FIC: Prescience ; Sam/Rodney ; NC:17
Title: Prescience
Author: finding_jay
Pairing:Rodney/Sam
Rating: NC:17
Warnings: Safe-sex ; citrus ; bad white wine ; fried ice cream ; 9,660 words
Summary: Looking back, it would all fall into place. Then again, hindsight is 20/20, and Rodney had always refused to wear his glasses. But who was he to turn down a free meal?
Disclaimer: No own.
Notes: Written for 7_deadly_sins_. Prompt was ‘lust’.
He imagines her sitting in the front row of a crowd of thousands. He can see her from where he sits on the stage. The piano is white, the stool is soft, and the music coming from his fingers is absolute gold. The crowd loves him. He makes millions by making beauty.
After the performance, he returns to his dressing room, where Sam is already waiting for him. She’s wearing a beautiful black gown with a string of diamonds around her neck and a wedding ring on her finger. She pulls him in for a kiss, and everything is right in the world. No Ori, no Wraith, just him and his music and Sam.
*
He’d been given clearance to stay at his own apartment until he was scheduled to return to Atlantis. The Air Force had given him a rental car, since his own had been sold before he left. He’d twisted his landlord’s to allow him to keep his apartment while he went away “on business”, with the promise that all rent would be paid directly from his bank account, and his pet cat would be given to his attractive next door neighbour, whose name he still couldn’t remember, but she made the best oatmeal cookies.
Although most of his necessary belongings were in Atlantis, and he had a spare change of clothes in the backpack he had brought with him, he knew his apartment would be more comfortable than staying on base the next few days. His wallet and keys had been locked in a room with the rest of Atlantis’ expedition members’ identification belongings when they had set off for the Pegasus galaxy. After retrieving them and making plans to fly over to Canada, he started down the maze of corridors of the SGC and found himself standing outside Sam’s lab, the door half-open, a flicker of yellow, red and green lights reflecting off the metal door. Clearing his throat, he took a step forward.
‘What’re you doing tonight?’ Rodney asked as he stood in the doorway.
Sam lifted her head from the workbench she was sitting at, before dropping her gaze again. Heading across the room, he picked Jeanie’s paper up that she had been reading (she’d already read it twice now, she had no excuse to not share it with him, and wasn’t that really why he was here?), and tilted his head towards her.
‘Nothing,’ Sam finally replied, before quickly adding, ‘but I have to be up early tomorrow, so I can’t do anything tonight.’
‘I wasn’t going to ask you to do anything.’
‘Oh…’ Sam shifted out of her chair and stood, her brow narrowed just slightly that suggested to Rodney that she was trying to find his ulterior motive.
‘I have to fly up to see Jeanie tomorrow, as it is, and the Air Force has lent me a car to take me to my old apartment. But since all the food I had would now be out of date, I was going to ask if you knew of any nice restaurants where I wouldn’t look like a loser sitting there by myself.’
‘There’s always McDonalds.’
Rodney snorted and flipped a page. ‘Yes, because there’s nothing better than a churning stomach on an airplane.’
Sam rolled her eyes, leaning against her desk. ‘I’m not going on a date with you, Rodney.’
‘Who said anything about a date? I’m only asking your opinion on fine restaurants in the local vicinity. If you decided to eat with me, that’s your own decision.’ He could feel a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips, but he fought it down. He could feel smug later, when Sam was dressed up and sitting across from him. ‘But I’m sure your duties tomorrow are very important, so I wouldn’t want to- ’
‘Okay, okay, there’s this place a bit north. I’ll make a reservation. It’s a bit of a distance, but they do this snapper dish, which is fantastic.’
‘What time, then?’
Rubbing her right eye the heel of her hand, Sam slumped back down in her seat. ‘Is 6:30 okay?’
Allowing the smirk to form on his face, Rodney nodded and grabbed a blank piece of paper and pen off Sam’s desk, setting his sister’s paper back down. Jotting down his address, he placed in front of Sam and took a step back, towards the door.
‘Great! I’ll see you then.’
He decided to ignore the groan that came from Sam as he left her office. Inviting Sam out was a lot easier than he thought it would be.
*
Rodney’s apartment had a thin layer of dust covering any flat surface. It took two hours to vacuum everything remotely allergenic up, another half hour to ease down his asthma enough that he could drive to the nearest pharmacy, and then forty-five minutes to drive there and back after picking up an inhaler. So by the time 5:30 rolled around, Rodney scrambled to have a shower and shave, iron a collared shirt and pair of dress pants that were now a size to big, and even then he knew he was going to be at least fifteen minutes late because he still had no idea where the restaurant was so he’d have to find the road map and find the quickest route to the damn place.
Another forty-five minutes later and he was still trying to get into his shoes that kept pinching his toes, the road map under one arm, keys and wallet clenched in his fist, as he rushed out the building and to where he parked his car. Staring at his shoes, he wondered if he should have given them a polish, since Sam was probably going to kill him with a butter knife when he finally found the restaurant, so being another ten minutes late probably wouldn’t matter. Deciding against it- maybe she’d attack for the throat and let him die quickly- he jiggled his car key away from the rest on the over-filled key ring and shoved them into the door.
‘I thought we were taking my car?’
Spinning around to find Sam standing behind him, Rodney couldn’t help but give a yelp.
‘I only have brown shoe polish, I’m sorry.’
Sam, looking friendly enough and carrying no knives of any kind (though Rodney eyed her handbag warily, because he knew from experience that Lt. Colonels could not be trusted, even if they smiled and were brilliant at math, not that he’d admit it Sheppard or Carter), waved her car keys in front of him.
‘You gave me your address. I presumed that meant you wanted me to pick you up.’
‘Oh, right, right,’ Rodney murmured as he ran a hand through his still-damp hair, the road map tumbling from under his arm and landing on the grass. Sam bent down to pick it up, handing it over to him with an amused smile. Taking it from her, he turned back to his car, opened it and tossed the road map into the passenger side seat. ‘How about I follow you?’
Sam frowned, arms crossing over her chest, an eyebrow rising.
‘Since this isn’t a date or anything, so there’s no reason for us to… And you said you had to get up early tomorrow, so there’s no reason why you should drive back… here. You look nice, by the way,’ he quickly added, knowing already that he was starting to babble. ‘With the, you know,’ he mumbled, motioning to the red frill along the dress’ neckline that Sam had on.
‘McKay,’ Sam snapped. Rodney promptly shut up. ‘Why did you give me your address if you didn’t want me to drive over?’
‘Spur of the moment,’ he said with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘For later reference.’
With a sigh, Sam waved his hand and took a step to where her car had parked. ‘Okay. Follow me, then. We’re already late as it is.’
*
Following Sam in the car behind her was terrifying. She drove fast, ran amber lights, and at one point Rodney lost sight of her completely until she spun around a corner and motioned through the window for him to catch up.
‘I am never letting you drive me anywhere,’ Rodney said when they reached the restaurant. Sam only gave a smile, locked her car and started to the door. Rodney followed her, his hands waving. ‘Really! You’re absolutely terrible! I was surprised you weren’t pulled over by the police!’
‘I was going the speed limit, McKay, you just drive slow.’
‘I drive safely. You drive like you’re in an action movie.’
‘Uh-huh.’ Shaking her head ever so slightly, Sam opened the restaurant’s door and stepped inside, Rodney at her heels.
‘You’re going to get killed, someday. I’m shocked they would allow you fly any sort of air- ’
‘McKay.’ Sam turned to him, her eyes narrowed, before turning to the maître d' with a thin smile, saying, ‘reservation for Carter.’
The maître d' checked the list, then with a smile and asked the two to follow him to their table. He’d never been one for eating out, and even though this had been his idea, Rodney found himself already starting to fidgit as he sat down opposite Sam. Picking up the menu, he found himself having to draw in a deep breath and close his eyes for a few seconds before he was able to concentrate on the words swimming before him.
‘You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?’ Sam asked with a humored tone.
‘Sorry,’ Rodney sighed, setting the menu down. The corner of Sam’s lip quirked slightly. Frowning, Rodney glared are her. ‘What?’
‘Nothing, nothing,’ Sam replied, shaking her head, flipping a page.
‘I’m just not very good at these things.’
‘What things?’
‘These… not-date things,’ he said, motioning between them.
‘So relax. You don’t have to woo me. You just have to make sure you chew with your mouth closed, don’t spill any wine on your shirt and try to make polite conversation.’
Rodney sighed and propped his elbow up on the table, turning back to the menu.
‘I recommend the snapper,’ Sam said after a moment’s silence.
‘What about the Jica… what?’ Ancient was one thing. The languages of his own planet were another, especially when related to exotic sounding foods.
‘The Jicama salad? That has lime in it.’
With a sigh, he flipped another page in the menu. ‘What about the bass?’
‘It’s a bit spicy, but the sauce is wonderful. I tried making it a few months ago, but I added too much paprika. Pete nearly choked on it.’
‘Your fiancé? Wouldn’t he be… oh, a bit curious as to why you’re eating dinner with me?’
Sam’s response was short. ‘We broke up a little over eighteen months ago.’
‘Oh.’ Rodney paused, taking his eyes off the Pan Roasted Bass that boasted its Newburg sauce to watch Sam busy herself with the wine menu. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because it’s none of your business.’ Sam turned the wine menu to Rodney. ‘Do you prefer red or white?’
‘Red, but I’m curious as to why you didn’t mention it to me.’
‘I’m surprised you even knew I was engaged in the first place. Anyway, my father had just died, and I wasn’t ready to get married. There were more pressing matters. Pete knew, and we still see each other occasionally. It’s not that big a deal, McKay. Now help me choose a wine.’
‘White goes well with fish.’
Sam raised her eye, head tilted some.
‘Sheppard told me,’ Rodney quickly added with a small shrug of his shoulders. ‘Sauvignon Blancs, especially. I don’t like drinking it because it tastes like citrus, and you know- ’ Sam was waving her hand to tell him to hurry up. ‘But, anyway, I can’t tell the difference when it comes to white, but if it makes you feel more important…’
With a nod, Sam folded her menu along with the wine list, and set them aside, taking Rodney’s when he told her what he wanted. The waiter came by, took their orders, with Sam’s insistence of no citrus when Rodney started to open his mouth, and when he left, Rodney and Sam fell into silence.
He knew this was going to happen. After the discussion of what they were going to eat and drink was over, and the “oh, such-and-such is great” pointers were over and done with, they wouldn’t have much to discuss. Working for top-secret organizations always led to social difficulty. There’s only so much you can talk about your job, and it didn’t take Rodney long to cotton on that women weren’t all the interested in hearing just how secret and important his job was, and just how smart you had to be to even be considered for it. That didn’t mean he hadn’t tried to win them over, but by then he had been transferred to Russia, where the women there were loud and boisterous, and Rodney kept his head down to avoid having a ‘friendly’ arm-crushing punch.
‘What time are you flying over tomorrow?’ Sam finally asked as the wine bottle came to their table. Making a mental note not to drink too much- he always got red in the face, and as much as he liked to pretend he could, he was never very good at holding his liquor, including wine- he cleared his throat and busied himself with his napkin as he spoke.
‘About one. The flight shouldn’t take too long, and from what I can remember, Jeanie doesn’t live too far from the airport. I have no idea how long it’s going to take, though. You said it yourself, she’s a pain in the as- ’
‘Snapper Crillo?’ the waiter asked, holding out one dish. Sam raised her hand and gave the waiter a smile as he set it before her. ‘And a Pan Roasted Bass for the gentlemen.’
As the dish was set before him, Rodney cleared his throat. ‘This doesn’t have citrus right?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Because I’m allergic to- ’
‘Rodney.’
Rodney turned his head to Sam, wide-eyed. Her hand was clenched around a fork, and for a moment the image of her skewering one of his eyes entered his mind.
‘It’s not going to kill you.’
