Spoilers: Meridian, Fallen.
Season: Early Season 7.
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story was created for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).
Author's Notes: Okay. This was my second attempt at a sd_ficathon entry.
stargazercmc wanted: towels, sand, beer, and/or egg, hat, university. Unfortunately, the first story, while hitting all of the points above, turned out to be a much larger, plotty story that I just wasn't able to finish (or will be able to finish any time soon), so we have this. Which doesn't hit any of the above points, but at least it's something, right?
Big thanks to pepper_field, annerbhp, and seldear for thoughts and betas. Title from "Seven Year Ache" by Shawn Colvin.
It was late; their little group had split into twos. The Colonel and Teal'c were over by the pool tables playing eight-ball, and from the sound of the banter coming from behind her, she was pretty sure that they were both doing badly and trying to cover it up.
Daniel and Sam had migrated to the bar, although they had both switched to soda. The place was empty enough that no one cared.
She picked up another onion ring from the plate they were sharing and let the breaded pieces fall into her mouth. It was comfortable, her and Daniel. Their shoulders rested against each other and she didn't feel the need to shy away from the touch.
She spoke around the onion she was chewing. "Why did the alphabet thing bother you so much?"
Daniel shrugged. "I'm a linguist. We don't forget these things."
"Yeah, but you're also human. God, Daniel, with the amount of stuff you have to memorize on a daily basis just to do your job effectively, I think one slip after a couple of beers is understandable."
He twirled an onion ring on the plate in front of him as he shook his head a little. Even when he was desperately theorizing, or arguing off a caffeine high, he wasn't restless in the way that she or the Colonel was. His movements were usually sure and purposeful, and that his fingers were darting here and there told her a lot about his state of mind.
"Not for me."
"Why not?"
"Because. Because I'm Daniel Jackson, and Daniel Jackson doesn't forget how many letters there are in the English alphabet."
She propped her arm up on the bar and leaned against her hand as she watched him. "I don't understand."
Except that she did. She had lost herself once, too. There were things that she wished she had said out loud then and hadn't. She didn't want the same for him. "Why can't you just let yourself be?"
His voice was quiet, but it was shaking with something that could have been anger. "I didn't use to be this way."
She reached over with her free hand to snag his wrist. "Daniel," she said softly.
"I didn't. Things are still jumbled in my mind, but I remember that I used to know what I was doing. And now I…now I feel like…" He trailed off when he saw her smiling. "What?"
She felt a little guilty, but still had to laugh. "You didn't." She tightened her grip around his wrist when it looked like he was going to pull away. "Come on, Daniel, you really didn't. None of us had any idea what we were doing. We still don't."
She ran her thumb over his skin. "Somehow you've managed to convince yourself that you have to be faultless. Omnipotent. And I'm not just talking about recently - I think you felt this way before you ascended."
He didn't acknowledge her words at all, just stared at the wooden service of the bar. Leaning forward, she tapped on his wrist once with her finger to make sure she had his attention.
"You don't have to be perfect, Daniel. You never will be, so stop torturing yourself every time you get something wrong. It's enough to be who you are."
Finally, he turned, and gave her a look that plainly asked, and who is that?
She sighed. She moved her hand back to her side of the bar, unsure of what to say next. Then ate another onion ring for something to do in the silence.
"Do you ever wish you'd never heard of the stargate program?" Daniel asked abruptly, surprising her out of her thoughts.
"Yes." He turned startled eyes to her face, and it occurred to her that she had probably replied too quickly.
"Some really…bad things have happened to me. I've lost people. I've changed a lot, and not entirely in ways I like."
She had to pause for a minute. "But I think the same can be said for all of us. And most of the time I think I've gained more than I've lost. My dad, Cassie, Janet. You guys. I've found a family here. I may have wanted other things, but…" She lifted a shoulder lazily, and let the statement hang in the air.
This is what I have.
The back of Daniel's knuckles brushed hers, and she knew he understood.
An hour and one plate of onion rings later, Daniel was ready to go. He made a move to pay and Sam let him; it was just another way they took care of each other. Next week she would pay for dinner, or Jack would pay for coffee, or Teal'c would pay for a movie. Money was always a fluent thing between the four of them.
