"Never Fully Dressed without a Smile" by splash_the_cat
Title: "Never Fully Dressed without a Smile"
Author: splash_the_cat (backup writer)
Rating/Warning: PG
Spoilers: S8
Recipient: tjh102
Request details: No request specified.
It was just her luck that they ended up on a world with a matriarchy in charge and she was still the one stuck wearing the funny outfit. The intricate whorls and geometric patterns on her breasts, abdomen, back and arms marked her as a warrior and leader of highest status, according to her assistant-for-their-stay Kemala (who'd 'tsk'ed and 'tutt'ed every time Sam even thought about fidgeting during the two hour decorative process).
Arms held out to her sides (Kemala had also nagged her endlessly about not touching the paint until it dried), Sam examined the results in the beaten silver mirror leaned up against the center tent pole and almost - almost - wished for that damn blue dress. The tent flaps rustled, and then a hand appeared, fingers wiggling in a little wave. "You decent, Sam?"
"By local standards."
Daniel poked his head into the tent, and his eyes went wide and straight to her chest. "Wow. You… That’s… Is that metallic paint?"
Sam started to cross her arms over her breasts. But she wouldn't be able to do that outside (not to mention she’d incur Kemala's wrath if she smeared the paint), so she might as well get used to it now. Settling her hands on her hips, she said, "They're not going to answer you, Daniel."
"Sorry." He coughed and met her eyes, and she didn't think he was entirely contrite. The tent flap rustled again and Teal'c appeared as Sam shifted her hips, trying to surreptitiously work her pants out of the crack of her ass. They were made from very soft leather, but they belonged to Kemala, who, while the same height as Sam, was slimmer across the hips. It made for a nice effect but was damn uncomfortable.
"Is there a problem, Colonel Carter?"
"No, it's fine, Teal'c. I'm ready." She tugged at the pants one last time as Daniel snickered.
"You know, if you bend over in those things a few times during the negotiations, we might wrap this up quick. I'm pretty sure a couple of the women were quite taken with you."
"Thanks, Daniel, but I wouldn't want to horn in on your schtick."
His mouth snapped shut around his retort when Teal'c clapped a hand onto his shoulder. "I would refrain while I were only so far behind, Daniel Jackson."
"I actually think I miss Jack," Daniel muttered. He ducked out of the tent as Teal'c held the heavy canvas aside, and Sam patted Teal'c on the back as she followed.
******
SG-12, Teal'c told Sam, was still taking assays in the foothills of the mountains near the Gate. She borrowed his radio and told Major Wells to finish up and bring his team back to the village.
Kemala appeared, waiting until Sam was finished before examining her handiwork with a critical eye. Once satisfied, she led Sam, Daniel and Teal'c to a tent at the edge of the village and abandoned them to the stern gazes of the village council: eleven women and two men with stern eyes and large, ornately carved wooden staves.
"Don't worry," Kemala whispered in Sam's ear as she left, pointing at the staves. "They're mostly for show."
Negotiations lasted seven hours ("And why," Sam had whispered to Daniel during a short break, "couldn't SG-9 handle this?" "Because," he'd said ignoring that it was a rhetorical question, "they're lacking some," and he waved his hands at his chest, "essential qualities.").
Sam was most concerned about securing mining rights for a naquadah-rich ore they'd discovered on their initial survey and finally pinched Daniel’s leg when he interrupted her for the third time to ask about the Elidari's numerical system. "Later," Sam said through gritted teeth at his wide-eyed reproach. She too, was fascinated by their very advanced mathematics, and how incongruous it was with their nomadic, tribal lifestyle, but there would be time for that when she wasn't juggling procurement of enough naquadah to make even the Joint Chiefs happy.
She should have put her foot down about this sort of thing three missions ago, when she let Daniel fast-talk her into an extra day to study some glyphs on a cliff face. The General hadn't bought his arguments about their significance during the debrief and had pulled her aside later to remind her that she was supposed to be in charge of SG-1, not Daniel. That conversation still rankled.
