sg1: jack/sam_2010

[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: Fishing is Good


Jack and Sam enjoy a leisurely mission along a lake. I'm sure there has to be some fish in that water.

(This story was originally written in 2011 and has been updated for composition and clarity in 2020.)

570 words | [PG]


“I could stay here forever,” Sam murmured. The heat of the mid-day sun warmed her exposed skin, sending a pleasing shiver down her spine. She spread her limbs out letting the soft grass glide against her body. The ground felt cool and solid under her, and the smell of pine and freshwater saturated the air.

Next to her, the colonel rolled onto his stomach so he could see her face. His cheeks were slightly sunburned and his hair, now freed from his cap, was sticking up in impossible directions. She fought every urge to reach out and run her fingers through it. “It’s not bad,” he said, pulling up a long blade of grass to play with.

“It’s perfect.”

“The view’s good.” He squinted up at the horizon where three white-peaked mountains rose over the treeline. Like a royal family lording over their empire.

Sam let her head fall to the side, the bill of her hat guarding her eyes. He was staring down at his hands now as they twisted and pulled apart blade after blade of grass. “I bet the lake as fish.” She bit her lip and waited for his response.

Slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Sam pressed her teeth deeper into her lip to keep her own grin hidden. “You think?” he asked, his voice sounding pleased.

“We could find out.”

[read more]

He lifted his gaze to the water lapping gently against the rocky shore just a few yards from where they lay. “I guess we have time, no?” That sounded downright hopeful.

“Sure, sir. Until Daniel and Teal’c, get back we’re pretty much stuck here.”

He snorted. “True. And catching some fish would actually be productive. Dinner and all.”

“Exactly, sir.” She watched his expression change again, this time to something akin to anticipation. “So?”

He looked up at her. She loved when he smiled like that—the way the corners of his eyes crinkled and how he quirked just one half of his mouth. There were so many better things she could think to do with him than fish. None of those would stand up to regulations, though. She realized a moment too late that she was still staring at him. Probably with her jaw all slack. She wouldn’t be surprised if there was drool. She fought the urge to wipe at her mouth then noticed the colonel’s eyes had gone black.

He slowly licked his lips, his hands actually stilling in the grass. And they stared. Sam was sure the distance between them was evaporating along with the morning dew. He was definitely getting closer. And his hand moved. Just a bit so that it almost touched hers. Oh god, she thought. Her eyes darted down to his lips of their own accord as her brain blared warning bells that were ignored by her body.

Just when she thought they couldn’t stay apart a second longer, a sudden blast of cool mountain air descended into the valley, tossing Sam’s hat from her head. Her hair whipped around her face for a second until she felt the colonel’s fingers pull it back behind her ear. She gave him a sheepish grin. That lopsided smile again—it was going to be the death of her career, she was sure of it.

“Fishing,” he mumbled, his voice a little raspy.

“Right,” Sam answered, slightly less rough, “fishing. Fishing is good.”

sg1: jack/sam_ in love

[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: Playing the Game: Rules Are Meant To Be Broken

Jack visits Sam on Atlantis after she takes command. (With the premise that they didn't get together after Threads.)

(This story was originally written in 2011 and has been updated for composition and clarity in 2020.)

1,524 words | [PG]


“So what do you think, sir?” Sam watched his expression as she guided him through the labyrinth-like corridors of Atlantis. She’d been the expedition commander for six months now, and this was his first visit while she was in charge. She felt a nervous flutter of her stomach and wondered why. She’d felt less anxious going up for her first promotion review. This was General O’Neill after all.
After a moment, he turned to her, hands clasped behind his back. “Looks good, Colonel. Any problems since you’ve taken over.”

Relief swelled in her, and she shook away the cobwebs of doubt that invaded her head. “Not really. Just your typical disgruntled personnel.”

“There’s always a few that don’t adapt well to a regime change.”

She snorted. “I’d hardly call it a regime change, sir.”

“Going from a civilian command to military is a lot to take. Especially with a science expedition like this.”

“It hasn’t been that bad. And I think things have smoothed out rather nicely.”

He must have noticed her defensiveness because his expression softened with a smile. “I’m sure it has, Carter. I wasn’t trying to imply otherwise. I just know it’s... hard. Being in charge.”

She regarded him for several beats but found his words sincere. He knew from experience. She nodded in agreement. “It’s different here, though. We’re so far from home that we rely on each other a great amount so we’re all kind of like-”

“Family?”

She smiled up at him. “Yeah, family.”

“That’s good, Carter. You deserve to have family close.”

[read more]They turned a corner, and she noticed he had gotten very quiet. Sam knew him well enough to judge his moods by his demeanor. Most people wouldn’t notice the subtle shift in his manner or inflections of his voice. She watched him from the corner of her eyes the whole length of the hall, but he said nothing else—his gaze was fixed on the polished floor.

“Was there something else, sir? Something bothering you?”

He shook his head and looked up at her with a lost expression. She almost laughed out loud at it. How many times had he given her that same look after not paying attention in a briefing or zoned out while she explained something complicated on a mission? She sighed softly then, realizing where they were, motioned for him to take a right and led him down another hall, stopping in front of a nondescript door. He looked confused, brows knit together.

She opened the door, gesturing for him to come inside. His mouth opened as if to ask where they were but shut just as quickly. It was pretty obvious. He looked around her quarters with curious eyes—his earlier confusion and pensiveness apparently forgotten.

“Nice digs, Carter.”

“Surprisingly comfortable,” she agreed. “The Ancients really knew how to build ‘em.”

She waited for his amused snort in reply and wasn’t disappointed. He found his way over to the bookcase along one wall of the sitting area and examined her collection. “Interesting,” he mumbled, holding up a copy of a rather racy romance novel.

Sam blushed. “One of the nurses gave me that. I, uh, haven’t even opened it yet.” She grabbed the book and tossed it onto the basket of unwashed laundry in the corner. The general just smiled at her—that intensely wicked smile he used when he tried to refrain from saying something he’d regret later. Sam always found it kind of charming. Not that she’d ever let him know that.

He turned away and picked up one of the framed pictures. Sam felt her ears turning from pink to red as he examined the familiar snapshot of himself decked out in full tactical gear before a mission. He shot her a warm look before putting the frame back down with a snort. Sam was sure she saw his face flush and bit her lips to keep from smiling.

She followed him around the room giving little tidbits of information she’d learned about Atlantis in the time she’d been there and offering her opinion on other matters. Finally, they rounded back to the main sitting room. He eyed her with a look of concern mingled with a little apprehension.

“So, you’re doing okay?”

“Of course. Things are running smoothly and the Wraith-”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She looked away. She knew what he meant, but this dance was too familiar to learn new steps just yet. When she didn’t answer, he took a step closer and asked again.

“Are you okay?”

Sam nodded slightly. Was she okay? Really? After losing her spot on SG-1 and being shipped to another galaxy without a choice? That was the military, she tried to tell herself, but it still sucked. Really sucked sometimes. And part of her was angry and resentful. And maybe a little selfish in thinking that she might deserve a little more consideration with how many times she had saved the planet. She nodded again, no less firmly. He stepped closer.

“Carter?”

“I’m fine. Just a little... lonely.”

“You just said the whole expedition was like family.”

“Not my family,” she said softly. “Not... I didn’t mean...”

“I know what you meant.” And before she knew what was happening, he had crossed the last few feet between them and pulled her into a tight embrace. Her breath caught in her chest at the sudden contact—just like it always had. Ten years and the man still had that effect on her. And he seemed to know it because she felt a chuckle rumble in his chest.

“I miss you,” she whispered, almost hoping he wouldn’t hear. They had played this game for so long she wasn’t sure she’d ever figure out the rules or if there was a way to win. But it was familiar, and she didn’t want to stop playing. But maybe a change of rules would be okay.

He tightened his grip, swallowing hard. “I miss you, too.” She could feel his Adam’s apple really working as he fought to maintain control. “A lot.”

Sam pulled back to look him in the face. She didn’t know what to say to his confession so she just smiled at him. After a few moments, he closed his eyes and took a steadying breath.

“You know this wasn’t my idea, right? I wanted to keep you at the SGC. At home. Safe.” Close to me. She could have sworn she heard him say the words.

“I know. I’m okay, really.”

“I just worry about you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

He grunted. “Of that, I have no doubt. I was thinking more about the personal side. Being so far from your friends. I mean, you might get so lonely, one of these geeks out here could give you a little look, and BAM-” His voice trailed off. She rolled her eyes—typical O’Neill deflection.

“Never’ll happen.”

“No?”

“Nope.”

“How come? You telling me you’ve taken a vow of celibacy or something?”

Sam giggled and shook her head against his chest. “God, no.”

He laughed at that. Then made that questioning sound in his throat that used to make her head spin—sometimes with amusement and sometimes with agitation.

“I’m not interested in the geeks here.”

