Menage a Coeur (Household of Hearts)
Menage a Coeur (Household of Hearts)
by Jacquelyn Smith
TITLE: Menage a Coeur (Household of Hearts)
AUTHOR: Jacquelyn Smith (jacquelynsmith@home.com )
RATING: M (minor profanity).
CLASSIFICATION: Romance (Sam/Martouf)
STATUS: Complete
SUMMARY: It's February 14, and do you where your Tok'ra is?
SPOILERS: The Devil You Know (minor)
ARCHIVE: Heliopolis please.
FEEDBACK: Please and Thank-you
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
NOTES: This is a response to Carol's Valentine Challenge. Thanks to Rebecca for the beta. :)
Copyright Jacquelyn Smith; February, 2000
Brrrrrrring...
What the hell is that! I know I didn't set the alarm, it's my day off. I'm at home, and this is a rare treat. Sleeping in.
Brrrrrrring...
Except I'm not. I'm listening to some horrid, damnable noise. What is that? It's not my pager - thank God. I have to answer that, after all it could very well signal a Goa'uld invasion we weren't aware of. Or that Lt. Simmons screwed up and couldn't get the gate open--
Brrrrrrring...
Not that he's incompetent, mind you. He's not. Oh, it's only the telephone. I can ignore that. If I ignore it long enough it will go away. Right? I hide my head underneath my pillow.
Brrrrrrring...
"Oh, for crying out loud!" I shout, pushing myself out from under the very warm duvet. Shit! I can't believe I just used one of the colonel's patented phrases. At least there wasn't anyone here to hear me. I grab the phone, angry. "Who ever you are I hope you have a good reason for waking me up so early."
"Samantha?" A very surprised voice asks me. A very familiar voice. Only one person consistently calls me 'Samantha'.
"Martouf?" I ask, not really believing it. Must be a cruel Valentine's joke.
"Yes," he says.
It really is Martouf though, and a million possible frightening reasons for his call flood my sleepy brain. I can only hope that none of them are true. It isn't my fault that he usually only shows up when there is something wrong. "Oh, hi. Is everything okay?" I manage to ask.
"Yes. Everything is fine," he reassures me. I love his voice. It can be so calming and comforting. Well, it can also be commanding and rough. Especially, but not limited to when Lantesh is in control.
"Good. Great. Did my dad come with you?" I'm still in shock. I bet he doesn't appreciate my asking about my dad every time he shows up, but I can't help it. I worry.
"Your father is here, Samantha and he is well. However, I accompanied him hoping to spend some time with you, if you would find that acceptable?"
Now I wonder if my dad is the one playing a joke on me, but for now, I give him the benefit of the doubt. The thought of actually spending some non-emergency time with Martouf is... fascinating really. "I'd like that, Martouf. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
"I'll look forward to your arrival. Doctor Fraiser wishes to speak with you."
I hear some muffled words and sounds and then Janet's voice, "Sam?"
"Janet. How long has he been at the base?" I know I sound like a teenager, but I can't help asking.
"Just about an hour," she confirms, her voice lowering slightly. "We let you sleep in. Listen, get your butt down here, Sam. Don't keep him waiting."
"Why not?" Stupid question, Sam.
"Two reasons. First, I just saw Jack and Daniel skulking around, and I know they're here to pick up Teal'c, but when they find out that Martouf is here--"
"Say no more, I'll be there in twenty." I'm already out of bed, heading for the shower.
"Hey," Janet continues. "I wasn't finished yet. Don't you want to hear the second reason?"
Pausing to slip off my nightshirt I ask, "Okay, what?"
"If you don't get here soon, I may just have to show the man around, myself. We've been chatting for the last hour, and he's charming." I can hear her grinning over the phone line. "Wear something nice."
"Nice? Janet! Okay, tell him I'll be there in forty." I stumble over to my closet, skimming through my limited choices of something *nice* that I can still wear on the base.
"Will do. See ya when you get here. Bye."
"Bye." She hangs up and so do I. Not finding anything interesting in the closet, I decide to forget about what to wear for a minute and I head for the shower. Now, which shower gel should I use?
I really am getting carried away. It's not like Martouf hasn't seen me at nearly my worst. In fact he's seen me wearing about as much as I've got on now. The lack of a proper shower facility on the cargo ship coming back from Naetu didn't stop me from attempting to clean up a bit. Unfortunately, it also didn't have a lock. After taking a long look, he apologised and told me that even covered in sludge, I was beautiful.
Shaking myself out my memories, I grab the nearest bottle, and turn on the water.
Thirty minutes later, dressed in a nice pair of jeans, boots, a tight-fitting red knit shirt, and a cream blazer, I was descending into the bowels of the Cheyenne Mountain Complex. I've been up and down this lift thousands of times, but this was the first time I'd ever been so nervous. Already, a few airmen had done a double take at my appearance, and I was starting to worry I'd made the wrong choice.
"Janet?" I call upon my arrival at the infirmary. The beds were empty, apparently it had been a slow day. A good day, Janet would tell me. She loved being bored.
"Yeah," she answers. "Over here. You haven't seen a mouse anywhere have you?"
"A mouse? No, why?"
"The lab is missing one mouse named Qui-Gon."
"No, haven't seen him. Where is everybody?" I ask, as I catch up to her. She's fiddling with a monitor of some kind, pulling it away from the wall, apparently searching for the lost Jedi mouse.
She looks up at me and I can see the slight grin in her face, "Couldn't find a skirt in your closet, Sam? Your dad was in here a few minutes ago asking how you've been the last few months. He said he was heading up to the canteen for some 'earth' food. Took Martouf with him."
"Okay, thanks. I'll see you later, Janet." I turn back towards the door.
"Wait. That's it. See you later? Sometimes you just don't get girl talk, do you?" She lectures me, and I deserve it. She's right. "You don't want to know what Martouf and I talked about? He was here for an hour."
