Our Meetings Are Like Stories That Intersect Each Other (Evan Lorne/Sam Carter)
Title: Our Meetings Are Like Stories That Intersect Each Other
Author: cinaed
sg1sga_ficathon recipient: saeva
Pairing: Samantha Carter/Evan Lorne
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Spoilers for SG-1's "The Pegasus Project" and SGA's "Coup D'etat"
Prompt: What should have been a one-night stand turns into a repeat when, for the first time in four years, Lorne and Carter find themselves currently unattached and alone together. Complications ensue.
Author's Notes: Thanks go out to aethel for the beta.
Length: 2,800
our meetings are like
stories that intersect each other
characters not in tune with the rest of the plot
a resting place under a rock where
two chapters merge
brief convergence
-"Interconnectivity" by Nin Harris
It would take a full week to repair the Odyssey's hyperdrive. Emerson had looked half-apologetic when he'd given Sam the news, more than likely anticipating Sam's unhappiness. Oh, it wasn't that Atlantis was uninviting (it was beautiful, and the people were friendly enough) or boring (Sam itched to get her hands on one of the jumpers), but spending an entire week listening to McKay boast about his brilliance in defeating the Wraith and Ori warships was going to drive her insane.
She couldn't even turn to her teammates for support or distraction -- Daniel had thrown himself headfirst into translating some of the database in an attempt to distract himself from the fact that the Ancients had once again dropped the ball, Vala kept herself busy attempting to steal something without being noticed, and Cam was holed up in the jumper bay with Sheppard.
By the third day, Sam was ready to either duct-tape McKay's mouth shut or steal one of the puddlejumpers and escape to some planet where she could reign as queen. Needless to say, when Doctor Weir asked if SG-1 would like to go on a routine mission to see some of the Pegasus galaxy other than Atlantis, she all but leaped at the chance.
It took some serious wheedling to drag Daniel from the database, Cam from the jumper bay, and Vala from her latest shiny toy, but finally they were on Rhosin, watching Sergeant Stackhouse negotiate with a man named Anlon over the price of grain. All right, so it wasn't the most interesting of missions. At least they were off-world.
Naturally, something had to go wrong. It was Vala who heard it first, tilting her head and stepping away from the trader with whom she'd been flirting. "Daniel, what type of noise did they say the Wraith ships make?"
Daniel frowned, opened his mouth to answer, and then someone called out, "It's the Wraith!" Even as Sam reached for her MP7, though, she wondered at the unusual lack of terror in the man's voice.
"What are you doing?" Anlon asked. When Sam turned towards him, his expression was puzzled. "Do you mean to use those weapons against the gods?"
"The gods?" Cam repeated and then made a face. Sam thought she heard him mutter, "Wonderful, we found the Pegasus galaxy brand of loonies," but in the next second he said quickly, politeness and pseudo-earnestness radiating from every inch of him, "Sorry about the misunderstanding, Anlon, but we don't exactly believe in letting ourselves get, uh, 'chosen' by the Wraith. Been real nice chatting with you, though."
Anlon's expression darkened. "I will not allow you to incur the wrath of our gods," he said, and oh, they were definitely in trouble, because Sam could hear the buzzing of the Wraith darts in the distance and the eerie sound that could only be a Wraith beam snatching up numerous Rhosinians. Anlon continued to glare, and several of the nearby townspeople stepped forward, grim determination on their faces.
She tightened her grip on her MP7 and said in the calmest voice she could muster, "Cam? Sergeant? I think that's our cue to--"
"Leave?" Vala suggested, and then smoothly knocked the legs out from under the nearest native and bolted as all hell broke lose.
*
The side of Sam's face was sticky and stiff with blood, and judging by the headache, it was her own. She grimaced, lowered her MP7 carefully to the ground, and checked the wound. The cut where the ricochet had caught her was shallow, luckily, but bleeding like it would never stop. Just her luck to get separated from the others and manage to wind up with a head-wound as well.
