Fic | Better the Devil? | Sam/Baal (SG1) [FRT]
Fandom: Stargate SG1
Characters: Sam Carter, Baal
Pairing: Sam/Baal
Written for: scifiland ILYLP [Repeat] and 5_prompts [table 8, #1 I need something from you]
Rating: FRT
Word Count: 2,140
Summary: Baal has an offer Sam finds difficult to refuse.
“And then, he said that he hadn't done anything and-” Vala's outraged replay of her latest argument with Daniel cuts off and Sam catches the look of shock on her face. Then sees exactly what has caused her to shut up.
Her irritation at Baal lounging in her lab vies with appreciation at what he's wearing: blue jeans that cling to his long legs and a navy shirt with short sleeves that reveal his powerfully-built arms. He smiles as she hauls her gaze from the triangle of tanned skin at his neck, fully aware he's caught her staring.
“What are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you too, Samantha,” he replies. His gaze flicks from her to Vala. “Qetesh.”
Sam hears the sharp intake of breath that'll no doubt be the start of a blistering tirade and decides to get in first. “Assuming this isn't a social visit, I'll ask again - what do you want?”
“Lose the fan club and I'll tell you.” He props his elbows on the armrests and steeples his fingers. “And if she goes tattling on my arrival, you'll never know.”
Sam stares at him for a moment and then turns to Vala. “I'll be okay,” she tells her, hoping that assumption is correct. “As much as I hate playing his little games, it might be best to do as he says. He'll only be completely insufferable otherwise.”
Vala looks from her to him, then back. “You sure? I know what he's like.”
She does, too. She knows if he wanted to hurt her, he'd have done so already. “Yeah.”
There's another few nervous glances before Vala leaves. Sam suspects she'll go straight to Daniel, wonders if that will negate the loose treaty she's secured with Baal.
“Close the door,” he says, tone final. She sighs and does so, then turns and leans against it, glaring at him.
“This had better be good,” she warns him.
Baal stretches and slips a hand into the left front pocket of his jeans. Sam tries not to notice the interesting bulge hiding behind the zipper, frowns as he tugs a small cylinder out.
“What's that?”
“Why I'm here,” he answers and tosses it over.
She catches it easily, turns it over in her hand. It's as long as her palm and smooth silver. There's no marks, no indication of what it's for. She frowns at it and then at him. And the room goes white.
It dawns on her that she should have known better. She wheels to get her bearings, which happen to be an Al'kesh, and then turns back to him.
“You're unbelievable!” she rants. “Don't you think they'll notice I'm missing?”
He shrugs. “You won't be gone that long, come.”
She watches him walk off, confident that she'll follow him. Of course if she wants to know what the hell is going on, she'll have to. She grinds her teeth, fists her hands, and stalks after him.
After a minute, she realises that the ship seems to be missing a few things. Like Jaffa.
“Where are your guards?” she asks him.
“What guards?”
She blinks at his back. “You're on your own?”
“Ah, the deductive abilities of the Tau'ri female.” He glances over his shoulder and rolls his eyes. “I'm often taken aback your species figured the way of the primordial soup in the first place.”
“I'm surprised you don't take credit for our creation.”
“Please, I can do much better than that.”
She snorts, somewhere between annoyed and amused. He is impossible and she should know better than try playing a game of words with him.
He leads her into a lab not unlike her own. Her steps slow at the sight of an Ancient drone. The very last thing she needs is him finding Atlantis.
“Baal,” she says warningly, eyes on the weapon.
“What? Oh, that. That's not what we're here for.” He picks up a small metal ball and holds it out on his palm. She reaches out, curious, but he closes his fingers around it. “Ah, no. That's not a good idea.”
“What is it?”
“It's a bomb.”
She takes an involuntary step back. “Is it... live?”
“Not unless you touch it, no. Though it's possible you have enough naquadah in your blood to counter your human signature.”
Tearing her eyes off it, she looks him in the eye. “And this is your handiwork, is it?”
“Sort of. I designed the original. This one was... ah, adapted to its current use by Anubis. I was most disgruntled to discover quite a stash.” His eyebrows drew together and he glowered at the orb. “And to discover he had dealt with a clone in order to distribute them on Earth.”