"Okay, tell me." We sound a bunch of gossiping women, which I guess technically we are.
"Well, he and your dad are going to be staying for a few days. I overheard Hammond agreeing to obtain some ID for Martouf so that he could leave the base."
"Where's he planning to go?" I wonder, looking at Janet. She's obviously planning something. I can usually tell. Unfortunately, usually I can only tell when she's already put her plan into action.
"Oh, I don't know..." She sounds so nonchalant. Now I know she's got something up her sleeve. "The grocery store, Garden of the Gods... maybe your apartment?"
"Janet!" Is all I can manage, as intrigued by the idea as I am.
"What? The man has never been out of this mountain! Are you saying he would have no interest in seeing any of those things?" She is so conniving.
"That's not what I meant." I protest, staring at her.
"Good, since I told him you would love to show him around."
"Janet!"
"I'm happy you remember my name. Come on, Sam. I'm just giving you the push you need."
At least she is admitting it, this time. Last time she tried to set me up with a doctor friend of hers, she just invited me out for dinner, told me it was a girl's night and we 'accidentally' ran into him at the movie. He was a nice guy, but I could never be seriously involved with anyone who didn't have a high enough security clearance for me to share my work with. Which pretty much narrowed it down to the men the military wouldn't let me date. Which doesn't leave me with many options. "I'm not sure. Jolinar--"
"Jolinar, shmolinar..." she starts, before her expression changes and becomes serious for a minute. "Sam, if all the feelings were hers, you wouldn't be questioning them. At least find out, huh? Now, go, and call me later. As you can see, I'm not exactly busy at the moment. After all, you guys are on downtime."
"Thanks, I think." I tell her, laughing. SG-1 does seem to take up more than its share of Janet's time. And she's right. I've been thinking about him for nearly two years. I should find out.
"Actually, I'll meet you up in the canteen in a bit. I'm starving."
"Okay. See you there." I duck out and head upstairs.
As I enter the canteen, there isn't anyone but them around. Of course, they would be easy to spot even if the cafeteria was filled to capacity. Two men in those battered, greyish-brown uniforms don't exactly blend in here. Plus, of course, thanks to Jolinar, I can actually feel their presence, as they can feel mine. I smile as they look up in my direction. "Hey, Dad!"
He gets up from his chair to hug me. "Sam! You look great. No emergencies the last little while?"
Letting go, I answer him truthfully but evasively. "We've had a quite a few interesting missions, lately. You haven't been captured by any other system lords?"
"Nope," he tells me pointing to Martouf. "My shadow here, won't let me out of his sight. Ever since the Sokar thing."
"I have a promise to keep to your daughter." Martouf says, looking over at me.
I try not to grin too widely at that. I can still hear that vow he made to me, spoken in the gateroom, just before he left with my dad and Garshaw. He also told me he was looking forward to seeing me again. I think I just forgot to breathe. Actually, I have forgotten how to speak.
"Samantha... as your father mentioned, you look very well." A smile brightens his face. He catches my hand with his and gives it a quick squeeze, as my heart falls into my stomach. This is the first time he has ever touched me in greeting, and it surprises me. I run my thumb lightly against his warm hand, hoping its not too forward.
Holy Hannah. I've missed him.
After the whole 'going to hell' thing, I was too exhausted to talk much on the way back to Vorash, and I didn't feel much like chatting anyway. Everyone else had been asleep and we spoke softly for a few minutes, mostly reassuring each other that we were going to be alright. It had been an emotional roller coaster for us both, and no one else could possibly have understood. I sat down next to him, and no more words were said. He had tentatively pulled me close, and I sank into his arms. Then we had fallen asleep, and stayed that way all the way back to the planet. It was just what I had needed. Reassuring comfort, and simply to be held. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Once the ship arrived, we had said goodbye, and I left with my team and father. There had been no hug, no hands touching, and certainly no kiss. It had been kind of a let down. I suppose I could have given in and parted from him as I had wanted to. God, how I had wanted to at least kiss him chastely good bye, but I had denied him that. Denied Jolinar. Denied myself. Not in front of my team had been the reason floating around in my head. Or was I just using that as an excuse?
"Thanks," I say. Finally remembering I still held his hand, I gripped it tightly and then he let go. "You both look very tanned. Are the Tok'ra on a warm, sunny planet at the moment?"
"Yes," Martouf sighs. "Perhaps, a bit too warm."
"Well, it's currently near freezing here in Colorado," I laugh. "You're welcome to cool down outside."
"Sit down," my dad offers, gesturing to a seat between him and Martouf. "Stay a while. I'll buy you a cup of coffee."
"From here?" I practically gag at the thought. "No, thanks. I've got a coffee maker down in lab. I'll make you a real cup if you want."
"That's okay, Sam. Having gone without for so long, I think it would just shock the hell of out Selmak," he quips, smiling. I grin at his words, turning to Martouf, who is smiling as well.
"So, what are you two up to? Come to escape the heat?" I ask, wondering for once, out loud.
"Actually, I came to get a few personal things from your place, assuming you didn't just get rid of everything you packed up for me?"
"Of course I didn't, Dad. You didn't have much, though. I kept some of the furniture, and sold the rest. I did give away most of your clothes, though, since you have a new... uniform. The rest is packed, and living in a closet."
"Great. When is a good time to come by?"
"I don't know. This afternoon or tonight?" I have no life. It's Valentine's Day and I'm asking my father if he wants to come over to sort through his old possessions.
"No, can't." He tells me with an odd look on his face. "I have a meeting this afternoon with some old friends, and then George asked me over for dinner."
"General?" Someone calls from across the room. I look up immediately recognising my C.O.'s voice. He walks towards us, with Daniel and Teal'c in tow. "Good to see you, sir." The colonel says offering his hand which my dad accepts. They get along really well and they have a similar sense of humour. Maybe that's why I always laugh at the colonel's jokes. I know the Colonel respects my father. Doesn't understand him, mind you, and he never truly will, but there is a certain amount of respect there nonetheless. I can't exactly say the same for him and Martouf.