She picked up her gun and listened for the sound of any approaching footsteps. The Wraith darts had stopped screaming over her head about fifteen minutes back, but a group of Rhosinians had come by just two minutes prior, apparently furious about her team shooting at the darts. She grinned a little at the memory, hoping that they'd managed to take one down. She hadn't heard an explosion, so they probably hadn't; still, it was nice to imagine the look of satisfaction on her teammates' faces.
Her radio crackled to life, and she grabbed it just as a voice said, "Colonel Carter? Colonel Carter, do you copy?" The voice was familiar, but only slightly. Sam frowned a little, trying to put a face to the voice. Had to be Stackhouse, then. "Colonel Carter, please respond."
"I'm here," she said. "I'm stuck a little west of the town, in the forest. I have a cut on my forehead, but otherwise I'm fine, though the Rhosinians are still patrolling."
"Copy that. We'll be there soon; just sit tight."
When the radio went silent, Sam sighed. Okay, she could sit tight. She settled herself more comfortably behind an overturned tree and listened to the sound of a bird chirping in a nearby bush. Sure enough, about ten minutes later, she heard a twig snap beneath someone's boot and that same voice from the radio call softly, "Colonel Carter?"
She slid around the tree, MP7 at the ready just in case, and then stared into the man's familiar blue eyes. "Oh," she said after a moment, voice blank with surprise, and his lips twisted into a rueful grin.
"Yeah," Evan Lorne said. She couldn't name the emotion coloring his words as he added, "It's, well, been a while."
"Yes," she said, and wondered at the irony of meeting up with a one-night stand in a whole other galaxy.
It was his mouth that she noticed first, the soft, pleasant curve of his lips as he sipped his beer. Sam wasn't one to pick up guys at a bar, much less a bar frequented by her fellow SGC officers, but that mouth made her pause, began something hot and hungry in her stomach. When she tore her gaze away from his mouth, she couldn't help but study the rest of him: the piercing blue eyes and sharp, arresting planes of his face, the broad shoulders and relaxed, comfortable way he lifted the mug to his lips.
It took her a moment to realize he was gazing back at her. God, he had eyes just as blue as Daniel's, only maybe a shade or two paler, she thought, and long lashes that most women would kill for. After a moment, the corners of his mouth lifted into a smile, and he said, voice low and warm, intensifying the hunger in her stomach, "Buy you a beer?"
"Yes," she said automatically, smiling back, and then inwardly chastised herself. She could see a group of Marines from the SGC in the corner of the bar. It would just take one of them noticing her flirting with the man and telling someone in the rumor mill of the SGC for the entire Mountain to hear about her picking someone up.
The guy followed her gaze, studied the group for a moment, and then turned back, understanding in his eyes. "Let me buy you that beer, and then I need to get back to my hotel," he said, and this time his voice was bland and friendly, just a guy offering a stranger a drink for no special reason other than a whim. "Got an early day tomorrow."
She ignored the pang of disappointment and focused on the relief. It'd been a long year. She didn't need to hear about the latest poll on how long this guy would last before her curse got him. "Thank you," she said, offering him an equally bland smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Have a good night."
He smiled at that, drifted further down the bar to hand the bartender a couple of bills, and left.
Five minutes later, the bartender handed her the beer and a napkin, the latter of which had a note scribbled onto it: "If you'd like, ask for Evan at the Sleep Inn on Kelly Johnson Boulevard, Room 241. If not, have a good evening and thanks for the smile."
"How's your head?" Evan asked, and Sam jerked, attention drawn back to the present.
"It's fine," she assured him, and watched something in his expression ease. Sam couldn't help but study him, looking for any changes in his appearance or personality. Not that she'd known him all that well four years ago, but, well, still. He looked a little less baby-faced and a lot less innocent, with creases at the corners of his eyes she didn't think had been there back then. She couldn't tell if the creases were laugh-lines or not, but he had the same pale blue eyes and the same long, gorgeous lashes.
After a moment, she licked her lips and said, "Let's go."
He nodded, and together they moved quietly back towards the gate, where apparently Stackhouse, Evan's team, and the rest of SG-1 were waiting. She couldn't help but sneak glances at Evan, mentally shaking her head at herself. That night, four years ago, Evan had been fresh from Afghanistan and only a few hours away from joining the ranks of the SGC. It'd been quite a shock to bump into him a month later in the gateroom.
