PG
Written for:
sg_15_ficsPrompt: # Together
Word Count:
Trial by Goa'uld | Lorem Ipsum | Oscillation | No Going Back
What surprises her is that he asks her if they can do dinner first. She gives him an amused smile, but his expression is serious.
“Really?” she asks.
“Yes, really. Or did you think that I was only interested in the sex?”
She has no idea what he’s interested in. Of what he wants. Hitching a shoulder, she shakes her head. “I guess not.”
They end up in a small Italian restaurant. It’s half full and the atmosphere is quiet and friendly. Baal opts for a corner booth. Sam wishes he’d given her longer to change, but supposes that jeans and blouse will have to do. The way he ogles her chest, it’s clear he’s not fussy about what she’s wearing.
“Eyes up, Baal,” she says. He grins at her, unabashed. She doesn’t mind; it’s been too long since anyone looked at her like that.
“Just admiring the view.” He picks up a menu and peruses it. They, ah, I mean I don’t get out much.”
She laughs, shakes her head, and takes a menu for herself. Given how she wants the evening to end, anything with garlic is out. Something light is probably a good idea. A smirk curves her lips. High carbs for slow energy burn.
“Can I get you guys a drink?” The waitress is young, blonde and has a ready smile for Baal. He smiles politely, but doesn’t engage beyond asking for a beer.
“I’ll have a glass of house white,” Sam says. The girl writes the order down, throws a simpering smile at Baal and then sashays away. Sam chuckles. “Seems you have a fan.”
“Oh, please. I’m not interested in anyone whose bust size is greater than her IQ.” A frown creases his brow as he thinks about that. “Relatively speaking.”
“Meaning that if my bust size matched my IQ, you wouldn’t complain?”
“Am I complaining now?”
She shrugs. His gaze drops. Rolling her eyes, she bats his hand with her menu. “You’re such a breast man.”
“I am not. In fact, I was slightly disappointed that you opted for jeans and not that very short skirt.” His smile is lascivious. “I suppose you could say that I’m an equal opportunities ogler.”
A small squeal makes them both look up. The waitress is beet red. She transfers the beer bottle and wine glass off her tray. Reddens more as Baal leans forward, wicked grin in place. Sam kicks him under the table. He throws her a look, but the waitress uses that break in his attention to scuttle off.
“Was that entirely necessary?” Sam asks.
“I didn’t want her getting any ideas. You are the one I want.”
His glance is heated and she’s glad the wine is well chilled. Pleasure buzzes through her. It’s too long since she’s been the object of anyone’s desire. To be coveted by someone like Baal, who still has the power and charm to whoever he wishes, is rather a heady concept.
“Why?”
Baal arches his eyebrows in the expression that says he think she’s being stupid. “Why not?” he counters.
She snorts. “Aside from my being a lowly human?”
“I have never said such a thing.”
“Not as such, but you’ve insinuated more than once.”
He props his elbows on the table and laces his fingers together. His expression is thoughtful as he tilts his head. “Why are you angry with me? I am not aware of doing anything to warrant it.” After a pause, he adds, “At least not today.”
Sam shakes her head. “I’m not. I’m just... I don’t know what you want. It makes me... nervous.”
His eyes widen. “You’re afraid of me.”
Quite frankly, “Yes.”
“Samantha, I will not hurt you. I mean that.”
She allows him a small smile, but his promise means nothing to her. “Not physically.” Even telling him this much lets him dangerously close. “But there are other ways of hurting a person. I’m not... I can’t be a distraction for you, Baal. What do I do when your interest passes? How do I cope with that?”
“You’re assuming it would.”
“I’m not under any illusions otherwise. You’re going to outlive me, by a long time. You barely age. And I’m... just human.”
He drops his gaze and picks at the label on his beer bottle. His lips are twisted into a bitter line, as if he’s bitten something sour. She wants to take it back, but in truth this is the real reason she hesitates. It shouldn’t be – it should be about regulations and not sleeping with the enemy – but basically she’s afraid that he’ll find someone else.
“My symbiote is two thousand years old, Samantha. I am... well, truthfully, I’ve lost count, but much older than I appear. I no longer have access to a sarcophagus and so...”