"Jack. Keeping your team out of trouble?" Dad questions.
"Mostly," he retorts. "Hey, Marty. Here for business or pleasure?"
Marty. I really hate the nickname. What's worse is that I've found myself using it from time to time. I look to see Martouf's reaction, and see his eyes flash. Uh, oh. I don't think Lantesh approves either.
Our ever thoughtful linguist offers a translation, "He means are you here working or visiting." Daniel peers back at Jack.
Lantesh's deep voice answers, "Both, O'Neill. I am escorting Selmak, and I have been charged with familiarising myself with some of the Tau'ri customs and traditions. As well, I had hoped to spend some time with Samantha."
And at that last bit, everyone looks at me. So I take turns staring them all down. Thank goodness Daniel breaks the uncomfortable silence.
"Well," he starts and I can see a gleam of something in his eyes. "Today is Valentine's day. That should be a good place to start."
I take it back. Uncomfortable silence, anyone?
"It is a day reserved to express romantic feelings to another," Teal'c begins to explain.
Listening to the former First Prime of Apophis explaining Valentine's Day to a half-alien freedom fighter seems really... strange. I think my eyebrows are raised much higher than I've ever seen his. Not to mention the colour of my face has changed, I hope it's not too noticeable. Except that someone has already noticed. Dad. He sends me that look. The patented 'I-know-you-too-well-Sam' look. I gaze back at him, wondering, like I did earlier, if this was all his idea. Not of a joke. But of being set up. I decide I don't mind at all.
"That's part of it, Teal'c." Uh, oh. Daniel is about to launch in to a tirade about the history and traditions relating to --
"That pretty much sums it up, though, Daniel." Janet interrupts, pulling up a chair next to Dad. "Except that, like every other holiday, it has become way too commercialised. Men spend a whole lot of money buying flowers, chocolate and jewellery for their wives or girlfriends trying to atone for being jackasses the rest of the year. Some holiday."
I'm a little stunned by her outburst. We talk about our love-lives sometimes, or more precisely, about how they stink, but the vehemence behind the words surprises me a just bit. At least I have the thought of Martouf (and Lantesh, I remind myself - it would be a threesome, after all).
I turn to face him. He looks a bit confused by Janet's comments, so clearly in conflict with Teal'c's explanation. His gaze floats from her to Daniel, who the romantic that he is, is quick to defend the holiday. Then he looks over at me. Voices fade around us, followed quickly by people. All I can see is his face. A trace of a smile at the edge of his mouth, but mostly his grey eyes stare into mine. And then the realisation hits me - Janet was right. Is right. Not about the stupid holiday. About Martouf.
Those feelings rushing through my brain. The ones that Jolinar left. Some of them are mine. Oh, jeez. Maybe I won't be alone this February 14th after all. I smile.
An invisible figure hovered over the small canteen. Bow drawn, he scanned the room, watching the mortals interacting. He spied a young woman sitting next to her father, and peered into her soul. Her heart was taken with one of the men next to her. So the god looked into his soul, wondering whether her feelings were requited, and found not one, but two hearts, both filled with unexpressed love for the woman.
A good match, Eros thought to himself. There was something else, though. The man clung to the memory of a former love, but the woman exuded feelings both hers and not hers. Both were for him. Curious, thought the winged god. No help was needed here.
Taking a glance into the father, he found another twinned heart, but two lonely ones. Next to him, sat another woman, dark-haired in contrast to the first. Her heart was filled with love for her child, but love for an equal was absent. Eros trained an arrow first at the short woman, and then the older man. Taking a look at his labours, he realised that this match would help the other couple as well. Apparently the only thing preventing the first match had been time alone together.
Eros looked fleetingly around the room and briefly into the other minds. One recently bereaved by the loss of his wife. One content but missing his mate. And one lonely soul, jealous of the couple who required no arrows. Stealing a brief peek into the future, content that this last mortal would not interfere too much, he laughed at the events yet to come, and disappeared through the ceiling.
"Whoa! And I thought I was cynical. I have nothing on you, Doc!" I hear Jack tell Janet, though I'm still got more interesting thoughts skimming through my brain, and in front of my eyes.
"Ouch. Surely it's not that bad?" My dad asks her.
"Sure it is." Janet doesn't give up easily, once she has formed an opinion, she's as stubborn as my dad.
"I'll tell you what," Dad says. "I'll prove to you that Valentine's Day doesn't have to be strictly commercial. I won't buy you a thing, just come with me to George's."
Excuse me? Up until now, I've been sitting here exchanging this long, lingering look with Lantesh. My thoughts had drifted into fantasy, and I had been enjoying the ride, but my Dad's words have pretty much taken my attention away from that completely. I break from the haunting grey eyes. Did my father just ask Janet out?
"Okay, you're on."
Did Janet just accept?
"Great," my father says with a genuine smile. "I'll tell George to expect us at eight."
Okay, my world has just about turned upside down. Not necessarily in a bad way, maybe just a little bit off kilter. I take a minute to study both Dad and Janet, and see the way they are looking at each other. What the hell just happened?
"Samantha?" Martouf's voice suspends my analysis.
I'm still so shocked at my dad, that I've nearly forgotten all about Martouf. I didn't even notice the change from symbiote to host. "Uh, yeah?"
"Do you have plans for your evening meal?"
"No," I answer, struggling for lost composure. "Would you like to go out somewhere?"
"I would love to see anywhere outside of this facility," he tells me.
I return his eager smile. Well, I can think of a few places. Starting with, but not limited to, the ones Janet recommended. "You're going to need some clothes first. We can find some fatigues, and then go shop for something a little bit more--"
"Carter," the colonel interrupts as we all rise from the table. "You are not going to subject him to going shopping with you. Martouf, it's not a good idea to go clothes shopping with women."