Horror washes through her. “H-how many?”
He looks up, arching an eyebrow. “Isn't one enough?”
“Well yes, but...”
“Eleven, all recovered.”
She rubs her forehead. “So what's the threat?”
“To Earth? Nothing, or at least I believe not.” He smirks. “I might not have accounted for every one, though.”
Yeah, like that's possible. She ignores his baiting and goes for the main point. “Then why show it me?”
“Why show you a device that can be adapted to explode when its touched by a specific species?” He shrugs. “Oh, I've no idea what you could achieve with such technology.”
The Ori. Hope flares. “Could you adapt that to a Prior?”
“Not without DNA.”
“We have Prior DNA,” she says without thinking. Then startles a look at him. “You're a bastard, you know that right?”
He grins at her, clearly unrepentant. “I have a deal for you, Samantha. If you secure me the code, I will give you the schematics for the device. Just think about it: the perfect way to destroy the Ori with minimal human costs. It's better than anything you have right now.”
He's right and he knows it. She licks her lips.
“What's in it for you?”
“Other than ridding my galaxy of the usurpers? I have no idea.”
“Your galaxy?” She laughs at him. “I see not even losing your Jaffa can ruin your delusions of grandeur.”
He smirks at her. “Who said I'd lost anything?”
Oh, the manipulative, arrogant- She catches herself at his chuckle. No doubt he saw the anger on her face and was amused. She glares at him.
“So if I help you do this, you'll be free to regain power? I'm not sure that's much of an incentive, Baal.”
“Would you rather a benevolent God who is quite happy to let you continue your pathetic existence or to kneel before the Ori?” He steps closer, the bomb in one hand. The other he lifts and strokes the knuckles over her cheek. “Doctor Jackson's report on their torture makes interesting reading, don't you think? Or how about Qetesh's recollection of being burnt alive?”
Sam shudders and jerks away from his touch. “Bastard,” she repeats, her voice a rough whisper. Damn him, damn him, damn him.
He shrugs his eyebrows and smirks knowingly. She doesn't have a choice. At least he is the devil she knows.
“Alright,” she sighs and sags, defeated. “You have a deal.”
“Of course I do.” He puts the bomb back on the bench and she lets out a breath of relief. He chuckles at that and then moves closer. “Now that unpleasantness is dealt with, perhaps we can move on to something more enjoyable.”
She looks up, mouth dry at his proximity. Don't ask, she thinks as he lifts a hand to her cheek. Her skin prickles at his touch. For God's sake, Sam, don't give him that opportunity.
“You-” Her voice catches. She tries again. “You have to be joking.”
“Do I?” He leans closer and she puts her hands on his chest. Not that that will stop him, but it's nice to pretend. “Come now, Samantha, you cannot deny that you're just a little bit curious.”
“Curiosity killed the cat,” she murmurs.
“Ah, but I said that I would not harm you. I have, you have to admit, kept to that so far.” He smiles and a hand closes on her hip. Her pulse jumps. “And you might even like it.”
She's rather afraid that she will, but she doesn't say that. From the way he smirks, he's guessed at her thoughts anyway.
“I-” She starts, but then he pulls her sharply and God, but he can kiss.
Her hands slid up and over his shoulders, clutching at the collar of his shirt as he teases her lips apart. The kiss is neither overly assertive or passive, just confident and very, very thorough. His tongue sweeps hers and his lips move against her in a motion that makes her weak at the knees.
He breaks away, breathless. She has no idea where she is or what day of the week it is. Just stares into his brown eyes, utterly wordless.
His lips quirk into an uneven grin. “Well, I liked it.”
Sam bites her lip. Her whole body tingles and there's a burning heat between her legs. She knows she should let go of him, but can't quite co-ordinate herself to do so.
“I...”
“Are you unsure?” His eyes gleam. “Because I believe the best way to be sure of an experiment is to repeat it.”
The second is hungrier and his hands move over her, slid under her top. She shudders as flesh meets flesh. Desire flares and she moans into his mouth.
He pulls away with a chuckle. “Oh, now that is interesting,” he murmurs and licks his lips. “Don't you agree?”
