ficlet: The Place on Cheyenne Street (SG-1)
Stargate SG-1
PG
Sam Carter/Martouf
Prohibition-era shenanigans.
First try at the AU Ficlet Meme, which you are still welcome to prompt, if you wanna. Prompt was lyssie's
Sam Carter glanced up and smiled at the G-man entering the club. He went to the coat check to turn in his hat and coat to the girl there, then he sauntered through the wide entryway into the main room with the dining tables. Vala glided up to him, offering cigarettes, which he declined searching the gathered crowd for Sam.
She smoothed her skirt and went to meet him. "Agent Lantash, so pleased to see you again."
"Miss Carter, good evening," he greeted. He was a slim fella with a bright smile and brighter eyes. Sam had always admired the fit of his suits -- she liked a man who knew how to wear his clothes, especially when most G-men seemed unable to put on a tie properly.
Normally she'd be wary if a Bureau of Prohibition man entered her place, but Agent Lantash had always been willing to look the other way. At first it had been in exchange for information regarding a murder nearby, but lately he'd been visiting more socially. They'd gone to the movies and walked along the river, and it was nice to be courted by a respectable man, even if his presence did make things a little difficult on business occasionally.
"House special coffee, Jack," she told the bartender, who nodded, and knew to put the good stuff in the coffee for her guest.
"You look lovely, Samantha," he murmured to her, gripping her hand briefly.
"Thank you, you look quite dashing this evening as well," she returned with a smile. "Come. We'll take the corner booth. I had a feeling you might come this evening."
They slid into the booth, keeping a respectable distance around the half circle, but under the table, his knee pressed hers, and she pressed back. "You have no pressing business, I trust?" she asked. "You can stay for a little while?"
"Actually I do have a little business," he started, and grew somber, leaning closer and dropping his voice. "In the raid last night, one of the guys we caught claimed there might be a run at you."
She nodded, unsurprised. There was always the threat of tighter control by the bosses, who always wanted a bigger share of her profits. "I'm ready."
"Be careful," he wished her, as Jack came with coffee for both of them and a plate of fruit tarts from the kitchen before returning to his place behind the bar, keeping a wary eye on the patrons and the waitresses while he poured legal wine and illegal liquor.
"Always," she raised her cup and they clinked together.
He sipped and grinned at her, "I have no idea where you get your coffee, but it's the best."
"Only the best for our hard-working federal agents," she returned.
But the light moment turned sour, as the front doors slammed open and men in long coats with tommy guns came in, "Everybody on the floor!"
There was screaming and Vala accidentally, on purpose, knocked over two chairs in their way on her way to the floor. Without missing a beat, Sam stood and grabbed the gun that Jack threw her from under the bar. He even had an extra for Marty, while keeping another for himself. With an impressively cool countenance, Marty raised the gun and fired the instant it was in his hand. She saw no reason to hold back, if he wasn't, so she shot, too. Jack followed her lead, using the skills he'd brought back from the war.
The four thugs didn't know what hit them. Two let off stray bullets as they fell, but everyone's aim was good and they were on the floor before the guests had even finished getting down.
She waited a moment, to see if there were more who might run to their rescue from outside. But instead she heard the faint sounds of tires and an engine and figured the car was gone Then she lowered the weapon and glanced at Marty. "Sorry. I suppose you're not off the clock, after all."
"Nope." He put the gun on the table, and shook his head ruefully. "Let's see who these idiots belong to.. Maybe I'll get enough to stick someone in jail."
Her heart was pounding with the excitement of the attempted robbery or intimidation, and she caught his hand. "When you're done processing them, come upstairs later," she offered. "I'm sure I'd feel... safer. With company."
His eyes met hers, and he smiled. "I will. I'd like that."
Then he went to do his job of dealing with the bodies, and she went to do hers, dealing with her customers.
--
on to a different Sam and Caprica! :)
PG
Sam Carter/Martouf
Prohibition-era shenanigans.
First try at the AU Ficlet Meme, which you are still welcome to prompt, if you wanna. Prompt was lyssie's
Sam Carter glanced up and smiled at the G-man entering the club. He went to the coat check to turn in his hat and coat to the girl there, then he sauntered through the wide entryway into the main room with the dining tables. Vala glided up to him, offering cigarettes, which he declined searching the gathered crowd for Sam.
She smoothed her skirt and went to meet him. "Agent Lantash, so pleased to see you again."
"Miss Carter, good evening," he greeted. He was a slim fella with a bright smile and brighter eyes. Sam had always admired the fit of his suits -- she liked a man who knew how to wear his clothes, especially when most G-men seemed unable to put on a tie properly.
Normally she'd be wary if a Bureau of Prohibition man entered her place, but Agent Lantash had always been willing to look the other way. At first it had been in exchange for information regarding a murder nearby, but lately he'd been visiting more socially. They'd gone to the movies and walked along the river, and it was nice to be courted by a respectable man, even if his presence did make things a little difficult on business occasionally.
"House special coffee, Jack," she told the bartender, who nodded, and knew to put the good stuff in the coffee for her guest.
"You look lovely, Samantha," he murmured to her, gripping her hand briefly.
"Thank you, you look quite dashing this evening as well," she returned with a smile. "Come. We'll take the corner booth. I had a feeling you might come this evening."
They slid into the booth, keeping a respectable distance around the half circle, but under the table, his knee pressed hers, and she pressed back. "You have no pressing business, I trust?" she asked. "You can stay for a little while?"
"Actually I do have a little business," he started, and grew somber, leaning closer and dropping his voice. "In the raid last night, one of the guys we caught claimed there might be a run at you."
She nodded, unsurprised. There was always the threat of tighter control by the bosses, who always wanted a bigger share of her profits. "I'm ready."
"Be careful," he wished her, as Jack came with coffee for both of them and a plate of fruit tarts from the kitchen before returning to his place behind the bar, keeping a wary eye on the patrons and the waitresses while he poured legal wine and illegal liquor.
"Always," she raised her cup and they clinked together.
He sipped and grinned at her, "I have no idea where you get your coffee, but it's the best."
"Only the best for our hard-working federal agents," she returned.
But the light moment turned sour, as the front doors slammed open and men in long coats with tommy guns came in, "Everybody on the floor!"
There was screaming and Vala accidentally, on purpose, knocked over two chairs in their way on her way to the floor. Without missing a beat, Sam stood and grabbed the gun that Jack threw her from under the bar. He even had an extra for Marty, while keeping another for himself. With an impressively cool countenance, Marty raised the gun and fired the instant it was in his hand. She saw no reason to hold back, if he wasn't, so she shot, too. Jack followed her lead, using the skills he'd brought back from the war.
The four thugs didn't know what hit them. Two let off stray bullets as they fell, but everyone's aim was good and they were on the floor before the guests had even finished getting down.
She waited a moment, to see if there were more who might run to their rescue from outside. But instead she heard the faint sounds of tires and an engine and figured the car was gone Then she lowered the weapon and glanced at Marty. "Sorry. I suppose you're not off the clock, after all."
"Nope." He put the gun on the table, and shook his head ruefully. "Let's see who these idiots belong to.. Maybe I'll get enough to stick someone in jail."
Her heart was pounding with the excitement of the attempted robbery or intimidation, and she caught his hand. "When you're done processing them, come upstairs later," she offered. "I'm sure I'd feel... safer. With company."
His eyes met hers, and he smiled. "I will. I'd like that."
Then he went to do his job of dealing with the bodies, and she went to do hers, dealing with her customers.
--
on to a different Sam and Caprica! :)