Chapter 1. First Contact
The first time it happens, Daniel tries to tell himself that it isn't his fault.
Sam is under the influence of whatever virus they've contracted from the Land of Light. So when she stalks him into the locker room, half dressed and wild-eyed, he tries to help her, he really does.
"Sam? Are you okay?"
He backs away uncertainly as she saunters closer, lithe and supple as a panther. Her eyes are dark with lust and desire, and it makes Daniel's breath hitch. Then her lips are on his, and his arms flail wildly before his brain eventually catches up and he tries to gently pry her off.
"I want you." She murmurs, gazing up at him through hooded eyes, and Daniel feels a burning flame flicker to life deep within him – a feeling he has not had in months, not since... Sha're.
Sam shoves him down onto the wooden bench behind him and slithers up his body to claim his lips. Her tongue probes his, their faces twisting and tilting to find the best angle, like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle sliding into place, and Daniel tries to pretend that he doesn't enjoy it.
He wraps his arms around her waist, trying to ignore the feel of her bare skin against his palms, trying to ignore the urge to slide his hands up and feel more of her. He crooks one leg over hers and places his hand on the back of her head to protect her skull, then rolls.
"Ah!" She groans as they land on the floor, Sam taking the brunt of the fall beneath him. He scrambles off her quickly, absently wishing his hair was just an inch longer to hide the heat in his cheeks.
"C'mon Sam." He says gently, hoisting her up while she's still a little stunned and holding her firmly at arm's length.
"Let's get you to the infirmary."
Later, Sam agrees with him. She tells him it wasn't his fault, that it was no big deal, that they didn't even have to put that detail in the reports. But it didn't seem to stop Daniel from feeling decidedly guilty. And it also didn't seem to stop Daniel from remembering; from vividly recalling, in the dark of night, the feel of her naked skin, the scent of her hair, the taste of her lips.
No. No, no, no. He can't remember these things – shouldn't want to remember these things, because he is still married to Sha're, still loves Sha're, still needs to find Sha're.
But the second time something happens between them, Daniel finds it a little harder to convince himself.
The strange little planet they find themselves on, with the two suns and three moons, has Sam fascinated with the sky, but Daniel is much more interested in the culture. It seems to be an eclectic mix of Southern African tribes; bright Ndebele colours and beaded jewellery, the language a derivative of Xhosa, and the culture similar to Khoisan – especially the dance that Daniel had somehow been dragged into.
This is what he gets for showing too much enthusiasm.
They lead him away to be stripped and painted, clicking excitedly. Daniel only knows a few basic words in Xhosa; he'd never had the chance to study the wide variety of African dialects in-depth. But their grins were wide and bright as the men made themselves ready, adorned in skirts of bright colours, tied around their waists, and their beautiful dark-skinned bodies painted in ochre and clay.
They feed him a moss-coloured tea that tastes like dirt and lead him out into the night. The bonfire in the village centre is blazing, the flames stretching overhead, as if to lick the closest of the three moons. The women and children whoop and holler as the drums start up; a steady, deep, rhythmic beat. Some of the men run forward, jumping and shouting and waving their hands, beginning their dance around the bonfire.
Daniel imitates their movements, stomping his feet and kicking up the red dirt until everything below the knees is lost in a cloud of umber dust. They breathe it in, their chests collapsing and expanding with exertion, the whites of their wide eyes reflecting the orange firelight. Daniel feels it filling his lungs, somehow making his limbs feel numb; detached. Or maybe that was the tea.
Men and women begin to sing; a call-and-response type chant, clucking their tongues and clapping their hands. The drumbeat picks up, and Daniel's heart seems to pound in synchronicity, sweat pouring down his back and chest. He can feel the drums in the soles of his bare feet, the vibrations travelling through the red earth and leeching into his veins, taking root within him.
Many of the women begin to join in, and the world seems to spin, blurring and coalescing into nothing but fire and song. The russet dust sticks to his sweat-slicked skin, and through the haze he spots her; draped in cloth of brilliant reds and blues, her hair wrapped and knotted in a bold, yellow headdress, multicoloured beads adorning her wrists and neck, but when she stands, he catches a glimpse of the khaki pants still tucked in to the tops of her black boots.
She watches him, her eyes following the strong, sharp movements of his arms, and something about her draws him in. He breaks from the throbbing mash of bodies, pushing through the crowd and stepping over the children seated in the front row to reach her. His face cracks into a wide grin, and she looks at him with one brow raised. "Having fun?" He can only nod, too busy sucking down air to form words. His chest heaves, sweat prickling at the clay on his skin, and he can feel his heartbeat thrumming in his throat.