Daniel remained stubbornly silent throughout the rest of the talks, but Sam had little opportunity to worry about having stepped on his toes. The Elidari's High Mother drove a hard bargain, and by the time all the details and logistics had been hammered out to her satisfaction, and token gifts of goodwill had been exchanged, Sam was more than ready for a party.
And the Elidari knew exactly how to throw a good one.
The High Mother escorted them out to the clearing at the center of the village, now transformed from a utilitarian space into a blaze of light and color. The music was loud: heavy with drums and deep bass pipes made from marsh reeds that grew as thick as Teal'c's arms. A bonfire leapt three meters high at the center of the clearing and around it spun dancers who had slicked their arms and chests with paint and oil. The Elidari were amazingly diverse community phenotypically, unlike so many of the transplanted peoples they'd some across over the years, which had sent Daniel on to an gleeful anthropological tear shortly after they'd entered the village.
Tables bowed under a wild array of food and ornate ceramic flagons. The little ceremonial oatcakes were good, sweet and sticky with some kind of syrup. The ceremonial beer was better, and Sam regretted having to limit herself to one cup ("Oh, come on," Daniel teased, apparently over his hurt. "You've already got your shirt off.").
Her half-dressed state was unremarkable to their hosts, and SG-12's eyes remained firmly affixed to their boots or Sam's left ear. Sam had stopped noticing it during the negotiations. When Kemala pulled her into the whirl of dancers around the crackling bonfire, Sam stamped her bare feet and clapped her hands in time with the low thrum of the pipes and drums without hesitation.
"I worried," Kemala told her as they took a break, sprawling on woven mats and watching a group of giggling young girls and boys spin past in a flurry of brightly colored beads and ribbons, "that, even though we meant to honor you and your people, we had made you uncomfortable, asking you to participate by our customs."
"I was uncomfortable," Sam admitted. "Our society… we're not so free with this sort of thing." She pointed to SG-12, huddled behind Teal'c and Daniel.
Kemala chuckled. "Yes. High Mother noticed their discomfort. She would have offered to send them on some task, but feared you would be insulted."
"I think they'll survive." Sam stretched out her legs, trying to keep her pants from riding up any further. "Thank you."
"For what?" Kemala was frowning at Sam's right shoulder, and licking her thumb, she rubbed at one of the painted designs - firm, quick strokes until she was apparently satisfied with her repair.
"For asking us to do it your way."
Kemala grinned. "I am always right in these things."
Unable to argue with that, Sam went to find Major Wells and ordered him to have his men stand down and mingle, biting back a laugh at his slightly stricken expression. "Anthropologists do it all the time, Major, and I'm not going to put anyone on report unless they deliberately act like an ass."
"Yes, ma'am." His shoulders sagged, and he flashed her the first smile she'd seen cross his face since Kemala's hunting party had first met them at the Gate.
And then Sam found Daniel and pulled him into the dance, letting him spin her until she was a little dizzy. She pulled Teal'c in too, pleasantly surprised when he whirled her about with un-Jaffa-life gusto. Later, as Sam and Daniel staggered out, leaving Teal'c still going strong, Daniel said, "You know, I used to have dreams like this."
Sam laughed, the sound raspy and broken as she tried to catch her breath. "You read National Geographic instead of Playboy when you were twelve, didn't you?"
"So?" He huffed. "I'm going to find something to drink that's not going to give me a hangover."
Commanding him to find something for her, too, Sam relaxed onto one of the mats, the afterimage of the dancers burned in streaks of gold and red and blue against her eyelids as she yawned. She wished the General were there, because it still didn't feel quite right with just the three of them, but she was looking forward to the picture Daniel would paint during the debrief. Even now she could hear the snide remark reminding her of the dangers of indulging in local culture.
It would be hard not to laugh, because she had actually thought to ask what was in the cakes.
******
"Our very own naquadah mine, six fascinating varieties of medicinal plants, and nobody died. Maybe this'll get Jack to stop sending babysitters along with us," Daniel said the next morning. He and Teal'c had shown up at her tent at the crack of dawn, bearing the local equivalent of coffee and more of the little oatcakes.