“They’d be perfect for you. Might even understand a quarter of what you’re talking about.”

A vision of Rodney bloomed inside her head, but she quickly pushed it out with an internal shiver. “Never.”

He pulled back slightly to look at her with a nervous expression. Well, to anyone else it would look positively blasé but Sam knew him so much better than that. “How come,” he asked, his voice very quiet.

Sam licked her lips, debating what to say. The rules of the game demanded she change the subject, crack a joke, make a sarcastic remark. Anything except the truth. But rules were made to be broken and games could get tedious if repeated for long lengths of time. Anyone that ever played a never-ending round of Monopoly knew that. She took a deep breath and leaned her head against his shoulder again. “Because I’m already in love with someone else.”

He was very still for a long while. Sam waited, chewing on her bottom lip. Then his hand slid up her back to rest on her neck. She realized he had been holding his breath when his chest suddenly deflated as he let out a long, shaky breath. He took two more breaths then said, with a rather steady voice, “Anybody I know?”

Sam shook her head, tears pressing at the corners of her eyes. She didn’t know what she would do with him. Or without him in her life. She didn’t even want to contemplate that. So instead she just tightened her grip and let her lips slide across the soft skin just above his uniform collar. Letting him know exactly who she was talking about. His only response was a full-body shiver. Sam smiled into the crook of his neck suddenly wondering why she never thought to bend the rules a little sooner.
sg1: daniel_crazy

The 100 fic: Trust in Your Heart

I originally wrote this back in April 2017 for fanfic50 and started editing it in June 2018. Not sure why I never got around to finishing the edit or posting it.


Canon-divergent with the Ark never coming down, leaving the 100 on their own through the winter. Bellamy is on a mission, and Clarke isn’t totally sure she can trust his motives. But she knows she can trust him with her life so that has to be enough. At least, that’s what her heart is telling her.
3,834 words | [PG-13]



Clarke digs her fingers through the newly upturned earth, picking out rocks and other debris. They have onions and potatoes to plant. Across from her, Finn smiles, but then his expression darkens as a shadow passes over her.

“Hey,” Bellamy says, “I need your help with something.”

“Help with what?” she asks without so much as a glance at him.

“I found what looks like a cache of medical supplies. But I’m not sure if any of it is worth bringing back.”

That gets her attention. She cocks her head, the sun behind him, blinding her. “The stuff would be well over a hundred years old.”

He shrugs. “It was sealed up pretty tight.”

Clarke pushes a strand of hair off of her face. If the cache was sealed like the Art Supply bunker, the stuff inside could still be good. And even if the meds have gone bad, there might be other salvageable items or equipment. The hair falls back into her face, and she tries to blow it away. Unsuccessfully.

“How far away is it?”

“It’s a bit of a walk. We probably won’t get back until after dark.”

She stands up, wiping her hands on her dirty pants. “You think it’s worth it?”

He nods. “We barely made it through winter. We need all the help we can get.”

Of course, he’s right. It’s pretty much what they argued about all day yesterday—she wanted more help with planting; he wanted more help securing the fence. “Okay,” she says, wiping the strand of hair away again. “I’ll grab my bag.”

She’s filling bottles of water when Finn finds her a moment later. “You can’t seriously be going with him?”

“Why not?”

“Because yesterday he was talking about burying you with the potatoes.”

[read more]

Clarke snorts. “He was just being Bellamy. He’s not taking me out to the woods to kill me.”

“You have no idea what he’s capable of.”

Are they really having this conversation again? She stuffs the bottles into her bag, counting to ten to regain her composure. “He’s kept us alive all winter. I trust him.”

Finn looks shocked. “Him? Bellamy? You trust him.”

“He’s not going to do anything. We’ll find this cache, I’ll check it out, and we’ll come back. Life will go on.”

“Then let me come with. I can keep an eye on him. And you won’t have to deal with his bullshit alone all day.”

“You ready, princess?” Bellamy calls from the gate as he adjusts the strap of his rifle over his shoulder.

Finn gives her a look that says, “See what I mean?”

“It’ll be fine, Finn. I can handle Bellamy.” Clarke stares at him until he gets the picture and leaves. She sighs.

“Ready?” Bellamy asks when she joins him at the gate.

She glances over her shoulder at Finn standing stiffly next to the dropship. “Ready.”

He doesn’t say anything else as they set off. In fact, he doesn’t say anything for a good half hour as they work their way east through the woods, avoiding their own traps. The sun doesn’t penetrate as far under the trees and the breeze cools the sweat on her back, making her shiver.

“How far away is this cache?” she asks, pulling a bottle of water from her bag.

“Getting tired already?”

“No.” She takes a sip and hands him the bottle.

“Then what are you worrying about.” Bellamy walks away with a smirk.

Sometimes she can’t stand him—he’s just as annoying and arrogant as when they landed. Hurrying to catch up, her foot slips, but Bellamy catches her easily.

“You okay?” he asks. She looks down at his hand still wrapped around hers, and he quickly drops it like she burned him. It’s hard to rectify the apparent disgust with the look of concern in his eyes.

It’s pointless to try and figure him out—she learned that a long time ago. “I’m fine,” she says, wiping her sweaty hands on her pants and ignoring the tingle his touch always causes. Sometimes she hates him for the way her body reacts. The way his stupid grin makes her heart trip. Or the way the butterflies flutter whenever he calls her “princess” in that amused tone.

“Come on,” he says softly, “We still have a ways to go.”

Overhead, birds call out the beginning of spring. Squirrels dash from tree to tree, collecting their stores from winter. One scurries right in front of her. Clarke stumbles to a stop and watches it shoot up the tree next to her where it sits on a branch chattering angrily at her. Clarke starts to laugh, but then her eyes drift down the trunk to a symbol carved in the bark. A chill runs down her back.

Bellamy notices her and stops. “You coming?”

She looks from the tree to him then hurries to catch up. “We’re close to Tondc,” she whispers.

He swallows. “I know. It’ll be fine. Just keep your eyes open.”

Her eyes do open, bugging out at his nonchalance. “The grounders will kill us if they see us.”

“We’re not going to get close enough to Tondc for them to notice.”

Clarke is suddenly on high alert. Every snap of a branch or crunch of leaves makes her heart race.

Bellamy squeezes her shoulder. “Clarke, relax. I’ve hunted here dozens of times. We’re safe.”

She gives him a bewildered look. He laughs then pushes the stray strand of hair behind her ear, making her tremble. “Do you trust me?”

“What?” She blinks at him, confused by the change of subject.

He licks his lips as he pulls his hand away from her face. “Do you trust me?”

She frowns. After everything they’ve been through—even as annoying as he is—she knows in her heart that he’d never let anything happen to her. Not on purpose. She nods, locking eyes. “I do trust you.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Okay. Then let's go.” He walks backward a few steps, taunting her. When she rolls her eyes and follows, he turns around with a chuckle.

She thinks about throwing a handful of mud at his head but decides it’s a little immature. Sure enough, the veer away from the grounder village a few minutes later, heading south along the dry riverbed. Bellamy seems to be in better spirits. In fact, he seems downright giddy. Which just raises Clarke’s suspicions. He’s up to something. She knows he’s not taking her out here to kill her, but she’s starting to doubt his story about the medicine.

“How much farther?” She stops to take another drink.

He slows then comes back. “Not that much. Maybe twenty minutes.”

She narrows her eyes, trying to decide what his angle is. “Did you see what kind of medicine there is? Names on bottles or anything?”

“I told you it was sealed up tight.”

“Then how do you know there’s medicine in there.”

He cocks his head. She arches an eyebrow and waits to see what answer he pulls out of his ass. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly like dealing with her takes all of his patience. “Probably something to do with the giant red cross on the side of the container.” He swipes the bottle and drinks nearly half of it before handing it back. “Any more questions, princess?”

She rolls her eyes. “Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”

“No.”

God, he’s so irritating. She mumbles a few choice curse words under her breath that would make her dad cringe.

Bellamy leans over. “What was that, princess? I didn’t catch it all. Something about performing certain acts on myself.”

She shoves him. “Shut up.”

He smiles back at her. There’s a twinkle in his eyes that ignites little fires in her stomach. When he looks at her like that, it makes it hard to breathe. She quickly turns away so he won’t see her blush.

It’s actually more like thirty minutes before he points to her right. “This way. Almost there.”

She’s pretty sure she isn’t imagining the excitement in his voice.

He stops at a wall covered in moss and vines, a stupid grin on his face.

“Bellamy-”

Then he pulls back the vines, and she realizes it’s not a wall. A set of steps descends into darkness. The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. He pulls a flashlight and battery-powered lantern from one of his bags. He hands her the flashlight and skips down the stairs, stopping halfway to look up at her. He raises his hand. “Come on, Clarke. You said you trusted me.”

