Fic | A Convenient Arrangement | Sam/Baal (SG1) [FRC]
Fandom: Stargate SG1
Characters: Baal, Sam Carter
Pairing: Sam/Baal
Written for: scifiland ILYLP [Green] and 5_prompts [8.2 Have you thought that through?]
Rating: FRC
Word Count: 1,668
Summary: All good things have to end, and eventually Sam has to go back to Earth.
All good things have to end, and eventually Sam has to go back to Earth. Her reception is as frosty as she feared. She can't stop the SFs arresting Baal and dragging him down to the infirmary for testing - she's too busy being bombarded with questions and accusations from an infuriated General Landry.
Panic surges when Area 51 is mentioned. She bites her bottom lip as Malcolm Barrett discusses Baal's impending incarceration, unable to contemplate being separated but not sure how to get around the problem.
“What if you release him into my custody?” she says without thinking. The men stop and stare at her. “I can guarantee his behaviour.”
Malcolm shakes his head in disbelief, but the general's eyes narrow.
“Can you now? And exactly how are you doing to do that?”
Sam stands very still. “He... respects me, sir. He knew if he came here that there'd be hell to pay, but he came away. He has nothing to gain and everything to offer in terms of understanding Goa'uld and Ancient technology.” She takes a deep breath. “Just because we've defeated the Replicators and the Ori that doesn't mean the galaxy is any less dangerous. We could still use his intelligence.”
“The IOA can get that out of him,” Malcolm remarks sourly. Sam glares at him.
“It would be better to get it willingly.”
Landry sighs. “You're really willing to stand there and be Baal's advocate? Either he's brainwashed you or... you honestly think he's changed enough to be trusted.”
Sam looks from him to Malcolm, who wears a look of bitter disappointment, and back. Her nails dig into her palms in an attempt to keep calm.
“It's the latter, sir. Permission to speak freely?”
“Go ahead.”
“Sir, if you send Baal to Area 51 then... look, he's better, but he's still Baal. He's going to try and escape. I'm the only one who has any chance at keeping him in line, so it's best for everyone if he stays here.”
“Colonel...”
“I can't guarantee his behaviour anywhere else.”
Landry sighs. “He has six weeks probation. And one warning, colonel - the first major incident and I will ship him to Area 51 and that's final.”
It was better than she'd hoped. “Thank you, sir.”
“Go and tell him the good news.”
She flees the general's office and down the levels to the infirmary where Baal is undergoing a thorough physical. She hears his protests halfway down the corridor and bolts to the door.
“This is very unnecessary,” he is saying. “My symbiote keeps me in perfect physical health.”
“That might be,” comes Caroline's voice, “but there is always the chance your carrying something without being effected. Oh, hi Sam.”
“Caroline,” she replies and looks at Baal, sat on a bed with a blue sheet maintaining his modesty. “Behave yourself - I've just won you a six week pass.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Really? However did you manage that?”
“I played on your intelligence.” She wanders over and adjusts a sensor pad attached to his chest. It's really just an excuse to touch him. “But Malcolm is itching to get you to Area 51 and there's probably dissection in there somewhere, so you need to behave.” She meets his eyes. “Please.”
“I'll try my best,” he says and offers her a small smile. She leans in and kisses him
Caroline coughs and they pull apart. Sam notes his cheeks are as flushed as hers feel.
“Okay, I think I've run every test applicable.” She eyes them with mock severity. “Do I need to test you, Colonel?”
Sam blushes further and ducks her head. “Um...”
“I thought as much. Come on.”
It doesn't take long. Sam isn't surprised - though rather grateful - that everything comes back clear. Especially the pregnancy test since that would be cause all kinds of trouble. In all honesty, she's not even considered that possibility: something she raises the second they're alone.
“Could I have been?”
He blinks. “Could you have what?”
“Been pregnant.” She watches him turn and smirk. Her stomach drops. “Really?”
“I am in perfect working order, Samantha. Assuming that you are as well, yes, you could have been.”