He shrugs a shoulder. He doesn’t need to finish – she knows.
“Oh my God.”
“Not for a while.”
She can’t laugh. Before she can couch her new fears into words, the waitress returns. Baal orders easily, as if he’s not just been discussing his mortality. Sam can’t think, so opts for the same thing. She didn’t even hear what it was.
“You knew that when you made the offer to the IOA, though?” It’s not really a question, but she can’t quite grasp the concept. “Did they know?”
“Of course they did. That is the deal, Samantha: that I live on Earth as a human, providing them with what information they desire on the Goa’uld. Not that there are many of us left now.”
“But you... you didn’t do that for me. That was because there was nothing else for you to do. We either destroyed you, or you made a deal.”
Baal chuckles and lifts his beer to his mouth. He takes two deep swallows before putting it back down. “True enough. I realised that my continued existence was more likely if I became your ally rather than your enemy.” He shrugged again. “And this planet isn’t without its charms, you being one of them.”
A thousand and one questions line up in her head, but she closes her eyes and breathes out through her nose. Let it be. It’s all she can do. She has to trust him; otherwise she might as well stop this now. That is one thing she can’t do.
When she opens her eyes again, she finds him watching her. The usual sardonic smirk is nowhere in sight – instead he looks serious and somewhat regretful. The realisation that he knows how hard this is for her makes her vision blurry.
“Alright,” she says, and her voice is husky. “You win.”
His lips twitch into the briefest of smiles. “Good. I do so like winning.”
“I’d not noticed.”
“You should have done. Perhaps my prize this time is not as great as some, but it is more precious.”
“What?” It dawns on her that he means her, and her mouth drops open at the blatant endearment. Her cheeks heat. “Oh, don’t.”
“Why not? I like you. And not just because I want to get in your panties.”
“Though there is that.”
He grins. “Oh, indeed.”
She’s saved from having to come up with an answer to that by the arrival of their dinners. It turns out Baal ordered shrimp risotto, a choice that surprises her for some reason. She doesn’t know what she expected, really.
It’s good. Not too moist, and the shrimp are fresh and plump. The first mouthful reminds her that the last thing she ate was a late breakfast in the SGC’s mess. She tries not to shovel the food down, but her hunger is awakened and she finishes before Baal.
He chuckles and shoves his bowl over. “Here, I’m not that hungry.”
“Are you sure?”
“I had lunch.”
That’s all the permission she needs and she finishes his dinner. Washing it down with the last of her wine, she wonders if he plans on dessert and whether she can order another glass.
“So, what now?”
“I’m unsure. I wanted to take you to dinner in order to talk, but we seemed to have spent most of it arguing. Perhaps talking is a bad idea.”
She arches an eyebrow. “And of course you have a better one?”
He smirks. “You argue less when your mouth is busy. I was thinking of keeping it engaged.”
“I’m sure you were.”
“With my own.”
“I got that, actually.” The recall of their last kiss is vivid. A hot chill races through her veins. “I’m assuming dessert is out, then?”
Baal’s smile is wicked. “Oh, there’ll be dessert. Just not here.”
Well, she walked into that one. “Classy.”
“I thought so.” He clicks his fingers at a passing waiter and she kicks his shin again. Without missing a beat, he requests the bill and then smirks at her. “Now, are you being independent and paying half, or am I allowed to be a gentleman and pay for us both?”
“You can be a gentleman if I’m allowed to take pictures. You know, record the moment for prosperity?”
“Oh ha-ha, so funny.”
He doesn’t look that amused. She doesn’t rightly care. “We’ll split. That way I don’t feel like I owe you anything.”
“You’ll be begging me by the evening is out.” His eyes rake her, a dangerous knowledge reflected in their depths. “And I shall savour every breathless plea.”
Oh dear God. Sam presses her thighs together, trying to ignore the burn between them. The dark promise of his words fans the flames of her need. Unfortunately, she’s run out of wine.
She grabs the bill as it arrives. It’s itemised, which makes working out her share easy. It needs to be easy, since he’s fried most of her brain cells. All she wants is to get it paid and get the heck out of here. Go somewhere dark and private so he can do all the things he’s been threatening to.