I'm distracted by my father chatting in low tones with Janet. They're both smiling, and suddenly he reaches over and touches her shoulder lightly. Right as I'm about to call over to them, they walk quickly over the door, and then they're gone. I try and force myself back to whatever the hell Jack was saying. I heard Martouf ask him something, but I'm not sure what is was. And I didn't hear the answer, either. Focus on the present, Sam, I remind myself. I turn back towards the conversation at hand and listen to my C.O.'s offer.
"Tell you what, we'll take you out, get you some new digs, and drop you off at *Samantha's* place at seven. That alright?"
Martouf bows his head ever so slightly. I can tell he's skeptical, as am I, but then he agrees. "Of course. I'll see you later, Samantha."
As everyone leaves the canteen, Daniel calls back that he won't let anything happen to Martouf. Teal'c backs him up with a nod. I'm not sure this is a good idea. In fact, I know it's a really bad idea. And I'm sure that if Janet hadn't been looking at my father like a love sick teenager, that she would back me up on this. Of course, she's already left. This is too weird. So I let them take Martouf, hoping I don't end up regretting it too much. After all, they promised to have him back at my place by seven. Well, Daniel and Teal'c I trust.
What could go wrong?
My watch beeps. It's seven. Our reservations, which I can't believe I've actually managed to get on short notice on Valentine's Day, are at seven-thirty. I quickly hit the small button on the side of my watch, shutting the annoying high-pitched alarm off. I look at the large black face and quickly undo the strap. Its the timepiece I wear on duty and off-world. Its totally wrong for a date. A date? Holy Hannah. This is a date. I'm going on a date with Martouf. I can barely remember the last time I went out on a date. I've been so distracted by work and everything else that I have mostly forgotten what it's like to go out.
I swear I'll kill the Colonel if he makes us late. I wonder what they've been doing all afternoon? It shouldn't take very long to find some decent clothes for Martouf. I chide myself for allowing my team to take him without me. What was I thinking? And then I remember who distracted me. Dad and Janet. That's just... too weird for me to waste time thinking about.
I'd wasted enough time figuring out what to wear. The restaurant we are going to is a few steps above casual, and I knew I didn't have anything hidden in my closet that I would wear, let alone that I *wanted* to wear. So, I spent my afternoon doing something I rarely ever do. I went shopping. Found the perfect dress. Its short, red, has spaghetti straps and I look utterly fantastic in it. Of course, then I needed to find some shoes to go with it, which didn't take as long as I had thought it might. I got home in time to clean the place up a bit, take a long hot shower, and change.
I replace my clunky everyday watch with the gold one Dad gave me when I finished my dissertation. It seems like an eternity ago, and actually it has been nearly ten years. As I wonder where the time went, I dress up my outfit further by adding some gold earrings and a necklace.
*Ding-dong*
The doorbell rings, halting the memories and forcing me back to the present. I rush out of my bedroom, and down the steps, and fly to the door. Catching my breath, I can feel him through the wood that separates us, an odd tingle zaps in my brain. With most Goa'uld and Jaffa the feeling is the same, I can sense their presence, and that's all. With Lantesh, though, it's different. An indescribable sense of familiarity tingles in my head. I feel it with Selmak, too, though no where near as strong, and still slightly different. Its better than a peephole in the door, though.
I open the door and see only Martouf's face for a second. Then I hear the Colonel's jeep screeching away, slipping a bit in the snow that's started to accumulate. I wonder why the guys didn't come in for a moment before I turn back to my guest.
He's wearing a hat. A brown fedora. I never pictured him in that kind of hat. The first time I met him, he was wearing a rather silly-looking hood, but this is the first time I've ever seen him in an earth hat. It looks pretty good on him, actually.
He's also wearing a brown leather jacket. The guys sprung for a leather bomber jacket? Actually no, they didn't. I remember General Hammond giving them a military credit card. I notice its not done up and the cream coloured shirt pokes through. Across his chest, hangs some kind of a small travel type bag. I look down and see tall brown boots which match the rather plain pants he's acquired, and these are done up with a belt. When I see what is attached to his belt, I realize why his outfit looks so pleasing, yet so wrong. I'm going to have to kill Jack!
As soon as I stop smiling that is.
Martouf's new clothes look great. In fact, I'm sure that in other circumstances, I might even choose them myself. Not to go out for dinner in, mind you. No, this outfit isn't going to work for dinner. I suddenly realize I haven't said a word since he arrived, and now he's looking at me funny. I finally manage to speak, "Hi, I'm glad you're here."
"Samantha, is everything all right?" Martouf asks in wide-eyed innocence. "Is my clothing inappropriate?"
"Um... not exactly. Come on in, it's getting cold." I shut the door after he joins me in the tiny entrance way. He shakes the snow off of his boots as I shiver a bit from the draught.
"You look absolutely incredible," he says, not taking his eyes off me. "I have never seen you in such an outfit."
I stop myself from drawling 'This old thing', he wouldn't understand it anyhow. "Thanks. How did your shopping trip go?"
"It was quite educational. Your world is very fascinating in its own way." He answers. "Now, please tell me why these clothes are inappropriate."
Not wanting to insult or embarrass him, I walk over to my TV stand and quickly flip through a box of videotapes. Finding the right one I stuff it into the VCR and hit the play button. I grab the remote and usher Martouf over to the couch, sitting down beside him. "Martouf, who picked out this outfit?"
"O'Neill."
"That's what I thought," I tell him, busily fast-forwarding through the previews. "This is a movie, one of my favorites actually. A story about the adventures of a fictional archeologist, set in the 1930's. It's called 'Raiders of the Lost Ark', and the main character is named Indiana Jones." I find the beginning, and let it run for several minutes.