His face is shadowed, but there’s a hint of uncertainty in his voice that kills her. She takes his hand, and he helps her maneuver over the crumbling stairs. The lantern illuminates a ten-foot circle around them. Clarke sweeps the flashlight over the large room. Bellamy doesn’t let go of her hand as he winds through centuries-old debris. They come to a rusted metal turnstile. Bellamy easily hops over it then helps her across. More stairs lead them into what she realizes is a subway tunnel.

“This way.” His voice echoes against the concrete walls.

They inch along a ledge above the tracks that are covered in filthy water. Clarke tries not to think about what might be in the water. Or what is making the squeaking she hears. The farther in they go, the more nervous she gets. She shines her light on the arched ceiling far above them. The Cracks criss-cross the concrete, vegetation growing through some, others dripping water into the flowing stream below.

“Bellamy, I don’t know about this.”

He holds up the light so she can see his face. He looks completely calm which helps her relax some. “It’s not that far, I swear.”

He starts to walk again, but she doesn’t move, causing him to stop. This isn’t right. Why would they store a cache of anything in the subway? She sighs and drops his hand. “There’s no medicine is there?”

It’s a long time before he answers. “No.”

Her heart races—the darkness closing in on her. “Then why are we here?”

He licks his lips. “I want to show you something.”

“In the subway?”

“Yeah.”

She tilts her head, trying to see his face through the shadows. “Then why the whole story about the cache?”

He lowers the light, blocking her view of him. “I didn’t know how else to get you to come.”

He sounds so small. She’s not used to thinking of him as anything but completely in control of everything. It’s a little unsettling to see him so unsure. She takes a deep breath and points the flashlight at his chest so she can see him without blinding him. “You could have just asked.”

He stares at her for a long time. “After yesterday, I didn’t think you’d come.” He looks away, biting his lip.

Clarke lets out a breath. “We had a fight. We fight all of the time. It’s kind of what our entire friendship is built on.”

His head snaps back around. “We’re friends?” he asks, still with that small voice.

How could he not know that? “Of course we’re friends.”

He watches her for a moment. She wonders what he’s thinking. Then he turns and disappears into the darkness. Clarke glances around, heart pounding.

“Coming, princess?”

She hurries after him. Up ahead the darkness falls away some. Bellamy ducks under some tree roots growing out of the wall. Clarke does the same then stops with a gasp. They’re in another station. But this one is completely different. Every inch of it is covered in graffiti. But not the occasional anti-government slogans she’s seen tagged on various surfaces. This is completely different. She finally moves into the space. The floor has some kind of three-dimensional art drawn so it looks like a waterfall is pouring into a tropical lake. It’s actually kind of disorienting. The background extends partway up the wall behind it, but then someone else painted over it with an elaborate fantasy-scape. A few feet away is a swirling curling lettering that spells out LIVE LAUGH and the L of another word. But it’s also been covered up with a giant broken heart drawn anatomically correct. The entire room is covered in overlapping designs that must have been painted over years. Decades. Maybe the entire century.

Bellamy is sitting on the steps in front of a collapsed wall that must block the way to the surface. Even the rubble is painted. His smile reaches from ear to ear and lights up his eyes. “You like it?”

Clarke spins, trying to take it all in. “It’s amazing. How did you even find it?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he hops up and hands her the lantern. “I saved the best for last.” He nearly stops her heart as he starts scaling the debris up to the ceiling that’s at least twenty feet above them. She can’t see him anymore—he’s lost in the shadows. Then suddenly the entire space is flooded with sunlight. Clarke throws up her hand to block the light. Bellamy jumps down and comes up behind her. His hands on her shoulders send shivers over her entire body. Either he doesn’t notice or ignores it. He turns her towards the tunnel. The wall across from them is also painted in a mix of designs. She’s amazed at the talent.

Bellamy leans close, his breath warm against her ear. “Look up.”

She tries to ignore the tingling down her neck as she looks up. Her breath catches. The entire ceiling of the tunnel is covered. But not in the tagging or random art of the walls. No, it’s covered in a giant copy of Vincent Van Gogh’s Starry Night. It’s breathtaking. Water drips onto her shirt. She blinks and realizes it’s tears. Bellamy steps away from her, practically bouncing.

“I knew you’d like it.”

“I don’t even know what to say. This is-” She can’t stop staring. The attention to detail is inspiring. “God.”

“There’s one more thing,” he says, pulling her attention away from the ceiling. He beckons her toward him.

She goes without hesitation now, trusting him completely. He steps over to where an old tarp is hanging haphazardly from some rubble. He grabs the end and yanks it down, exposing a section of wall free of paint.

“What-”

“I thought you could add your own mark to this world. Don’t worry, I didn’t destroy any of the artwork. The tiles had already fallen when I got here.” He pulls something out from behind some scrap metal. “You’ll need this.” He holds out a box, opening it. Inside are jars filled with colors. “I got the charcoal and pencils from the Art Supply Store, but the paints took some time to figure out. The red was easy from the berries. The green and yellow took a little longer. Then I just started playing around with all of the plants and rocks I could find for the other colors.”

She can hardly tear her eyes from the jars. There are paintbrushes, too—all different sizes. Some look hand made. She picks one up, running her fingers over the soft bristles.

“Boar hair,” he says.

The whole box blurs as the tears escape. “You did this for me?”

He swallows hard. “I know you like to draw.”

She finally looks up at him. “This must have taken forever. How long have you known about this place?”

He gives her a crooked smile. “A few weeks. I found it while hunting.”

She bites down on her lower lip to keep it from quivering. She has to wipe vigorously at the tears before her cheeks dry. “I don’t know what to say, Bellamy.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

He puts the paints down then takes her shoulders, turning her towards the wall. “You don’t have to say anything.”

She stares at the blank wall for a long time. She can hear Bellamy on the other side of the station, rummaging in the junk. She has no idea how long she just stands there. She’s terrified she won’t think of anything to paint. She’s not even sure she remembers how. She looks around at all of the other art—people leaving their mark as Bellamy put it. All different styles and subjects. Her eyes drift back to the Starry Sky—it’s always been one of her favorite paintings. When she looks back at the wall she instantly knows what she wants to paint. She picks up the charcoal and starts sketching.

She draws and paints until the sun sets. Bellamy brings over the lantern and stands behind her. “What is it?”

She brushes flakes of dried paint from a grouping of trees. “It’s the story of us. Of the one hundred since we landed. Or it will be when I’m done.” She points to a boxy shape at the top.

“The dropship,” he says before she can.

She nods. “This is the river and the tree where we found Jasper. Here’s the garden already growing.” She reaches out and touches the yellow in the center. “The fire in camp.”

“This is me,” he says softly, pointing at a face taking shape over the dropship. There are other faces, but his is the most complete. She’s not sure why. No, that’s a lie. She knows exactly why.

Bellamy swallows slowly. “It’s beautiful.”

She’s suddenly aware of how close he’s standing—of the heat building. She kneels down to collect the paints and wash the brushes in the water he collected from a crack in the wall. “It’s nothing,” she mumbles. “Not compared to-” She nods at the ceiling.

He’s watching her when she stands. He doesn’t move or say anything for a long time. She resists the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. Or run. Then his hand moves slowly to her face. He brushes that same strand of hair behind her ear and runs his finger over her cheek, rubbing away what must be paint. Clarke can’t breathe. She can’t move. Can’t think. He steps closer. And closer.

“I’m glad you like it, Clarke,” he whispers. The way her name rumbles in his chest sends a tingle coursing through her body. When his other hand reaches up to cup her cheek she realizes he’s trembling almost as much as she is. He leans his head forward but hesitates. She can feel his breath against her lips. Her whole body vibrates with anticipation, but he doesn’t move. She suddenly gets it—he’s waiting for her to close the distance. He’s scared.

Well, Clarke is terrified, but she moves anyway. It only takes a fraction of an inch before their lips brush against each other. His are cracked but soft. He tilts his head slightly, his thumbs rubbing across her cheeks. Her heart might beat right out of her chest, and her entire body is on fire. Just when she thinks she can’t take another second of his touch, he pulls back. Only an inch and leans his forehead against hers.

“Clarke-” His voice is rough and catches in his throat.

She’s done talking. She slides her fingers into his hair and pulls him down. This kiss is firmer, the tentativeness of the first gone. Bellamy’s arms wrap around her body as he presses her closer. Then one hand slides up her spine to cup the back of her head as he deepens the kiss.

She gets lost in the kiss—it’s like none that she’s had before. It’s like the sun shining on her for the first time, filling parts of her she didn’t know were in the shadows. She’s lost all concept of time. There’s only her and him and their lips. Bellamy finally pulls away, panting. His hand slips from her hair, trailing down her cheek. His thumb runs across her swollen lips. “God, I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

When she forces her eyes open, his pupils are completely shot and his hair is sticking up at odd angles. She bites down on her lip, trying to keep from smiling because this is supposed to be some kind of serious moment, but he looks so damn adorable. He cocks his head, his expression faltering. She runs her fingers through his hair, straightening it about as much as you can. She looks back at him, his face blurring as the tears fill her eyes again. The intensity of his stare threatens to burn a hole through her. To turn her to ash. Melt her into a puddle.