Sam mentally sighed and told herself it would be just four more days before the hyperdrive was fixed and she could escape back to Earth, where there was no McKay talking her ear off or one-night stands reappearing as back-up when a supposedly simple mission went awry.
*
Evan caught up with her just as she left the infirmary. "Colonel Carter," he said, and the title sounded awkward on his lips. He immediately grimaced and then attempted a smile. "I, uh--"
Sam glanced down the hallway and spotted Cam and Sheppard approaching. Silently, she groaned. If Cam caught wind of the fact that she and Evan had had a one-night stand, he'd never let her hear the end of it. It would all be good-natured fun, of course, but there were some things she didn't feel like sharing with her team. Details of her sex life happened to be one of them. "Why don't we discuss this in my quarters?" she suggested.
It was only when Evan raised an eyebrow and looked a little amused that she realized how that could sound. It took all her willpower not to flush, and she added steadily, "You know what I meant."
"Yeah," Evan said, and grinned, an almost impish look. "My quarters are closer, though." When she raised an eyebrow, wondering how exactly he might know that, his grin widened. "I heard Sheppard complaining about how Mitchell had quarters closer to the jumper bay. Figured the rest of SG-1 were probably in quarters near there as well." He glanced down the hall and added in a dry voice, "Speaking of the devil--"
"Sam!" Cam grinned at her, though his gaze was more serious, flicking towards her forehead to check her wound. "How's the head?" She held up two fingers and wiggled them, their private signal for two stitches, and he grimaced. "Sheppard and I were going to grab some dinner. Did you want to come?"
She shook her head, kept her eyes focused on Cam and away from Evan. "I'm avoiding any place McKay would be today. Which means avoiding the mess hall." At his raised eyebrow and half-scolding look, she added, "I'll grab some food later."
"Right." Cam turned to Sheppard. "So, I've read some of the Atlantis reports. You've actually flown one of those darts? What was that like?"
Sam bit back a laugh as the two walked away, and allowed herself a sidelong glance at Evan, who was openly grinning. "Boys and their toys," she remarked, and he chuckled.
It wasn't until his door slid shut behind her that Sam had the first inkling of doubt. What was she doing, making herself at home in his quarters? For that matter, what did he want? They'd nodded and exchanged vague pleasantries when they'd seen each other in the corridors of the SGC, but neither had made a suggestion of another night together. To be brutally honest, Sam hadn't really thought about him once he'd gone to Atlantis a few years back.
When she looked at him, she couldn't read his expression. "Colonel--" He stopped, mouth curving into a half-cynical smile. "Sam." Her name still sounded strange on his lips, but less so than 'Colonel Carter' had been. She almost thought she could hear the echoes of his groaned 'Sam' in the sound.
Her mouth was suddenly dry, and it took two hard swallows before a neutral "Evan" escaped her lips.
When he opened the door, his expression froze for a moment. Then, a pleased smile lit up his face; her breath caught in her throat. "I was hoping you'd--" he began, and then checked himself. His smile, though, didn't fade as he ushered her inside, hand warm and gentle on her lower back, the door clicking shut quietly behind her.
His kiss was soft and exploratory at first, but quickly deepened into something more carnal, taking her breath away completely. When he broke the kiss and asked, "What should I call you?" her voice was husky as she answered, "Sam."
"Sam," he echoed, as though tasting it, and his smile widened, turned almost wicked. "Sam," he repeated, and drew her in for another kiss.
"I'd forgotten you were on Atlantis," she said, and then frowned. "Didn't we get a report of your death a while back?"
Evan grinned, spread his arms. "I'm afraid the rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated," he said and she couldn't help but laugh. Then his expression lost its mirth, turned more intense, and Sam finally recognized the gleam in his eyes: hunger. He licked his lips. "Sam," he said again, lower this time.
That same warm feeling in her stomach she'd felt four years ago returned. God, had she really not been with anyone since Pete? She didn't allow herself to consider the consequences as she stepped closer. Evan's eyes dilated. She leaned into him, felt the warmth radiating from his frame.
