Fic: now love the more (Stargate SG-1, New!Skool)
Title: now love the more
Author: aces
Fandom, characters: Stargate SG-1, SGC staff, Sam/Cam
Word count: approx. 1700 words
Prompt/summary: Don’t overthink it, for cofax7.
“Good night!” Sam called to Dr. Lam, General Landry, Siler, waving to them from her front door. They each turned to wave back from their cars-Caroline had actually consented to drive with the general-all juggling packages of food wrapped in foil and empty used food dishes and small gifts.
She turned back to her living room, where Jack and Teal’c were arguing over a play from a basketball game the other day, Cam was knocking back another beer, Vala was almost asleep on Daniel’s shoulder. Bill Lee had dropped by earlier, after dinner, in time for drinks and a round of Trivial Pursuit, as was his custom, but had already gone back home to say good night to his family, victorious when his team won. (They had long ago worked out who would play on what team, largely because their individual knowledge was so highly-erratic. Teal’c did best at the pop culture/entertainment category, Daniel at the history, Jack and Cam at the sports, Landry at the geography. It was Vala’s introduction to the game, and she kept trying to cheat until Daniel pulled her back onto the couch with him and kept his hand on her arm, and she spent the rest of the game complaining about all the cultural references in the science category.)
Just another SGC Christmas, Sam thought.
“It is time we left Samantha Carter alone,” Teal’c announced, standing up while Jack was still mid-sentence. Jack shut his mouth and sat back to glare up at the Jaffa.
“You don’t have to, really,” Sam made the token protest.
“Yes,” Teal’c said, “we do.”
Sam honestly could have kissed him then and there.
Jack shrugged. “Okay,” he said, “if you don’t want to admit you’re wrong, that’s fine, T.” He stood up too. “Hand out the leftovers, Carter, and we’ll get out of your hair.”
“Yessir,” she said and bit her lip. He looked at her long-sufferingly but didn’t try to correct her this time. She went to the kitchen.
“Here,” Mitchell said from the living room, “lemme help you with that.” He followed her and picked up some of the foiled packages they’d all made up earlier that evening from the leftovers, and he unerringly picked out which dishes belonged to whom. Teal’c had brought the ham, Daniel the couscous with spicy vegetables, Jack the green bean casserole. Caroline had brought a massive spinach salad, chock-full of carrots and pineapple and almonds and blueberries, surprisingly tasty for such an odd flavor combination; Cam had brought cornbread and pecan pie, both he swore baked from his grandmother’s recipes.
Janet used to bring the sweet potatoes, covered in brown sugar and cinnamon and marshmallows. Sam made it a point now to light an extra candle in her house, for her friend.
(Jacob made the turkey, when he and Selmak could come. Sam missed his turkey. She lit two extra candles, and hoped she wouldn’t have to light any more for a long time to come.)
Cameron helped Sam hand out everybody’s leftovers and dishes. Daniel transferred Vala, still droopy, from his shoulder to Teal’c’s arm, so that Teal’c could drive them both back to base. “You good to drive?” Jack asked Daniel; he was staying at Daniel’s house.
“Sure,” Daniel shrugged. “Why, are you?”
“Not particularly,” Jack sighed and kissed Sam lightly on the cheek. Daniel gave her a one-armed hug, and she kissed him on the corner of his mouth.
“Merry Christmas, Daniel,” she said, and he smiled at her, eyes crinkling up, and she liked seeing him so happy.
“Merry Christmas, Sam,” he answered, without giving her the usual spiel about Christmas’ various pagan origins. Though he had been saying “Happy solstice” a few days ago, so it was all relative.
“Mmm.” Vala woke up suddenly, just enough to go around the room and give everyone a tight, rib-crushing hug. She threw in a kiss on the nose for both Teal’c and Daniel. Teal’c smiled. Daniel rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Muscles,” she said, taking the Jaffa’s arm again to steady herself.
They trooped outside, her team, her friends, dispersing to their cars. The snow had stopped a couple hours ago, and now it was quiet and bright, the white snow blanketing everything into uniformity. Sam leant in her front door again, watching, enjoying the beauty that would be gone in the morning when people pulled out snowplows and kids pulled out sleds. At least there wasn’t any ice tonight; nobody should have trouble getting home.
She turned after watching the two cars depart, and she found Cam holding her wineglass out to her, refilled. She smiled a thank-you and took the glass, collapsing less-than-gracefully onto the couch. Mitchell sat down next to her.