They'd wandered off to bed somewhere around one in the morning, after sorting out a cursory watch rotation with SG-12, but she'd stayed around the dwindling fire with Kemala and some of the other women from the council for another few hours. They were much less intimidating after a few cups of beer, and the High Mother turned out to possess a delightfully off-color sense of humor. Sam had obliged her, amid raucous laughter and the occasional explanatory pantomime, with an unofficial cultural exchange of Tau'ri euphemisms for various body parts and sexual practices.
"You noticed that too, huh?" Sam snatched a cake from which Daniel had just taken a bite, juggling it as she shrugged into her t-shirt, then licking the syrup off her fingers.
She had been too tired to do more than peel the pants off and pull on her shorts before collapsing into bed at some ungodly early hour, and when she woke, found she was loathe to make use of the bottle of astringent Kemala had given her to remove the painted designs. She traced a smudged spiral that wrapped around her navel as she fastened her BDU pants ("Our lives run like a spiral, circling closer and closer to our center," Kemala had said as she painted it on Sam's skin. "Yeah, most days I feel like I'm running in circles," Sam had replied, earning a peal of laughter from Kemala.)
Teal'c, busily consuming oatcakes until this point, licked crumbs from his lips and fingers and announced, "We should humor him no longer."
“Indeed,” Sam said, wiping her own fingers on her pants. It wasn’t a discussion she wanted to have, but as the General had said, she was in charge of SG-1, and Sam had a feeling that sometimes he needed to be reminded of that, too. “I’ll talk to him.”
She acknowledged Teal’c’s nod with one of her own and stole the last cake from Daniel. “And I want to have a team meeting when we get back. I think it’s time we talked about the changes and dealt with some of the issues of the new command structure.”
“Sam, about that…”
Sam gave him back half of the cake she’d taken. “We’ll talk about it later, Daniel.”
He accepted the peace offering by stuffing it in his mouth, and Sam snorted a laugh as she pulled on her vest and picked up her pack. “Let’s go.”
They followed her out of the tent. SG-12 were waiting outside with Kemala and her hunting party, who would act as their honor escort back to the Gate. As they all started down the well-worn path, Daniel fell into step beside Sam and poked her in the arm.
“Can I tell Jack about the naked part?”
Author: splash_the_cat (backup writer)
Rating/Warning: PG
Spoilers: S8
Recipient: tjh102
Request details: No request specified.
It was just her luck that they ended up on a world with a matriarchy in charge and she was still the one stuck wearing the funny outfit. The intricate whorls and geometric patterns on her breasts, abdomen, back and arms marked her as a warrior and leader of highest status, according to her assistant-for-their-stay Kemala (who'd 'tsk'ed and 'tutt'ed every time Sam even thought about fidgeting during the two hour decorative process).
Arms held out to her sides (Kemala had also nagged her endlessly about not touching the paint until it dried), Sam examined the results in the beaten silver mirror leaned up against the center tent pole and almost - almost - wished for that damn blue dress. The tent flaps rustled, and then a hand appeared, fingers wiggling in a little wave. "You decent, Sam?"
"By local standards."
Daniel poked his head into the tent, and his eyes went wide and straight to her chest. "Wow. You… That’s… Is that metallic paint?"
Sam started to cross her arms over her breasts. But she wouldn't be able to do that outside (not to mention she’d incur Kemala's wrath if she smeared the paint), so she might as well get used to it now. Settling her hands on her hips, she said, "They're not going to answer you, Daniel."
"Sorry." He coughed and met her eyes, and she didn't think he was entirely contrite. The tent flap rustled again and Teal'c appeared as Sam shifted her hips, trying to surreptitiously work her pants out of the crack of her ass. They were made from very soft leather, but they belonged to Kemala, who, while the same height as Sam, was slimmer across the hips. It made for a nice effect but was damn uncomfortable.
"Is there a problem, Colonel Carter?"
"No, it's fine, Teal'c. I'm ready." She tugged at the pants one last time as Daniel snickered.
"You know, if you bend over in those things a few times during the negotiations, we might wrap this up quick. I'm pretty sure a couple of the women were quite taken with you."
"Thanks, Daniel, but I wouldn't want to horn in on your schtick."