Sniffing loudly, he muttered ‘fine,’ and the waiter left the table with a self-suffering sigh. ‘You just have to be careful with these things,’ he mumbled quietly to himself, before turning to the meal. Shaking her head, Sam turned to the wine and poured herself a glass.
*
As painful as the silence had been earlier, once Rodney had decided that no, the bass wasn’t about to kill him, and the Newburg really was as delicious as Sam had said it to be, the conversation started to flow.
‘I had a difficult relationship with my brother,’ Sam admitted as she set her glass down after taking a sip. ‘I only saw his kids on holidays and birthdays, and even then he’d make snide remarks about my career.’
‘What changed?’
‘It wasn’t so much me as it was my dad. After…’ Sam gestured vaguely with her fork before continuing, ‘Dad made amends, and things began to ease. I still only see him on holidays because of work, but I don’t get the feeling he’s trying to get me out of the house as soon as he can anymore.’
‘If you’re trying to tell me to talk to Jeanie- ’
‘I’m trying to tell you that it’s not going to kill you.’ Sam set her fork and knife down and raised her eyes to Rodney, catching his gaze. ‘You started it because you didn’t like her decision. Mark and I had a strained relationship because of Dad, and I decided to get over it. You…’
She drifted off, shaking her head.
‘I’m not jealous, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘I’m not. I think you’re petty.’
Rodney snorted and lifted his glass. He still didn’t like the taste of the wine, but it was better than admitting he did feel a prick of jealousy that Jeanie had managed to settle down and find someone; her ridiculous decision to give up her opportunities to achieve grandeur in the physics field aside, of course.
‘How do you feel about dessert?’ Sam asked as she set her cutlery neatly upon her empty plate.
Scraping the last of his meal onto his fork, Rodney shrugged and gave a slight nod. When their waiter came around again, Sam requested the triple chocolate mousse, which to Rodney sounded almost sickening but accepted with a nod. Clearing the table of the plates, the waiter promised to return soon.
‘There’s this restaurant in… California, I believe. It’s called Opaque. And you eat your meal in the dark.’ Sam said suddenly.
Frowning, his nose scrunched up, Rodney stared at the over-indulgent dessert when their waiter returned.
‘Why would you do that?’ Rodney poked the mousse with his spoon, scooping some up and staring at the three different chocolates.
Sam shrugged and spoke around her mouthful. ‘I think it would be interesting. They don’t allow any form of light, even from watches or cell phones. And you have to be led everywhere by the wait staff. I’d love to go, if only to see what it’s like.’
‘It’d be kinky, I guess.’ Rodney murmured before taking a bite. The taste was very sweet, but it was the first taste of real chocolate he’d had in what felt like years, other than the tiny candy bars they occasionally received from the Daedalus. Licking his lips, almost believing that one could orgasm from the taste of chocolate alone, he let out a soft ‘Mm…’ of appreciation.
‘Of course you’d- ’
‘Shh, don’t ruin the moment,’ Rodney whispered, holding a finger up. When he opened his eyes, Sam was staring at him with a raised eyebrow and a look that suggested that his butter knife nightmare was about to come true. ‘First real chocolate I’ve had in a while.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘It’s wonderful.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Really.’
‘You have some…’ Sam motioned to her mouth. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he turned back to the mousse.
‘As I was saying, I have no doubt in my mind that people would have tried something at that restaurant. Even if it would only be some under the table groping,’ Rodney said, scooping more mousse up.
‘I’m sure most people would have too much self-dignity to lower themselves to do that.’
Rodney grinned around his spoon, and swallowed with a smirk on his face. ‘You’d want to, though. It’d be like sex in public, only nobody could see, they’d only be able to hear.’
A blush had spread over Sam’s cheeks, and she ducked her head, concentrating on her mousse.
Rodney leant over the table, moving his mousse aside. ‘And then when you’d leave, your clothes would be all rumpled, and your face would be as red as it is now, and you’d be reeking of sex.’
‘McKay.’ Sam lifted her head, her cheeks even redder now, but her lips pressed in a thin line. ‘Quiet down, people might hear.’
‘I think it would be hot,’ Rodney continued, though he lowered his voice. ‘We should go some time.’
‘I wouldn’t go there with you if I knew that’s all you had on your mind.’
‘But you would go.’ He grinned and leant back in his chair, grabbing his mousse and digging his spoon in. ‘You wouldn’t have mentioned it otherwise.’
Sam only buried her face back in her dessert, and took a large bite.
*
Once they paid, Rodney followed Sam to her car, his own parked a few bays away.
‘Well… thank you for the meal,’ Rodney said, trying to remember what Cadman had made him say on his awkward date with Katie Brown (and to an extent, Carson as well). ‘And we should do it again sometime. When I’m here, of course, not… not when… What are you smiling about?’
Sam shook her head, a grin on her face, and opened the car door. ‘You don’t need to say anything. I had a good time, myself. Surprisingly. Once you loosened up and weren’t so self-conscious of yourself.’
‘Yes, well…’ Rodney ducked his head, shrugging, and dug his car keys out of his pocket. ‘I had a good time, too, and… well, the asparagus was a bit soft, but I did enjoy the rest of the meal. I still prefer red wine, too, but you made a good choice.’
By now, Sam just tilted her head, nodding along. Clearing his throat, Rodney held out his hand. Sam took it with a quickly hidden surprised look, and shook it.
‘So… thank you for a wonderful evening, and may- what’re you doing?’
Sam had leaned forward, and quickly kissed the corner of his mouth. Wide-eyed, Rodney tilted his head down, unsure whether to reciprocate. He’d made sure to insist that this dinner wasn’t a date (as much as he pretended it was, in his mind) to avoid such awkwardness.
Sam’s hand came up to cup the side of his face, during Rodney closer, her lips brushing over his. Her tongue ran along his lower lip, and he instinctively opened his mouth, his own tongue brushing against hers. The taste of wine and chocolate from earlier swept over him, along with a taste that was distinctively Sam- something that had been missing from his hallucination so many months ago.
As she pulled away, he drew in a deep breath, trying to commit the not quite fruity, not quite spicy, but a mixture of both, smell of the perfume she was wearing to memory. His hand that wasn’t holding his keys was wrapped around her waist, having not realised it had moved there. Opening his eyes, already aware of the heat on his cheeks, he licked his lips uncertainly.
‘Good night, Rodney,’ Sam murmured quietly before stepping away and moving into her car, an almost sly, crooked smile on her face. With a nod, he waved his hand and stumbled backwards, hitting the side of the car behind him.
‘Night.’
Without another look, Sam backed out of the bay and turned the car to the carpark exit.
*
Even though the rooms at Atlantis were sound proofed, Rodney never got the feeling he was alone. The city always seemed to hum around him. He could feel the life that it held, from the sensors above every door, to the transporters, to even his bed. His apartment, quiet and dirty and utterly alone (his neighbour with the oatmeal cookies had left a note saying she had moved shortly after his last trip to Earth and the cat was with her), felt foreign and strange to him. His TV was too unclear, his radio too filled static, and his lamp refused to turn off when he willed it to with his mind. Too often had he reached up to his ear to tap at the non-existent radio to ask Radek if he wasn’t completely destroying some fragile piece of Ancient technology.
Two days on Earth and he was already going stir-crazy. The only time anything felt remotely familiar was when he was onboard the Dedalus. After leading Jeanie around, Sam left them to say she had to run some diagnostics (and giving Rodney a smile that made his stomach turn and pat his pocket for the recently purchased inhaler). After showing Jeanie the ship, and giving her a very brief history of the Stargate program (‘so this guy, Daniel something, he deciphered the symbols, and they ran into some trouble, but now we have Pregasus, and it’s so much cooler.’ ‘Is Colonel Carter going to Atlantis?’ ‘No, she works on Earth.’ ‘She seems smart.’ ‘You could say that.’ ‘Do you like her?’ ‘Mm…’ ‘Does she like you?’ ‘This is the brig, let’s test out the holding cell.’), Jeanie was teleported back to Earth.
‘Don’t you want to say goodbye to her?’ Sam asked when Jeanie had gone.
‘I’m going to be stuck in close proximity with her for the next three weeks, it’s not that long a goodbye.’
Sam only gave him a smile, similar to the one she had given after kissing him, which had made Rodney’s stomach turn again, which sent him to the bathroom, and an hour later he was back in his empty, quiet, lonely apartment. His bag was already packed and sitting by the door, his shoes beside it. He’d bought a pre-packed salad from the supermarket, and while had had intended to order a pizza, he just ended up sitting on the couch staring at the phone. The night was passing too slowly. With a tired sigh, he leant over and grabbed the phone off the coffee table, and punch in a telephone number.
‘Hello?’
‘Colonel!’
There was a pause, before, ‘McKay?’
‘You expecting someone else?’
‘I thought you would have… why are you calling?’
Rodney rubbed his free hand down the leg of his pants. He’d always had trouble with phone calls- it was so hard to judge what the other person was feeling with just their voice. Sam was probably trying to come up with a way to get Rodney off the phone. ‘Just bored. Are you busy?’
‘I was just about to make dinner.’
‘Oh. What are you having?’ It had to be more interesting than dry lettuce, soft cucumber and two tomatoes.
‘Mexican. Tacos.’
‘Sounds nice.’ Rodney paused, and on the other end of the line, he could hear the sound of plates clashing, drawers opening and something being set down. Clearing his throat, Rodney drew in a breath. ‘I should be going.’
‘Okay.’
‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Rodney muttered, before hanging up quickly. Setting the phone down beside him, he sighed loudly and slumped against the back of the couch. Apparently some version of Law and Order was on. As over-the-top it was, it was good mindless drivel. He was about to reach for the remote when the phone rang. Picking it up, he pushed the “answer” button.
‘Hello?’
‘Do you like fried ice cream?’ Sam asked.
Rodney hesitated. ‘I’ve never tried it. Hot and cold don’t go toget- ’
‘There’s a restaurant nearby that delivers. I’ll order.’
Frowning, Rodney slowly got up and shuffled to pick up his shoes. ‘Why are you being so nice?’
‘I enjoyed last night. I want fried ice cream. You’re lonely. What else?’
‘I’m not lonely.’
‘Sure you are. Why else would you call?’
Shoving his feet into his shoes, he snatched up his bag and grabbed his car keys off the coffee table.
‘I’ll be there in a few minutes,’ he mumbled before hanging up on Sam for the second time that night, and tossing the phone on the couch, knowing even as he did so that the battery would have died when he returned, he headed out the door, locking it behind him.
*
Rodney had found Sam’s address off the SGC database before he had gone to Russia. He was never quite sure why he had taken it- curiousity, maybe, or the intent to send a postcard when his fingers weren’t numb, perhaps. Either way, he had never intended to find himself standing on her front porch, waiting for her to open the door.
So what if she kissed you? A voice said in the back of his head. She goes by Earth logic. Not goddamn Pegasus logic, where oversexed alien women will sleep with anybody with a hyped-up Ancient gene. She probably drank too much wine and will apologise for her mistake, before taking her top off as a way to make it up to you. That would work nicely. Maybe you should have brought wine-
‘Hi, Rodney, come on in.’
Shaking his head, having not heard the door open, Rodney waved and nudged Sam out of the way to step inside. Although the smell of rich spices and sizzling meat was strong, there was a distinct lake of wine. Rodney wondered if that was a good or bad thing.
‘Do you mind if we eat at the coffee table? I was going to clear the dining table, but…’ Sam motioned to the room behind her, where books and papers were strewn over the tabletop.
‘That’s fine,’ Rodney murmured in response, still taking in her house. Moving to the kitchen bench, he pulled out a stool and sat down. Sam was busy setting small bowls of chopped up lettuce, tomato and various other vegetables (and lots of cheese, he noticed happily) on the coffee table.
