A/N: Prompted by the word 'blanket' at StargateDrabbles.

Phony Matrimony

Chapter 1

His

The hut they put him up in for the night has no door. A basic shack with a thatched roof still all soggy from the rain earlier, keeps expecting to feel the flick of a drop of water on his head, or the slap of cold, damp leaves against his face as the roof caves in.

That's the least disturbing thing about this place.

They stumbled on the tribe by accident while stomping through the thick jungle following a lead to a naquadah stockpile, but when the rumble in the jungle happened—the sudden downpour—they got mixed up, thinks Jackson and Teal'c headed left, Sam forward, and he and Vala to the right. They kept running through the lightening strikes that sizzled the area, and thunder so close it sounded like explosions.

Kept looking back at her in case she tripped—instead he tripped while looking back.

Without hesitation, her hand dug under the collar of his vest and yanked him from the ground, pushing him back into running before her. They didn't stumble to a stop until they were in the middle of the village.

It's not that big, maybe thirty huts and a communal eating area where they sat after hours of trying and failing to contact the others. The village mystic wove tales of vengeful Gods washing the world clean—none involving an ark—and how the presence of technology—their radios, their walkies, their GPS system—was sacrilegious which is what stirred up the storm.

That they're not functioning gear was as a result.

Vala nodded until the storyteller left and then turned to him. "It's just rainwater in our gear shorting out the electronics."

"You think?" He didn't need her to unravel the storytelling because he'd heard it all the way through childhood and put up with it for the love of a grandma and a macaroon.

But in her fixation on the villagers, most were men, she didn't notice his sarcasm. "Yes, well the God thing distracted me. Speaking from first hand experience, no one has the ability to control weather."

They sat beside each other, picking at the ribs a pig relative and eating a fruit that tasted a lot like blackberries. He fiddled with the walkie, wishing every time he turned it on to hear static, and instead heading nothing as the green light blinked rapidly, hypnotically.

She sat alert, her head swiveling around at a crackle of a fire log, the call of a night bird, the boom of laughter from behind him, and she looked to him as he tightened the screws in the back of the walkie with an emergency screwdriver. Didn't notice until a few seconds later, when her hand stilled his, her eyes wide, her mood suddenly serious.

Glanced up from a half hunch, not really irritated but a little confused. "What?"

She shuffled closer still, her eyes not meeting his, but darting behind them, then to the side. "You need to lay ownership to me."

The words didn't make sense, sort of jumbled in his head, so he narrowed his eyes, trying to find the meaning. "What?"

"It is drastically important that you declare ownership of me right now." Dropped his hand to her thigh, still a bit wet from the rain earlier, the fabric drying tight, but her muscle was tight.

As soon as he made contact, he recoiled like he touched fire. "Vala!"

"Mitchell, they—"

Before she could fully explain herself, one of the older men, who had a bum back and walked with a cane approached, standing beside them, but somehow, almost between them. "You're more than welcome to stay the night."

"While we appreciate your boundless generosity—" Vala stood, her hands on his shoulders as support until he shook them away "—we're afraid we must leave to regroup with our team. I'm greatly missing the large muscle-laden Jaffa, and the doctor who can read a room."

At the end of her statement she glared at him, and he was still lost in the preoccupation of trying to jumpstart a dead walkie.

"The jungle can be dangerous, particularly at night, large beasts come out to feed on prey—"

"Oh, some places are much worse, aren't they Colonel Mitchell?" She touched his shoulder again, her fingers almost prodding him to stand.

"Vala, there's no way in hell we'd survive out there. Teal'c has the tent, Jackson has the lantern." Dropped the walkie and turned away from her to the elder. "We gladly accept your generous offer. If there is anyway we can repay you—"

And sometimes he's so dumb he wonders if the time his brother whacked him in the head with a two by four while they were roughhousing had a lasting effect.

She wouldn't keep her hands off him, gripped and pulled on his arm, stuttered and interrupted sentences, but the elder nodded to him, a large grin on his face. "We do not ask anything in return, except that you follow the customs of our village."

"Cameron, I really need just a squish of your attention—"

"What!?" When he turned to her, his face stark red from her pestering him, from her lack of space and manners, how she has to disagree just to cause waves. She recoiled at his snap, hands settled back to her own lap.

"You will be placed in a hut on the men's side of the village, and your teammate will be in the outskirts of—"

Clued in then, got all her prods, all her words, all her attention seeking outbursts at that moment. Understood her distraught eyes as she slipped her bag back on and eyed the treeline.

"She's not my teammate, she's my wife."

Vala stopped shuffling beside him and the elder stopped talking, the grin washing from his face, like the dirt from their boots in the downpour. "Your wife?"

"Yeah." Nodded and grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips to place a kiss on the back. "We're newlyweds, got hitched about a month ago in Vegas."

"I'm sorry—" the old guy who was now definitely creepy, who kept darting his eyes back to her, assessing like people do before they pick out a lobster in a restaurant tank. "But you referred to her as your teammate upon arrival."

"She's my teammate too. We're a workplace romance, isn't that right, Honey?"

Tugged her forward until she draped her arms around his neck from behind. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder, and he tried not to react to her warmth. The tips of her fingers played in the pockets on his vest and her raspy voice lilted, "absolutely, Darling, love on first sight."

Of course, the elder relented—backwards customs tend to bite asses eventually—but watched them—more likely her—predatorily, scaling eyes and tongue licked lips.

She squirms behind him, kicking him for the second time in the last few minutes, her toenails jabbing, and he grunts, "dammit, can you not just settle?"

"Would you be able to sleep if you knew you were basically cattle?" Glances back over his shoulder to her, eyes wide and innocent, her hand scratching up and down her arm vigorously. "Sexy cattle?"

Not like he could sleep anyways.

So, he takes a stance, laying on his side—and his ribs are starting to hurt—watching the open door of the hut for any guy who tries something. Doesn't say anything until he hears the tear of her nails down her skin again. "What's the problem?"

"The blanket they gave us is made out of some sort of sheep's wool."

"How can you tell?"

"Because I'm allergic to sheep's wool." Kicks the blanket off her, slamming it into the corner of the hut where they laid their clothes out to dry, instead wearing auxiliary fatigues. He's using the blanket from his pack—hers was soaked—and he counts down the seconds before—

"Cameron?"

"Yes?"

"Would you mind sharing? I know that—"

Doesn't even let her finish her sentence before untucking the blanket from his side, swooping it wide, and letting it fall over them. She shimmies happily beside him, burrowing around until she's tucked tightly in—her front to his back—and the rise and fall of her chest evens out a bit. Normally, he'd shoot this shit down when she pulls it, but he waited too long earlier, didn't see the obvious and dangerous signs, so maybe he owes her one.

"Cameron?"

"Yes?" Groans, half-asleep, knows that he won't get much rest because anytime he does, he's going to think about someone sneaking in here and—

"Are you going to watch that door all night?"

Her chin sort of rests against the muscles in his shoulder and when she talks it's almost sounds like the night birds from earlier. She's cold against him, but her hands, her skin is so soft it's unreal.

Draws his attention back to the door, to the more than two dozen guys who eyed her tonight instead of the ribs and berries, who had another taste in their mouths.

"Yes."

Feels her relax against him more, her head falling back on the primitive thatched pillow that crinkles under her weight and body movement. She pats his shoulder with the heel of her hand twice and her body deflates with a sigh.

"Thank you."