They saw Jack and Teal'c off in a cab – they'd known at the beginning of the evening that they'd all be drunk at the end of it – and stood in the chilly air waiting for the second taxi to show up.
He watched her, and was caught by the quiet peace of the moment. He'd seen her as a woman in all her different versions and in all kinds of light, but there was something about her now – in a parking lot of all places – that made him stop and stare.
Somehow, in all the stress and confusion of the last few months, he had managed to forget how much beauty she carried inside of her. And she'd managed to center him without even trying.
When she saw that he was watching her, she smiled, puzzled. "What?"
He tilted his head, considering her calmly and frankly. "Why was there never anything between us?"
She blinked, stunned. "Um…" She laughed a little nervously, and jerked her head to the side in the way she did when she was having trouble coming up with an answer.
Her reply was soft and confused. "I don't know, Daniel."
He knew that there really wasn't a good answer to the question – maybe it was the work, or maybe they had never been willing to risk the friendship for the romance. Maybe it was just timing.
Before he could really even think about it, he stepped forward and into her personal space. He stood there for a moment, giving her ample time to register what he intended to do and to move if she wanted.
She didn't move.
So he dipped his head, slowly and with eyes open, just until his lips settled on hers. It was only a slight pressure, a test to see what would happen. And then her eyes closed and she leaned in, a steadying hand on his chest.
Overwhelmed, Daniel pulled away, hearing a small "hmm" from Sam as their mouths parted. He didn't go far; his face hovered near hers as he tried to wrap his head around what he was feeling.
His heart was beating hard. He was pretty sure his palms were sweaty, and there was a look on Sam's face he'd never seen before - a cautious consideration mixed with half-lidded desire.
It was a heady thing.
She shuffled closer, so that their bodies were brushing against each other, and he felt the temperature of the air shoot up several degrees. But then she was kissing him and this time it was very much in earnest.
He slanted his mouth over hers, deepening the kiss as he pushed one hand into her hair and the other into the small of her back. Her tongue danced along his and the slick heat of it made him grunt and pull her closer.
That is, of course, until bright lights washed over them and shocked them back to reality.
He felt her jump at the intrusion, and she was out of his arms and away before he could get a breath.
A little unsteady, trying to get his bearings back, he looked around and found the source of the lights: the taxi had arrived and was waiting in front of them.
He realized he had probably been staring too long at the car when a choked laugh brought his attention back to Sam.
Her eyes were shining, and she had fingers resting lightly over her lips. "Well."
He nodded dumbly, willing his brain to slow down long enough to find a suitable reply. "Yes."
And they stood. Just looking at each other.
"Did one of you call for a cab?"
They turned in sync to the driver, who was hanging out his window impatiently.
Daniel cleared his throat. "Uh…yes," he said, and started towards the car and opened the door, letting Sam slide in first.
There was plenty of room in the back seat, but they still sat side by side, and the warmth of Sam's thigh against his made him smile into the window.
The way to Sam's house was quiet but not awkward. Daniel supposed they were both just using the time to process the evening. By the time the driver pulled the cab into her driveway, her head had fallen to rest against his shoulder.
Sam opened the door and climbed out. Daniel leaned forward and tapped on the driver's shoulder. "Do you mind waiting for a moment? I'm going to walk her to the door."
The man just waved a hand and rolled his eyes.
When they reached her front porch she hesitated. "Do you want to come in?"
He took a deep breath. "Yes," he said honestly, and then smiled warmly at her. "But I really don't think I should."
Everything was still too new. They both had other issues to resolve, and the lines between teammates, friends, and lovers were too easily blurred – especially for them, especially at that moment.
And just because there could be something more between them didn't mean there should be.
She studied him for a moment, and passed a hand over his brow affectionately. "Okay."
He bent in and kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, Sam."
He was halfway down her driveway when she called out his name. "This wasn't just the beer and…everything, was it?"
The vulnerability in her voice made him want to pull her close again. Instead, he just shook his head. "No. It wasn't the just the beer."
The porch light reflected her sweet smile before she went inside.
He watched her go. Then he took a deep breath, and went home.