Sam stares into his eyes. She knows that she shouldn't, that she should shove him away and tell him to get lost. Instead, she tells him to shut up and drags his head down again.
After a two further repeats, Sam is positive he's very good at kissing. He's attentive and obviously well practised. She's also positive that she's getting herself into something that's not just wrong on multiple counts, but is also very dangerous.
She's trying to ignore the thrill that gives her.
“I'm certainly seeing your point of view on the matter,” she tells him and he grins. “What now?”
His eyes light up and she laughs, smacks him on the shoulder.
“Not in this lifetime,” she says, but the flutter in her stomach tells her that's a ridiculous statement.
Baal chuckles. “Fortunately for you, I can wait several. You'll come around to my way of thinking eventually.”
The smug, self-assured- She yanks out of his arms, only to hear him chuckle again. Oh, God but she is damned already. Still, she manages to glare at him and say, “Don't hold your breath.”
He smirks and shrugs a shoulder. “Keep that beaming device, you'll have need of it.”
By which he means he'll be able to get her as and when he requires. She shivers and turns to the bench and its array of probably stolen technology.
“You know, the guys at Area 51 would sell their mothers for a look at some of this stuff.”
“Accommodate me and I could return the favour,” he replies. She jolts and flings him an incredulous look.
“You mean...” She can't believe it. His expression is one of unrepentant smugness. “I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that,” she says. “That's disgusting.”
“I thought it a fair exchange.”
“That's because you have absolutely no scruples. Anyone with any sense, any amount of decency wouldn't have thought it, never mind actually make the... offer.”
He eyes her for a moment, then licks his lips slowly. She shudders and clamps down on the groan that threatens. He grins.
“I'm as talented with other parts of my body, not just my mouth.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Just so you know.”
Sam discovers it's possible to be outraged and aroused at the same time. She finds herself unable to say anything, which only serves to make his expression grow even more smug.
Folding her arms, she asks, “Do you want that sample or not?”
He chuckles again and then the room goes white. She looks around her own lab, which is disappointingly lacking a Goa'uld.
That thought, and the realisation to what she's agreed to, makes her rake frustrated hands through her hair.
“Oh, crap.”
Characters: Sam Carter, Baal
Pairing: Sam/Baal
Written for: scifiland ILYLP [Repeat] and 5_prompts [table 8, #1 I need something from you]
Rating: FRT
Word Count: 2,140
Summary: Baal has an offer Sam finds difficult to refuse.
“And then, he said that he hadn't done anything and-” Vala's outraged replay of her latest argument with Daniel cuts off and Sam catches the look of shock on her face. Then sees exactly what has caused her to shut up.
Her irritation at Baal lounging in her lab vies with appreciation at what he's wearing: blue jeans that cling to his long legs and a navy shirt with short sleeves that reveal his powerfully-built arms. He smiles as she hauls her gaze from the triangle of tanned skin at his neck, fully aware he's caught her staring.
“What are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you too, Samantha,” he replies. His gaze flicks from her to Vala. “Qetesh.”
Sam hears the sharp intake of breath that'll no doubt be the start of a blistering tirade and decides to get in first. “Assuming this isn't a social visit, I'll ask again - what do you want?”
“Lose the fan club and I'll tell you.” He props his elbows on the armrests and steeples his fingers. “And if she goes tattling on my arrival, you'll never know.”
Sam stares at him for a moment and then turns to Vala. “I'll be okay,” she tells her, hoping that assumption is correct. “As much as I hate playing his little games, it might be best to do as he says. He'll only be completely insufferable otherwise.”
Vala looks from her to him, then back. “You sure? I know what he's like.”
She does, too. She knows if he wanted to hurt her, he'd have done so already. “Yeah.”
There's another few nervous glances before Vala leaves. Sam suspects she'll go straight to Daniel, wonders if that will negate the loose treaty she's secured with Baal.
“Close the door,” he says, tone final. She sighs and does so, then turns and leans against it, glaring at him.
“This had better be good,” she warns him.
Baal stretches and slips a hand into the left front pocket of his jeans. Sam tries not to notice the interesting bulge hiding behind the zipper, frowns as he tugs a small cylinder out.
“What's that?”