Evan made a noise, deep in his throat, and kissed her. He kissed with the same intensity she remembered, all but plundering her mouth as his arms wrapped around her and pulled her even closer. She kissed back, felt the warmth in her stomach spread, breathed in Evan's distinctly masculine smell: Old Spice, maybe, and a hint of sweat.
One hand stroked its way up her back, and she arched into the touch, sighing into his mouth as all rational thought vanished, replaced by thoughts of smooth skin beneath her hands and the sounds he would make when she bit the tempting curve of his neck. She nipped at his lower lip, smiled as he groaned into the kiss, and let the last of her rational thoughts fall away.
*
Afterwards, Sam stared up at the ceiling of his quarters and wondered what the hell she thought she was doing. One-night stands were called that for a reason, because they happened once. Waiting four years to sleep with him again did not mean it had been two separate one-night stands. Still, they definitely were not in a relationship. It was sex, that was all, no more, no less--well, perhaps a bit more. She honestly liked Evan from what she'd come to know about him during the brief time they'd spent together: his sardonic sense of humor, his cleverness.
When she tore her gaze away from the ceiling, he was propped up on his elbow, looking down at her. For the second time today she couldn't read his expression. After a moment, he reached out and brushed a stray hair away from her eyes. "The Odyssey is due to be fixed in a couple of days. Four, if I heard Mitchell correctly," he said, and she nodded. One corner of his mouth turned upwards, and he said, "Well, if you ever wind up back on Atlantis--"
Sam laughed at that, relief easing something tight and anxious in her chest. "And if you ever find yourself back on Earth, I'll be at the SGC," she said, smiling. All right, she didn't know quite what to call this...thing that they had going here, but whatever it was, she decided she liked it. There were no strings here to ensnare her, no burden to crush her beneath its weight, no wedding band in the future to trap her in a cage of her own making. It was something free and fun and easy.
She leaned forward, pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and let him draw her back in, settling herself against his chest. Sam closed her eyes as his fingers traced their way up and down her spine, and half-hoped that he'd decide to visit her on his next leave.
Author: cinaed
sg1sga_ficathon recipient: saeva
Pairing: Samantha Carter/Evan Lorne
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Spoilers for SG-1's "The Pegasus Project" and SGA's "Coup D'etat"
Prompt: What should have been a one-night stand turns into a repeat when, for the first time in four years, Lorne and Carter find themselves currently unattached and alone together. Complications ensue.
Author's Notes: Thanks go out to aethel for the beta.
Length: 2,800
our meetings are like
stories that intersect each other
characters not in tune with the rest of the plot
a resting place under a rock where
two chapters merge
brief convergence
-"Interconnectivity" by Nin Harris
It would take a full week to repair the Odyssey's hyperdrive. Emerson had looked half-apologetic when he'd given Sam the news, more than likely anticipating Sam's unhappiness. Oh, it wasn't that Atlantis was uninviting (it was beautiful, and the people were friendly enough) or boring (Sam itched to get her hands on one of the jumpers), but spending an entire week listening to McKay boast about his brilliance in defeating the Wraith and Ori warships was going to drive her insane.
She couldn't even turn to her teammates for support or distraction -- Daniel had thrown himself headfirst into translating some of the database in an attempt to distract himself from the fact that the Ancients had once again dropped the ball, Vala kept herself busy attempting to steal something without being noticed, and Cam was holed up in the jumper bay with Sheppard.
By the third day, Sam was ready to either duct-tape McKay's mouth shut or steal one of the puddlejumpers and escape to some planet where she could reign as queen. Needless to say, when Doctor Weir asked if SG-1 would like to go on a routine mission to see some of the Pegasus galaxy other than Atlantis, she all but leaped at the chance.
It took some serious wheedling to drag Daniel from the database, Cam from the jumper bay, and Vala from her latest shiny toy, but finally they were on Rhosin, watching Sergeant Stackhouse negotiate with a man named Anlon over the price of grain. All right, so it wasn't the most interesting of missions. At least they were off-world.