‘It looks like your grandmother decorated this place,’ Rodney finally announced. Sam paused where she was, her arms crossing over her chest.
‘I didn’t invite you over so you could criticize my home, McKay.’
Rodney shrugged. ‘You always struck me as a red velvet couch kind of person. Lots of vibrant, distracting colours. Not this… tartan, linen décor scheme you have going on,’ he said, offering a lopsided grin.
‘If my furniture offends you so much, you can leave.’
‘Nah, the food smells too good.’
Narrowing her eyes, Sam crossed back into the kitchen and pulled the frying pan filled with mince off the stove.
‘There’s no- ’
‘Yes, Rodney, my plan was to invite you here with the lure of fried ice cream, only to poison you with oranges and to stash your body under the remains of the Stargate Orlin built in my basement.’
Watching as Sam spooned the mince onto an empty plate, Rodney propped his elbows up on the bench, hunching over.
‘Who’s Orlin?’
‘An Ancient.’
‘Why was he in your basement?’
‘He followed me home after a mission. He… was attracted to me.’ Her eyes flittered up to meet Rodney’s. Pushing the plate over to him, she turned to the taco shells that lay on another plate. ‘Can you set the meat down on the table? Everything else is set up, I just need to these up.’
With a nod, Rodney took the plate and moved to the coffee table. While the couch wasn’t the most comfortable thing he’d ever sat upon, there weren’t any springs digging into his spine and no noticeable lumps. Maybe Sam picked comfort over style. Velvet made him itch, anyway.
Sam sat down beside him, setting down the plate of freshly heated taco shells, as well as two glasses of fizzing soda. A sniff told Rodney it was almost forgotten Pepsi. The only beverages offered on Atlantis were milk, water, various kinds of juice and whatever they scored off a successful trade. Sam reached over the arm of the couch, and produced a remote. Soon, soft music was coming from a stereo Rodney couldn’t find, the tune reminding him of his undergraduate days.
Reaching for his glass, he was about to raise a toast (after all, that’s what Cadman had said to do, and he’s forgotten to do one the night before, so it would be poor manners not to done now, right?), but Sam had already grabbed a taco shell and was spooning meat and vegetables, as well as the taco sauce into it. Before she took a bite, she glanced up and stared at him.
‘Are you going to eat? I was joking about the death plot.’
‘Oh. I know. I just, ah, wanted to say thank you for inviting me over, and for last night… and for not humiliating me in front of Jeanie, and, uh… it smells delicious.’
Sam eyed him for a moment, before a warm grin spread over her face. ‘Thanks. You, too.’
As he took a swig of his drink and started to make his own taco, Rodney let the pleased warmth spread through him.
The music made the silence comfortable. During her second taco, Sam asked if seeing his sister had made him realize how much he’d missed out on. Rodney had shrugged, mumbled about how tall Madison was, and how much tofu sucked, before saying he was going to get more Pepsi, and did she want any?
By Rodney’s fourth taco, Sam was telling him about when she and the old SG-1 team had traveled back in time to 1969. After a subdued argument over whether it was right to let their hippie companions know about the Stargate, Rodney let himself imagine Sam in flowing tie-dye skirts and beaded necklaces.
As their meal dwindled, Sam finally commented, ‘My mother played the piano.’
‘Mm?’
‘Once, when my dad was on Earth, he was allowed to leave Cheyenne mountain. He went the whole day trying to convince me to buy a piano. I’ve never taken lessons, but his theory was if I had access to one, I’d learn.’
‘So what happened?’
Starting to clear away the empty dishes, Sam stood. Rodney followed her. ‘I ended up buying some… overpriced keyboard that was apparently a good model. Actual keys instead of buttons, according to the clerk. I took it back here, started to build the stand, but never tried to play it.’
Taking the dishes from Sam, Rodney set them in the sink. ‘Why not?’
‘Music was never really my thing. I played the recorder in the fourth grade like everyone else, but I never caught on.’
The temptation to say, “you need to be smart to play” was sitting on the top of his tongue. He swallowed it down, however- he was a genius, and even he couldn’t grasp all aspects of being a musician. Instead, he asked, ‘Where is the detergent?’
*
The radio had been turned off, the TV had been turned on, and half an hour later, Rodney was nursing a bowl of fried ice cream that Sam had ordered over the telephone and cautiously taking bites. Beside him, Sam was stretched out, her feet propped up on the coffee table. Taking a small, hesitant bite, Rodney eyed his half-eaten ice cream, and then the last few mouthfuls of Sam’s.
‘Don’t you like it?’ she asked when she caught him looking. Rodney smacked his lips together before replying.
‘It’s… different.’
‘If you don’t like it- ’
‘I’m eating it, okay? The temperature difference is just a bit of a shock, that’s all,’ he huffed, turning back to the TV. It was a medical drama- one that decided graphic close-ups of bowels and bones and blood was absolutely necessary for riveting storylines. Scrunching his nose up in disgust, he turned back to his ice cream. At least that wasn’t disgusting.
He was about to place his finally finished bowl on the table, when Sam swung her feet off of it and let out a yawn.
‘I’m going to have a shower. You can have a look in the basement for the keyboard, if you want. Just don’t break anything.’
Rodney nodded, collecting both the bowls and spoons as Sam headed off down the passageway. Several minutes later, bowls drying on the sink, he heard the sound of running water.
It would be so easy, he knew- to follow the sound of running water, strip off his clothes and step into the shower with her. Press her wet naked body against his and drink in the sensations that went with it. It was one of his favourite fantasies during achingly lonely nights on Atlantis, after an exhausting mission. When a cold shower did nothing but make the images in his mind all the more clear. Even his hallucination of Sam in the puddlejumper, despite the imminent fear of death, did nothing to sway his fantasies away.
She had to be teasing him. She knew about the puddlejumper, about how much he wanted her, and now… Hooking his fingers around the belt loops of his pants, he hitched them higher up on his hips and started to look for the basement door.
*
Despite preparing himself for the worst, the basement wasn’t as filthy as he thought it would be. After a quick search, he located the box with the keyboard inside it; the half-built stand was balanced awkwardly beside it. After taking the box the upstairs, he pulled the keyboard and its plug-ins out and started to assemble it on the coffee table. He only noticed the shower wasn’t running when Sam was standing in the archway.
‘You found it,’ she said. Rodney nodded, keeping his eyes on the keyboard and unraveling the power cord to avoid staring at her still-damp skin, and the way her tank stuck to her skin.
‘I was going to bring the stand up but there didn’t seem any point.’
‘You can take it back to Atlantis, if you want,’ San said, taking a step forward. Having unraveled the cord, Rodney held up the end.
‘Really?’
Giving a smirk, Sam snatched it away from him and bent down to plug it into the wall. As the back of her shirt rode up (and Rodney wasn’t checking out her ass, really. Ever since Anubis, he’d been concerned about Sam hurting herself around electrical equipment. That’s what he told himself, anyway), he noticed the tag sticking out the back of her track pants. Without another thought- he didn’t dare let himself think, because he’d seen a butter knife in her sink- he stepped forward and thumbed the tag down. Sam jerked up like she’d been burnt and it was only by luck that Rodney didn’t get knocked back as she spun around.
‘The tag… your pants, it was sticking out.’
Sam only eyed him, before the stiffness melted away from her shoulders. There was a hint of a smirk on her lips.
‘Do you want a shower?’
I thought I’d be going back to my apartment,’ he replied, ignoring the fact his bag was lying in his backseat. ‘If you’re offering…’
‘It’s getting late.’ Rodney also ignored the fact that it was barely 9:00, and that was by no means “late”. ‘Stay. I don’t have a guestroom, but I find the couch to be more comfy than my bed. I’ll get you a towel.’
Swallowing thickly, Rodney followed Sam down the hall, as she pulled a thick, wooly towel from the linen closet. With a warm grin, she patted him on the shoulder and started back to the living room. If Rodney didn’t believe in masturbating in other people’s houses, he would have pulled his pants down right there and jerked off.
*
The floor of the shower was still wet from Sam’s shower. Setting the towel over the rack, he shrugged out of his unbuttoned collared shirt and pulled the t-shirt over his head. He wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Sam’s bathroom was neat- a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste in a glass, a razor sitting by the sink, slightly wet, an empty glass sitting on a shelf under the mirror. As he stepped out of his shoes, socks and pants, his thumbs curled around the waist of his boxers, he glanced at the second closed door. He stared at it for several long seconds, knowing it had to lead to Sam’s bedroom, and it would be so easy to walk in there. Drawing in a deep breath, he turned his back on it, shoved his boxers down and turned the shower on.
There was a cake of soap in the soap dish, as well as bottles of shampoo and conditioner on the floor. Next to them was a square bottle with pink liquid inside it. Picking it up, Rodney squinted at the label. Body wash.
Huh, who knew she could be girly, a voice in his head said. Uncapping it, he took a sniff. It was almost fruity, with a hint of spice. He recognized it as what she had smelt like the night before. Not so much girly, another voice said, just nice.
Squeezing a liberal amount into his hand- who was he to ignore something? If it was good enough for Sam, it was good enough for him- he started to soap up.
*
‘Play something for me,’ Sam said. Rodney had just entered the living room after his shower, beads of water making his clothes stick to his skin, though he doubted it was as attractive as Sam’s clothing had been. Setting his shoes and socks next to the couch, he shook his head.
‘Let’s not,’ he replied, flopping down next to Sam, blatantly ignoring the piano.
‘Why not? I want to hear you.’
‘I’m uncomfortable playing in front of people.’
‘And yet you wanted to be a pianist.’
Rodney shrugged again. ‘I was young. Everybody’s over-confident when they’re young.’
He could feel Sam’s gaze on him as she leant towards him. ‘I want to hear you play.’
‘Maybe later,’ he said with an uncommitted shrug of a shoulder, before turning back to the TV.
*
The pillow Sam had given him was soft, and the blanket was warm. After folding his pants and collared shirt and placing them on the floor, he had rolled over and tried to sleep. Sam had long gone to bed, so the house was silent, other than the odd creak of noise from outside.
Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, Rodney sat up, the blanket pooling around his middle. Swinging his feet to the floor, he shuffled down the corridor to make sure Sam’s door was closed, before returning to the lounge. Turning the light on, he sat down opposite the keyboard and pressed the ‘On’ button. After adjusting the sostenuto pedal under the table and turning down the volume, Rodney let his fingers brush the keys. It was nothing like he was used to- he was used to baby grands and upright pianos. Not this digital thing that might pass as a piano for the musically impaired and downright stupid.
The first awkward, barely remembered notes of ‘Over the Rainbow’ started to play as his fingers stumbled across the keyboard. Although only the chorus stayed in his mind, and half the first verse, Rodney let himself fall into it. The sound of a door opening made him stop, however, and his fingers crashed on the keyboard. When he lifted his head, Sam was leaning against the wall, hair mussed and eyes slightly bleary.
‘No wonder she told you to quit.’
‘Yes, well, it’s not like I’ve played in the past thirty years. The Ancients weren’t known for the musical melodies.’
Sam didn’t say anything until she crossed and sat down on the armrest. ‘You never decided to keep playing?’
‘I did a few months after she told me. And six months before I left for Russia. But freezing my fingers off in the middle of Siberia cut that plan short.’
There was silence as Rodney traced his fingers over the keys, avoiding looking at Sam.
‘I heard you before you stopped,’ Sam finally said, her voice soft. ‘For someone who hasn’t played in so long, you’re good. I think your teacher was wrong.’
‘In saying I should quit?’
‘In saying you’re dispassionate. I’m no expert, but it sounds to me like you really enjoy it.’
‘Mm…’ He stared down at the keys, his fingers brushing over the raised, black ones. He forced himself to stay still as he felt Sam’s hand brush across his shoulder.
‘Play for me,’ she whispered.
Looking up at her, he asked, ‘Play what?’