Martouf watches the movie staring at the over-sized screen I bought myself for Christmas, as I watch for his reaction. Finally, we get a good look at Indy as he comes into the light. The bull-whip flashes, and Martouf looks down at his clothing in vague understanding of what my C.O. has done to him. "I did wonder what this item was for," he smiles, detaching the whip from his belt.
"Now you know. You do look really great, if a few decades out of fashion." I say with a smile as I stop the tape. "How about taking the boots off and maybe stay awhile?"
"Of course," he agrees, pulling off one brown leather boot and then the other. He picks them up and carries them to the front door, arranging them carefully beside my shoes. I watch as he grabs a bag and brings it back to the couch.
When he doesn't immediately tell me, I ask, "What's in the bag?"
"Some things Daniel helped me to pick out," he says mysteriously with a grin. "He also wanted to give you these."
He passes me two pieces of paper. One is a take-out menu and the other is a note:
Dear Sam,
I'm really sorry. I tried to prevent this, but you know Jack. I've enclosed a few things to help make it up to you. Hopefully, we haven't ruined your evening.
The Italian place on Third delivers. They make great pasta and their foccacia is superb. Don't order dessert, though. That's been taken care of.
Forgive me,
Daniel.
I giggle a little bit as I read the note. Dessert, huh? What are these guys presuming? Of course, with Martouf dressed as the famous archeologist who knows? We may not get through dinner. Decidedly lustful thoughts bombard my mind, as I blatantly stare at my guest.
"Samantha, there are several items which need to be kept cold. Where can I put them?" He removes a package from the bag, and a bottle of wine, and waits for me to show him where to put them.
"In the fridge. I'll show you," I offer, guiding him into my kitchen and apologise for being a lousy host. I don't have guests very often. My teammates come over for pizza, beer and videos sometimes but that's about all. After Martouf hides away whatever he brought in the fridge I offer him a tour of my duplex. He seems honestly fascinated by the whole experience, which I find refreshing.
After cancelling our dinner reservations, I phoned and ordered pasta from the Italian place Daniel recommended. Now, once again, we're in the living room, sitting next to each other on the couch. All we've said so far is small talk, which thanks to Dad and all the military functions I've been at, I'm quite good at.
"Do you like music?" I ask him.
"Yes, of course." He smiles. God, I love that smile. "I would love to hear the music you enjoy."
I put on some music, setting a couple of CD's to randomise tracks and then go about setting the table for dinner. I decide on the small table in my living room, it seems more intimate than the dining room, and has the added bonus of being near the fireplace. I don't have things like special dishes or silverware, but I do have a candle holder that I really like. Well, it's more of a vase, round and made of blue tinged glass. I scramble in a junk-drawer searching for the floating candles which go with it. Finding them, I fill the vase and light the candles, carrying it into the other room.
Martouf has taken off his jacket, and is standing in front of the fire which I left him to build. Seeing him in that cream shirt is almost breathtaking, and I thought he looked good in the military issue black tee. The firelight flickers across his gentle face, and he is staring wordlessly into the flames.
"What are you thinking about?" I ask, almost feeling as though I'm interrupting. The soft music playing in the background emphasising my feelings of intrusion.
"That it seems strange to be here on your world. How different our lives have been. The things we hold in common..." He turns towards me, a shy smile on his face. "This music is quite pleasing. Tell me, do the Tau'ri dance to this type of music?"
"Yeah," I answer, hearing the surprise in my own voice. "It's fairly popular dance music. Well, it was popular when I was at the academy. About fifteen years ago."
"Will you show me?"
I am totally unprepared for his request. "Uh, okay." I stammer, moving closer to him a little hesitantly, and put one hand up on his shoulder, and grab his hand with my other. "You place your other hand around my back."
"And then?" He looks into my eyes, as I conclude I really like being in his arms.
Before I get into the actual steps, I decide for now to simplify things. "Hold on, let's try something else." I move my hands to encircle his neck, and his hands naturally go to my hips. We sway to the lulling track, an old one by Bryan Adams. Our bodies are in rhythm to the beat, and to each other. I move my hips as he holds them loosely in his hands. I realize I may be giving him quite a sensual display, but right now I don't care, and by the look on his face he doesn't seem to mind one bit. In fact, I think he's enjoying it as much as I am.
"This type of dance appears to be very informal." I nod, agreeing. "Is it a prelude dance perhaps?"
Even though I think I understand what he's getting at I ask, "Prelude to what?"
"To deciding if your counterpart would be a good sexual partner." He explains, and the only embarrassment I can detect is on my own reddening face.
Before I can even think of a way to respond to that, the doorbell rings, disrupting. "That'll be dinner, I'll be right back." I instantly let go of him, rush off to grab my wallet, pay for the food and set out the plates.
Well, I have to admit Daniel was right, the food was great. Martouf seemed to enjoy it as well. I had ordered a variety of pasta for us to share, and watching him taste each one was quite amusing. He preferred the tomato sauces to the alfredo, telling me the cream was too rich for his taste. The bottle of white wine he had brought was actually really good. I wondered who had picked that out.
After dinner we moved back to the couch, and he surprised me by asking if we could watch the rest of the movie. So, I grabbed the bottle of wine, the glasses and headed over to turn the TV on. Martouf disappeared into the kitchen for a minute, and came back with the bag he had deposited into the fridge hours earlier.
"What's in the bag?" I ask. "Dessert, maybe?"
"A surprise," he answers, a gleam visible in his grey eyes. "I believe the appropriate thing to do is for you to close your eyes."
"Who told you that?" I question, visions of Jack O'Neill playing another trick on me flashing through my mind. Well, I think evilly, so far this has seemed to backfire on him. I'm having a great time, as I believe Martouf is as well.
"Daniel," he tells me. "Please do not worry, Samantha. I have been assured you will like this."
"Okay," I say trustingly.