Naturally, something had to go wrong. It was Vala who heard it first, tilting her head and stepping away from the trader with whom she'd been flirting. "Daniel, what type of noise did they say the Wraith ships make?"
Daniel frowned, opened his mouth to answer, and then someone called out, "It's the Wraith!" Even as Sam reached for her MP7, though, she wondered at the unusual lack of terror in the man's voice.
"What are you doing?" Anlon asked. When Sam turned towards him, his expression was puzzled. "Do you mean to use those weapons against the gods?"
"The gods?" Cam repeated and then made a face. Sam thought she heard him mutter, "Wonderful, we found the Pegasus galaxy brand of loonies," but in the next second he said quickly, politeness and pseudo-earnestness radiating from every inch of him, "Sorry about the misunderstanding, Anlon, but we don't exactly believe in letting ourselves get, uh, 'chosen' by the Wraith. Been real nice chatting with you, though."
Anlon's expression darkened. "I will not allow you to incur the wrath of our gods," he said, and oh, they were definitely in trouble, because Sam could hear the buzzing of the Wraith darts in the distance and the eerie sound that could only be a Wraith beam snatching up numerous Rhosinians. Anlon continued to glare, and several of the nearby townspeople stepped forward, grim determination on their faces.
She tightened her grip on her MP7 and said in the calmest voice she could muster, "Cam? Sergeant? I think that's our cue to--"
"Leave?" Vala suggested, and then smoothly knocked the legs out from under the nearest native and bolted as all hell broke lose.
*
The side of Sam's face was sticky and stiff with blood, and judging by the headache, it was her own. She grimaced, lowered her MP7 carefully to the ground, and checked the wound. The cut where the ricochet had caught her was shallow, luckily, but bleeding like it would never stop. Just her luck to get separated from the others and manage to wind up with a head-wound as well.
She picked up her gun and listened for the sound of any approaching footsteps. The Wraith darts had stopped screaming over her head about fifteen minutes back, but a group of Rhosinians had come by just two minutes prior, apparently furious about her team shooting at the darts. She grinned a little at the memory, hoping that they'd managed to take one down. She hadn't heard an explosion, so they probably hadn't; still, it was nice to imagine the look of satisfaction on her teammates' faces.
Her radio crackled to life, and she grabbed it just as a voice said, "Colonel Carter? Colonel Carter, do you copy?" The voice was familiar, but only slightly. Sam frowned a little, trying to put a face to the voice. Had to be Stackhouse, then. "Colonel Carter, please respond."
"I'm here," she said. "I'm stuck a little west of the town, in the forest. I have a cut on my forehead, but otherwise I'm fine, though the Rhosinians are still patrolling."
"Copy that. We'll be there soon; just sit tight."
When the radio went silent, Sam sighed. Okay, she could sit tight. She settled herself more comfortably behind an overturned tree and listened to the sound of a bird chirping in a nearby bush. Sure enough, about ten minutes later, she heard a twig snap beneath someone's boot and that same voice from the radio call softly, "Colonel Carter?"
She slid around the tree, MP7 at the ready just in case, and then stared into the man's familiar blue eyes. "Oh," she said after a moment, voice blank with surprise, and his lips twisted into a rueful grin.
"Yeah," Evan Lorne said. She couldn't name the emotion coloring his words as he added, "It's, well, been a while."
"Yes," she said, and wondered at the irony of meeting up with a one-night stand in a whole other galaxy.
It was his mouth that she noticed first, the soft, pleasant curve of his lips as he sipped his beer. Sam wasn't one to pick up guys at a bar, much less a bar frequented by her fellow SGC officers, but that mouth made her pause, began something hot and hungry in her stomach. When she tore her gaze away from his mouth, she couldn't help but study the rest of him: the piercing blue eyes and sharp, arresting planes of his face, the broad shoulders and relaxed, comfortable way he lifted the mug to his lips.
It took her a moment to realize he was gazing back at her. God, he had eyes just as blue as Daniel's, only maybe a shade or two paler, she thought, and long lashes that most women would kill for. After a moment, the corners of his mouth lifted into a smile, and he said, voice low and warm, intensifying the hunger in her stomach, "Buy you a beer?"