“Why I'm here,” he answers and tosses it over.
She catches it easily, turns it over in her hand. It's as long as her palm and smooth silver. There's no marks, no indication of what it's for. She frowns at it and then at him. And the room goes white.
It dawns on her that she should have known better. She wheels to get her bearings, which happen to be an Al'kesh, and then turns back to him.
“You're unbelievable!” she rants. “Don't you think they'll notice I'm missing?”
He shrugs. “You won't be gone that long, come.”
She watches him walk off, confident that she'll follow him. Of course if she wants to know what the hell is going on, she'll have to. She grinds her teeth, fists her hands, and stalks after him.
After a minute, she realises that the ship seems to be missing a few things. Like Jaffa.
“Where are your guards?” she asks him.
“What guards?”
She blinks at his back. “You're on your own?”
“Ah, the deductive abilities of the Tau'ri female.” He glances over his shoulder and rolls his eyes. “I'm often taken aback your species figured the way of the primordial soup in the first place.”
“I'm surprised you don't take credit for our creation.”
“Please, I can do much better than that.”
She snorts, somewhere between annoyed and amused. He is impossible and she should know better than try playing a game of words with him.
He leads her into a lab not unlike her own. Her steps slow at the sight of an Ancient drone. The very last thing she needs is him finding Atlantis.
“Baal,” she says warningly, eyes on the weapon.
“What? Oh, that. That's not what we're here for.” He picks up a small metal ball and holds it out on his palm. She reaches out, curious, but he closes his fingers around it. “Ah, no. That's not a good idea.”
“What is it?”
“It's a bomb.”
She takes an involuntary step back. “Is it... live?”
“Not unless you touch it, no. Though it's possible you have enough naquadah in your blood to counter your human signature.”
Tearing her eyes off it, she looks him in the eye. “And this is your handiwork, is it?”
“Sort of. I designed the original. This one was... ah, adapted to its current use by Anubis. I was most disgruntled to discover quite a stash.” His eyebrows drew together and he glowered at the orb. “And to discover he had dealt with a clone in order to distribute them on Earth.”
Horror washes through her. “H-how many?”
He looks up, arching an eyebrow. “Isn't one enough?”
“Well yes, but...”
“Eleven, all recovered.”
She rubs her forehead. “So what's the threat?”
“To Earth? Nothing, or at least I believe not.” He smirks. “I might not have accounted for every one, though.”
Yeah, like that's possible. She ignores his baiting and goes for the main point. “Then why show it me?”
“Why show you a device that can be adapted to explode when its touched by a specific species?” He shrugs. “Oh, I've no idea what you could achieve with such technology.”
The Ori. Hope flares. “Could you adapt that to a Prior?”
“Not without DNA.”
“We have Prior DNA,” she says without thinking. Then startles a look at him. “You're a bastard, you know that right?”
He grins at her, clearly unrepentant. “I have a deal for you, Samantha. If you secure me the code, I will give you the schematics for the device. Just think about it: the perfect way to destroy the Ori with minimal human costs. It's better than anything you have right now.”
He's right and he knows it. She licks her lips.
“What's in it for you?”
“Other than ridding my galaxy of the usurpers? I have no idea.”
“Your galaxy?” She laughs at him. “I see not even losing your Jaffa can ruin your delusions of grandeur.”
He smirks at her. “Who said I'd lost anything?”
Oh, the manipulative, arrogant- She catches herself at his chuckle. No doubt he saw the anger on her face and was amused. She glares at him.
“So if I help you do this, you'll be free to regain power? I'm not sure that's much of an incentive, Baal.”
“Would you rather a benevolent God who is quite happy to let you continue your pathetic existence or to kneel before the Ori?” He steps closer, the bomb in one hand. The other he lifts and strokes the knuckles over her cheek. “Doctor Jackson's report on their torture makes interesting reading, don't you think? Or how about Qetesh's recollection of being burnt alive?”
Sam shudders and jerks away from his touch. “Bastard,” she repeats, her voice a rough whisper. Damn him, damn him, damn him.
He shrugs his eyebrows and smirks knowingly. She doesn't have a choice. At least he is the devil she knows.
“Alright,” she sighs and sags, defeated. “You have a deal.”