He’s still hesitating, uncertain. She leans forward and kisses him again. This time slow and careful. His touch is tender when he runs his hand down her side. He pulls her so close, she’s not sure where she ends and he begins. This kiss is even better than the last because it says so much more than, “I want you”. There’s more to it. There’s love.

The thought makes her gasp. Bellamy pulls back, probably afraid he did something wrong. The tears building in her eyes again probably won’t help dispel the idea. She holds him tighter, burying her face in his neck. He breathes her in. Clarke hasn’t ever felt this way. A few hours ago they were arguing about food and she could barely stand to look at his smug face. Now she can’t believe how she lived without him this close. Her stomach flips as another thought hits her. “Bellamy, I-” She catches herself before she can say the words because it’s ridiculous. There is no way she’s falling in love with Bellamy.

He tangles his fingers in her hair. “Clarke-” That’s all he gets out. There’s a loud bang from down the tunnel. They jump apart and Clarke feels silly for feeling like they were doing something wrong. Bellamy shoves his hand through his hair, his breathing ragged. “We should get out of here—it’s late.”

Clarke agrees. She hides the paints behind the rock while Bellamy shimmies up the crumbled wall to cover the hole in the ceiling. Then he helps her cover the painting with the tarp.

When they get to the ledge at the edge of the station platform, he turns and plants a quick kiss on her still-numb lips. She’s glad he turns away quickly so he doesn’t see the full-body shiver. He twines his fingers with hers and guides her out of the tunnel and back into reality. Because Clarke is still trying to decide if what happened was real or if she imagined it. Maybe there were sewer gases down there that made her hallucinate.

She touches her fingers to her puffy lips and knows that it was real. She kissed Bellamy Blake. And she liked it. She definitely plans to do it again.

sg1: jack/sam_2010

[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: Simplifying

Jack tries to talk Sam into taking over as head of the SGC but Sam has other ideas.
(This story was originally written in 2011 and has been updated for composition and clarity in 2020.)
995 words | [PG-13]

“You know, Carter,” Jack said as they rounded the corner heading for the bank of elevators, “you could just come back to the SGC.”

She walked next to him, hands clasped behind her back but looking completely casual. He marveled at her. “I suppose.”

Their heels clicked on the polished stone floor of the Pentagon. Jack nodded at several startled servicemen as they exited an office to his right. They eagerly got out of his way. Rank did have some privileges he thought with a smirk.

“You don’t seem too enthused at the thought.”

She shrugged.

“And that means?”

That got a bit of a smile out of her. “I hadn’t really thought about it, sir. After Atlantis and the Hammond-” She trailed off, her gaze getting glossy. She shook her head slightly before continuing. “I’m not sure I want to go back to the field.”

They arrived at the elevators, and Jack slammed his thumb into the up arrow. “Carter,” he said, keeping his voice low, “you have to realize you are on the shortlist to take over for Landry when he retires. A very short list.”

She shrugged again, her eyes never quite meeting his. Jack frowned. At her, at the elevator, at the situation. She seemed to notice his agitation because she gestured with her head at the stairs. Jack shoved the door open with a little more force than necessary.

“You want out, don’t you?” he accused.

[read more]

“I never said that.”

“But you don’t want to go back to the SGC.” She shrugged; Jack groaned. He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. He took a deep breath at the next landing and turned to face her. She stopped on the stair below him, watching him intently. “You can have any assignment you want.”

She raised one eyebrow. “Is that a bribe?”

“If it has to be.”

The corner of her mouth quirked into a small grin. “A tad desperate?”

“To keep the greatest mind we have in the program? Damn straight.”

Her smile widened slightly. “Is that it?”

Jack swallowed hard—this conversation was suddenly going in a different direction than he intended. “Of course. You’re the foremost expert on the Stargate, we need you.”

“We?” She took the last step up to stand next to him. Right next to him—her body brushing against his.

The stairwell suddenly felt ten degrees warmer. Jack forced the lump in his throat back down and nodded. Carter gave him a sly smile before slipping past him.

He tried to ignore the way her dress uniform clung to her backside as she climbed to the next floor. “Maybe,” she called back over her shoulder, “I’m not ready to start taking orders from you again, General.”

Jack hurried to catch up with her, his knee protesting the quick movement. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If I take over as head of the SGC, I fall right back under your chain of command.”

“The head of the SGC takes orders from the Joint Chiefs, not me.”

She rolled her eyes. “We both know that’s not how it really works.” She continued up to the next landing.

Jack followed, more slowly this time. “Carter, what’s this really about?”

She stopped with one foot on the next stair and sighed. “I’ve been at this a long time, sir.”

“I know that.”

“Maybe I’m just... tired.”

Jack came to stand next to her, letting his long body lean against the cool wall. “I get that.”

She glanced up at him before continuing. “Maybe,” she said softly, “I’m ready to simplify my life.”

Jack frowned. “Simplify?”

Carter turned to face him, her hand suddenly on his chest and sliding up to his neck. He gulped in surprise. “Simplify.” She leaned into him, her whole body pressing against his. He shook involuntarily at her touch. She smiled at that. All these years and she still had that effect on him. He felt like a damned sixteen-year-old when she was around.

“Carter?” His voice was low and rough; he tried to clear it but it didn’t really help.

“Sir?” Her one hand snaked around his neck—long fingers sliding under his collar. The other inched down to his waist to settle around a belt loop. Jack kept forgetting to breathe.

“What are you doing?” This time it was barely above a whisper.

“Simplifying my life.”

Jack nearly fell over when her lips flitted across the tender skin under his chin. Warning bells blared inside his head—years of walls beginning to falter. Her lower hand felt it’s way around to his front and began to undo his buckle. He tried to jump back but only hit the wall. Sam pushed closer to him, her kisses now winding up to his ear. He shuddered.

“How is this... simplifying?” He could barely get the words out between gasps as her tongue did things to his ear he had only ever imagined in his daydreams.

She sucked on his earlobe as she pulled away, releasing it with a slight pop. She leaned back to catch his eye. “Let me put this in terms you will understand,” she said with a wicked smirk. “This is me making a move on you, Jack.”

He opened his mouth to reply but realized he had no response to that. She pushed his jaw closed with a finger, her grin growing with his awkwardness. After a moment, she leaned in again, her lips brushing against his this time. Both hands worked up to his face, cupping his cheeks gently. “Besides, can you picture me as a general?”

Jack let his eyes drift shut as her mouth closed on his. He could very will picture that, and it was a beautiful sight, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her tight to him. “I like simple,” he murmured against her lips. “Call me Mr. Simple.”

sg1: chillin

Girl Genius fic: Quit Pretending

Canon-diverent. Set sometime after Mechanicsburg is freed as everyone settles into life at Castle Heterodyne. Agatha thinks she knows how to fix Gil and Tarvek's relationship. She's usually right.

(This story was originally written in 2018 and has been updated for composition and clarity in 2020.)

1,065 words | [PG-13]


“That’s it! I can’t take it anymore!”

Gil stumbled to a stop as Agatha swung around to face him and Tarvek. They shared uneasy glances at the slight Sparkiness in her tone. “Wha-” he started to say, but she cut him off.

“The arguing and bickering. Can’t you two do anything without fighting?”

Another exchange of looks. Gil couldn’t even remember what they were fighting about moments ago, but he knew they’d been doing it. They fought over everything and anything and nothing. He wasn’t even sure why anymore.

“We’re not-” Tarvek protested, but Agatha put a hand up to stop him.

“Enough. I don’t want to hear it. I want you to fix it.”

They looked at each other, neither wanting to ask the question. Agatha sighed dramatically. “You’re both ridiculous, you know that. This isn’t as difficult as you’re making it out to be.”

Gil was so confused. “Making what difficult?”

Agatha rolled her eyes. “Getting along. Being around each other. You try so hard to irritate each other instead of being friends. You spend all your time pretending to hate each other—always pushing the other aw—when it’s obviously not what you want.”

“It’s not?”

The Spark flashed in her eyes again. Uh-oh. “No. And since you two are stubborn idiots, it looks like I’m going to have to fix everything like I always do.”

She wrenched each by the arm so they were facing each other then took a step back, expectantly. Gil stared at an equally baffled Tarvek.

“Agatha,” Tarvek said, slowly, “are you feeling ill?”

“I told you, I’m going to fix this constant fighting thing.”

“How?”

[read more]

She forced them to face each other again. In fact, she pushed them a little closer until Gil’s toes bumped Tarvek’s polished boots. “Kiss.”

Gil was sure he must have heard her wrong except for the look of sheer horror on Tarvek’s face.