"Open your mouth," he further instructs me.
Hesitantly, I obey. My nose recognises the sweet, delicate scent of chocolate just as it is brought to my lips. I smile as I taste a small sample which I manage to bite, before it is teasingly taken away. The flavour is more than chocolate, though, there is something else.
I keep my eyes closed as Martouf plays with the chocolate over my lips. I try to bite it several times, only to have it pulled away, and am finally rewarded with a mouthful of chocolate and "... strawberries?" I open my eyes.
"Yes," he avows, delighting in my reaction. "Do you like them?"
"Absolutely, they're yummy. Your turn," I demand, and he hands me the bag and immediately closes his eyes. It's become a game now, apparently, one I am very willing to play.
I take one the berries and run it over his lips, watching as the chocolate melts slightly under the warmth of his breath. He tongues a tiny amount, and reaches to try and lick the rest as I pull it away. "Over here," I tease, and he wastes no time in searching for the treat, his mouth slightly open in delicious anticipation. I'm interrupted by not so stray thoughts; of how gorgeous he is, how much I suddenly want those seeking lips on mine, what he would taste like...
"Samantha?" he inquires, his grey eyes still closed in absolute trust.
"Sorry, I was just thinking..." and before I can think anymore I playfully shove the entire strawberry in his mouth. He opens his eyes in surprise, and takes a minute to eat the dessert, smiling as much as etiquette will let him while his mouth is full. Of which I take full advantage, trying to further distract him from my comment. "So, do you like the strawberries?"
"They are very pleasing. I've had something similar on Marlune though the fruit is grown underwater, and isn't dipped with such a sweet coating. However, I do believe I prefer these," he takes another from the bag and holds it an inch from my mouth, spinning it gently. "Shall we watch the movie now?"
"Yeah, that's a good idea." I say as I turn it back on. I'm sure it will be able to distract me from my thoughts.
I'm wrong. Oh, so very wrong.
I'm only partly watching the movie. It is one of my favourites, but having Martouf in my living room, sitting next to me under a blanket, feeding me chocolate-covered strawberries that he insists can't be consumed from my own hand, is proving far more distracting than Harrison Ford ever could be. It is most of the way over, and we've just come to the love scene. Or, rather what should have been a love scene, until Indy falls asleep on Marion. I surreptitiously watch Martouf's reaction during this part. He doesn't seem surprised by the kissing on screen, and of course its a very mild, though sweet moment.
"I would not have fallen asleep," he unexpectedly whispers in my ear.
"And I wouldn't have let you," I reply automatically, and the warm breath near my neck is suddenly no longer there. I turn my head to see him, trying to figure why he's pulled away from me. I hadn't meant to sound so forward. Well, maybe I did, but I was hoping for a slightly different reaction.
He cocks his head, trying to hide a slightly devious grin. "What would you have done differently?"
While he's awaiting my answer, his eyes don't leave mine, and I don't think I could break from the gaze if I wanted to. Which I don't. My mind has become befuddled, and I'm having to concentrate really hard in order to form any kind of thought. "I, uh..."
"It does not hurt here," he tells me, pointing to his elbow. I freeze for a moment as I realise he's actually suggesting we re-enact the love scene to a different end. I reach for his elbow and place a tiny, chaste kiss on it. He smiles. Okay, maybe I can do this.
"It does not hurt here," he practically coos at me, indicating his forehead. Not hesitating this time, I pull myself closer towards him and kiss his forehead. Somehow, I resist the urge to trail small kisses down his mouth, and sit back down, waiting for him to offer me his next target. Which he does, but just as Indy did, he points to his mouth silently.
As I reach up to kiss him, he meets me halfway, apparently no longer willing to be an inactive participant. It starts off in a gentle manner, and then I feel his lower lip slide down and back up on mine. I open my mouth, and our tongues flick playfully with each other. He tastes mildly of chocolate and strawberries and wine, and I give myself away to him, savouring what will never come again: a first kiss.
My hands envelop his head pulling him closer to me, his hands surround my waist and back, and still our lips dance upon the other. We each take a few passes, exploring affectionately with touch, the sense heightened by lack of sight. Just when I can't breathe properly anymore, he pulls away and rebounds to my neck, just below my ear, and I let out an involuntary moan. This just feels so... he feels so... right.
Neither of us waver, and within seconds we are each demanding more. The movie which is still running, has been forgotten. Well, almost forgotten, as I remember fondly how this started. I cannot resist teasing him as I undo the buttons on his shirt, "I guess there's no danger of you falling asleep on me?"
"No, Samantha," he assures me, as he nuzzles my neck. "But perhaps later I will."
"Is that a promise?" I ask, blathering just a bit.
"Actually, I'd rather you fell asleep on me," he admits, and as much as that appeals to me, I have no intention of falling asleep in the near future as I pull him down onto the floor with me.
No intention at all.
*Ding-Dong*
What the hell is that! Its not the alarm. Not the smoke detector. I know its not the phone. Or my pager. If I'm lucky maybe, just maybe, it will just go away...
*Ding-Dong*
Whatever it is, I don't care. I'm too warm; way too comfortable to move. I'm tangled up in soft sheets and limbs. My head is resting on a hairless chest. Oh, maybe that's it, a heartbeat, not my own...
*Ding-Dong*
Okay, its too loud to be a heartbeat, though I can definitely hear that slow, unique sound beneath me. Quite frankly, it's wonderful listening to the steady rhythm. I move my fingers in small circles over Martouf's chest, savouring his silky skin...
*Ding-Dong*
A voice, slightly rough from last night's wine and the morning, adds to the strange mix of sounds, "Samantha, I believe there is someone at the door. Do you wish for me to answer it?"