Sam’s hand moved to cup the back of his neck, fingers tickling the hair there. ‘I don’t mind. Anything.’ Her voice was surprisingly level.
Swallowing hard, Rodney pushed down on a key, the sound resonating around the room, then another. The chords were choppy, the cadence off. An old tune he loved as a child, which used to remind him of warm summer days spent outside, practicing the movements of his fingers on the grass as Jeanie ran around in his swimsuit. ‘Toad in a Hole’, or something. But now he would only remember it as the time Sam-fucking-Carter kissed him behind the ear, her breath hot and her tongue warm as she swiped it over the shell of his ear. His hands slammed down on the piano as he turned to stare at her. Her lips were parted and wet, her cheeks flushed and eyes heavy-lidded.
‘I didn’t ask you to stop,’ she murmured, her voice catching only slightly.
‘I didn’t ask you to kiss me,’ Rodney growled, before grabbing her by the shoulder and pulling her into a kiss. The kiss was rough and heated, their teeth knocking, lips being bitten and bruised, and at some point, Rodney found himself with his back on the couch and his hands pushing the back of Sam’s tank up and roaming over the soft, fruity-spicy skin.
‘Come to bed with me,’ Sam croaked, her lips grazing his cheek. Rodney didn’t have time to answer- Sam was already moving, grabbing his hand and dragging him up with her. Stumbling backwards, the keyboard nearly being knocked off the coffee table, Sam pulled Rodney along, stopping only once to take his T-shirt and pull it over his head.
‘That better not have stretched,’ Rodney mumbled against her mouth, kicking the door closed as they stumbled into the bedroom.
‘And if it did?’
‘I’ll get lots of personal questions from my sister about what I got up to on my last night on Earth.’
Sam gave a breathless laugh as she stumbled backwards and switched on a bedside lamp.
‘I like being able to see,’ she offered as way of an explanation when she returned to him. That also explained why she wasn’t interested in having sex in the Opaque restaurant. Pushing him back onto the bed, Sam straddled his lap, legs wrapping around his waist, hands cupping either side of his face, pulling him up for a kiss.
Rodney couldn’t help it- he groaned low, his hands brushing over her breasts. She was so close against him- just the material of their clothes separating them, and the thought of that made his head spin. Moving his hands down, making Sam gasp as he did, he hooked his fingers around the bottom of her tank and pulled it up. The kiss broke only long enough for him to pull it over her head. His hands found her breasts again, his thumbs caressing her nipples, before moving back down, the back of his fingers against the curve of her breast, and down over her ribs.
‘Keep doing that,’ Sam whispered, taking one of his hands, kissing the palm, and guiding it back to her breast. ‘Your hands are soft. I like it.’
Tilting his head as Sam bent to nip at his neck, Rodney placed his hands back over her breasts. He could feel her nipples, hard against his palms. He knew he should do something- she was doing all the work, and even now she was no doubt leaving bright red teeth marks over his neck as she bit and sucked her way down. But he’d wanted this for so long that he was completely unsure about what to do. Trying to find the motive to move his hands, however, was becoming increasingly difficult as the feeling of Sam’s teeth on his neck made it almost impossible for him to put together a single thought. Rodney jerked his hips as Sam bit down on the hollow of his throat. Squeezing his eyes shut, head thrown back, he let out a long, loud moan. As Sam raised her head, he could feel her eyes on him.
‘Did you- ’
‘No.’ She didn’t need to finish her sentence. To emphasize his point, Rodney grabbed her ass, pulling her closer against him. Opening his eyes, he held her gaze as he lifted his hands, running them over her ass and up to the hemline of her pants. Pulling them down, bundling them around her thighs, he held one hip in his hand, balancing her, the other tracing over the lace of her pale blue underwear. Moving his hands up the inside of her thigh, he ran his finger between her legs, feeling her dampness through her panties. Watching as she pursed her lips, the dim lamplight highlighting her blush, Rodney gave a crooked grin and ran his finger across the edge of her panties.
‘Why are you doing this?’ he asked as casually as possible. ‘Going out to dinner with me… inviting me over here… letting me touch you like this.’
Sam only let out a gasp as Rodney leant forward, running his tongue over one breast, than the other, sucking at the nipple in his mouth.
‘I told you I was attracted to you,’ she finally managed to get out, her hips thrust out, balanced only by Rodney’s hand.
‘When you hated me,’ he mumbled, teeth grazing before he took her breast back in his mouth, sucking again on her nipple.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ she hissed, breathless. ‘Since I saw you at Atlantis. What… what you said about the… the puddlejumper, and me…’ She swallowed and turned to look down at him. Cupping his face, he let Sam guide his head to look up at her. ‘I’d even dare a guess to say you love me.’
Rodney stared up at her silently. His hands stilled, his chest heaving, skin hot with arousal.
‘Do you?’ she asked quietly.
Rodney had never given it serious thought. A “no” would make him seem like a jerk (which he was, but would make it even more true), and she would no doubt go butter knife on his balls. A “yes” would no doubt make him seem pathetic. She was his fantasy. Smart and funny and strong and career driven. Blonde and sexy, and Christ, geeky. And hot for him if her current state suggested anything. Though he’d never thought about it being love.
‘Maybe,’ he croaked. Sam grinned, laughing softly, her hands brushing over his cheeks, her face flushed. Frowning, Rodney screwed his nose up. ‘Sorry…’
With a sniff, the grin still on her face, Sam kissed him gently. ‘You looked so nervous at my question, that’s all. It was cute.’
‘Sorry, but I keep freaking out that you’re going to throw me out.’
When Sam didn’t reply, Rodney curled his thumb around the waist of Sam’s panties and jerked them down. Keeping his eyes on her face, he brushed his hand over her now-bare hip, down the curve of her thigh, and across the soft triangle of hair the lead down to her slick folds. Tilting his hand, he ran the pads of his fingers across her cunt, slipping his fingers in, his thumb sweeping over her clit. Her hips bucked as he crooked his fingers inside her, and when Rodney lifted his head, Sam’s head was tipped back, her cheeks flushed, mouth open, and tongue flicking out to wet her lips. Slipping his fingers out, thumb circling her clit one last time, he cupped her ass, lifting her.
‘Up,’ he whispered. Complying, Sam started to push her panties and track pants down. Swinging her legs over, she landed flat on her back, legs in the air as she kicked them off. He took the moment to drink in her body from the way her hip jutted out as she lay down, to the shadows across her breasts from the lamp, to the mole on the inside of her thigh.
‘What?’ she asked, perching herself up on her elbows.
‘Just looking,’ he replied, before shucking out of his boxers. As they were flung to the floor, next to Sam’s clothes, Rodney lay down on his side, facing Sam. Tentatively, he reached out, bringing his fingertips to her skin and running them across her body; over her shoulder, across the curve of her breast and down her leg to cup the back of her knee. All gentle skin under his touch, hot and flushed. Moving his hand between her thighs, he ran his palm over her cunt, enjoying the way her hips bucked, her toes curled into the sheets and most of all, the way she squeezed around his fingers, each time being punctuated by a gasp and a gulp of air.
Bending his head, leaning over her to ease the stress on his neck, he kissed her softly. His tongue ran over her lower lip, slipping inside as she opened her mouth. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her hips thrusting in time with his hand.
‘Rodney…’
Pulling away, he gazed down at her- her blown pupils, her kiss-swollen lips, the sweat on her upper lip. Slipping his hand from her, his wrist brushing along her slick thighs, he let Sam move him as she sat up and shoved him against the bed head, a pillow squished against his lower back. She took his cock in her hand, her finger circling the head.
‘I never thought… with the dinner, and- and the kiss, but… I wanted, but never thought- ’
‘Shh…’ Sam leant over, kissing him lightly. ‘You’re rambling.’
‘I do that,’ he admittedly quietly. Sam’s lips moved down his throat and to his shoulder, before she let go of his cock and shuffled back. She moved over the side of the bed. ‘Sorry, sorry, I won’t- ’
He cut himself off as Sam reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a condom.
‘Unless you have any objections,’ she said with a shrug.
‘No. No objections.’ His throat was dry as Sam moved back onto his thighs. Ripping the navy packaging open and flicking it to the floor. Taking Rodney’s cock back in her hand, she rolled the condom over it, her eyes locked on his. Cupping his balls, giving them a slight squeeze, Sam lifted her hips and eased the tip of Rodney’s cock inside of her.
‘Oh, crap,’ he groaned. Even through the condom, he could feel her, hot and tight and slick around him. Sam’s hips arched, and, uncontrollably, he thrust up to meet her. She gasped, head thrown back, throat exposed. Resting his hands on her hips, Rodney tilted his head up to kiss the side of her neck. He trailed his lips over her jaw and down, over her chin to her lower lip. At the same time, one of his hands moved over her thigh to her clit, his thumb rubbing small circles over it. Sam’s breath was hitching in her throat, each upward thrust and flick of her clit eliciting a moan. And with each clench of her cunt, each tightening grip of her arms around his shoulders, each time Sam leant into the kiss, hungry and unrestrained and lustful made Rodney groan and tug her closer.
With a shudder, Sam clutched him tighter, her mouth open against his. It took Rodney to moment to realize- and even then, only when she whispered his name again and again- that she was coming. Her thrusts were jerky, eyes closed tight, her face flushed so read that Rodney couldn’t help but kiss her on the cheek.
As one last shiver ran through Sam’s body, Rodney gave one last thrust and that was all it took for him. It shook right through him- his heels scraping across the messed-up bed sheets, his head buried into the crook of Sam’s neck. Bright lights flashed behind his eyes. All he knew was that Sam was in his lap, and oh, God, they’d had sex and as soon as he could move they had to do it again.
‘Oh… Jesus.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Let’s do that again.’
Sam laughed- tired and exhausted, but rich and happy. With effort that Rodney couldn’t even begin to comprehend, Sam rolled off of him, her limbs loose, her body bare and with such unashamed bliss that Rodney wouldn’t have begun to thought possible five years ago. Even five hours ago. She turned to him, still utterly blessed-out and took his limp hand.
‘You want to wash up?’
With a groan, Rodney managed to nod. They made it to the bathroom, but Rodney couldn’t remember how. The condom was pulled off and thrown in the bin by the toilet. Washing his hands under the sink, Rodney grabbed the face towel, ran it under the faucet and rubbed it over Sam’s thighs, as she leant against the wall. Although he could have done with a shower instead of a once over with the bathroom sink, the fog moved from his brain and he realized, with a fond grin (and especially after Sam dragged him back into the bed and pulled the sex-smelling covers over them before she turned off the lamp), that returning to Earth wasn’t all that bad.
*
The alarm was one of the worst creations man ever made, shortly behind doorbells and cell phones. When willing the buzzing off with his mind didn’t work, Rodney succumbed to being annoyingly human, reached over Sam and smack the alarm to the ground. The buzzing quickly shut off.
‘You broke it,’ Sam mumbled tiredly.
‘It’s not Ancient. It sucks. Buy another one.’
Sam gave a loud yawn and rolled over, burying her face in Rodney’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him.
‘I have to go to work,’ she said with a yawn.
‘I have to go home,’ Rodney replied, already feeling himself doze off.
‘You forget something?’ He felt Sam shift, and he wished silently for telepathic powers so he could tell her to stop without having to speak.
‘Everyone,’ he finally replied, the word taking more effort than necessary.
‘Atlantis?’
‘Uh-huh.’ His breath was already starting to level out, and something told him if he didn’t get up now, Jeanie was going to know everything. It didn’t matter, though. ‘Come home with me.’
‘I can’t. I have… work. Bookkeeping. Daniel will hate me.’
In his sleepy mind, they were all very good reasons. However- ‘Promise me you’ll come soon.’
Sam yawned and kissed his chest, her body soft in his arms. When he woke up, he knew this conversation would be forgotten, but even so, he strained to hear her answer-
‘Okay.’