“What?” Tarvek squeaked at the same time Gil said, “don’t be absurd.”

“Why not?”

There were so many reasons this was ridiculous, starting with the fact that it was Tarvek Sturmvoraus of all people in front of him. His arch-nemesis. A sneaky-sneak. A weasel.

The gleeful Spark dissipated from Agatha’s eyes, replaced by a soft fondness. “I love you both, but I can’t watch you tear each other apart when-” She trailed off for a second, eyes closing. “Quit pretending you don’t want this. It’s just the three of us here. No one else is going to know. If you can’t trust me—if you can’t trust each other—then this isn’t going to work.”

What? She was insane. He didn’t want to kiss Tarvek. Ridiculous. And there was no way Tarvek wanted to kiss him. Tarvek thought he was a complete waste of space. He made sure Gil knew it every chance he got. Tarvek hated him.

Then why did he still have that look of terror on his face?

A pain grew in Gil’s chest until he let out the breath he’d forgotten about. “Agatha,” he said softly. “I-”

Tarvek looked away, a pink tint climbing up his neck. Gil’s heart hammered so loud he was sure all of Mechanicsburg could hear it. This wasn’t happening—was it?

“Enough games,” Agatha whispered, nudging them closer. “Just kiss him.”

Tarvek finally looked back at him with something Gil couldn’t begin to describe in his eyes, but it looked kind of like hurt. And Gil hated it. Just kiss him. The words bounced around his head. Quit pretending, Agatha had said. Damn. She was right.

Arm shaking, Gil slowly reached out, running his fingers along Tarvek’s jaw. There was just a hint of stubble there that sent a tingle down his spine that he thought had more to do with the idea of Tarvek not being one hundred percent perfect at all times.

Tarvek shivered under his touch. Wow. Gil had no idea he could do that. He cupped Tarvek’s cheek, bringing his other hand up to match the movement. His fingers slid along Tarvek’s earlobe, eliciting another tremor.

Gil was dying. Slowly and painfully. Everything else faded away—the room, the castle who was surely recording this moment for future blackmailing purposes, Agatha. The world slowed to a stop. There was just him and Tarvek and Tarvek’s eyes flicking down to Gil’s mouth. Dying.

“I-” Tarvek licked his lips, drawing Gil’s full attention so he missed whatever else Tarvek said. He couldn’t hear anything through the rush of blood between his ears anyway.

Quit pretending. Just kiss him. Enough. Gil tightened his grip on Tarvek’s face, pulling him closer as he leaned in. He paused a hairbreadth’s away, a lifetime of insecurities screaming in his head. What if he screwed this up like he screwed everything else up?

“Gil?” Tarvek breathed his name, and Gil was done with being afraid. He smashed his lips against Tarvek’s. They were soft and warm and tasted like the candies they’d been eating earlier. Tarvek’s hands made their way up his chest and around his neck, his fingers tangling in Gil’s hair, and damn, if Gil didn’t come unwound.

He had no idea how long the kiss lasted. There were years of pent-up frustration and longing and love. It seemed like forever and no time at all when Tarvek finally pulled away, panting, hand still twisted in Gil’s hair.

“Oh,” was all he said.

Gil leaned his forehead against Tarvek’s and tried to calm his breathing. “Yeah.” Equally as elegant, he thought. Then he remembered they weren’t alone.

Agatha clasped her hands together beneath her chin, a huge smile on her face. She was radiating Sparky energy. “Finally,” she muttered, bouncing on her toes. Then she wedged herself between them, wrapping her arms around Tarvek’s waist. Tarvek sighed into her hair, but his eyes were on Gil.

“You okay?” he asked.

What a dumb question. Gil nodded then slid his arms around the two of them, squishing Agatha between him and Tarvek. He pressed a kiss to the top of Agatha’s head. “Thank you,” he whispered. It seemed like the thing to say.

“You’re welcome.” Agatha nuzzled Tarvek’s neck and twined her fingers with Gil’s around his back. “Now maybe we can get some work done.”

Maybe, but by the look in Tarvek’s eyes, he wasn’t thinking about work any more than Gil was at the moment.

sg1: d/v_research

[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: Don't Drink the Wine

It's cliché but so much fun when "aliens made them do it.” Daniel and Vala get caught after participating in a wedding ceremony on an alien planet. He really should know better by now.

(This story was originally written in 2011 and has been updated for composition and clarity in 2020.)
834 words | [PG-13]

“Up and at ‘em, Jackson.”

A boot connected with Daniel’s side. He groaned and rolled away, snuggling deeper into his sleeping bag. His head was killing him—felt like a full marching band playing the 1812 Overture in there, complete with canons. The boot nudged him again, a little more insistent this time.

“Go 'way,” Daniel mumbled. He was vaguely aware of other voices around him but had neither the will nor want to get up or even to try and understand what they were saying. After a short discussion, the foot ground into his back and shook violently.

“Get up.” Daniel recognized Mitchell’s voice, but he sounded like he was speaking from a great distance. And through cotton. His brain fought to catch up to his senses while the treads of his commander’s boot dug into his tender flesh. Daniel frowned into the soft fabric of his bag. Flesh? Something wasn’t right.

He reached a tentative hand over his body and let it drift over his back and around the boot still planted there. Where the hell was his shirt? The foot moved, and then he felt someone squat down next to his head. When Mitchell spoke again it was softer and closer to his ear.

“That’s right, Daniel, wakey-wakey. Time to get up and face the music.”

What was that supposed to mean? And why the hell was he naked? The realization that not only was his shirt missing, but his pants as well finally broke through the dense fog in his head. He pushed up on one arm and looked around—his vision still fuzzy from sleep.

Somewhere behind him, Sam snickered, and Mitchell looked like he was enjoying things way too much. Daniel narrowed his eyes at the blurred outline of the man standing next to his head. Someone—Teal’c he realized a moment later—handed him his glasses. “Why are you all-” he started to ask when the world around him suddenly came into crisp focus. “What the?”

[read more]

Mitchell snorted, eyes twinkling. “Looks like you had a good time last night.”

“I don’t remember.”

“No?”

“That does not surprise me, Daniel Jackson, you were quite inebriated.”

“I was?”

“Vala, too.”

“Vala?”

“Wha’s goin’ on?” Vala’s sleepy head popped up next to Daniel. Vala rubbed her eyes and peered around with a look of confusion before falling back into the mess of blankets around them.

Daniel realized a moment later that she was just as clothesless which caused him to vault from the pallet on the floor of his tent.

“Woah,” Mitchell said with a laugh, jumping away and holding a hand out to cover his view.

By then, Sam was giggling almost uncontrollably, and even Teal’c had an evil glee in his eye.

“Daniel, you’re naked,” Vala said with obvious amusement.

He glared down at her. “So are you.”

She pulled the sleeping bag away from her body to take a peek. “Huh. How’d you suppose that happened?”

Daniel’s frown deepened at the sultry way she said that and the all too easy grin that spread across her face. Sam erupted into full out laughter and was quickly joined by Mitchell.

“Perhaps,” Teal’c said, “there was something in the drink you partook in during last night’s wedding ceremony.”

“Ya think.” That got another guffaw from Sam. Daniel mentally chided himself for sounding way too much like Jack. Oh god. If he ever learned about this, Daniel would never hear the end of it. “They didn’t say it was alcoholic.”

“Maybe they have a different word for it,” Mitchell suggested.

Sam handed him his pants as she tried to school her face slightly. “Maybe they didn’t know it would affect you like this.”

“Maybe,” Daniel muttered as he pulled on his clothes.

Vala was still lying in the tangle of sleeping bags looking completely unabashed. “I just wish I could remember it. Must have been spectacular.”

Daniel groaned, his hands coming up to cover his face.

“Why do you say that?” Mitchell asked.

“Because I don’t think I can move just yet.”

“Oh, god,” Daniel muttered.

“That’s what she said.”

Sam busted out laughing again, Vala and Mitchell joining her after a few seconds. Even Teal’c chuckled. Daniel was sure of it.

“How long have you been waiting to use that line?” Sam asked Mitchell.

“A while. You’d think I’d get the chance more often. But nope.”

They continued to laugh as they exited the tent, Mitchell clapping Daniel on the back as he went. He could hear them still laughing outside. Daniel glanced down at Vala who suddenly flushed a rosy shade of pink. “I, um,” he stammered, “I’ll be outside.”

“Daniel-” He paused at the flap, shooting her a look over his shoulder. “It was a lovely night, we should do it again sometime.”

“Argh.” He quickly exited only to be greeted by more friendly ribbing and laughter. He was never going to live this down. Damn alien wedding parties. He really should know better by now.

sg1: daniel_crazy

[REPOST] The 100 fic: Wash Away the Pain

blood.jpg
Clarke has too much blood on her hands, but Bellamy is there to help wash it away.