The door? Someone's at the door at this time in the morning? I force one eye open. It's definitely daylight outside. Actually, it's really bright. "What time is it?" I glare at the clock-radio, the LCD telling me it is nearly noon. Noon? I slept until noon? I can't remember the last time I slept until noon. Shit! Oh. I bet I know who's at the door. My father, who has come to collect his stuff. Holy Hannah! "Ah, no Martouf. I'll... I'll get it. You can take a shower. You remember how it works?"
"Of course," Martouf replies, quickly rousing himself from sleep and from my arms. "It was only last night that you instructed me. Though it will not be the same without you."
He kisses me, disappearing into the bathroom as I grab my robe and rush downstairs. I try to erase the silly grin I've had on my face for the past twenty-four hours. No luck there, but the familiar tingle sounds deep in my head. Yes, it's definitely my Dad. Making sure the fabric of my housecoat totally covers me first, I take a deep breath and open the door.
"Hey, Dad. Come on in," I say casually, not really paying too much attention, until the second face registers. "Good morning, Janet."
"Oh, did we wake you?" She smiles sweetly, knowing she has. She also knows that she has my full attention for the moment.
What is my father thinking? What is Janet thinking? What am I supposed to be thinking? Maybe I'll just stop thinking. That might work. I decide to go with the last part. "Actually, yeah. I'm sorry. Didn't realize what time it was."
"Up late last night, Sam?" Dad asks.
"You could say that," I answer neutrally.
"Did you take Martouf back to the base?" My father questions, though I really think he already knows the answer.
"No."
"You have a spare bedroom?"
"No." Actually, that's kind of a lie. I do have another room which I've converted into an office. It does have a hide-a-bed, and theoretically Martouf could have slept there, I suppose. But, I'm an adult, and well, this is my business.
"I see," he replies, with just a trace of sternness in his voice. Enough for me to realise he's concerned about the choices I make.
"So, Janet..." I decide to try to distract his train of thought with some questions of my own. "How was dinner at the General's?"
"Great," she smiles at me pausing for emphasis. "I had a wonderful time."
"Did you get back to the base, Dad?" Oh, he's not liking my line of questioning, either.
I get a really flat "no," in return.
Time to reinforce this whole 'I'm an adult' bit by acting childish. "Did General Hammond have a spare bedroom?"
His feet shift a little, the tone in my voice was apparently perfect. "I didn't stay with George."
"Janet has a spare room." I comment, knowing because I've crashed there on more than one occasion. The slight little twitch near his mouth lets me know for certain that I'm in a small amount of danger if I keep this up.
"Really? Didn't notice." His tone says we're done with this topic, at least for now and I know when to retreat. After all, I was taught by the best.
Janet, unaware of our silent truce attempts to intervene, "Have you two had lunch, then?"
"No," I fess up. "In fact, we haven't even had breakfast."
"Well, why don't the four of us go out for lunch? My treat." Janet offers looking around at the mess in my living room. I usually keep a very tidy house, but right now there are wineglasses, dishes, and incriminating clothes spread throughout the room. "Busy evening, Sam?"
"Lunch sounds good." I don't answer her second question, as I try and grab the dress I had hastily discarded last night, surreptitiously from the floor.
My dad tries not to look too hard, "I think I'll go and have a chat with Martouf."
I cringe just a little. "Ah, he's in the shower, Dad."
"In that case, I'll just go and make some... coffee. Excuse me, ladies." He tries to make himself scarce in the kitchen. I hope we get past this quickly. It's going to be a very long, trying lunch if we don't.
"So?" Janet asks pointedly.
Oh, I don't think so Janet. Not this time. You're going first. "So, what's with you and my dad?"
She doesn't miss a beat, "He's quite charming, actually. A gentleman. I'm wishing he could visit more often."
I can't believe what she's telling me, and I guess that transfers to my face.
"And don't give me that look! We didn't do what you two obviously did. As your doctor, I hope you took the necessary precautions. Nice dress, by the way."
"Thanks, and he's a Tok'ra, Janet. He can't transmit anything to me." We did actually discuss it, however briefly. He mentioned how the Tok'ra and presumably the Goa'uld prevent pregnancy. Apparently the symbiote in the female just prevents the release of eggs. Why is it always ultimately up to the woman? Another universal truth, perhaps? "And you give me an injection for the other matter, remember?"
"Good, the doctor is satisfied. Now, your friend wants to know if you were?" That's Janet for you, no holds barred.
I pull her close and harshly whisper, "My father is in the kitchen, can we talk about this another time?"
Smiling wickedly she replies, "Sure, though I want more specific details then, okay. Like I'm dying to know if it's kind of like a menage a--"
"Good morning, Doctor Fraiser." Martouf interrupts from the hallway, clad only in his new pants. He quickly surveys the floor and finding his shirt, his hands deftly do up the buttons. Thank God my father is in the kitchen.
I'll have to remind myself to complement Martouf on his impeccable timing. Not only did he walk in at exactly the right time, but he managed to distract Janet utterly completely. She is still silently staring at him with an appreciative gleam in her eyes. I can't believe what she was trying to ask me. Though I guess I can understand her curiosity, its not like *I* hadn't wondered exactly the same thing. Of course, now I know. And for now, its going to be my little secret. Well, until she drags it out of me.
"Martouf, please call me Janet. And, it's good afternoon, actually." She smiles at him, her voice flirtatious.
"So it is." Martouf concedes, quickly adopting the same playful banter as the Doc.
I'm not sure I like that. Before I can decide whether or not to be annoyed at either of them, a deep voice from the door of the kitchen demands, "Martouf, I'd like a word with you in private."
"Sam, why don't we go upstairs and leave the men to... chat?"
Janet tries to usher me towards the stairs, but I'm not sure that's a good idea. "Martouf?"
He smiles at me, "Go ahead, Samantha. I will be fine."
"Are you sure?" I know I'm not.
He moves closer towards me, so that my dad can't possibly hear, but Janet still can. "Comparatively speaking, Jacob is in fact a 'teddy bear' as you mentioned during our first meeting. And he knows that I love his daughter."
