A/Ramble: A brief little diddy that came to me while enjoying a Silence of the Lambs Fic. Chill out, it's not as weird as it sounds. Takes place around 'One Hundred Days'. I'm giving this to Kahuna for Reveiw #500 for MYOTOS. Please, Enjoy!
~ Dinner ~
"Drink?"
"Is that rhetorical?"
Sam smirked and stifled a chuckle at the Colonel's bluntness. Her muscles ached from her statuesque vigil in front of her computer for the last month. The strain inflicted wholly upon herself and she held no reservations in doing so again. He was home; that was all that mattered.
She tipped the glass carefully to the side, the Lambrusco flowing smoothly, staining the crystal as it straightened and fading like a hot breath on cool winter windows. She slid the glass across the bench, watching it stop on the opposite side. Working in the kitchen, preparing a meal for herself and the Colonel; it felt strangely natural. Easy.
"How long did it take for Frasier to have you escorted off the base?" he wondered while she chopped a small handful of shallots. They'd be softer on his deprived palate than onion.
"Longer than usual... Three weeks. I had to stay off base for ten hours before I was allowed back on."
"You worked at home, didn't you?"
She could only shrug. No point denying it; he could read her quite easily. He rarely dared to guess at what she actually thought, but he could easily pick her emotions.
"I did sleep."
He let out a soft 'Mm' of approval. A smooth swirl with her wooden spoon through the sauce and a nibble to test it. The flavour wasn't strong, which would suit him fine. After so long eating mere staples, his stomach wouldn't be ready for rich foods.
"And then, yes, I worked on my own computer."
"You're damn persistent, Carter."
The hot, wet spoon with which she stirred the pasta was quickly brandished over her shoulder. "That better not be a complaint, Sir. I'll send you back to Edora."
"No! Not complaining."
A studious inspection of a random strand of the linguine spared her eyes from revealing her amusement and... relief. She wanted him back. SG-1 needed their Commanding Officer. The pasta was done. Contrary to the jibes frequently given by her team, she could cook. She didn't have time for fancy, but tonight she felt energetic and strangely engrossed in her domesticity.
"We did kind of miss you." She strained the pasta and divided it evenly between two bowls.
"Really? Nice to know... And yet, not completely true."
A fine layer of cheese and sauce placed in the middle of the tangled mounds drew her concentration.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Sir. Eat up before it gets cold."
"Carter... You know what I'm talking about. Look at what you're doing."
"I know exactly what I'm..."
Sam's voice trailed into cold silence and she stopped the push of the bowl across the bench. The second glass of red wine sat untouched, flecks of dust sticking to the supposedly clean glass. His chair was empty. Two bowls of pasta. Two glasses. He was still on Edora; not sitting in her kitchen. She still wanted him back.
"I miss you, Sir."
Dinner, prepared with warmth and consideration, left her empty.
~ SJ ~
Not quite as I would wish it, but I'm happy with it. I've had a moment like this before. Talking to an invisible person and inadvertently pouring two glasses to drink. Feedback welcomed and heartily appreciated.