She isn't sure if she's relieved at dodging a bullet or disappointed she's not carrying his child. “Oh.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Yes! No! Oh, God I have no idea.” She really doesn't. “Didn't it occur to you to let me know?”
“Did it occur to you to ask?”
It does take two to tango, she supposes with a sigh. “No, but it should have. Things are complicated enough without that happening.”
“Ah,” he says and shrugs his eyebrows before grabbing his shirt off the chair. Sam watches him pull it over his head - he never bothers with buttons when he can avoid it - and wonders what he meant by that.
“Were you... trying?” she asks and he looks at her. “It's a fair question!”
He shakes his head. “No, Samantha. In all honesty, it didn't cross my mind any more that it crossed yours. We were... caught up in the moment, I suppose.”
“What about now?”
“Would I try? Not... particularly. As you said, things are rather complicated right now.”
One thing at a time, she thinks.
“There was something I was going to ask, before you dropped that little bomb in my lap, but I'm rather afraid you'll take it the wrong way.”
“Just tell me, Samantha.” He sits on the edge of the bed and folds his arms. “Clearly we have to work on our communication.”
She takes the next bed, needing a little distance for this. “I was thinking about the six week trial. I don't think the IOA will hold to it and that we ought to do something before they can make a move.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Such as what?”
“Such as a green card.”
Sam knows he knows what she's talking about, and stares at his knees because she doesn't want to see the expression on his face. As proposals go, it was hardly romantic, but this about practicality and not losing him to Area 51.
“Have you thought that through?” he asks. “I'm not sure I can ask you to do that.”
“You didn't ask,” she points out and looks at him. His face is pensive, tense. “I offered.”
“Assuming the IOA would allow it.”
“I wasn't planning on giving them a choice.” She heaves a breath and confesses, “I'm not willing to lose you, Baal.”
“I have no intention of getting lost.”
“So?”
He stares at her for a moment, then a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “No.”
She blinks. “No? But it would be-”
“A convenient arrangement.” He waves a hand. “And I would be accused of taking advantage of you, of using you. No, Samantha. I cannot and will not agree to this.”
She tries to pretend his rejection doesn't hurt, but it does. She stares at the floor.
“Well, I guess that shoots that idea down. I didn't think you'd find it so... repulsive.”
“I didn't think you'd be bothered about carrying my child.”
She jolts. “I wasn't! It just... That's not fair.”
“Neither is expecting me to marry you to keep me out of the IOA's hands. That is the very last reason I'd want to.”
“Is there a first?”
He chuckles and stands up. She twists away from him as he leans over her, but he just laughs again and captures her chin with firm fingers. She reluctantly turns back and fixes him with a hot-eyed glare.
“Yes,” he says. “There is.” And kisses her on the mouth.
Her anger and hurt melt like snow and she sags into his arms, tongue battling his in a clinch that heats by the second. His hand slides under her top and she know they can't. Not here.
Jerking back, she gasps, “Oh, don't.”
“Why not?”
She can't answer him, because she's met his steady gaze and those brown eyes tell her everything she needs to hear. She wonders how the hell they came to this, worlds colliding in a riot of confusion that only they understand when no one else does. Or can.
It's utterly fucked up, but still so right that she wants to laugh at the absurdity, or cry at the hopelessness. Instead she says his name and throws herself into his embrace.
“I'll behave,” he promises and his voice is low, rough. “I won't give them a reason to separate us. We have some time to figure this out yet, Sam. Don't... we shouldn't rush in blind, because I'm afraid you'll end up hurt or disappointed.”
“You could never hurt me.” She lifts her head and cups his cheek. “I know that. But... yeah. I was panicking and rushing at the first solution that presented itself. Not that I would mind, you know.”
“Curiously, I find myself as open to the idea. Maybe because it would give me unlimited access to you .”
“You're insatiable, you know that right?”
“I want you.” His confession makes her shudder. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Yes,” she breathes. “Because we can't. Not here and I wish we were somewhere else. Somewhere we could.”
“Is there nowhere unguarded and unwatched?”
She thinks about it, then laughs. “Actually yes. And you know where.”
His eyebrows shoot up and he grins. “Oh really? How... apt. Shall we?”
