A/N Just a random one shot inspired by my garden fence painting exploits today. It's set early on in Season 7. The title is from an Anne Bronte quote "But he that dares not grasp the thorn Should never crave the rose."
I'm putting together a plot for a sequel to caves, and I'm also writing a new story, so I'm hoping you'll see those around soon.
In the mean time, enjoy!
Sam pulled up the strap on her vest and muttered to herself as she felt something drip down her arm. Typical. Why is it that nothing is ever simple, clean or tidy? You'd think that someone who had averted planetary disasters more times than they'd care to mention would be good at doing a little home improving, but no - apparently not. She scowled and wiped the wet paint off her shoulder with the back of her hand. Sam's nemesis – her garden fence, looked back at her unflinchingly. It stood glistening where it was wet in the hot Saturday afternoon. She wondered whether she could get away with leaving it as it was, but it was very obvious that only half the fencing had been painted – one half was a clean new olive green colour, the other half was a drained looking pale green.
She looked in the can of paint she had bought that morning for the job. There'd better be enough left to finish this she thought, trying to estimate how much more would be needed to finish the task. Turning up the radio, she pushed her hair away from her eyes and dipped the large brush she was wielding back into the paint.
The problem with painting fences, she thought to herself as she hummed along to an old tune on the radio, is that it's one of those occasions where "the more, the merrier" really applies. More paint is always needed on the brush to get a good stroke on the wood, which means there is more mess, which means more time; which really means that you need more friends to help you so it gets done quickly - before either you knock down the fence in frustration and plant bushes or go mad from the sheer boredom of it all. Although planting bushes wasn't really an alternative, because then they would need regular trimming, which would probably take more time and be just as frustrating. Sam shook her head. The scratches on her hands and arms were testament to the fact that maybe she already had too many bushes in her garden. Next time the fence needed painting she would wait until winter when the plants were all dead and she could reach behind them easily. The song on the radio changed and she crouched down as she reached behind a particularly knotty little plant to get to the fencing behind it.
With regards to the friend problem, there wasn't really one. It's just that asking any of SG1 to come help her paint her garden fence was kind of like Jack asking them to come fishing for the weekend. What she needed was a man in her life. Then she could give him all the DIY jobs that needed doing without feeling any guilt at all. Mind you, the man she was now imagining probably wouldn't be that great with DIY tasks - she'd most likely end up doing them herself anyway. The man in question was Daniel Jackson (though it had taken her ages to admit that). Sam put her paint brush down on the soil and ran her hands through her hair. She'd lost him more than once, thought she was going to lose him again on an all most regular basis, and still it had taken her an exceptionally long time to realise that the loss of Daniel meant more to her than the loss of other people. And this fear of losing him was enough to stop her from making a fool of herself and isolating him from her. If she told him she loved him, and he didn't feel the same way, things were going to be very awkward between them. It's best just to leave things the way they are.
"What he doesn't know can't hurt us," Sam said to the rose next to her. Its petals were wilting with the sun and she knew how it felt.
"So the exceptional Air Force Major talks to her plants?"
Sam shot up at the familiar voice and smacked her head against the hanging basket that was attached to the fence above her. She stepped off the flower bed rubbing the back of her head and looked at the man standing in the middle of her lawn.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you. Well, maybe I did a bit." Jacob Carter smiled at his daughter.
"Dad! When did you come back?" Sam gathered her thoughts together and hugged her father.
"Couple of hours ago. They said you were at home so I thought I'd pop round and see you before I disappear again."
"Sure. How long are you back for?"
"George is sending a car round in an hour. I can't stay long I'm afraid."
Sam nodded, slightly disappointed. "Do you want a drink? Come inside."
"A fruit juice will be fine." He followed her as she led the way into the kitchen. "So. Who is he and what doesn't he know that might hurt you and the rose in the garden?"
Sam glanced at her father over the fridge door before darting her eyes back into the fridge.
"What?"
"I overhead you and your flower chatting."
"Hmm." Sam avoided the question and shut the fridge door. "No-one and nothing. Have the tok'ra got anything interesting to report?"