Author: finding_jay
Pairing:Rodney/Sam
Rating: NC:17
Warnings: Safe-sex ; citrus ; bad white wine ; fried ice cream ; 9,660 words
Summary: Looking back, it would all fall into place. Then again, hindsight is 20/20, and Rodney had always refused to wear his glasses. But who was he to turn down a free meal?
Disclaimer: No own.
Notes: Written for 7_deadly_sins_. Prompt was ‘lust’.
He imagines her sitting in the front row of a crowd of thousands. He can see her from where he sits on the stage. The piano is white, the stool is soft, and the music coming from his fingers is absolute gold. The crowd loves him. He makes millions by making beauty.
After the performance, he returns to his dressing room, where Sam is already waiting for him. She’s wearing a beautiful black gown with a string of diamonds around her neck and a wedding ring on her finger. She pulls him in for a kiss, and everything is right in the world. No Ori, no Wraith, just him and his music and Sam.
*
He’d been given clearance to stay at his own apartment until he was scheduled to return to Atlantis. The Air Force had given him a rental car, since his own had been sold before he left. He’d twisted his landlord’s to allow him to keep his apartment while he went away “on business”, with the promise that all rent would be paid directly from his bank account, and his pet cat would be given to his attractive next door neighbour, whose name he still couldn’t remember, but she made the best oatmeal cookies.
Although most of his necessary belongings were in Atlantis, and he had a spare change of clothes in the backpack he had brought with him, he knew his apartment would be more comfortable than staying on base the next few days. His wallet and keys had been locked in a room with the rest of Atlantis’ expedition members’ identification belongings when they had set off for the Pegasus galaxy. After retrieving them and making plans to fly over to Canada, he started down the maze of corridors of the SGC and found himself standing outside Sam’s lab, the door half-open, a flicker of yellow, red and green lights reflecting off the metal door. Clearing his throat, he took a step forward.
‘What’re you doing tonight?’ Rodney asked as he stood in the doorway.
Sam lifted her head from the workbench she was sitting at, before dropping her gaze again. Heading across the room, he picked Jeanie’s paper up that she had been reading (she’d already read it twice now, she had no excuse to not share it with him, and wasn’t that really why he was here?), and tilted his head towards her.
‘Nothing,’ Sam finally replied, before quickly adding, ‘but I have to be up early tomorrow, so I can’t do anything tonight.’
‘I wasn’t going to ask you to do anything.’
‘Oh…’ Sam shifted out of her chair and stood, her brow narrowed just slightly that suggested to Rodney that she was trying to find his ulterior motive.
‘I have to fly up to see Jeanie tomorrow, as it is, and the Air Force has lent me a car to take me to my old apartment. But since all the food I had would now be out of date, I was going to ask if you knew of any nice restaurants where I wouldn’t look like a loser sitting there by myself.’
‘There’s always McDonalds.’
Rodney snorted and flipped a page. ‘Yes, because there’s nothing better than a churning stomach on an airplane.’
Sam rolled her eyes, leaning against her desk. ‘I’m not going on a date with you, Rodney.’
‘Who said anything about a date? I’m only asking your opinion on fine restaurants in the local vicinity. If you decided to eat with me, that’s your own decision.’ He could feel a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips, but he fought it down. He could feel smug later, when Sam was dressed up and sitting across from him. ‘But I’m sure your duties tomorrow are very important, so I wouldn’t want to- ’
‘Okay, okay, there’s this place a bit north. I’ll make a reservation. It’s a bit of a distance, but they do this snapper dish, which is fantastic.’
‘What time, then?’
Rubbing her right eye the heel of her hand, Sam slumped back down in her seat. ‘Is 6:30 okay?’
Allowing the smirk to form on his face, Rodney nodded and grabbed a blank piece of paper and pen off Sam’s desk, setting his sister’s paper back down. Jotting down his address, he placed in front of Sam and took a step back, towards the door.
‘Great! I’ll see you then.’
He decided to ignore the groan that came from Sam as he left her office. Inviting Sam out was a lot easier than he thought it would be.
*
Rodney’s apartment had a thin layer of dust covering any flat surface. It took two hours to vacuum everything remotely allergenic up, another half hour to ease down his asthma enough that he could drive to the nearest pharmacy, and then forty-five minutes to drive there and back after picking up an inhaler. So by the time 5:30 rolled around, Rodney scrambled to have a shower and shave, iron a collared shirt and pair of dress pants that were now a size to big, and even then he knew he was going to be at least fifteen minutes late because he still had no idea where the restaurant was so he’d have to find the road map and find the quickest route to the damn place.
Another forty-five minutes later and he was still trying to get into his shoes that kept pinching his toes, the road map under one arm, keys and wallet clenched in his fist, as he rushed out the building and to where he parked his car. Staring at his shoes, he wondered if he should have given them a polish, since Sam was probably going to kill him with a butter knife when he finally found the restaurant, so being another ten minutes late probably wouldn’t matter. Deciding against it- maybe she’d attack for the throat and let him die quickly- he jiggled his car key away from the rest on the over-filled key ring and shoved them into the door.
‘I thought we were taking my car?’
Spinning around to find Sam standing behind him, Rodney couldn’t help but give a yelp.
‘I only have brown shoe polish, I’m sorry.’
Sam, looking friendly enough and carrying no knives of any kind (though Rodney eyed her handbag warily, because he knew from experience that Lt. Colonels could not be trusted, even if they smiled and were brilliant at math, not that he’d admit it Sheppard or Carter), waved her car keys in front of him.
‘You gave me your address. I presumed that meant you wanted me to pick you up.’
‘Oh, right, right,’ Rodney murmured as he ran a hand through his still-damp hair, the road map tumbling from under his arm and landing on the grass. Sam bent down to pick it up, handing it over to him with an amused smile. Taking it from her, he turned back to his car, opened it and tossed the road map into the passenger side seat. ‘How about I follow you?’
Sam frowned, arms crossing over her chest, an eyebrow rising.
‘Since this isn’t a date or anything, so there’s no reason for us to… And you said you had to get up early tomorrow, so there’s no reason why you should drive back… here. You look nice, by the way,’ he quickly added, knowing already that he was starting to babble. ‘With the, you know,’ he mumbled, motioning to the red frill along the dress’ neckline that Sam had on.
‘McKay,’ Sam snapped. Rodney promptly shut up. ‘Why did you give me your address if you didn’t want me to drive over?’
‘Spur of the moment,’ he said with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘For later reference.’
With a sigh, Sam waved his hand and took a step to where her car had parked. ‘Okay. Follow me, then. We’re already late as it is.’
*
Following Sam in the car behind her was terrifying. She drove fast, ran amber lights, and at one point Rodney lost sight of her completely until she spun around a corner and motioned through the window for him to catch up.
‘I am never letting you drive me anywhere,’ Rodney said when they reached the restaurant. Sam only gave a smile, locked her car and started to the door. Rodney followed her, his hands waving. ‘Really! You’re absolutely terrible! I was surprised you weren’t pulled over by the police!’
‘I was going the speed limit, McKay, you just drive slow.’
‘I drive safely. You drive like you’re in an action movie.’
‘Uh-huh.’ Shaking her head ever so slightly, Sam opened the restaurant’s door and stepped inside, Rodney at her heels.
‘You’re going to get killed, someday. I’m shocked they would allow you fly any sort of air- ’
‘McKay.’ Sam turned to him, her eyes narrowed, before turning to the maître d' with a thin smile, saying, ‘reservation for Carter.’
The maître d' checked the list, then with a smile and asked the two to follow him to their table. He’d never been one for eating out, and even though this had been his idea, Rodney found himself already starting to fidgit as he sat down opposite Sam. Picking up the menu, he found himself having to draw in a deep breath and close his eyes for a few seconds before he was able to concentrate on the words swimming before him.
‘You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?’ Sam asked with a humored tone.
‘Sorry,’ Rodney sighed, setting the menu down. The corner of Sam’s lip quirked slightly. Frowning, Rodney glared are her. ‘What?’
‘Nothing, nothing,’ Sam replied, shaking her head, flipping a page.
‘I’m just not very good at these things.’
‘What things?’
‘These… not-date things,’ he said, motioning between them.
‘So relax. You don’t have to woo me. You just have to make sure you chew with your mouth closed, don’t spill any wine on your shirt and try to make polite conversation.’
Rodney sighed and propped his elbow up on the table, turning back to the menu.
‘I recommend the snapper,’ Sam said after a moment’s silence.
‘What about the Jica… what?’ Ancient was one thing. The languages of his own planet were another, especially when related to exotic sounding foods.
‘The Jicama salad? That has lime in it.’
With a sigh, he flipped another page in the menu. ‘What about the bass?’
‘It’s a bit spicy, but the sauce is wonderful. I tried making it a few months ago, but I added too much paprika. Pete nearly choked on it.’
‘Your fiancé? Wouldn’t he be… oh, a bit curious as to why you’re eating dinner with me?’
Sam’s response was short. ‘We broke up a little over eighteen months ago.’
‘Oh.’ Rodney paused, taking his eyes off the Pan Roasted Bass that boasted its Newburg sauce to watch Sam busy herself with the wine menu. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because it’s none of your business.’ Sam turned the wine menu to Rodney. ‘Do you prefer red or white?’
‘Red, but I’m curious as to why you didn’t mention it to me.’
‘I’m surprised you even knew I was engaged in the first place. Anyway, my father had just died, and I wasn’t ready to get married. There were more pressing matters. Pete knew, and we still see each other occasionally. It’s not that big a deal, McKay. Now help me choose a wine.’
‘White goes well with fish.’
Sam raised her eye, head tilted some.
‘Sheppard told me,’ Rodney quickly added with a small shrug of his shoulders. ‘Sauvignon Blancs, especially. I don’t like drinking it because it tastes like citrus, and you know- ’ Sam was waving her hand to tell him to hurry up. ‘But, anyway, I can’t tell the difference when it comes to white, but if it makes you feel more important…’
With a nod, Sam folded her menu along with the wine list, and set them aside, taking Rodney’s when he told her what he wanted. The waiter came by, took their orders, with Sam’s insistence of no citrus when Rodney started to open his mouth, and when he left, Rodney and Sam fell into silence.
He knew this was going to happen. After the discussion of what they were going to eat and drink was over, and the “oh, such-and-such is great” pointers were over and done with, they wouldn’t have much to discuss. Working for top-secret organizations always led to social difficulty. There’s only so much you can talk about your job, and it didn’t take Rodney long to cotton on that women weren’t all the interested in hearing just how secret and important his job was, and just how smart you had to be to even be considered for it. That didn’t mean he hadn’t tried to win them over, but by then he had been transferred to Russia, where the women there were loud and boisterous, and Rodney kept his head down to avoid having a ‘friendly’ arm-crushing punch.
‘What time are you flying over tomorrow?’ Sam finally asked as the wine bottle came to their table. Making a mental note not to drink too much- he always got red in the face, and as much as he liked to pretend he could, he was never very good at holding his liquor, including wine- he cleared his throat and busied himself with his napkin as he spoke.
‘About one. The flight shouldn’t take too long, and from what I can remember, Jeanie doesn’t live too far from the airport. I have no idea how long it’s going to take, though. You said it yourself, she’s a pain in the as- ’
‘Snapper Crillo?’ the waiter asked, holding out one dish. Sam raised her hand and gave the waiter a smile as he set it before her. ‘And a Pan Roasted Bass for the gentlemen.’
As the dish was set before him, Rodney cleared his throat. ‘This doesn’t have citrus right?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Because I’m allergic to- ’
‘Rodney.’
Rodney turned his head to Sam, wide-eyed. Her hand was clenched around a fork, and for a moment the image of her skewering one of his eyes entered his mind.
‘It’s not going to kill you.’