“Yes.”
Oh, they shall indeed.
Characters: Baal, Sam Carter
Pairing: Sam/Baal
Written for: scifiland ILYLP [Green] and 5_prompts [8.2 Have you thought that through?]
Rating: FRC
Word Count: 1,668
Summary: All good things have to end, and eventually Sam has to go back to Earth.
All good things have to end, and eventually Sam has to go back to Earth. Her reception is as frosty as she feared. She can't stop the SFs arresting Baal and dragging him down to the infirmary for testing - she's too busy being bombarded with questions and accusations from an infuriated General Landry.
Panic surges when Area 51 is mentioned. She bites her bottom lip as Malcolm Barrett discusses Baal's impending incarceration, unable to contemplate being separated but not sure how to get around the problem.
“What if you release him into my custody?” she says without thinking. The men stop and stare at her. “I can guarantee his behaviour.”
Malcolm shakes his head in disbelief, but the general's eyes narrow.
“Can you now? And exactly how are you doing to do that?”
Sam stands very still. “He... respects me, sir. He knew if he came here that there'd be hell to pay, but he came away. He has nothing to gain and everything to offer in terms of understanding Goa'uld and Ancient technology.” She takes a deep breath. “Just because we've defeated the Replicators and the Ori that doesn't mean the galaxy is any less dangerous. We could still use his intelligence.”
“The IOA can get that out of him,” Malcolm remarks sourly. Sam glares at him.
“It would be better to get it willingly.”
Landry sighs. “You're really willing to stand there and be Baal's advocate? Either he's brainwashed you or... you honestly think he's changed enough to be trusted.”
Sam looks from him to Malcolm, who wears a look of bitter disappointment, and back. Her nails dig into her palms in an attempt to keep calm.
“It's the latter, sir. Permission to speak freely?”
“Go ahead.”
“Sir, if you send Baal to Area 51 then... look, he's better, but he's still Baal. He's going to try and escape. I'm the only one who has any chance at keeping him in line, so it's best for everyone if he stays here.”
“Colonel...”
“I can't guarantee his behaviour anywhere else.”
Landry sighs. “He has six weeks probation. And one warning, colonel - the first major incident and I will ship him to Area 51 and that's final.”
It was better than she'd hoped. “Thank you, sir.”
“Go and tell him the good news.”
She flees the general's office and down the levels to the infirmary where Baal is undergoing a thorough physical. She hears his protests halfway down the corridor and bolts to the door.
“This is very unnecessary,” he is saying. “My symbiote keeps me in perfect physical health.”
“That might be,” comes Caroline's voice, “but there is always the chance your carrying something without being effected. Oh, hi Sam.”
“Caroline,” she replies and looks at Baal, sat on a bed with a blue sheet maintaining his modesty. “Behave yourself - I've just won you a six week pass.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Really? However did you manage that?”
“I played on your intelligence.” She wanders over and adjusts a sensor pad attached to his chest. It's really just an excuse to touch him. “But Malcolm is itching to get you to Area 51 and there's probably dissection in there somewhere, so you need to behave.” She meets his eyes. “Please.”
“I'll try my best,” he says and offers her a small smile. She leans in and kisses him
Caroline coughs and they pull apart. Sam notes his cheeks are as flushed as hers feel.
“Okay, I think I've run every test applicable.” She eyes them with mock severity. “Do I need to test you, Colonel?”
Sam blushes further and ducks her head. “Um...”
“I thought as much. Come on.”
It doesn't take long. Sam isn't surprised - though rather grateful - that everything comes back clear. Especially the pregnancy test since that would be cause all kinds of trouble. In all honesty, she's not even considered that possibility: something she raises the second they're alone.
“Could I have been?”
He blinks. “Could you have what?”
“Been pregnant.” She watches him turn and smirk. Her stomach drops. “Really?”
“I am in perfect working order, Samantha. Assuming that you are as well, yes, you could have been.”
She isn't sure if she's relieved at dodging a bullet or disappointed she's not carrying his child. “Oh.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Yes! No! Oh, God I have no idea.” She really doesn't. “Didn't it occur to you to let me know?”