(This story was originally written in 2017 and has been updated for composition and clarity in 2020.)
1,280 words | [PG-13]


Clarke staggers through the trees towards the rush of water she hears in the distance. Her right hand presses against a growing pain in her side. Her left hangs limply, knife dangling from her fingertips. The noise of the river drowns out the echoing screams of death in her head.

She falls to her knees on the bank, retching until the bile erases the bitter taste of copper that stings the back of her throat.

So much blood.

It’s everywhere—staining her clothes, caking her hair, dripping from her eyelashes. She stares at her hands—sticky with red—until they blur behind a curtain of tears. She thrusts her hands into the freezing water, scrubbing her skin raw, but the red isn’t going away.
Her chest seizes up as another sob wracks her.

It’s not my blood.

“Clarke?”

She’s not sure if she’s relieved or terrified that it’s Bellamy that followed her. She goes back to scrubbing the blood from her hands. Bellamy squats next to her, pulling her hands from the water to hold between his. He gently tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and wipes a line of blood trickling from her temple.

“What do I do?” she whispers. “I can’t get it off.”

He looks down at her hands. “They’re clean, Clarke.”

[read more]She doesn’t believe him, but she’s afraid to look again. He watches her a moment longer then stands, pulling her up with him. “Come on.”

He unties his boots, kicking them to the side. He tosses his jacket to the side and peels out of his t-shirt. Clarke swallows, squeezing her eyes shut. She doesn’t want to think about how perfect he looks without a shirt on or how he has a smattering of freckles across his shoulders. It’s both adorable and sexy. And completely inappropriate.

Bellamy leans over and dips his shirt in the water then starts wiping her face. He’s gentle, starting at the top and working his way down. Despite the cold, she feels the heat rolling off of his bare skin.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

With my life, she wants to tell him, but the words catch in her throat. Instead, she nods. Without saying another word, he carefully pulls off her shoes and socks. The rocks dig into her blistered feet, but she doesn’t complain.

He bites his lip—his eyes catching hers. He holds her gaze as he carefully removes her jacket. His fingers trail down her arms, sending a shiver up her spine.

He grips the hem of her shirt. “Still with me?”

She nods again, closing her eyes as he lifts the shirt off of her. She’s not sure she can look at him now. He casually undoes her pants, and she steps out of them, shivering. But he’s not done. She hears the zipper of his pants—the fabric pooling at his feet. He grips her hand tightly and guides her into the river.

The water is like a thousand tiny daggers hitting her all at once. She gasps and nearly sucks in a lungful of water. Bellamy wraps his arms around her waist—their chests pressed together—to keep her from sinking.

Bellamy carefully leans her head back and washes her hair, threading his fingers through the knots. Then he wipes her cheeks with his thumbs. His hands glide down her arms, pulling her hands between them. He rubs at her fingernails until the dark stains are gone.

When she looks up at him, his face is blurred behind tears. She blinks them away. He gives her that shy, sad smile he reserves just for her. She knows the emotions behind it. The way she keeps breaking his heart. The way he just accepts it. Because that’s who he is. She loves him for that.

She swallows down the lump. She might be in love with him.

Before she can think better of it, she reaches up and wipes a smudge of dirt from his temple. He doesn’t take his eyes off of her as she returns his favor—cleaning his face and hair. Even when she’s done, she can’t stop running her fingers through his curls. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer until their bodies are completely flush. His nose brushes hers, and she lets out a little sigh.

“Clarke,” he says, voice rough. He pushes her hair from her face, letting his fingers skim her chilled cheeks. Everywhere he touches heats up. He leans in closer until their lips are nearly touching. But something stops him. He pulls back ever so slightly, and she thinks she might die from the anticipation. He clears his throat. “Clarke, we-”

“Please,” she whispers. “Can we just forget about everything else. Just this once. Can it be just you and me. No Ark, no Earth, no grounders, no war.”

“No Lexa?”

She shakes her head. “Lexa’s gone.”

“Clarke, I don’t want you to forget her.”

“I’m not. But-” She runs her fingers over his lips. They’re chapped but soft. “I’m afraid I’m going to lose my chance.”

He chuckles softly. “With me?” He waits for her to look up. “Never, Clarke. I’ll be here when you’re ready. Whenever that is.” He slips his fingers into her hair and pulls her face closer, planting soft kisses on her forehead. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. I love you, Clarke.”

Every molecule in her body hums alive at his words. She wraps her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. He doesn’t question her breakdown; he just holds her tighter. When she finally gets control, she pulls back just far enough to see his face. The sun is setting behind him, casting him in shadows, but his eyes are wide, tracking her movements. She places a hand on either side of his face. The blood is finally gone—her skin shining white in the waning sun.

Slowly, she leans forward, letting their lips touch softly. He doesn’t react at first, but she presses, knowing he just needs a sure confirmation. And then he groans. His arms tighten in a bear hug as he deepens the kiss. It’s like he can’t get enough. And damn, Clarke doesn’t want this to end. Some small part of her mind starts to compare this with her first kiss with Lexa, but she shoves it away—surprised at how easily she boxes up the memories. It’s been over a year; she has to move on eventually. And Bellamy’s been waiting this whole time.

When she pulls away again, his eyes are slightly unfocused but with a hint of fear like he thinks maybe she changed her mind. “Bellamy.”

He tenses, obviously waiting for it all to fall apart. Her heart aches for him. She did this to him. She left him over and over. Chose someone else at every turn. And he’s still here. At her side every day without question. Her lip trembles. And not from the cold. “I love you,” she whispers. And to erase any questions he might have, she adds, “I’m in love with you, Bellamy, and I have been for a long time.”

He sucks in a sharp breath—his body completely still. She meets his gaze as tears gather in the corners of his eyes. She tilts his face closer, kissing each tear away before returning to his lips.

“God, Clarke,” he moans into her mouth. “I love you so much.”

“I know. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure out what I wanted.”

He kisses her softly. “You’re worth the wait.”

She smiles against his lips. “So are you.”
sg1: jack/sam_2010

[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: Talk of the Town

Sam and Jack get stranded on a planet when the Gate malfunctions. What to do with their time?
(This story was originally written in 2011 and has been updated for composition and clarity in 2020.)
2,693 words | [PG-13]


“You know, Carter,” Jack said, kicking at a half-buried rock, “people are going to start talking.”

“About what, sir?” Her voice was muffled by the DHD—her head buried in the innards of the ancient device.

“Us.”

She looked up at him, squinting at the sun that glinted over his shoulder. “What about us?” She had that look in her eye. The one that said she thought she knew what they were not discussing.

Jack pulled his gaze away from her and stared at the barren horizon. This planet was desolate. No civilization. No habitation at all as far as they could tell. They did their tests, set up their equipment and huffed it back to the gate as quickly as possible.

“Just... these things keep happening to us,” he finally said with a slight grimace.

Carter grunted. “It’s not our fault the Gate malfunctioned.” She ducked back into the DHD, a string of muttered curses following her.

Jack smiled and tried to ignore the fact that all he could see was her wiggling backside. He quickly looked away, his thoughts confirming his concern over the situation. “No, it’s not. But when the same thing keeps happening to just us.”

“It’s not always just us, sir. Last time Teal’c got stuck with us.” She continued to grumble to herself as she tried to figure out the issue with the DHD this time.

“I know that. Doesn’t stop people from talking.” Jack kicked at the offending rock, finally breaking it free of its grave. It skittered across the hard-packed dirt landing next to Carter’s leg. She suddenly rocked back on her heels and threw a broken crystal into the now empty compartment with disgust.

“Since when do you care what people think?”

[read more]“I don’t.”

She stood and dusted herself off. “Then why are we having this conversation?”

“I just thought maybe you’d be upset-”

“Why? I don’t care what they say either. Let them think what they want.” She gave the scattered tools and crystals a glare then sighed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

“Wouldn’t Hammond-”

“Dial right back as soon as Daniel and Teal’c came back without us? Yes.”

“So that means-”

“Either there is something wrong with the SGC gate or Daniel and Teal’c didn’t make it back to the SGC.”

Jack scratched at the back of his neck and regarded his second-in-command. He wondered if she even knew she was finishing his sentences. She was still staring at the DHD, a frown wrinkling her brow. When she started muttering about ancient devices and wormhole theory Jack turned away to stare at the gate, willing it to activate. It sat silent and still, mocking him.

After a while, he sighed. “Well, it looks like there isn’t anything else you can do so why don’t we just take a break.”

He could tell she was barely listening to him—her mouth silently reciting code or equations or something Jack was sure he would never understand. He chuckled to himself then lightly gripped her arm and guided her over to the steps up to the Gate.

She sat without protest, a long-suffering sigh escaping. “This sucks,” she mumbled.

Jack grunted his agreement while he dug through his pack for some MREs he knew were hiding at the bottom. He passed one to Carter without even looking to see what it was. She just stared at it for a long while.