With that revelation he kisses me rather chastely on the cheek, and disappears through the swinging door to the kitchen. I stare after him for what seems like hours while his words slowly digest in my befuddled brain.
He loves me?
I think Janet said something during my daze but I'm not sure, so I answer anyway, "What?"
"Earth to Sam?" She waves her hand in front of my face. "Come on, girlfriend. We're going to have a little chat while you're in the shower."
Somehow she manages to divert my attention away from Martouf long enough to get me into the shower, and then, even though I swore I was going to make her wait, I tell her everything. I only wish I could have seen the look on her face through the translucent stall when I told her exactly how Martouf, Lantesh and I made love together.
I vaguely remember going to lunch that day, but all I can recall is the wonderfully warm, contented feeling of newly expressed emotion. That and smiling for nearly every second of every minute.
They ended up staying for nearly a week. Six of the most intense, satisfying, and wonderful days in my life. Martouf spent almost the entire time with me; we told everyone that he was exposing himself to Earth culture, and we did spend some of the time outside my place. Not a lot, mind you, but enough to get the job done.
Eventually, we did go shopping for other clothes, and I admit, it was kind of fun dressing him up. I bought him the most gorgeous textured sweater in muted grey tones, some shirts, a couple of pairs of pants and some silk boxer shorts. Several pairs actually, mostly solid black but one white with hearts all over them, all of which I picked out.
As we wandered through the mall, he had insisted upon choosing some clothing for me to wear. It was only fair, he told me, and I found myself stifling a giggle as led me toward a store which had caught his eye. At that moment, I decided that it really didn't matter which part of the galaxy a man came from, some things were just truly universal. I refused to model his choices at the store, but that night I gave him a private screening, and after some experimentation we discovered he prefers black silk to white lace.
Dad and I visited a couple of times, nearly always with Janet, and although I'm still wrapping my brain around that one, I can't deny that they both seem happy with their new-found relationship. I did meet Dad for lunch one day, alone. I made a real effort to keep all of the questions about him and Janet to myself, but apparently that didn't work both ways. I'm still his little girl, he told me and as he grilled me about my new boyfriend, I was as honest with him as daughter could be.
Those six days passed much too quickly. Sooner than I realise, I am standing in the semi-crowded gateroom in the bowels of the SGC, and Dad and I are bidding farewell. We had hardly spent any time together. One day I think we should go off on that father-daughter trip he was talking about on the way home from Naetu. Just the two of us, but not right now. Now, we each have someone new to think about and spend time with, and I watch briefly as he and Janet share one last moment together.
Martouf and I say our good-byes as privately as is possible. He isn't overly concerned with our conversation being discreet, personal relationships are what bind the Tok'ra together he tells me. Especially the one he shares with Lantesh. Who had been relatively quiet for the last several days, since we had spent several days exploring Colorado Springs in the snow. The Garden of the Gods had been especially beautiful, and a wonderful place for numerous snowball fights. And the snow and cold provided a great excuse to go and get Chai tea from the closest Starbuck's. To go, of course.
As Martouf grasps my hand, I feel the change from host to symbiote rather than seeing his head dip or eyes flash. Lantesh pulls me provocatively close and practically breathes in my ear, "I will miss you..." His mouth plays on my neck for a few beats, all of which my heart skips and I unconsciously lift my chin to better his access.
"Lantesh, kree!" Selmak interrupts looking none too pleased. Though I was almost certain I could see the beginnings of a smile in my dad's face. Almost.
Lantesh tears away from me incredibly slowly, in subtle defiance of the order he has been given. I didn't think he always followed the rules, and part of me is absolutely intrigued by the thought. He lifts his hand to my cheek and cradles my face for a moment. His undaunting eyes are holding mine in a trance-like state. "I look forward to returning to you," he says in a hushed voice.
"Thirty days. That's not very long." Actually it seems like forever, but I'm doing my best to convince myself of the same thing.
"Time is relative, Samantha." He reminds me with a grin.
As if I really need any further instruction in that department. We spent more than a couple of hours arguing particle physics while he was here and dammit, now I'm going to have to spend a few additional hours figuring out exactly where we disagreed. I had thoroughly enjoyed every minute, it was nice to talk 'tech' with someone who understood me. "Believe me, I know."
"Until then, Samantha."
"Bye," I whisper, as he turns away towards my father, and joins him on the ramp. I watch quietly with Janet, as the ripples of the event horizon swallow up the two most important men in my life, and then the three-story Stargate shuts itself down. Silently, I collect my thoughts and wander back to my lab.
Halfway there, I nearly run into the Colonel, whom I haven't seen in nearly a week. Not since the day Martouf arrived. "Hey Colonel, I've been meaning to thank you." I offer, all smiles.
He looks wary of my comment, and so he should. "Major, I've been meaning to avoid you. What do you want to thank me for?"
The concern on his face is palpable, and so I play into that. Its not something I get to do to him often. "Well, you chose the Indiana Jones wardrobe for Martouf, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I guess that would have been me." He has the decency to look awkward. Not embarrassed or remorseful, but awkward.
"Let's just say that I've worked through most of my errant archeologist fantasies." I say in the most satisfied though innocent voice I can muster. It seems to have the desired effect, as I watch his expression change, and he knows his plan has backfired. Poor Colonel.
"Oh..." he manages, reclaiming his voice. "Well, just don't mention it to Daniel. He might be a tad disappointed."
I have to give him credit, though. His choice in clothes was impeccable. As was his snappy comeback. "Good night, Colonel." I say with a smile.
He returns the pleasantry, "Good night, Major."
As I finally make my way to my lab, I suddenly change my mind about going over some equations I've got in the back of my mind. I think I'll go home instead.
I feel like watching a movie.
~fini~
Thanks for reading,
Jacquie.
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Jacquelyn Smith
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