“I enjoy these Christmases,” she said, “but boy am I glad when somebody else hosts them.”
“It’ll have to be my turn next year,” Cam said.
“You’ll have to get more furniture,” she told him.
He glanced at her, his lips quirking in that half-smile of his. “I think I can handle that,” he said.
Sam sipped her wine, curling her legs up under herself, looking around at the remnants of the holiday festivities strewn about her living room. Vala had forgotten her presents, Bill his glasses case; those were just the things she could see right away. She had a feeling she’d find Daniel’s contact lens solution and General Landry’s casserole dish before her cleaning was done.
Maybe most of the cleaning up could wait till tomorrow.
Cameron quietly got up, carrying his beer bottle along with some other empties and a couple wine glasses to the kitchen. She could hear him rinsing out the bottles and putting them in the recycling, putting the wineglasses in the dishwasher. And then she heard him picking up plates and silverware from the dining room, and she had to protest.
“Oh, come on, Cam!” she called from the living room and the comfortable sofa. “I can take care of it tomorrow; really, don’t worry about it!”
“It’s no problem,” he called back, and she heard the water running again, briefly, as he rinsed dishes and put them away in the dishwasher.
Sam eyed the length of the couch enviously, imagined stretching herself out along it and just going to sleep right there. She sighed. And then she kicked off her shoes because she was damned if she was going to keep wearing them if she had to stand up again.
She went into the kitchen, watching Cam for a moment as he maneuvered around her space comfortably, assuredly. And then she started gathering up more wineglasses and took them to the sink.
Cam bumped into her, turning to put something in the dishwasher, and she laughed at him and started to make a joke about his Air Force training and nimbleness, and then he kissed her. He was still holding a plate and his hands were wet, and she had two empty wineglasses in each of her hands, and the only contact between them were their lips, but Sam had been pleasantly exhausted thirty seconds ago and now she was startled wide awake.
She broke the kiss and stared at him, standing about two inches away. It was dim in the kitchen, the only available light spilling in from the dining and living rooms, and it was quiet, the world outside hushed by snow, the world inside by possibility. A clock ticked somewhere, distantly. A single car drove by, headlights flashing and disappearing in the kitchen window. Cam’s eyes were dark, his lips still a little parted.
“Cam-” she started.
“Sam,” he said, when she couldn’t think how to finish.
“Cameron,” she said.
“Samantha,” he retorted, and then he carefully set down the plate he’d been holding, and dried his hands on the towel draped under the sink, and then caressed her cheek, fleetingly. “Sam,” he said softly. “Don’t overthink it.”
She stared at him. He took the wineglasses away from her, set them down in the sink. He stared down into the sink for a moment, seeming to gather himself, and then he turned back to her. His eyes were still dark, and Sam reached out hesitantly, brushing her fingers over his lips.
“Sam,” he said her name again, and put an arm around her waist, drawing her closer. He kissed her again.
They had danced around this edge before, more than once. When they’d first met, years ago; when he’d joined the F-302 program; when he’d persuaded her to rejoin SG-1 a couple years ago. They had danced and bowed out, before, because they’d both known this was not a good idea for them. Timing, Cam had always said; our timing sucks.
“Mm.” Sam broke the kiss again, put a hand on his chest, surprised by how she could feel his heart racing through his shirt. He was shivering, or shaking, just the tiniest bit. She traced her other hand along his forehead, down the side of his face, watching the movement of her hand. She felt a bit shaky too, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t because of all the wine she’d consumed.
“You know this is a bad idea, Cam,” she whispered, and he put a finger over her lips, shaking his head.
Don’t overthink it, she thought, her hand still over his heart. She’d always overthought it, and Cameron Mitchell himself could be pretty cautious, and they worked together and there were a hundred reasons why this was a bad idea, and they both knew that.
But it was cold outside and warm in, and they’d been dancing around this edge for a long, long time, and Cam knew his way around her head the way he apparently knew his way around her kitchen, and it was Christmas.
Don’t overthink it.
Sam smiled, then, brilliantly, grinned. Cam tilted his head, a wary smile tugging at the corners of his lips, resisting the pull until she said something. She leant in and kissed him, kissed his reluctant smile into full and glorious being, her hand sliding up from his racing heart to run through his short hair.
“You know?” she said when she broke the kiss, and Cam pulled her a little closer.
“Hmm,” he said, a hand stroking lightly up and down her arm, and she shivered.
“The rest of this can definitely wait till morning,” she told him, and he laughed, even as she pulled him toward the bedroom.
