Disclaimer - MGM/Gekko/Double Secret own them.
I got the idea for this on the bus on the way into work this morning, and pretty much typed it all up as soon as I got in. Weird the way the muse works...
No spoilers, but set season six or later. Feedback would be loved.
*
"This isn't working, is it?"
The date had been perfectly nice. She'd gone to a nice restaurant, had a nice meal; said nice things and had nice things said in return. The drive there and back, the company, the evening as a whole - thoroughly nice.
But he was right. It wasn't working.
"No. It isn't."
He was perfect for her. Funny, intelligent, attractive (she could be shallow sometimes). And on those occasions where she got a little too technical for her own good (some habits were just too hard to break) he usually understood what she was talking about.
He was curious but not *too* inquisitive (she'd need someone who could put up with her frequent unexplained absences), and they had the exact same taste in music.
But it wasn't working.
He'd already turned his head away, sighing.
She studied his profile from the seat next to him; suddenly feeling compelled to say something else. "I'm sorry."
Looking back at her immediately, he smiled. "What for, Sam? It's not like this is your fault, or even one-sided. It's just...not happening."
At least it wasn't just her. Still...
Not happening. Not there.
Dammit.
Even the way he was acting now was P-E-R-F-E-C-T.
Dammit. Again.
Smiling half-heartedly, she leant forward and brushed a kiss against his cheek. As she pulled away her smile deepened - genuinely. "Well, if you ever want to discuss astrophysics, you know who to call."
"That I do." He nodded sombrely, purely for effect. "Now go on," He gestured towards the car door. "Get out of here so I can go find some hot honey I *do* have sparkage with."
She laughed. He was good at making her do that.
Relenting - though making a big deal out of it - she climbed out of the car, slammed the door, and stood on the sidewalk watching his car long after it had pulled away, and driven off into the distance.
Sighing in the darkness, she eventually turned towards her house and started walking - along the path, up to the porch, unlocking the door and into the kitchen, where the light on her message machine was flashing.
She was absolutely certain that she knew who'd called. And just after she'd pressed the playback button, she discovered she was right.
"Hey Sam, it's me. Look, I have no idea if you'll be alone when you listen to this, so just in case you're not - hi Martin! If you are alone you *are* calling me ASAP with every single detail. This is more action that either one of us has seen in a long time, and unfortunately I still have to live vicariously. Seriously though...hope it went well. Give me a call."
By the time the message ended, Sam had grinned, frowned, and was now pondering over her response. She really didn't want to let Janet down, but what was she supposed to do - lie to her? The idea was ridiculous.
No, she'd tell the truth.
Tomorrow.
For the next thirty minutes or so, she was an expert at not thinking. She got undressed, had a shower, poured a glass of water, and read and reread the same paragraph of the same book three times.
It wasn't until she placed the book on the side, flicked the lamp off and lay in her bed with wet hair, that she finally allowed herself to think.
It wasn't that she needed someone in her life to make her happy - she already *was* happy. Just like anyone else, though, she had her low days, and sometimes...she wanted someone in her life.
Sometimes she was lonely.
Sometimes she wanted someone to share things with.
Sometimes she missed sex.
Sometimes she wanted nothing more than to be able to lie in bed, and hear the sound of someone else moving around the house - using the bathroom; washing dishes; digging through the fridge for something unhealthy to eat.
It wasn't as if she'd been going on many dates lately, but over the last few years every single time she'd almost become close to someone in some way, it was never quite...right.
And she didn't like thinking about the possible reasons why.
Especially *that* possible reason.
It was ridiculous - he was so far from being the 'perfect man' that it was almost funny.
But sometimes she missed simply being held. And sometimes, when she dreamt about it, he was the one doing the holding.
But it couldn't be him. It could never be him.
Which was probably why she sat up, and flicked the lamp back on. Why she got dressed, and drove to the mountain. Why she entered the SGC, boarded the elevator, and went down the appropriate number of levels.
Why, without invitation, she opened the door to Teal'c's quarters.
He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, meditating, the candles casting their glow against every surface, highlighting his face.
His eyes opened.
Sam said nothing, moving to sit on the edge of his bed, tugging her boots off. When her feet were free she moved until she could lift her legs up and stretch out across the bed, facing the wall. With her head resting against her left hand, she closed her eyes.
Not long after, his form lowered onto the bed behind her, dipping the mattress further.
She didn't care.
She still didn't care when he pressed his body against hers, when his arm draped over her side. When he pulled her closer, and quietly let her fall asleep.
He didn't say anything.
But then, he never did.
~FINIS