“Of course I do.” He puts the bomb back on the bench and she lets out a breath of relief. He chuckles at that and then moves closer. “Now that unpleasantness is dealt with, perhaps we can move on to something more enjoyable.”
She looks up, mouth dry at his proximity. Don't ask, she thinks as he lifts a hand to her cheek. Her skin prickles at his touch. For God's sake, Sam, don't give him that opportunity.
“You-” Her voice catches. She tries again. “You have to be joking.”
“Do I?” He leans closer and she puts her hands on his chest. Not that that will stop him, but it's nice to pretend. “Come now, Samantha, you cannot deny that you're just a little bit curious.”
“Curiosity killed the cat,” she murmurs.
“Ah, but I said that I would not harm you. I have, you have to admit, kept to that so far.” He smiles and a hand closes on her hip. Her pulse jumps. “And you might even like it.”
She's rather afraid that she will, but she doesn't say that. From the way he smirks, he's guessed at her thoughts anyway.
“I-” She starts, but then he pulls her sharply and God, but he can kiss.
Her hands slid up and over his shoulders, clutching at the collar of his shirt as he teases her lips apart. The kiss is neither overly assertive or passive, just confident and very, very thorough. His tongue sweeps hers and his lips move against her in a motion that makes her weak at the knees.
He breaks away, breathless. She has no idea where she is or what day of the week it is. Just stares into his brown eyes, utterly wordless.
His lips quirk into an uneven grin. “Well, I liked it.”
Sam bites her lip. Her whole body tingles and there's a burning heat between her legs. She knows she should let go of him, but can't quite co-ordinate herself to do so.
“I...”
“Are you unsure?” His eyes gleam. “Because I believe the best way to be sure of an experiment is to repeat it.”
The second is hungrier and his hands move over her, slid under her top. She shudders as flesh meets flesh. Desire flares and she moans into his mouth.
He pulls away with a chuckle. “Oh, now that is interesting,” he murmurs and licks his lips. “Don't you agree?”
Sam stares into his eyes. She knows that she shouldn't, that she should shove him away and tell him to get lost. Instead, she tells him to shut up and drags his head down again.
After a two further repeats, Sam is positive he's very good at kissing. He's attentive and obviously well practised. She's also positive that she's getting herself into something that's not just wrong on multiple counts, but is also very dangerous.
She's trying to ignore the thrill that gives her.
“I'm certainly seeing your point of view on the matter,” she tells him and he grins. “What now?”
His eyes light up and she laughs, smacks him on the shoulder.
“Not in this lifetime,” she says, but the flutter in her stomach tells her that's a ridiculous statement.
Baal chuckles. “Fortunately for you, I can wait several. You'll come around to my way of thinking eventually.”
The smug, self-assured- She yanks out of his arms, only to hear him chuckle again. Oh, God but she is damned already. Still, she manages to glare at him and say, “Don't hold your breath.”
He smirks and shrugs a shoulder. “Keep that beaming device, you'll have need of it.”
By which he means he'll be able to get her as and when he requires. She shivers and turns to the bench and its array of probably stolen technology.
“You know, the guys at Area 51 would sell their mothers for a look at some of this stuff.”
“Accommodate me and I could return the favour,” he replies. She jolts and flings him an incredulous look.
“You mean...” She can't believe it. His expression is one of unrepentant smugness. “I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that,” she says. “That's disgusting.”
“I thought it a fair exchange.”
“That's because you have absolutely no scruples. Anyone with any sense, any amount of decency wouldn't have thought it, never mind actually make the... offer.”
He eyes her for a moment, then licks his lips slowly. She shudders and clamps down on the groan that threatens. He grins.
“I'm as talented with other parts of my body, not just my mouth.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Just so you know.”
Sam discovers it's possible to be outraged and aroused at the same time. She finds herself unable to say anything, which only serves to make his expression grow even more smug.
Folding her arms, she asks, “Do you want that sample or not?”
He chuckles again and then the room goes white. She looks around her own lab, which is disappointingly lacking a Goa'uld.
That thought, and the realisation to what she's agreed to, makes her rake frustrated hands through her hair.
“Oh, crap.”