His mouth snapped shut around his retort when Teal'c clapped a hand onto his shoulder. "I would refrain while I were only so far behind, Daniel Jackson."
"I actually think I miss Jack," Daniel muttered. He ducked out of the tent as Teal'c held the heavy canvas aside, and Sam patted Teal'c on the back as she followed.
******
SG-12, Teal'c told Sam, was still taking assays in the foothills of the mountains near the Gate. She borrowed his radio and told Major Wells to finish up and bring his team back to the village.
Kemala appeared, waiting until Sam was finished before examining her handiwork with a critical eye. Once satisfied, she led Sam, Daniel and Teal'c to a tent at the edge of the village and abandoned them to the stern gazes of the village council: eleven women and two men with stern eyes and large, ornately carved wooden staves.
"Don't worry," Kemala whispered in Sam's ear as she left, pointing at the staves. "They're mostly for show."
Negotiations lasted seven hours ("And why," Sam had whispered to Daniel during a short break, "couldn't SG-9 handle this?" "Because," he'd said ignoring that it was a rhetorical question, "they're lacking some," and he waved his hands at his chest, "essential qualities.").
Sam was most concerned about securing mining rights for a naquadah-rich ore they'd discovered on their initial survey and finally pinched Daniel’s leg when he interrupted her for the third time to ask about the Elidari's numerical system. "Later," Sam said through gritted teeth at his wide-eyed reproach. She too, was fascinated by their very advanced mathematics, and how incongruous it was with their nomadic, tribal lifestyle, but there would be time for that when she wasn't juggling procurement of enough naquadah to make even the Joint Chiefs happy.
She should have put her foot down about this sort of thing three missions ago, when she let Daniel fast-talk her into an extra day to study some glyphs on a cliff face. The General hadn't bought his arguments about their significance during the debrief and had pulled her aside later to remind her that she was supposed to be in charge of SG-1, not Daniel. That conversation still rankled.
Daniel remained stubbornly silent throughout the rest of the talks, but Sam had little opportunity to worry about having stepped on his toes. The Elidari's High Mother drove a hard bargain, and by the time all the details and logistics had been hammered out to her satisfaction, and token gifts of goodwill had been exchanged, Sam was more than ready for a party.
And the Elidari knew exactly how to throw a good one.
The High Mother escorted them out to the clearing at the center of the village, now transformed from a utilitarian space into a blaze of light and color. The music was loud: heavy with drums and deep bass pipes made from marsh reeds that grew as thick as Teal'c's arms. A bonfire leapt three meters high at the center of the clearing and around it spun dancers who had slicked their arms and chests with paint and oil. The Elidari were amazingly diverse community phenotypically, unlike so many of the transplanted peoples they'd some across over the years, which had sent Daniel on to an gleeful anthropological tear shortly after they'd entered the village.
Tables bowed under a wild array of food and ornate ceramic flagons. The little ceremonial oatcakes were good, sweet and sticky with some kind of syrup. The ceremonial beer was better, and Sam regretted having to limit herself to one cup ("Oh, come on," Daniel teased, apparently over his hurt. "You've already got your shirt off.").
Her half-dressed state was unremarkable to their hosts, and SG-12's eyes remained firmly affixed to their boots or Sam's left ear. Sam had stopped noticing it during the negotiations. When Kemala pulled her into the whirl of dancers around the crackling bonfire, Sam stamped her bare feet and clapped her hands in time with the low thrum of the pipes and drums without hesitation.
"I worried," Kemala told her as they took a break, sprawling on woven mats and watching a group of giggling young girls and boys spin past in a flurry of brightly colored beads and ribbons, "that, even though we meant to honor you and your people, we had made you uncomfortable, asking you to participate by our customs."
"I was uncomfortable," Sam admitted. "Our society… we're not so free with this sort of thing." She pointed to SG-12, huddled behind Teal'c and Daniel.
Kemala chuckled. "Yes. High Mother noticed their discomfort. She would have offered to send them on some task, but feared you would be insulted."
"I think they'll survive." Sam stretched out her legs, trying to keep her pants from riding up any further. "Thank you."