“Did it occur to you to ask?”
It does take two to tango, she supposes with a sigh. “No, but it should have. Things are complicated enough without that happening.”
“Ah,” he says and shrugs his eyebrows before grabbing his shirt off the chair. Sam watches him pull it over his head - he never bothers with buttons when he can avoid it - and wonders what he meant by that.
“Were you... trying?” she asks and he looks at her. “It's a fair question!”
He shakes his head. “No, Samantha. In all honesty, it didn't cross my mind any more that it crossed yours. We were... caught up in the moment, I suppose.”
“What about now?”
“Would I try? Not... particularly. As you said, things are rather complicated right now.”
One thing at a time, she thinks.
“There was something I was going to ask, before you dropped that little bomb in my lap, but I'm rather afraid you'll take it the wrong way.”
“Just tell me, Samantha.” He sits on the edge of the bed and folds his arms. “Clearly we have to work on our communication.”
She takes the next bed, needing a little distance for this. “I was thinking about the six week trial. I don't think the IOA will hold to it and that we ought to do something before they can make a move.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Such as what?”
“Such as a green card.”
Sam knows he knows what she's talking about, and stares at his knees because she doesn't want to see the expression on his face. As proposals go, it was hardly romantic, but this about practicality and not losing him to Area 51.
“Have you thought that through?” he asks. “I'm not sure I can ask you to do that.”
“You didn't ask,” she points out and looks at him. His face is pensive, tense. “I offered.”
“Assuming the IOA would allow it.”
“I wasn't planning on giving them a choice.” She heaves a breath and confesses, “I'm not willing to lose you, Baal.”
“I have no intention of getting lost.”
“So?”
He stares at her for a moment, then a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “No.”
She blinks. “No? But it would be-”
“A convenient arrangement.” He waves a hand. “And I would be accused of taking advantage of you, of using you. No, Samantha. I cannot and will not agree to this.”
She tries to pretend his rejection doesn't hurt, but it does. She stares at the floor.
“Well, I guess that shoots that idea down. I didn't think you'd find it so... repulsive.”
“I didn't think you'd be bothered about carrying my child.”
She jolts. “I wasn't! It just... That's not fair.”
“Neither is expecting me to marry you to keep me out of the IOA's hands. That is the very last reason I'd want to.”
“Is there a first?”
He chuckles and stands up. She twists away from him as he leans over her, but he just laughs again and captures her chin with firm fingers. She reluctantly turns back and fixes him with a hot-eyed glare.
“Yes,” he says. “There is.” And kisses her on the mouth.
Her anger and hurt melt like snow and she sags into his arms, tongue battling his in a clinch that heats by the second. His hand slides under her top and she know they can't. Not here.
Jerking back, she gasps, “Oh, don't.”
“Why not?”
She can't answer him, because she's met his steady gaze and those brown eyes tell her everything she needs to hear. She wonders how the hell they came to this, worlds colliding in a riot of confusion that only they understand when no one else does. Or can.
It's utterly fucked up, but still so right that she wants to laugh at the absurdity, or cry at the hopelessness. Instead she says his name and throws herself into his embrace.
“I'll behave,” he promises and his voice is low, rough. “I won't give them a reason to separate us. We have some time to figure this out yet, Sam. Don't... we shouldn't rush in blind, because I'm afraid you'll end up hurt or disappointed.”
“You could never hurt me.” She lifts her head and cups his cheek. “I know that. But... yeah. I was panicking and rushing at the first solution that presented itself. Not that I would mind, you know.”
“Curiously, I find myself as open to the idea. Maybe because it would give me unlimited access to you .”
“You're insatiable, you know that right?”
“I want you.” His confession makes her shudder. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Yes,” she breathes. “Because we can't. Not here and I wish we were somewhere else. Somewhere we could.”
“Is there nowhere unguarded and unwatched?”
She thinks about it, then laughs. “Actually yes. And you know where.”
His eyebrows shoot up and he grins. “Oh really? How... apt. Shall we?”
“Yes.”
Oh, they shall indeed.