Sniffing loudly, he muttered ‘fine,’ and the waiter left the table with a self-suffering sigh. ‘You just have to be careful with these things,’ he mumbled quietly to himself, before turning to the meal. Shaking her head, Sam turned to the wine and poured herself a glass.
*
As painful as the silence had been earlier, once Rodney had decided that no, the bass wasn’t about to kill him, and the Newburg really was as delicious as Sam had said it to be, the conversation started to flow.
‘I had a difficult relationship with my brother,’ Sam admitted as she set her glass down after taking a sip. ‘I only saw his kids on holidays and birthdays, and even then he’d make snide remarks about my career.’
‘What changed?’
‘It wasn’t so much me as it was my dad. After…’ Sam gestured vaguely with her fork before continuing, ‘Dad made amends, and things began to ease. I still only see him on holidays because of work, but I don’t get the feeling he’s trying to get me out of the house as soon as he can anymore.’
‘If you’re trying to tell me to talk to Jeanie- ’
‘I’m trying to tell you that it’s not going to kill you.’ Sam set her fork and knife down and raised her eyes to Rodney, catching his gaze. ‘You started it because you didn’t like her decision. Mark and I had a strained relationship because of Dad, and I decided to get over it. You…’
She drifted off, shaking her head.
‘I’m not jealous, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘I’m not. I think you’re petty.’
Rodney snorted and lifted his glass. He still didn’t like the taste of the wine, but it was better than admitting he did feel a prick of jealousy that Jeanie had managed to settle down and find someone; her ridiculous decision to give up her opportunities to achieve grandeur in the physics field aside, of course.
‘How do you feel about dessert?’ Sam asked as she set her cutlery neatly upon her empty plate.
Scraping the last of his meal onto his fork, Rodney shrugged and gave a slight nod. When their waiter came around again, Sam requested the triple chocolate mousse, which to Rodney sounded almost sickening but accepted with a nod. Clearing the table of the plates, the waiter promised to return soon.
‘There’s this restaurant in… California, I believe. It’s called Opaque. And you eat your meal in the dark.’ Sam said suddenly.
Frowning, his nose scrunched up, Rodney stared at the over-indulgent dessert when their waiter returned.
‘Why would you do that?’ Rodney poked the mousse with his spoon, scooping some up and staring at the three different chocolates.
Sam shrugged and spoke around her mouthful. ‘I think it would be interesting. They don’t allow any form of light, even from watches or cell phones. And you have to be led everywhere by the wait staff. I’d love to go, if only to see what it’s like.’
‘It’d be kinky, I guess.’ Rodney murmured before taking a bite. The taste was very sweet, but it was the first taste of real chocolate he’d had in what felt like years, other than the tiny candy bars they occasionally received from the Daedalus. Licking his lips, almost believing that one could orgasm from the taste of chocolate alone, he let out a soft ‘Mm…’ of appreciation.
‘Of course you’d- ’
‘Shh, don’t ruin the moment,’ Rodney whispered, holding a finger up. When he opened his eyes, Sam was staring at him with a raised eyebrow and a look that suggested that his butter knife nightmare was about to come true. ‘First real chocolate I’ve had in a while.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘It’s wonderful.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Really.’
‘You have some…’ Sam motioned to her mouth. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he turned back to the mousse.
‘As I was saying, I have no doubt in my mind that people would have tried something at that restaurant. Even if it would only be some under the table groping,’ Rodney said, scooping more mousse up.
‘I’m sure most people would have too much self-dignity to lower themselves to do that.’
Rodney grinned around his spoon, and swallowed with a smirk on his face. ‘You’d want to, though. It’d be like sex in public, only nobody could see, they’d only be able to hear.’
A blush had spread over Sam’s cheeks, and she ducked her head, concentrating on her mousse.
Rodney leant over the table, moving his mousse aside. ‘And then when you’d leave, your clothes would be all rumpled, and your face would be as red as it is now, and you’d be reeking of sex.’
‘McKay.’ Sam lifted her head, her cheeks even redder now, but her lips pressed in a thin line. ‘Quiet down, people might hear.’
‘I think it would be hot,’ Rodney continued, though he lowered his voice. ‘We should go some time.’
‘I wouldn’t go there with you if I knew that’s all you had on your mind.’
‘But you would go.’ He grinned and leant back in his chair, grabbing his mousse and digging his spoon in. ‘You wouldn’t have mentioned it otherwise.’
Sam only buried her face back in her dessert, and took a large bite.
*
Once they paid, Rodney followed Sam to her car, his own parked a few bays away.
‘Well… thank you for the meal,’ Rodney said, trying to remember what Cadman had made him say on his awkward date with Katie Brown (and to an extent, Carson as well). ‘And we should do it again sometime. When I’m here, of course, not… not when… What are you smiling about?’
Sam shook her head, a grin on her face, and opened the car door. ‘You don’t need to say anything. I had a good time, myself. Surprisingly. Once you loosened up and weren’t so self-conscious of yourself.’
‘Yes, well…’ Rodney ducked his head, shrugging, and dug his car keys out of his pocket. ‘I had a good time, too, and… well, the asparagus was a bit soft, but I did enjoy the rest of the meal. I still prefer red wine, too, but you made a good choice.’
By now, Sam just tilted her head, nodding along. Clearing his throat, Rodney held out his hand. Sam took it with a quickly hidden surprised look, and shook it.
‘So… thank you for a wonderful evening, and may- what’re you doing?’
Sam had leaned forward, and quickly kissed the corner of his mouth. Wide-eyed, Rodney tilted his head down, unsure whether to reciprocate. He’d made sure to insist that this dinner wasn’t a date (as much as he pretended it was, in his mind) to avoid such awkwardness.
Sam’s hand came up to cup the side of his face, during Rodney closer, her lips brushing over his. Her tongue ran along his lower lip, and he instinctively opened his mouth, his own tongue brushing against hers. The taste of wine and chocolate from earlier swept over him, along with a taste that was distinctively Sam- something that had been missing from his hallucination so many months ago.
As she pulled away, he drew in a deep breath, trying to commit the not quite fruity, not quite spicy, but a mixture of both, smell of the perfume she was wearing to memory. His hand that wasn’t holding his keys was wrapped around her waist, having not realised it had moved there. Opening his eyes, already aware of the heat on his cheeks, he licked his lips uncertainly.
‘Good night, Rodney,’ Sam murmured quietly before stepping away and moving into her car, an almost sly, crooked smile on her face. With a nod, he waved his hand and stumbled backwards, hitting the side of the car behind him.
‘Night.’
Without another look, Sam backed out of the bay and turned the car to the carpark exit.
*
Even though the rooms at Atlantis were sound proofed, Rodney never got the feeling he was alone. The city always seemed to hum around him. He could feel the life that it held, from the sensors above every door, to the transporters, to even his bed. His apartment, quiet and dirty and utterly alone (his neighbour with the oatmeal cookies had left a note saying she had moved shortly after his last trip to Earth and the cat was with her), felt foreign and strange to him. His TV was too unclear, his radio too filled static, and his lamp refused to turn off when he willed it to with his mind. Too often had he reached up to his ear to tap at the non-existent radio to ask Radek if he wasn’t completely destroying some fragile piece of Ancient technology.
Two days on Earth and he was already going stir-crazy. The only time anything felt remotely familiar was when he was onboard the Dedalus. After leading Jeanie around, Sam left them to say she had to run some diagnostics (and giving Rodney a smile that made his stomach turn and pat his pocket for the recently purchased inhaler). After showing Jeanie the ship, and giving her a very brief history of the Stargate program (‘so this guy, Daniel something, he deciphered the symbols, and they ran into some trouble, but now we have Pregasus, and it’s so much cooler.’ ‘Is Colonel Carter going to Atlantis?’ ‘No, she works on Earth.’ ‘She seems smart.’ ‘You could say that.’ ‘Do you like her?’ ‘Mm…’ ‘Does she like you?’ ‘This is the brig, let’s test out the holding cell.’), Jeanie was teleported back to Earth.
‘Don’t you want to say goodbye to her?’ Sam asked when Jeanie had gone.
‘I’m going to be stuck in close proximity with her for the next three weeks, it’s not that long a goodbye.’
Sam only gave him a smile, similar to the one she had given after kissing him, which had made Rodney’s stomach turn again, which sent him to the bathroom, and an hour later he was back in his empty, quiet, lonely apartment. His bag was already packed and sitting by the door, his shoes beside it. He’d bought a pre-packed salad from the supermarket, and while had had intended to order a pizza, he just ended up sitting on the couch staring at the phone. The night was passing too slowly. With a tired sigh, he leant over and grabbed the phone off the coffee table, and punch in a telephone number.
‘Hello?’
‘Colonel!’
There was a pause, before, ‘McKay?’
‘You expecting someone else?’
‘I thought you would have… why are you calling?’
Rodney rubbed his free hand down the leg of his pants. He’d always had trouble with phone calls- it was so hard to judge what the other person was feeling with just their voice. Sam was probably trying to come up with a way to get Rodney off the phone. ‘Just bored. Are you busy?’
‘I was just about to make dinner.’
‘Oh. What are you having?’ It had to be more interesting than dry lettuce, soft cucumber and two tomatoes.
‘Mexican. Tacos.’
‘Sounds nice.’ Rodney paused, and on the other end of the line, he could hear the sound of plates clashing, drawers opening and something being set down. Clearing his throat, Rodney drew in a breath. ‘I should be going.’
‘Okay.’
‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Rodney muttered, before hanging up quickly. Setting the phone down beside him, he sighed loudly and slumped against the back of the couch. Apparently some version of Law and Order was on. As over-the-top it was, it was good mindless drivel. He was about to reach for the remote when the phone rang. Picking it up, he pushed the “answer” button.
‘Hello?’
‘Do you like fried ice cream?’ Sam asked.
Rodney hesitated. ‘I’ve never tried it. Hot and cold don’t go toget- ’
‘There’s a restaurant nearby that delivers. I’ll order.’
Frowning, Rodney slowly got up and shuffled to pick up his shoes. ‘Why are you being so nice?’
‘I enjoyed last night. I want fried ice cream. You’re lonely. What else?’
‘I’m not lonely.’
‘Sure you are. Why else would you call?’
Shoving his feet into his shoes, he snatched up his bag and grabbed his car keys off the coffee table.
‘I’ll be there in a few minutes,’ he mumbled before hanging up on Sam for the second time that night, and tossing the phone on the couch, knowing even as he did so that the battery would have died when he returned, he headed out the door, locking it behind him.
*
Rodney had found Sam’s address off the SGC database before he had gone to Russia. He was never quite sure why he had taken it- curiousity, maybe, or the intent to send a postcard when his fingers weren’t numb, perhaps. Either way, he had never intended to find himself standing on her front porch, waiting for her to open the door.
So what if she kissed you? A voice said in the back of his head. She goes by Earth logic. Not goddamn Pegasus logic, where oversexed alien women will sleep with anybody with a hyped-up Ancient gene. She probably drank too much wine and will apologise for her mistake, before taking her top off as a way to make it up to you. That would work nicely. Maybe you should have brought wine-
‘Hi, Rodney, come on in.’
Shaking his head, having not heard the door open, Rodney waved and nudged Sam out of the way to step inside. Although the smell of rich spices and sizzling meat was strong, there was a distinct lake of wine. Rodney wondered if that was a good or bad thing.
‘Do you mind if we eat at the coffee table? I was going to clear the dining table, but…’ Sam motioned to the room behind her, where books and papers were strewn over the tabletop.
‘That’s fine,’ Rodney murmured in response, still taking in her house. Moving to the kitchen bench, he pulled out a stool and sat down. Sam was busy setting small bowls of chopped up lettuce, tomato and various other vegetables (and lots of cheese, he noticed happily) on the coffee table.
‘It looks like your grandmother decorated this place,’ Rodney finally announced. Sam paused where she was, her arms crossing over her chest.