Jacob looked at his daughter closely as Selmak chatted away about what she thought Sam's sentence had been in reference to.
"Not much. Thanks." He took the drink that Sam handed him and drank some gratefully.
"You'd be surprised how much you can miss simple things some times."
"Yeah."
The hour passed quickly for them both and soon a car horn could be heard outside. Jacob got up to leave and Sam followed suit.
"You know, Sam," Jacob turned to his daughter as they reached the front door. "Him knowing probably wouldn't hurt you. Or the flower," he added with a twinkle in his eye.
Sam looked at her Dad and hugged him again. "Be safe Dad."
"I will be kiddo."
Sam watched her father leave then shut her front door. The radio still playing outside drew her back into the garden. The fence still needed finishing. What time was it? She glanced at her watch. Just after 3. It would probably only take a couple more hours to do, then she could relax and unwind. Probably in a bath, she added, catching a glimpse of herself in a mirror as she made her way outside. She had flecks of paint on her face and hair, not to mention the smear down her shoulder and the state of her hands, though she had attempted to wash some of it off when she was in the kitchen. She picked up her paintbrush from the flower bed she had left it in and carried on where she had left off.
X
Sam stood back to admire what she had done so far. Three quarters of the fencing was now looking rather nice, she thought. And it looked like there would be enough paint to finish the rest as well. Excellent. She scratched her arm lazily and looked at the state of her flower borders next to the fence. Not that many of her flowers were looking trodden on, which cheered her up as well. Maybe painting fences wasn't so bad after all.
"Heya."
Sam spun around at yet another familiar voice disturbing her in her garden, relief flooding through her when she realised two things at once – she wasn't crouched under a hanging basket this time, and she wasn't contorted in some weird position as she had been moments before in order to reach a difficult spot.
"Daniel!"
He raised his eyebrows and a small grin played on his lips at the state of her. "I rang the doorbell but I could hear music coming from out here." He stated, gesturing to the radio.
"Yeah. I'm doing a bit of fence painting."
"I can see that." He looked her up and down again, and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I just saw your father. He said you could do with a bit of help."
"Did he?" Sam asked, bewildered. "How did you just –"
It was Daniel's turn to look sheepish. "I was at the base doing some work."
Sam had a vague suspicion her father had just set her up. How could he possibly know which 'he' she had been talking about earlier? And had Daniel just checked her out? She felt slightly bare in just shorts and a vest.
Daniel watched Sam fidget under his gaze for a moment. She rubbed her arm anxiously and he wondered whether she perhaps had other plans for the afternoon.
"Would you like any help?" He asked, his eyes flitting to the unpainted section of the fence and down to the can of paint. He seriously doubted there was enough paint in there to finish the job - probably because most of it had ended up on Sam. His eyes shifted back on to her again. He didn't get to see her that often in civvies. She looked good. Of course the fact that she was wearing the shortest shorts imaginable and a vest that had definitely seen better days may be the reason he was starting to feel uncomfortably hot.
"Sure, I'll go fetch you a paintbrush. Back in a second." Sam disappeared into the house and Daniel watched her retreating figure. Maybe coming here wasn't such a good idea, but to be honest he'd jumped at the chance to spend the afternoon doing something non-work related with her. Ever since he'd come back from Vis Uban he'd been increasingly aware of his attraction for her. Actually no - maybe it at first it had been attraction, but now it was much more than that. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
However, he had already lost one wife – he didn't think he was quite ready to lose another, no matter what Jacob said. Sam returned with a paintbrush and looked at him slightly longer than was necessary as she handed it to him.
"Have you got something else to wear?"
As soon as the thought crossed her mind visions of Daniel in various states of undress followed. She blushed awkwardly and wondered if Daniel noticed.
Daniel looked down at his clothes. "Err…"
There was an earnest look in Sam's eyes that Daniel missed, too busy trying to keep his own thoughts out of the gutter.
"I've got some spare clothes. T-shirt and shorts do? It's kinda hot out…" Sam's voice came out huskier than she intended and she cleared her throat. This is getting ridiculous, she thought to herself. Get a grip of yourself.