“Penny?” Jack asked her around a bite of what was supposed to be mac and cheese but tasted a little more like doughy slop.

“Huh?”

“For your thoughts.”

She shrugged. “I was just thinking about what you said earlier.”

“What did I say?”

She shot him a look before returning her eyes to the unopened MRE dangling between her legs from grubby hands. “About how people are talking about us.”

Jack swallowed his last bite slowly, biding his time. Stalling. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and dropped the rest of his meal onto the stone step next to his feet. “I thought you didn’t care what they said.”

“I don’t.” The MRE crunched in her hands, flipping end over end between two fingers. Jack watched it for a while before speaking again.

“Then what’s the problem?”

Her shoulders lifted almost imperceptibly. She seemed a little deflated now that there was nothing she could do to the DHD. He watched her as she mulled it over—his own meal long forgotten. She was quiet a long time before she spoke again in a low voice. “Are they really talking about us?”

Jack shrugged. “Not when I’m around.” That got a small smile and soft snort. “Daniel’s heard things, though.”

Carter sighed at that and got up, rubbing at the back of her neck. Jack tried to ignore the way her fingers played with the hair at the nape, pulling slightly before letting her hand fall to her side. When he finally pulled his gaze away she was staring at him with an amused look on her face. He gave her his best lop-sided grin—the one that never failed to get a full-fledged Carter smile—the kind that reached her eyes and made them twinkle. He was duly rewarded.

“It’s just frustrating,” she said after finally looking away.

“What is?”

“This.” She gestured between them, and Jack’s heart skipped a beat. “Them. The talking. The constantly having to be on guard and worrying about what other people think.” Jack looked down at his boots, dust covering the toes and stuck to the laces. “Sometimes I just- I just want to, I don’t know.”

Jack got up to stand next to her. “What?” he encouraged, his voice sounding way too throaty for his liking but unable to stop himself.

Her eyes darted up to his then away just as quickly. Heat welled up in the distance between them that Jack was sure had nothing to do with the overbearing suns that left the planet so devoid of vegetation and animal life.

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Jack felt his throat close up and fought to swallow the lump forming. He wasn’t entirely sure what they were discussing anymore, and his mind reeled with the possibilities before he chastised himself and locked those thoughts back up in the corner where they belonged. She was staring at him now, probably wanting an answer, but Jack didn’t know what to tell her so he just nodded.

Carter sighed, a sad look playing across her face for a moment before she schooled it. She turned away to stare at the horizon, a dust storm stirring up in the distance catching her eye. Jack couldn’t move, his eyes glued to the way the little wisps of her hair fluttered from under her cap and glinted golden in the sunlight. Finally, he swallowed hard and took a step closer to her. Her arms curled around her chest, hands gripping her sleeves tightly. Was she protecting herself? From what? Him? Jack didn’t know. Carter confused him in more ways than one, and he’d given up figuring her out years ago.

“What’s really bothering you, Carter?” He was only a foot behind her now and distinctly heard her sharp intake of breath at his question. She shook her head—another non-answer. “Carter?”

She let the breath out slowly and turned to face him, her arms still wrapped securely around her body. “I’m tired of being watched all the time. Judged. Every little thing we do is up for interpretation even when we aren’t doing anything wrong. It’s driving me mad.”

Jack was momentarily shocked at her bold honesty. But she wasn’t looking at him. Well, she was staring at a spot on his chest—nothing near his eyes. He cleared his throat, but his voice was still scratchy when he spoke. “You said you didn’t care.”

“I don’t.” Jack raised an eyebrow; she grimaced. “Not really. I try not to care but-”

“I get it,” he said, interrupting her rambling. They stood like that for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts and the space between them growing smaller. Jack wasn’t sure who took the first step. Part of him wanted to believe neither did, that it was some natural phenomenon that had them suddenly within inches of each other, their breath coming in fast little bursts.

“Sometimes,” she whispered, “I wish I didn’t care at all. What they think. That I could just-” She glanced up at him, her eyes wide and unguarded. “-say, ‘screw it,’ and-” She swallowed hard. Jack copied the action, his heart pounding hard against his chest, the blood rushing into his head creating a backwash of noise that drowned out all serious thought.

“No one’s watching now.” Jack barely even registered the words coming out of his mouth. The startled look on her face was what alerted him, and he mentally kicked himself for even thinking them.

But then she surprised him by softening her expression, a dreamy smile crossing her face as she batted her long lashes at him. She licked her lips slowly. “No, they’re not.”

Alarm bells went off all over in his mind but were quickly shoved into a box and ignored apparently along with his common sense. His hand drifted up to her face but didn’t close the distance, his fingers hovering inches from her tanned skin. Her tongue moved slowly in and out of her lips again, her eyes darting from his down to his mouth and back up repeatedly. All sense had left him because god help him, he didn’t think he could stop himself even if he wanted to.

Without another thought, he closed the distance, his hand coming to rest on her cheek, the other joining quickly, and his lips crushed hers in a kiss so electrifying, he was sure he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. For a second, he thought maybe he’d misjudged her actions, but then her hands slid up his body, under his jacket. He felt a low growl build in his chest, forcing itself to the surface. Carter smiled against his kiss, her fingers curling in the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

He shifted his weight closer to her body, deepening the kiss to wipe the smirk from her face. Her mouth opened at the pressure from his tongue and she sighed. Carter actually sighed. His mind was spinning out of control with all sorts of emotions he had tried to keep contained for too long. Things were way out of control, and he knew it.

Carter was pulling him closer, her right hand now twisting in the hair on the back of his head, the other wrapping around his waist. He let his drop from her face to her body, sliding down her back and tugging slightly at her shirt tucked firmly into her pants. Some part of him was still screaming to stop before they went too far. Maybe no one was watching, but they’d know. All the years of keeping to the rules and duty and service. Of integrity. With a whole lot of effort, Jack finally pulled away, a whirl of dust filling the hot space between them. Carter looked up at him with confused, hurt eyes, and he fought the urge to scoop her back up and nibble on that pouting lower lip.

Another gust knocked her hat from her head, sending her hair swirling around her head. She blinked, her cloudy eyes starting to clear just as the fog in Jack’s brain began to lift, too. They both glanced around as they rocked back with the force of another blast of wind, their skin buffed raw by the flying grit. Crap, Jack thought.

Without words, they scrambled to gather their gear, the abandoned MREs long since blown into the distance, before hunkering behind the limited cover of the DHD.

Sam was breathing hard. Jack wasn’t sure if it was from the sudden onset of the dust storm or what they had just done. He realized his breath was coming just as fast and labored. She turned her head up at him, and he gave her a crooked smile, hoping she’d interpret it correctly. There was no reason to worry—they read each other so well, words were hardly ever needed. Although, sometimes, he thought, they needed to be said.

“Carter-”

“Forget it, sir. Never happened.” Her voice was mostly lost in the roar of the wind.

Forget it? Never. If he died right now, he’d be a happy man with that as his last memory. But he wasn’t interested in dying today.

“Let’s try another address,” he practically yelled into her ear.

He felt her nod next to him and brace against his shoulder as she fought to get up against the wind.

“Where to, sir?”

“Anywhere has got to be better than this.”

A few seconds later, Jack was pushing her through the open wormhole. He hadn’t asked where they were going. Didn’t really care at the moment. They landed with a thud on the other side, Jack half on top of Carter. She grunted as his weight hit, and he mumbled an apology into her hair. That made her giggle which caused butterflies to take flight in his stomach. He wondered if he was too old to feel this giddy over a sound a girl made.

“Uh, Jack?”

Jack sat back on his heels as Carter scurried out from under him. Daniel and Teal’c and a whole slew of SGC personnel were standing over them with equally curious looks on their faces.

“What’s going on, Daniel?” It took a lot longer than he’d like to gather himself and not look like the cat that ate the canary. So to speak.

Daniel gave him an amused look. “Not sure. I thought I dialed Earth, but we ended up here. So did everyone else that tried to go through.” He nodded back at the growing group of green and brown clad individuals.

“Must be some kind of Gate malfunction,” Carter was saying, already on her feet and heading for the DHD to investigate.

Daniel reached down to help Jack up. “What happened to you guys?”

Jack ran a hand through his hair, suddenly remembering that Carter knocked his hat off during their passionate embrace. He knew his ears were pinking up by the devilish look in Daniel’s eyes. “We couldn’t get through to the SGC, but then, this sand storm hit so we dialed-”

“P2R-772,” Carter said with her head inside the dialing device.

“We ended up here.”

Daniel nodded. Curiosity assuaged and seeing that Carter was on the job, the crowd dissipated—going back to small groupings just lounging around or playing cards, anything to pass the time. Daniel was still staring at him.

“What?” Jack asked, a little unsettled by the scrutiny and more than a lot uncomfortable as he realized sand had gotten into some undesirable locations on his body.