‘I didn’t invite you over so you could criticize my home, McKay.’
Rodney shrugged. ‘You always struck me as a red velvet couch kind of person. Lots of vibrant, distracting colours. Not this… tartan, linen décor scheme you have going on,’ he said, offering a lopsided grin.
‘If my furniture offends you so much, you can leave.’
‘Nah, the food smells too good.’
Narrowing her eyes, Sam crossed back into the kitchen and pulled the frying pan filled with mince off the stove.
‘There’s no- ’
‘Yes, Rodney, my plan was to invite you here with the lure of fried ice cream, only to poison you with oranges and to stash your body under the remains of the Stargate Orlin built in my basement.’
Watching as Sam spooned the mince onto an empty plate, Rodney propped his elbows up on the bench, hunching over.
‘Who’s Orlin?’
‘An Ancient.’
‘Why was he in your basement?’
‘He followed me home after a mission. He… was attracted to me.’ Her eyes flittered up to meet Rodney’s. Pushing the plate over to him, she turned to the taco shells that lay on another plate. ‘Can you set the meat down on the table? Everything else is set up, I just need to these up.’
With a nod, Rodney took the plate and moved to the coffee table. While the couch wasn’t the most comfortable thing he’d ever sat upon, there weren’t any springs digging into his spine and no noticeable lumps. Maybe Sam picked comfort over style. Velvet made him itch, anyway.
Sam sat down beside him, setting down the plate of freshly heated taco shells, as well as two glasses of fizzing soda. A sniff told Rodney it was almost forgotten Pepsi. The only beverages offered on Atlantis were milk, water, various kinds of juice and whatever they scored off a successful trade. Sam reached over the arm of the couch, and produced a remote. Soon, soft music was coming from a stereo Rodney couldn’t find, the tune reminding him of his undergraduate days.
Reaching for his glass, he was about to raise a toast (after all, that’s what Cadman had said to do, and he’s forgotten to do one the night before, so it would be poor manners not to done now, right?), but Sam had already grabbed a taco shell and was spooning meat and vegetables, as well as the taco sauce into it. Before she took a bite, she glanced up and stared at him.
‘Are you going to eat? I was joking about the death plot.’
‘Oh. I know. I just, ah, wanted to say thank you for inviting me over, and for last night… and for not humiliating me in front of Jeanie, and, uh… it smells delicious.’
Sam eyed him for a moment, before a warm grin spread over her face. ‘Thanks. You, too.’
As he took a swig of his drink and started to make his own taco, Rodney let the pleased warmth spread through him.
The music made the silence comfortable. During her second taco, Sam asked if seeing his sister had made him realize how much he’d missed out on. Rodney had shrugged, mumbled about how tall Madison was, and how much tofu sucked, before saying he was going to get more Pepsi, and did she want any?
By Rodney’s fourth taco, Sam was telling him about when she and the old SG-1 team had traveled back in time to 1969. After a subdued argument over whether it was right to let their hippie companions know about the Stargate, Rodney let himself imagine Sam in flowing tie-dye skirts and beaded necklaces.
As their meal dwindled, Sam finally commented, ‘My mother played the piano.’
‘Mm?’
‘Once, when my dad was on Earth, he was allowed to leave Cheyenne mountain. He went the whole day trying to convince me to buy a piano. I’ve never taken lessons, but his theory was if I had access to one, I’d learn.’
‘So what happened?’
Starting to clear away the empty dishes, Sam stood. Rodney followed her. ‘I ended up buying some… overpriced keyboard that was apparently a good model. Actual keys instead of buttons, according to the clerk. I took it back here, started to build the stand, but never tried to play it.’
Taking the dishes from Sam, Rodney set them in the sink. ‘Why not?’
‘Music was never really my thing. I played the recorder in the fourth grade like everyone else, but I never caught on.’
The temptation to say, “you need to be smart to play” was sitting on the top of his tongue. He swallowed it down, however- he was a genius, and even he couldn’t grasp all aspects of being a musician. Instead, he asked, ‘Where is the detergent?’
*
The radio had been turned off, the TV had been turned on, and half an hour later, Rodney was nursing a bowl of fried ice cream that Sam had ordered over the telephone and cautiously taking bites. Beside him, Sam was stretched out, her feet propped up on the coffee table. Taking a small, hesitant bite, Rodney eyed his half-eaten ice cream, and then the last few mouthfuls of Sam’s.
‘Don’t you like it?’ she asked when she caught him looking. Rodney smacked his lips together before replying.
‘It’s… different.’
‘If you don’t like it- ’
‘I’m eating it, okay? The temperature difference is just a bit of a shock, that’s all,’ he huffed, turning back to the TV. It was a medical drama- one that decided graphic close-ups of bowels and bones and blood was absolutely necessary for riveting storylines. Scrunching his nose up in disgust, he turned back to his ice cream. At least that wasn’t disgusting.
He was about to place his finally finished bowl on the table, when Sam swung her feet off of it and let out a yawn.
‘I’m going to have a shower. You can have a look in the basement for the keyboard, if you want. Just don’t break anything.’
Rodney nodded, collecting both the bowls and spoons as Sam headed off down the passageway. Several minutes later, bowls drying on the sink, he heard the sound of running water.
It would be so easy, he knew- to follow the sound of running water, strip off his clothes and step into the shower with her. Press her wet naked body against his and drink in the sensations that went with it. It was one of his favourite fantasies during achingly lonely nights on Atlantis, after an exhausting mission. When a cold shower did nothing but make the images in his mind all the more clear. Even his hallucination of Sam in the puddlejumper, despite the imminent fear of death, did nothing to sway his fantasies away.
She had to be teasing him. She knew about the puddlejumper, about how much he wanted her, and now… Hooking his fingers around the belt loops of his pants, he hitched them higher up on his hips and started to look for the basement door.
*
Despite preparing himself for the worst, the basement wasn’t as filthy as he thought it would be. After a quick search, he located the box with the keyboard inside it; the half-built stand was balanced awkwardly beside it. After taking the box the upstairs, he pulled the keyboard and its plug-ins out and started to assemble it on the coffee table. He only noticed the shower wasn’t running when Sam was standing in the archway.
‘You found it,’ she said. Rodney nodded, keeping his eyes on the keyboard and unraveling the power cord to avoid staring at her still-damp skin, and the way her tank stuck to her skin.
‘I was going to bring the stand up but there didn’t seem any point.’
‘You can take it back to Atlantis, if you want,’ San said, taking a step forward. Having unraveled the cord, Rodney held up the end.
‘Really?’
Giving a smirk, Sam snatched it away from him and bent down to plug it into the wall. As the back of her shirt rode up (and Rodney wasn’t checking out her ass, really. Ever since Anubis, he’d been concerned about Sam hurting herself around electrical equipment. That’s what he told himself, anyway), he noticed the tag sticking out the back of her track pants. Without another thought- he didn’t dare let himself think, because he’d seen a butter knife in her sink- he stepped forward and thumbed the tag down. Sam jerked up like she’d been burnt and it was only by luck that Rodney didn’t get knocked back as she spun around.
‘The tag… your pants, it was sticking out.’
Sam only eyed him, before the stiffness melted away from her shoulders. There was a hint of a smirk on her lips.
‘Do you want a shower?’
I thought I’d be going back to my apartment,’ he replied, ignoring the fact his bag was lying in his backseat. ‘If you’re offering…’
‘It’s getting late.’ Rodney also ignored the fact that it was barely 9:00, and that was by no means “late”. ‘Stay. I don’t have a guestroom, but I find the couch to be more comfy than my bed. I’ll get you a towel.’
Swallowing thickly, Rodney followed Sam down the hall, as she pulled a thick, wooly towel from the linen closet. With a warm grin, she patted him on the shoulder and started back to the living room. If Rodney didn’t believe in masturbating in other people’s houses, he would have pulled his pants down right there and jerked off.
*
The floor of the shower was still wet from Sam’s shower. Setting the towel over the rack, he shrugged out of his unbuttoned collared shirt and pulled the t-shirt over his head. He wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Sam’s bathroom was neat- a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste in a glass, a razor sitting by the sink, slightly wet, an empty glass sitting on a shelf under the mirror. As he stepped out of his shoes, socks and pants, his thumbs curled around the waist of his boxers, he glanced at the second closed door. He stared at it for several long seconds, knowing it had to lead to Sam’s bedroom, and it would be so easy to walk in there. Drawing in a deep breath, he turned his back on it, shoved his boxers down and turned the shower on.
There was a cake of soap in the soap dish, as well as bottles of shampoo and conditioner on the floor. Next to them was a square bottle with pink liquid inside it. Picking it up, Rodney squinted at the label. Body wash.
Huh, who knew she could be girly, a voice in his head said. Uncapping it, he took a sniff. It was almost fruity, with a hint of spice. He recognized it as what she had smelt like the night before. Not so much girly, another voice said, just nice.
Squeezing a liberal amount into his hand- who was he to ignore something? If it was good enough for Sam, it was good enough for him- he started to soap up.
*
‘Play something for me,’ Sam said. Rodney had just entered the living room after his shower, beads of water making his clothes stick to his skin, though he doubted it was as attractive as Sam’s clothing had been. Setting his shoes and socks next to the couch, he shook his head.
‘Let’s not,’ he replied, flopping down next to Sam, blatantly ignoring the piano.
‘Why not? I want to hear you.’
‘I’m uncomfortable playing in front of people.’
‘And yet you wanted to be a pianist.’
Rodney shrugged again. ‘I was young. Everybody’s over-confident when they’re young.’
He could feel Sam’s gaze on him as she leant towards him. ‘I want to hear you play.’
‘Maybe later,’ he said with an uncommitted shrug of a shoulder, before turning back to the TV.
*
The pillow Sam had given him was soft, and the blanket was warm. After folding his pants and collared shirt and placing them on the floor, he had rolled over and tried to sleep. Sam had long gone to bed, so the house was silent, other than the odd creak of noise from outside.
Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, Rodney sat up, the blanket pooling around his middle. Swinging his feet to the floor, he shuffled down the corridor to make sure Sam’s door was closed, before returning to the lounge. Turning the light on, he sat down opposite the keyboard and pressed the ‘On’ button. After adjusting the sostenuto pedal under the table and turning down the volume, Rodney let his fingers brush the keys. It was nothing like he was used to- he was used to baby grands and upright pianos. Not this digital thing that might pass as a piano for the musically impaired and downright stupid.
The first awkward, barely remembered notes of ‘Over the Rainbow’ started to play as his fingers stumbled across the keyboard. Although only the chorus stayed in his mind, and half the first verse, Rodney let himself fall into it. The sound of a door opening made him stop, however, and his fingers crashed on the keyboard. When he lifted his head, Sam was leaning against the wall, hair mussed and eyes slightly bleary.
‘No wonder she told you to quit.’
‘Yes, well, it’s not like I’ve played in the past thirty years. The Ancients weren’t known for the musical melodies.’
Sam didn’t say anything until she crossed and sat down on the armrest. ‘You never decided to keep playing?’
‘I did a few months after she told me. And six months before I left for Russia. But freezing my fingers off in the middle of Siberia cut that plan short.’
There was silence as Rodney traced his fingers over the keys, avoiding looking at Sam.
‘I heard you before you stopped,’ Sam finally said, her voice soft. ‘For someone who hasn’t played in so long, you’re good. I think your teacher was wrong.’
‘In saying I should quit?’
‘In saying you’re dispassionate. I’m no expert, but it sounds to me like you really enjoy it.’
‘Mm…’ He stared down at the keys, his fingers brushing over the raised, black ones. He forced himself to stay still as he felt Sam’s hand brush across his shoulder.
‘Play for me,’ she whispered.
Looking up at her, he asked, ‘Play what?’