"Yes," she said automatically, smiling back, and then inwardly chastised herself. She could see a group of Marines from the SGC in the corner of the bar. It would just take one of them noticing her flirting with the man and telling someone in the rumor mill of the SGC for the entire Mountain to hear about her picking someone up.
The guy followed her gaze, studied the group for a moment, and then turned back, understanding in his eyes. "Let me buy you that beer, and then I need to get back to my hotel," he said, and this time his voice was bland and friendly, just a guy offering a stranger a drink for no special reason other than a whim. "Got an early day tomorrow."
She ignored the pang of disappointment and focused on the relief. It'd been a long year. She didn't need to hear about the latest poll on how long this guy would last before her curse got him. "Thank you," she said, offering him an equally bland smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Have a good night."
He smiled at that, drifted further down the bar to hand the bartender a couple of bills, and left.
Five minutes later, the bartender handed her the beer and a napkin, the latter of which had a note scribbled onto it: "If you'd like, ask for Evan at the Sleep Inn on Kelly Johnson Boulevard, Room 241. If not, have a good evening and thanks for the smile."
"How's your head?" Evan asked, and Sam jerked, attention drawn back to the present.
"It's fine," she assured him, and watched something in his expression ease. Sam couldn't help but study him, looking for any changes in his appearance or personality. Not that she'd known him all that well four years ago, but, well, still. He looked a little less baby-faced and a lot less innocent, with creases at the corners of his eyes she didn't think had been there back then. She couldn't tell if the creases were laugh-lines or not, but he had the same pale blue eyes and the same long, gorgeous lashes.
After a moment, she licked her lips and said, "Let's go."
He nodded, and together they moved quietly back towards the gate, where apparently Stackhouse, Evan's team, and the rest of SG-1 were waiting. She couldn't help but sneak glances at Evan, mentally shaking her head at herself. That night, four years ago, Evan had been fresh from Afghanistan and only a few hours away from joining the ranks of the SGC. It'd been quite a shock to bump into him a month later in the gateroom.
Sam mentally sighed and told herself it would be just four more days before the hyperdrive was fixed and she could escape back to Earth, where there was no McKay talking her ear off or one-night stands reappearing as back-up when a supposedly simple mission went awry.
*
Evan caught up with her just as she left the infirmary. "Colonel Carter," he said, and the title sounded awkward on his lips. He immediately grimaced and then attempted a smile. "I, uh--"
Sam glanced down the hallway and spotted Cam and Sheppard approaching. Silently, she groaned. If Cam caught wind of the fact that she and Evan had had a one-night stand, he'd never let her hear the end of it. It would all be good-natured fun, of course, but there were some things she didn't feel like sharing with her team. Details of her sex life happened to be one of them. "Why don't we discuss this in my quarters?" she suggested.
It was only when Evan raised an eyebrow and looked a little amused that she realized how that could sound. It took all her willpower not to flush, and she added steadily, "You know what I meant."
"Yeah," Evan said, and grinned, an almost impish look. "My quarters are closer, though." When she raised an eyebrow, wondering how exactly he might know that, his grin widened. "I heard Sheppard complaining about how Mitchell had quarters closer to the jumper bay. Figured the rest of SG-1 were probably in quarters near there as well." He glanced down the hall and added in a dry voice, "Speaking of the devil--"
"Sam!" Cam grinned at her, though his gaze was more serious, flicking towards her forehead to check her wound. "How's the head?" She held up two fingers and wiggled them, their private signal for two stitches, and he grimaced. "Sheppard and I were going to grab some dinner. Did you want to come?"
She shook her head, kept her eyes focused on Cam and away from Evan. "I'm avoiding any place McKay would be today. Which means avoiding the mess hall." At his raised eyebrow and half-scolding look, she added, "I'll grab some food later."
"Right." Cam turned to Sheppard. "So, I've read some of the Atlantis reports. You've actually flown one of those darts? What was that like?"
Sam bit back a laugh as the two walked away, and allowed herself a sidelong glance at Evan, who was openly grinning. "Boys and their toys," she remarked, and he chuckled.