“You know, Jack,” his friend said, voice pitched low so only the two of them could hear, “people are starting to talk. When only me and Teal’c made it through... Let’s just say there’s a pool going.”

Jack’s eyebrows jumped up his face, and Daniel smirked at him. “What are you trying to say, Daniel?”

He shrugged. “I’m just trying to say you two should be more careful.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means whatever you want it to mean, Jack.”

Daniel wandered off to go bug Carter. Jack watched him leave with a frown then muttered, “it’s not our fault the Gate malfunctioned.” He looked up to see Teal’c watching him, one eyebrow raised in, what, amusement? “It’s not our fault,” he reiterated more firmly.

“Of course not, O’Neill.”

Jack covered his face with his hands and groaned. They really did need to be more careful, he thought then spent the rest of the afternoon pointedly not looking at Carter’s rear wiggling around in front of the DHD.
sg1: d/v_research

[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: All It Took Was a Sunrise

Daniel, Vala and the sunrise—just a little bit of talking. And a lot more action.
(This story was originally written in 2012 and has been updated for composition and clarity in 2020.)
1,632 words | [PG-13]


It’s still dark when Daniel’s watch goes off. He gropes for the small button that stifles the noise, groaning into his jacket balled under his head. With a yawn and great effort, he hauls himself up and slides his feet into his boots.

The air is crisp, smelling of pine and fresh rain. Daniel shivers and pulls his jacket closed, tucking his hands under his arms. He expects to see the fire going, maybe some coffee already brewing, but the clearing outside his tent is eerily empty—the fire long burned out.

“Crap,” he mumbles as he rubs the tired from his eyes. Where the hell is Vala? Mitchell is going to kill her.

He spends several minutes wandering around the woods before he finds her. She’s sitting on an outcrop of rocks, the valley far below. The view is amazing as the sun begins to peek over the horizon—the sky turning a pale shade of pink. Vala’s got her legs tucked up, chin resting on her knees, arms tight around her. Daniel can’t see her face, but he notices how her shoulders relax when a salty breeze blows in from the sea beyond the distant hills.

Her hair flutters around her, and a hand comes up to push it from her face. It glistens in the dawn light like the moon shimmering on a placid lake. Daniel’s struck by how beautiful she looks—hair coming loose, clothes coated in a layer of dust, the first rays of the morning sun casting a glow around her. His pulse quickens, unwanted thoughts rushing through his mind.

He can’t deny there’s always been some kind of attraction—even as they duked it out on the Prometheus all those years ago—but this feels different. His stomach flips, curls in on itself until his insides feel like a tightly wound ball of rubber bands. Just waiting to snap.

[read more]Another gust of wind steals his breath. Or maybe that was the thought of joining Vala, wrapping her in his arms and just holding her as they watched the sun rise together.

Daniel takes a slow, deep breath, trying to center himself. He doesn’t want this—relationships with co-workers never fair well. Just ask Jack and Sam. Not to mention woman he finds interest in have a tendency to wind up... hurt.

He frowns at Vala’s back, eyebrows squishing painfully together. No, he doesn’t want this. He doesn’t need this. His life is finally starting to resemble something akin to normal—at least as normal as anything can get around the SGC. He doesn’t need the complication of Vala Mal Doran.

Or does he?

Vala sighs, the sound carrying on a soft breeze along with the scent of her perfume. He’s moving without realizing it—legs acting on thoughts he’s trying to ignore.

“Daniel,” Vala says softly without looking up. She doesn’t sound the least bit surprised.

“How-” he starts to ask but maybe he really doesn’t need an explanation. After all, he found her easy enough—like being tugged along by some invisible force that seems hell-bent on keeping them together.

She finally turns her face up to him. Her eyes sparkle with unshed tears, and Daniel is once again caught off guard by the sudden flutter of his heart, the twisting of his stomach, the fierce overprotective feeling that spurs him into movement again.

He slides onto the rock next to her. The sky is brighter now—blues and violets adding to the earlier pink—and a soft mist obscures the valley floor, only the tops of trees poking through.

“You okay?” His voice is a lot rougher than he’d like.

Vala nods, never taking her eyes off him. It’s slightly unnerving, and he can’t help but wonder if Vala can secretly see right through him, right to his core where the butterflies have taken up residence. Where his thoughts keep drifting to things inappropriate.

“You’ve been crying.” It isn’t a question.

Vala sighs, turning back to the view. “I grew up on a planet a lot like this one.” Her voice is soft, contemplative. “It wasn’t a bad childhood.”

Daniel’s not sure what she wants him to say. “I try to forget my childhood. There wasn’t much worth remembering anyway.”

A silence fills the space between them. It’s not as awkward as he would have thought. The wind ruffles her hair again, the stray strands catching on her face. Daniel’s hands betray him—he’s pulling the locks free before he can stop himself. An electric current races through him, lighting his nerves. He doesn’t want this, he thinks, but then again...

He catches Vala’s gaze as he leans in a little closer. Her tears are gone, but she’s biting her lip now. Daniel’s never seen her looking so vulnerable, so unsure. He’s used to strong, confident Vala, ready to take on the galaxy. This is new, and it tugs at his heart even more.

Daniel slides the curl behind her ear, letting his hand linger a little too long to be an accident. Vala sucks in a startled breath when his thumb begins to brush circles on her cheek. He’s entertaining serious thoughts that he has finally lost his freaking mind. He doesn’t want this. He’s sure. Vala’s eyes drift shut. Her skin is soft and cool and slightly gritty with dirt. He finds that surprisingly appealing.

He’s still trying to convince himself that he isn’t interested when he presses his lips to hers. She tastes salty and sandy with a hint of chocolate—he’d always suspected she sneaked a stash along on missions.

The kiss starts out soft, sweet, tentative. Vala relaxes against him, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. The touch sends a shockwave of desire through his body, every inch humming with anticipation. His heart beats so hard against his chest, he’s sure Vala must be able to hear it.

Daniel isn’t sure which one of them made the next move. He just remembers Vala’s tongue in his mouth and his hands pulling her into his lap. The kiss deepens until it’s not apparent to his brain where he ends and Vala begins. Passion takes hold—years of suppression and denial crumbling under the weight of their longing.

Vala pulls his shirt free from his waistband, cold air hitting his back and sucking air from his lungs. He recovers quickly, his own hands finding their way to Vala’s waist. He grips her tightly, fingers digging in. She answers with a moan into his lips. She suddenly swings her leg around to straddle his lap, her hands now exploring every inch of his flesh she can find. Daniel can’t remember the last time he felt this alive, this free, this... whole.

He musters all his strength and pulls himself away from Vala. She looks up at him with a mix of confusion and apprehension. Not for the first time, he wonders what she’s thinking. He’s rarely seen her with her defenses down—the real Vala. The one that’s not always playing an angle.

“Vala, I-” he tries to say, but his voice catches in his throat. He wets his lips and makes another attempt. “I, uh, I want you-”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” she says, her eyes lighting with a fire he’s only ever seen directed at treasure before. She wraps her arms around his neck, using her weight as leverage to pull him into another kiss. The intensity catches Daniel completely by surprise. He’s not sure how long it lasts—time seems to not function correctly on this planet. It’s several moments before he tries to break away again. He grips her shoulders tightly, pushing back firmly but gently.

“Daniel.” Her voice is full of exasperation and more desperation than Daniel cares to dwell on. She rolls her eyes and tries to distract him with soft little kisses to his neck. It almost works—Daniel’s brain trying to switch gears on him, trying to forget the importance of the words he’s trying to say. He’s more insistent the next time.

“Vala, I-”

She stills, lips still touching the tender spot along his collarbone, and sighs.

He needs to get this out. He’s not sure why, but he thinks it’s important. “I need to tell-”

“Don’t ruin this, Daniel,” she whispers into another kiss, this time under his right earlobe. He’s not entirely sure what she means, but he’s quickly losing all rational thought as Vala’s hands begin to loosen his belt.

He delves deep into his well of control, finally disentangling himself. The confused, annoyed look is back on her face along with a slight pout. The way the sun glints in her eyes and the wind sends her hair flying nearly undoes his resolve, but he takes a deep breath and presses on.

“This isn’t right.”

“You’re wrong.” She’s kissing his throat again despite his best efforts to keep her away, the rational side of his brain shutting down again.

“Right, this is wrong.”

“That’s not what I said.” She tugs his lower lip into her mouth, a wave of desire overpowering his internal warning system. The blood is pounding so loudly in his head he can’t think straight.

“You said, ‘wrong.’” He’s pretty sure that’s what he tells her but higher functions are going the same way as rational thoughts.

He feels her smile into the crook of his neck. “You’re thinking too much.”

He wonders briefly if she’s right, but then her hands are at his belt again, deftly undoing it. Daniel’s breath catches in his throat and every other thought flies out the window. All that’s left is Vala, his increasing need to touch bare skin, and the rising sun.

And he’s sure this is exactly what he wants.