"That will be fine." Daniel said, conscious of the way Sam either ignored, or didn't notice, the sultry tone that had just appeared in his voice. She also appeared to not notice what was happening in his nether regions. He cleared his throat. Get a grip on yourself Daniel, he demanded.
Sam gestured for Daniel to follow her and she led him upstairs to the airing cupboard. Opening it up, Daniel was impressed at the pile of clothes Sam seemed to have accumulated from the military over the years.
"There's bound to be something in there that will fit you." Sam declared carefully.
"I'm guessing it doesn't matter if it gets paint on it." Daniel remarked, trying to distract himself from what was happening down below.
Sam smiled at his comment and Daniel let his eyes drift down her, before chiding himself and turning to look in the airing cupboard. 'Stop checking her out!' He said to himself firmly. Something caught his eye though and he glanced back at her.
"Sam… Are you allergic to paint?"
Sam followed his eyes down to her arm, where a red rash was forming. "No, I don't think so."
"That rash would say otherwise." He gently took her hand and pulled her arm nearer to him for a closer look. "You'd probably best wash it off."
As he said it visions of Sam in the shower filled his mind and he found himself in there with her, helping to wash the paint off. He rubbed the smooth skin of her arm subconsciously before realising what he was doing and wondering how he could turn it into a normal gesture.
"The skin's not bumpy yet," he said gruffly, trying to get the thickness out of his voice.
Sam looked at Daniel, mimicking perfectly a rabbit caught in a car's headlights. She was sure she'd just seen something flicker across his face, an emotion that definitely shouldn't have been there.
Daniel eyes met Sam's cautiously. Did she know what was going through his mind?
"Sam, I…"
Sam moved forward and kissed him nervously. 'Well there's no going back if you do that,' said the sane part of her.
For one excruciating second it seemed like Daniel wasn't going to respond. Then he tentatively kissed her back, and a few seconds later wrapped his arms around her firmly.
Sam felt Daniel's arms pull her into him and she moved her own arms around his neck, running her fingers through his hair. A little thought popped into her head as Daniel made a swift job of her vest: maybe he would be good at DIY.
Dropping Sam's vest to the floor, Daniel's mind caught up with the rest of him and he paused breathlessly. Sam didn't really let him say anything though. She put her finger to his lips and then began unbuttoning his shirt.
"Sam?"
She shook her head at him and continued undoing his shirt. She was now standing topless in front of Daniel unbuttoning his shirt, so if he was going to say it was a bad idea she was fairly sure it was too late to save any of her dignity. Mostly though, she was afraid he might ruin the moment. If it was a bad idea, she'd rather they went through with it and worried about the consequences afterwards. She'd been dreaming of this for months.
"You still need to shower."
His words caught her off guard and she fumbled with the last button. "What?"
Daniel put his hands over hers and undid the last button with her, before removing his shirt.
"The paint…"
"What?"
Daniel let go of Sam completely and stepped back. "If I've –"
Maybe Sam thought this was a bad idea. Oh god, maybe this was a bad idea. He was standing outside Sam's airing cupboard topless, as was she. Is there any way he could save either of their dignity?
"Clearly, we've… um…"
Sam looked at Daniel. He was looking so… hot, for lack of a better word. He was making no sense though.
"Daniel." Sam interrupted the coherent sentence he was trying to form in his head. "Please be quiet."
Daniel raised his eyebrows at her.
"The bathroom is in here."
His eyebrows went even higher.
Sam moved closer to him and kissed him again, and they made their way slowly to the bathroom.
Daniel held Sam as they both shook under the spray of the shower. Sam hugged Daniel close to her and smiled as she felt his heart racing near hers.
Eventually they broke apart slowly and looked at each other, both sets of eyes asking questions.
"I love you. Have done for ages." Sam said lamely.
Daniel nodded. "I love you too."
Sam smiled. "You wouldn't believe how much I've wanted to hear you say that."
"I know. The rose will be happy."
A/N2 Yes I really was allergic to the garden fence paint. But tragically there was no Daniel to come help me wash it off. Such is life.