This entry was originally posted here. You can comment there or here.
Author: aces
Fandom, characters: Stargate SG-1, SGC staff, Sam/Cam
Word count: approx. 1700 words
Prompt/summary: Don’t overthink it, for cofax7.
“Good night!” Sam called to Dr. Lam, General Landry, Siler, waving to them from her front door. They each turned to wave back from their cars-Caroline had actually consented to drive with the general-all juggling packages of food wrapped in foil and empty used food dishes and small gifts.
She turned back to her living room, where Jack and Teal’c were arguing over a play from a basketball game the other day, Cam was knocking back another beer, Vala was almost asleep on Daniel’s shoulder. Bill Lee had dropped by earlier, after dinner, in time for drinks and a round of Trivial Pursuit, as was his custom, but had already gone back home to say good night to his family, victorious when his team won. (They had long ago worked out who would play on what team, largely because their individual knowledge was so highly-erratic. Teal’c did best at the pop culture/entertainment category, Daniel at the history, Jack and Cam at the sports, Landry at the geography. It was Vala’s introduction to the game, and she kept trying to cheat until Daniel pulled her back onto the couch with him and kept his hand on her arm, and she spent the rest of the game complaining about all the cultural references in the science category.)
Just another SGC Christmas, Sam thought.
“It is time we left Samantha Carter alone,” Teal’c announced, standing up while Jack was still mid-sentence. Jack shut his mouth and sat back to glare up at the Jaffa.
“You don’t have to, really,” Sam made the token protest.
“Yes,” Teal’c said, “we do.”
Sam honestly could have kissed him then and there.
Jack shrugged. “Okay,” he said, “if you don’t want to admit you’re wrong, that’s fine, T.” He stood up too. “Hand out the leftovers, Carter, and we’ll get out of your hair.”
“Yessir,” she said and bit her lip. He looked at her long-sufferingly but didn’t try to correct her this time. She went to the kitchen.
“Here,” Mitchell said from the living room, “lemme help you with that.” He followed her and picked up some of the foiled packages they’d all made up earlier that evening from the leftovers, and he unerringly picked out which dishes belonged to whom. Teal’c had brought the ham, Daniel the couscous with spicy vegetables, Jack the green bean casserole. Caroline had brought a massive spinach salad, chock-full of carrots and pineapple and almonds and blueberries, surprisingly tasty for such an odd flavor combination; Cam had brought cornbread and pecan pie, both he swore baked from his grandmother’s recipes.
Janet used to bring the sweet potatoes, covered in brown sugar and cinnamon and marshmallows. Sam made it a point now to light an extra candle in her house, for her friend.
(Jacob made the turkey, when he and Selmak could come. Sam missed his turkey. She lit two extra candles, and hoped she wouldn’t have to light any more for a long time to come.)
Cameron helped Sam hand out everybody’s leftovers and dishes. Daniel transferred Vala, still droopy, from his shoulder to Teal’c’s arm, so that Teal’c could drive them both back to base. “You good to drive?” Jack asked Daniel; he was staying at Daniel’s house.
“Sure,” Daniel shrugged. “Why, are you?”
“Not particularly,” Jack sighed and kissed Sam lightly on the cheek. Daniel gave her a one-armed hug, and she kissed him on the corner of his mouth.
“Merry Christmas, Daniel,” she said, and he smiled at her, eyes crinkling up, and she liked seeing him so happy.
“Merry Christmas, Sam,” he answered, without giving her the usual spiel about Christmas’ various pagan origins. Though he had been saying “Happy solstice” a few days ago, so it was all relative.
“Mmm.” Vala woke up suddenly, just enough to go around the room and give everyone a tight, rib-crushing hug. She threw in a kiss on the nose for both Teal’c and Daniel. Teal’c smiled. Daniel rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Muscles,” she said, taking the Jaffa’s arm again to steady herself.
They trooped outside, her team, her friends, dispersing to their cars. The snow had stopped a couple hours ago, and now it was quiet and bright, the white snow blanketing everything into uniformity. Sam leant in her front door again, watching, enjoying the beauty that would be gone in the morning when people pulled out snowplows and kids pulled out sleds. At least there wasn’t any ice tonight; nobody should have trouble getting home.
She turned after watching the two cars depart, and she found Cam holding her wineglass out to her, refilled. She smiled a thank-you and took the glass, collapsing less-than-gracefully onto the couch. Mitchell sat down next to her.
“I enjoy these Christmases,” she said, “but boy am I glad when somebody else hosts them.”
