Knowing wrong from right.
Rating: PG 12
Author: Natters17uk
Pairing: Sam/Other Sam/Jack
Summary: Sam regrets kissing a man she meets, because he is not Jack
Spoilers: Jack is a General. Early Season 9 before Sam returns to the SGC
Category: Angst
Written: 18 September 2005
How do I get myself dragged into these things?
I thought going out with a few school friends would be fun. A few laughs. A few drinks. Leanne's fiancee was with us, and it was just going to be a giggle.
Then he shows up. Leanne's fiancées Best Man. At 5'9" I had a good five inches on him in my heels. But he looked so… left out.
What harm could one dance do? And then he stuck his tongue down my throat. I almost gag at the remembered feeling. But his hands were skilled and I found myself… sharing a corner of the room with him. His arm slung around my back, occasionally pressing down painfully on my spine.
It's been so long since a guy made me feel like this while touching me that I gave him my number in a moment of insanity.
So we talked a little. Danced a lot. Kissed a few times. He learnt that I wasn't gonna accept the whole tongue lashing.
Not that I wouldn't. With the right Gen- guy.
My friends have deserted me temporarily, all getting off with their boyfriends or husbands or total strangers, as happens at these clubs. He rests his chin on my shoulder and starts playing with my hand.
Something about this position brings me back to full awareness. It's… not right. Like an equation that doesn't add up.
He kisses my cheek and I draw back automatically.
Suddenly, it hits me. I'm out with friends I haven't seen in ten years. I'm s'posed to be having fun. But all that's going through my heart is one General Jack O'Neill.
My resolve hardens and when he asks me to dance, I don't refuse. A few more kisses and one hand slides up my side and grazes my breast, while the other pulls me closer.
I can no longer keep my eyes closed while he kisses me, and his tongue demands entry again. I try to coax him back to the gentler kisses, but his hands come up to my neck.
One thing goes through my mind. 'The wrong hands'. I pull back and he motions towards the bar.
"Drink?" He calls in my ear, trying to be heard over the loud music.
I shake my head but reply. "No thanks. But I'll come with you to the bar."
He nods and I take his hand to lead him to the bar, desperate to push the unattainable from my mind again. He starts kissing me against the bar and I pull away, reminding him softly: "I thought you wanted a drink?"
A few moments later it's obvious he's not going to give up so I tell him I'm going back to sit with the others and with a token response he lets me go.
As I reach the others, they all cheer me on and give me a few winks and nudges. I accept the teasing gracefully, but as I start to explain the tongue to Leanne he comes back. Ooops. I'm caught.
And he's brought me a drink. A large one. I force a smile and take a token sip, when he heads off to the bathroom. I put the drink down and feel my insides churn. My military training kicks in and I gaze into the glass suspiciously.
Is he the kind of guy who'd…?
Leanne leaves with her fiancee and everyone else has paired up, leaving me to deal with Mr. Tongues alone. Some friends.
I wish my guys were here. Teal'c at least. I know I've kinda gotten myself into this, but I'd do almost anything to rest my head next to the silvered-
No.
I turn my attention back to the drink and guiltily allow Dee a sip when she asks for something to ease her parched throat.
I can't be that concerned about it being drugged, but stick to my guns and don't take another sip of the drink he bought me. He points this out when I make leaving noises a few minutes later after he returns from the bathroom, obviously having used some body spray and chewing gum to freshen up.
At the urging of Dee, I allow him one last kiss, and his hands roam. It's no use. As he begs me to stay a little longer with his eyes and words, I make up my mind.
I can't use a guy like this.
I stand up and say goodnight to my friends. Telling them that I'm going back. Dee, looks at me closely, and makes me promise to call her when I get to my taxi and then my hotel room. His fingers are trying to intertwine with mine but I pull away and promise.
He follows me out of the club, but I ask him politely, but in no uncertain terms to leave me alone and he does.
As I reach the taxi stand, I take a final look around the car park, carefully checking for anything out of the ordinary. I start texting my friends to let them know I'm okay.
There's also a text Mr. Tongues 'sorry if I was nasty. Good nite. Will call u 2mrw'
I reply 'night' and a wave of guilt passes through me.
When I get back to the hotel at 2.34 am, my mind is full and I feel like I need a shower.
There's a message at the front desk for me and I take it. 'Carter. Danny and T will be in DC tomorrow lunch time. Wanna join us for beers? O'Neill.'
The queasiness I feel in the pit of my stomach increases by a factor of ten.
I hurry to my hotel room, stripping the second I'm through the en suite bathroom door. Turning the shower on as hot as I can bear it, I step into the warm spray. My hand reaches for the shampoo and I use three times the normal amount to wash any traces of Mr. Tongues from my hair.
Next I grab the loofah and start to scrub my hands and neck clean. Anywhere he touched my skin. When my skin stings, I realise I'm starting to rub myself raw. I turn off the shower and pull out a fluffy hotel robe and towels.
I gag slightly and reach for the mouthwash as I look up at my reflection. My lips are swollen. Which is little wonder, when you consider how many times I let him kiss me.
Oh hell.
Knowing I won't be getting any sleep, I pull out my laptop and get to work on my latest project for Area 51.
Every now and then my stomach flips over again and I swallow a groan.
'Come to the party, as you're in the area to report to the Pentagon' begged Leanne two weeks ago.
Fool that I am, I agreed to meet my 'friends' for a girl's night out/reunion.
Why couldn't I have stayed in my nice comfy hotel room like a sensible Lt. Col?