"For what?" Kemala was frowning at Sam's right shoulder, and licking her thumb, she rubbed at one of the painted designs - firm, quick strokes until she was apparently satisfied with her repair.
"For asking us to do it your way."
Kemala grinned. "I am always right in these things."
Unable to argue with that, Sam went to find Major Wells and ordered him to have his men stand down and mingle, biting back a laugh at his slightly stricken expression. "Anthropologists do it all the time, Major, and I'm not going to put anyone on report unless they deliberately act like an ass."
"Yes, ma'am." His shoulders sagged, and he flashed her the first smile she'd seen cross his face since Kemala's hunting party had first met them at the Gate.
And then Sam found Daniel and pulled him into the dance, letting him spin her until she was a little dizzy. She pulled Teal'c in too, pleasantly surprised when he whirled her about with un-Jaffa-life gusto. Later, as Sam and Daniel staggered out, leaving Teal'c still going strong, Daniel said, "You know, I used to have dreams like this."
Sam laughed, the sound raspy and broken as she tried to catch her breath. "You read National Geographic instead of Playboy when you were twelve, didn't you?"
"So?" He huffed. "I'm going to find something to drink that's not going to give me a hangover."
Commanding him to find something for her, too, Sam relaxed onto one of the mats, the afterimage of the dancers burned in streaks of gold and red and blue against her eyelids as she yawned. She wished the General were there, because it still didn't feel quite right with just the three of them, but she was looking forward to the picture Daniel would paint during the debrief. Even now she could hear the snide remark reminding her of the dangers of indulging in local culture.
It would be hard not to laugh, because she had actually thought to ask what was in the cakes.
******
"Our very own naquadah mine, six fascinating varieties of medicinal plants, and nobody died. Maybe this'll get Jack to stop sending babysitters along with us," Daniel said the next morning. He and Teal'c had shown up at her tent at the crack of dawn, bearing the local equivalent of coffee and more of the little oatcakes.
They'd wandered off to bed somewhere around one in the morning, after sorting out a cursory watch rotation with SG-12, but she'd stayed around the dwindling fire with Kemala and some of the other women from the council for another few hours. They were much less intimidating after a few cups of beer, and the High Mother turned out to possess a delightfully off-color sense of humor. Sam had obliged her, amid raucous laughter and the occasional explanatory pantomime, with an unofficial cultural exchange of Tau'ri euphemisms for various body parts and sexual practices.
"You noticed that too, huh?" Sam snatched a cake from which Daniel had just taken a bite, juggling it as she shrugged into her t-shirt, then licking the syrup off her fingers.
She had been too tired to do more than peel the pants off and pull on her shorts before collapsing into bed at some ungodly early hour, and when she woke, found she was loathe to make use of the bottle of astringent Kemala had given her to remove the painted designs. She traced a smudged spiral that wrapped around her navel as she fastened her BDU pants ("Our lives run like a spiral, circling closer and closer to our center," Kemala had said as she painted it on Sam's skin. "Yeah, most days I feel like I'm running in circles," Sam had replied, earning a peal of laughter from Kemala.)
Teal'c, busily consuming oatcakes until this point, licked crumbs from his lips and fingers and announced, "We should humor him no longer."
“Indeed,” Sam said, wiping her own fingers on her pants. It wasn’t a discussion she wanted to have, but as the General had said, she was in charge of SG-1, and Sam had a feeling that sometimes he needed to be reminded of that, too. “I’ll talk to him.”
She acknowledged Teal’c’s nod with one of her own and stole the last cake from Daniel. “And I want to have a team meeting when we get back. I think it’s time we talked about the changes and dealt with some of the issues of the new command structure.”
“Sam, about that…”
Sam gave him back half of the cake she’d taken. “We’ll talk about it later, Daniel.”
He accepted the peace offering by stuffing it in his mouth, and Sam snorted a laugh as she pulled on her vest and picked up her pack. “Let’s go.”
They followed her out of the tent. SG-12 were waiting outside with Kemala and her hunting party, who would act as their honor escort back to the Gate. As they all started down the well-worn path, Daniel fell into step beside Sam and poked her in the arm.
“Can I tell Jack about the naked part?”