It wasn't until his door slid shut behind her that Sam had the first inkling of doubt. What was she doing, making herself at home in his quarters? For that matter, what did he want? They'd nodded and exchanged vague pleasantries when they'd seen each other in the corridors of the SGC, but neither had made a suggestion of another night together. To be brutally honest, Sam hadn't really thought about him once he'd gone to Atlantis a few years back.
When she looked at him, she couldn't read his expression. "Colonel--" He stopped, mouth curving into a half-cynical smile. "Sam." Her name still sounded strange on his lips, but less so than 'Colonel Carter' had been. She almost thought she could hear the echoes of his groaned 'Sam' in the sound.
Her mouth was suddenly dry, and it took two hard swallows before a neutral "Evan" escaped her lips.
When he opened the door, his expression froze for a moment. Then, a pleased smile lit up his face; her breath caught in her throat. "I was hoping you'd--" he began, and then checked himself. His smile, though, didn't fade as he ushered her inside, hand warm and gentle on her lower back, the door clicking shut quietly behind her.
His kiss was soft and exploratory at first, but quickly deepened into something more carnal, taking her breath away completely. When he broke the kiss and asked, "What should I call you?" her voice was husky as she answered, "Sam."
"Sam," he echoed, as though tasting it, and his smile widened, turned almost wicked. "Sam," he repeated, and drew her in for another kiss.
"I'd forgotten you were on Atlantis," she said, and then frowned. "Didn't we get a report of your death a while back?"
Evan grinned, spread his arms. "I'm afraid the rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated," he said and she couldn't help but laugh. Then his expression lost its mirth, turned more intense, and Sam finally recognized the gleam in his eyes: hunger. He licked his lips. "Sam," he said again, lower this time.
That same warm feeling in her stomach she'd felt four years ago returned. God, had she really not been with anyone since Pete? She didn't allow herself to consider the consequences as she stepped closer. Evan's eyes dilated. She leaned into him, felt the warmth radiating from his frame.
Evan made a noise, deep in his throat, and kissed her. He kissed with the same intensity she remembered, all but plundering her mouth as his arms wrapped around her and pulled her even closer. She kissed back, felt the warmth in her stomach spread, breathed in Evan's distinctly masculine smell: Old Spice, maybe, and a hint of sweat.
One hand stroked its way up her back, and she arched into the touch, sighing into his mouth as all rational thought vanished, replaced by thoughts of smooth skin beneath her hands and the sounds he would make when she bit the tempting curve of his neck. She nipped at his lower lip, smiled as he groaned into the kiss, and let the last of her rational thoughts fall away.
*
Afterwards, Sam stared up at the ceiling of his quarters and wondered what the hell she thought she was doing. One-night stands were called that for a reason, because they happened once. Waiting four years to sleep with him again did not mean it had been two separate one-night stands. Still, they definitely were not in a relationship. It was sex, that was all, no more, no less--well, perhaps a bit more. She honestly liked Evan from what she'd come to know about him during the brief time they'd spent together: his sardonic sense of humor, his cleverness.
When she tore her gaze away from the ceiling, he was propped up on his elbow, looking down at her. For the second time today she couldn't read his expression. After a moment, he reached out and brushed a stray hair away from her eyes. "The Odyssey is due to be fixed in a couple of days. Four, if I heard Mitchell correctly," he said, and she nodded. One corner of his mouth turned upwards, and he said, "Well, if you ever wind up back on Atlantis--"
Sam laughed at that, relief easing something tight and anxious in her chest. "And if you ever find yourself back on Earth, I'll be at the SGC," she said, smiling. All right, she didn't know quite what to call this...thing that they had going here, but whatever it was, she decided she liked it. There were no strings here to ensnare her, no burden to crush her beneath its weight, no wedding band in the future to trap her in a cage of her own making. It was something free and fun and easy.
She leaned forward, pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and let him draw her back in, settling herself against his chest. Sam closed her eyes as his fingers traced their way up and down her spine, and half-hoped that he'd decide to visit her on his next leave.