“It’ll have to be my turn next year,” Cam said.
“You’ll have to get more furniture,” she told him.
He glanced at her, his lips quirking in that half-smile of his. “I think I can handle that,” he said.
Sam sipped her wine, curling her legs up under herself, looking around at the remnants of the holiday festivities strewn about her living room. Vala had forgotten her presents, Bill his glasses case; those were just the things she could see right away. She had a feeling she’d find Daniel’s contact lens solution and General Landry’s casserole dish before her cleaning was done.
Maybe most of the cleaning up could wait till tomorrow.
Cameron quietly got up, carrying his beer bottle along with some other empties and a couple wine glasses to the kitchen. She could hear him rinsing out the bottles and putting them in the recycling, putting the wineglasses in the dishwasher. And then she heard him picking up plates and silverware from the dining room, and she had to protest.
“Oh, come on, Cam!” she called from the living room and the comfortable sofa. “I can take care of it tomorrow; really, don’t worry about it!”
“It’s no problem,” he called back, and she heard the water running again, briefly, as he rinsed dishes and put them away in the dishwasher.
Sam eyed the length of the couch enviously, imagined stretching herself out along it and just going to sleep right there. She sighed. And then she kicked off her shoes because she was damned if she was going to keep wearing them if she had to stand up again.
She went into the kitchen, watching Cam for a moment as he maneuvered around her space comfortably, assuredly. And then she started gathering up more wineglasses and took them to the sink.
Cam bumped into her, turning to put something in the dishwasher, and she laughed at him and started to make a joke about his Air Force training and nimbleness, and then he kissed her. He was still holding a plate and his hands were wet, and she had two empty wineglasses in each of her hands, and the only contact between them were their lips, but Sam had been pleasantly exhausted thirty seconds ago and now she was startled wide awake.
She broke the kiss and stared at him, standing about two inches away. It was dim in the kitchen, the only available light spilling in from the dining and living rooms, and it was quiet, the world outside hushed by snow, the world inside by possibility. A clock ticked somewhere, distantly. A single car drove by, headlights flashing and disappearing in the kitchen window. Cam’s eyes were dark, his lips still a little parted.
“Cam-” she started.
“Sam,” he said, when she couldn’t think how to finish.
“Cameron,” she said.
“Samantha,” he retorted, and then he carefully set down the plate he’d been holding, and dried his hands on the towel draped under the sink, and then caressed her cheek, fleetingly. “Sam,” he said softly. “Don’t overthink it.”
She stared at him. He took the wineglasses away from her, set them down in the sink. He stared down into the sink for a moment, seeming to gather himself, and then he turned back to her. His eyes were still dark, and Sam reached out hesitantly, brushing her fingers over his lips.
“Sam,” he said her name again, and put an arm around her waist, drawing her closer. He kissed her again.
They had danced around this edge before, more than once. When they’d first met, years ago; when he’d joined the F-302 program; when he’d persuaded her to rejoin SG-1 a couple years ago. They had danced and bowed out, before, because they’d both known this was not a good idea for them. Timing, Cam had always said; our timing sucks.
“Mm.” Sam broke the kiss again, put a hand on his chest, surprised by how she could feel his heart racing through his shirt. He was shivering, or shaking, just the tiniest bit. She traced her other hand along his forehead, down the side of his face, watching the movement of her hand. She felt a bit shaky too, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t because of all the wine she’d consumed.
“You know this is a bad idea, Cam,” she whispered, and he put a finger over her lips, shaking his head.
Don’t overthink it, she thought, her hand still over his heart. She’d always overthought it, and Cameron Mitchell himself could be pretty cautious, and they worked together and there were a hundred reasons why this was a bad idea, and they both knew that.
But it was cold outside and warm in, and they’d been dancing around this edge for a long, long time, and Cam knew his way around her head the way he apparently knew his way around her kitchen, and it was Christmas.
Don’t overthink it.
Sam smiled, then, brilliantly, grinned. Cam tilted his head, a wary smile tugging at the corners of his lips, resisting the pull until she said something. She leant in and kissed him, kissed his reluctant smile into full and glorious being, her hand sliding up from his racing heart to run through his short hair.
“You know?” she said when she broke the kiss, and Cam pulled her a little closer.
“Hmm,” he said, a hand stroking lightly up and down her arm, and she shivered.
“The rest of this can definitely wait till morning,” she told him, and he laughed, even as she pulled him toward the bedroom.
This entry was originally posted here. You can comment there or here.