Sam’s hand moved to cup the back of his neck, fingers tickling the hair there. ‘I don’t mind. Anything.’ Her voice was surprisingly level.
Swallowing hard, Rodney pushed down on a key, the sound resonating around the room, then another. The chords were choppy, the cadence off. An old tune he loved as a child, which used to remind him of warm summer days spent outside, practicing the movements of his fingers on the grass as Jeanie ran around in his swimsuit. ‘Toad in a Hole’, or something. But now he would only remember it as the time Sam-fucking-Carter kissed him behind the ear, her breath hot and her tongue warm as she swiped it over the shell of his ear. His hands slammed down on the piano as he turned to stare at her. Her lips were parted and wet, her cheeks flushed and eyes heavy-lidded.
‘I didn’t ask you to stop,’ she murmured, her voice catching only slightly.
‘I didn’t ask you to kiss me,’ Rodney growled, before grabbing her by the shoulder and pulling her into a kiss. The kiss was rough and heated, their teeth knocking, lips being bitten and bruised, and at some point, Rodney found himself with his back on the couch and his hands pushing the back of Sam’s tank up and roaming over the soft, fruity-spicy skin.
‘Come to bed with me,’ Sam croaked, her lips grazing his cheek. Rodney didn’t have time to answer- Sam was already moving, grabbing his hand and dragging him up with her. Stumbling backwards, the keyboard nearly being knocked off the coffee table, Sam pulled Rodney along, stopping only once to take his T-shirt and pull it over his head.
‘That better not have stretched,’ Rodney mumbled against her mouth, kicking the door closed as they stumbled into the bedroom.
‘And if it did?’
‘I’ll get lots of personal questions from my sister about what I got up to on my last night on Earth.’
Sam gave a breathless laugh as she stumbled backwards and switched on a bedside lamp.
‘I like being able to see,’ she offered as way of an explanation when she returned to him. That also explained why she wasn’t interested in having sex in the Opaque restaurant. Pushing him back onto the bed, Sam straddled his lap, legs wrapping around his waist, hands cupping either side of his face, pulling him up for a kiss.
Rodney couldn’t help it- he groaned low, his hands brushing over her breasts. She was so close against him- just the material of their clothes separating them, and the thought of that made his head spin. Moving his hands down, making Sam gasp as he did, he hooked his fingers around the bottom of her tank and pulled it up. The kiss broke only long enough for him to pull it over her head. His hands found her breasts again, his thumbs caressing her nipples, before moving back down, the back of his fingers against the curve of her breast, and down over her ribs.
‘Keep doing that,’ Sam whispered, taking one of his hands, kissing the palm, and guiding it back to her breast. ‘Your hands are soft. I like it.’
Tilting his head as Sam bent to nip at his neck, Rodney placed his hands back over her breasts. He could feel her nipples, hard against his palms. He knew he should do something- she was doing all the work, and even now she was no doubt leaving bright red teeth marks over his neck as she bit and sucked her way down. But he’d wanted this for so long that he was completely unsure about what to do. Trying to find the motive to move his hands, however, was becoming increasingly difficult as the feeling of Sam’s teeth on his neck made it almost impossible for him to put together a single thought. Rodney jerked his hips as Sam bit down on the hollow of his throat. Squeezing his eyes shut, head thrown back, he let out a long, loud moan. As Sam raised her head, he could feel her eyes on him.
‘Did you- ’
‘No.’ She didn’t need to finish her sentence. To emphasize his point, Rodney grabbed her ass, pulling her closer against him. Opening his eyes, he held her gaze as he lifted his hands, running them over her ass and up to the hemline of her pants. Pulling them down, bundling them around her thighs, he held one hip in his hand, balancing her, the other tracing over the lace of her pale blue underwear. Moving his hands up the inside of her thigh, he ran his finger between her legs, feeling her dampness through her panties. Watching as she pursed her lips, the dim lamplight highlighting her blush, Rodney gave a crooked grin and ran his finger across the edge of her panties.
‘Why are you doing this?’ he asked as casually as possible. ‘Going out to dinner with me… inviting me over here… letting me touch you like this.’
Sam only let out a gasp as Rodney leant forward, running his tongue over one breast, than the other, sucking at the nipple in his mouth.
‘I told you I was attracted to you,’ she finally managed to get out, her hips thrust out, balanced only by Rodney’s hand.
‘When you hated me,’ he mumbled, teeth grazing before he took her breast back in his mouth, sucking again on her nipple.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ she hissed, breathless. ‘Since I saw you at Atlantis. What… what you said about the… the puddlejumper, and me…’ She swallowed and turned to look down at him. Cupping his face, he let Sam guide his head to look up at her. ‘I’d even dare a guess to say you love me.’
Rodney stared up at her silently. His hands stilled, his chest heaving, skin hot with arousal.
‘Do you?’ she asked quietly.
Rodney had never given it serious thought. A “no” would make him seem like a jerk (which he was, but would make it even more true), and she would no doubt go butter knife on his balls. A “yes” would no doubt make him seem pathetic. She was his fantasy. Smart and funny and strong and career driven. Blonde and sexy, and Christ, geeky. And hot for him if her current state suggested anything. Though he’d never thought about it being love.
‘Maybe,’ he croaked. Sam grinned, laughing softly, her hands brushing over his cheeks, her face flushed. Frowning, Rodney screwed his nose up. ‘Sorry…’
With a sniff, the grin still on her face, Sam kissed him gently. ‘You looked so nervous at my question, that’s all. It was cute.’
‘Sorry, but I keep freaking out that you’re going to throw me out.’
When Sam didn’t reply, Rodney curled his thumb around the waist of Sam’s panties and jerked them down. Keeping his eyes on her face, he brushed his hand over her now-bare hip, down the curve of her thigh, and across the soft triangle of hair the lead down to her slick folds. Tilting his hand, he ran the pads of his fingers across her cunt, slipping his fingers in, his thumb sweeping over her clit. Her hips bucked as he crooked his fingers inside her, and when Rodney lifted his head, Sam’s head was tipped back, her cheeks flushed, mouth open, and tongue flicking out to wet her lips. Slipping his fingers out, thumb circling her clit one last time, he cupped her ass, lifting her.
‘Up,’ he whispered. Complying, Sam started to push her panties and track pants down. Swinging her legs over, she landed flat on her back, legs in the air as she kicked them off. He took the moment to drink in her body from the way her hip jutted out as she lay down, to the shadows across her breasts from the lamp, to the mole on the inside of her thigh.
‘What?’ she asked, perching herself up on her elbows.
‘Just looking,’ he replied, before shucking out of his boxers. As they were flung to the floor, next to Sam’s clothes, Rodney lay down on his side, facing Sam. Tentatively, he reached out, bringing his fingertips to her skin and running them across her body; over her shoulder, across the curve of her breast and down her leg to cup the back of her knee. All gentle skin under his touch, hot and flushed. Moving his hand between her thighs, he ran his palm over her cunt, enjoying the way her hips bucked, her toes curled into the sheets and most of all, the way she squeezed around his fingers, each time being punctuated by a gasp and a gulp of air.
Bending his head, leaning over her to ease the stress on his neck, he kissed her softly. His tongue ran over her lower lip, slipping inside as she opened her mouth. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her hips thrusting in time with his hand.
‘Rodney…’
Pulling away, he gazed down at her- her blown pupils, her kiss-swollen lips, the sweat on her upper lip. Slipping his hand from her, his wrist brushing along her slick thighs, he let Sam move him as she sat up and shoved him against the bed head, a pillow squished against his lower back. She took his cock in her hand, her finger circling the head.
‘I never thought… with the dinner, and- and the kiss, but… I wanted, but never thought- ’
‘Shh…’ Sam leant over, kissing him lightly. ‘You’re rambling.’
‘I do that,’ he admittedly quietly. Sam’s lips moved down his throat and to his shoulder, before she let go of his cock and shuffled back. She moved over the side of the bed. ‘Sorry, sorry, I won’t- ’
He cut himself off as Sam reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a condom.
‘Unless you have any objections,’ she said with a shrug.
‘No. No objections.’ His throat was dry as Sam moved back onto his thighs. Ripping the navy packaging open and flicking it to the floor. Taking Rodney’s cock back in her hand, she rolled the condom over it, her eyes locked on his. Cupping his balls, giving them a slight squeeze, Sam lifted her hips and eased the tip of Rodney’s cock inside of her.
‘Oh, crap,’ he groaned. Even through the condom, he could feel her, hot and tight and slick around him. Sam’s hips arched, and, uncontrollably, he thrust up to meet her. She gasped, head thrown back, throat exposed. Resting his hands on her hips, Rodney tilted his head up to kiss the side of her neck. He trailed his lips over her jaw and down, over her chin to her lower lip. At the same time, one of his hands moved over her thigh to her clit, his thumb rubbing small circles over it. Sam’s breath was hitching in her throat, each upward thrust and flick of her clit eliciting a moan. And with each clench of her cunt, each tightening grip of her arms around his shoulders, each time Sam leant into the kiss, hungry and unrestrained and lustful made Rodney groan and tug her closer.
With a shudder, Sam clutched him tighter, her mouth open against his. It took Rodney to moment to realize- and even then, only when she whispered his name again and again- that she was coming. Her thrusts were jerky, eyes closed tight, her face flushed so read that Rodney couldn’t help but kiss her on the cheek.
As one last shiver ran through Sam’s body, Rodney gave one last thrust and that was all it took for him. It shook right through him- his heels scraping across the messed-up bed sheets, his head buried into the crook of Sam’s neck. Bright lights flashed behind his eyes. All he knew was that Sam was in his lap, and oh, God, they’d had sex and as soon as he could move they had to do it again.
‘Oh… Jesus.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Let’s do that again.’
Sam laughed- tired and exhausted, but rich and happy. With effort that Rodney couldn’t even begin to comprehend, Sam rolled off of him, her limbs loose, her body bare and with such unashamed bliss that Rodney wouldn’t have begun to thought possible five years ago. Even five hours ago. She turned to him, still utterly blessed-out and took his limp hand.
‘You want to wash up?’
With a groan, Rodney managed to nod. They made it to the bathroom, but Rodney couldn’t remember how. The condom was pulled off and thrown in the bin by the toilet. Washing his hands under the sink, Rodney grabbed the face towel, ran it under the faucet and rubbed it over Sam’s thighs, as she leant against the wall. Although he could have done with a shower instead of a once over with the bathroom sink, the fog moved from his brain and he realized, with a fond grin (and especially after Sam dragged him back into the bed and pulled the sex-smelling covers over them before she turned off the lamp), that returning to Earth wasn’t all that bad.
*
The alarm was one of the worst creations man ever made, shortly behind doorbells and cell phones. When willing the buzzing off with his mind didn’t work, Rodney succumbed to being annoyingly human, reached over Sam and smack the alarm to the ground. The buzzing quickly shut off.
‘You broke it,’ Sam mumbled tiredly.
‘It’s not Ancient. It sucks. Buy another one.’
Sam gave a loud yawn and rolled over, burying her face in Rodney’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him.
‘I have to go to work,’ she said with a yawn.
‘I have to go home,’ Rodney replied, already feeling himself doze off.
‘You forget something?’ He felt Sam shift, and he wished silently for telepathic powers so he could tell her to stop without having to speak.
‘Everyone,’ he finally replied, the word taking more effort than necessary.
‘Atlantis?’
‘Uh-huh.’ His breath was already starting to level out, and something told him if he didn’t get up now, Jeanie was going to know everything. It didn’t matter, though. ‘Come home with me.’
‘I can’t. I have… work. Bookkeeping. Daniel will hate me.’
In his sleepy mind, they were all very good reasons. However- ‘Promise me you’ll come soon.’
Sam yawned and kissed his chest, her body soft in his arms. When he woke up, he knew this conversation would be forgotten, but even so, he strained to hear her answer-
‘Okay.’