"I'm... gonna... air." He gasps out between breaths, gesturing vaguely away from the village. Sam glances to Jack, but the Colonel currently has his shirt off, his chest being painted by two giggling women, and his eyes are closed. Her gaze locks with Teal'c's, and he gives her a brief nod, somehow managing to communicate their intensions as if telepathically.
"Alright, let's go then." She turns away, slipping silently between two grass huts and disappearing into shadow, and Daniel scrambles to follow her. He stays just a few steps behind her, watching the red fabric of her skirts sway delicately as her hips moved; hypnotic, her bangles jangling with every step. He quickens his stride to catch up.
"Sam!" He calls out, reaching for her. 'Are you okay?' He means to ask, but she turns when he catches her wrist, her skin bathed in bright, silver moonlight, and Daniel finds himself lost in the dark, glinting sapphire of her eyes.
Their mouths meet without coquettish pretence; a mad joining of lips, teeth and tongues, driven by lust and hunger. Hands are everywhere; the paint on his chest becomes muddled and smeared, her head wrap is knocked to the ground. The sweat is cooling on his skin, but the fire in his belly keeps him from growing cold. He would have gone further, would have stripped naked in the dirt, howling at the moons, had she not pushed him away.
"Daniel, I... I'm sorry. I don't know what..."
"Ah," He gasps, his lips twisting ruefully at his own delusion as the fog clouding his mind lifts, "I think I might."
He runs a hand through his hair, pushing back the long, damp ends that cling to his face and inhaling a breath of clear air. "I think we might have to introduce a new rule: Don't drink the alien tea."
She grins, relief flooding her face and making her blue eyes dance, and Daniel knows then that he cannot blame the tea entirely. "Good rule." She agrees, picking up her head wrap and dusting it off. The pounding rhythm of the drums can still be heard and felt, and the orange glow of the bonfire illuminates the silhouettes of the grass huts. They make their way back to the village centre, and Daniel is so lost in his downward spiral of guilt and self-deprecation that he doesn't notice the way Sam is eyeing his half-naked form appreciatively.
By the third time it happens, Daniel has no excuses.
His head is still ringing from that horrible machine Nem had used on him, and he thinks it will be a long time before he can go into the ocean again. He looks around his apartment. Some of his things are in boxes, piles of stuff scattered around the room, ready to be packed away. This, he will deal with tomorrow, right now all he wants to do is sleep.
A knock at his door prevents his head from meeting the pillow. "Sam?"
She enters, placing her motorcycle helmet on a stool. She is shivering slightly; it's pouring outside and her jeans and leather jacket are soaked. "I just... I couldn't sleep. I just had to make sure..."
He nods, understanding. "Tea? Coffee?" He puts the kettle on. She shrugs out of her wet jacket.
She sits on his couch, her eyes downcast. She doesn't say anything as he hands her a mug of tea, but the liquid shook inside the cup, spilling over the sides. "Oh, Sam! You're shaking!"
He kneels down before her, taking the mug out of her hands and placing it on the ground beside him. He dips his head, trying to peer into her face. He is surprised to find her face is wet, and not from the rain. "Sam?" He calls gently, placing his hands on her wet knees.
"When I thought...you were... Oh god, Daniel, I couldn't..."
Her shoulders heave, shaking in silent sobs. Unable to bear seeing her so upset, Daniel surges forward, taking her into his arms and holding her shivering body tightly to his. "Shhh. It's okay. I'm okay, Sam. I'm here. I'm right here."
She unburies her face from his chest and looks up at him, her bright, blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears. Then, his lips fall upon hers; or maybe she had kissed him. Either way, their need consumes any rational thought as Daniel finally gives in to the longing that he had been fervently trying to ignore for months now. He had never been one to lose restraint before – never had to struggle against his baser instincts; logic and reason had always won out in the past. But then, he had never felt a need as strong as this one, a force so all-consuming that it made him lose his sensibilities; a magnetic attraction that he, for the first time, was unable to explain away with fanciful words. He needs her warmth, her fire, and she needs him to show her how alive he is. And so he does.
They never even make it to the bedroom.
After that, it becomes a regular thing, a staple in their lives. They don't speak about it, don't discuss what they are, what they want; yet they are like two oppositely charged atoms, unable to help the attraction that draws them together repeatedly.
She seems to know, without words, whenever he needs her most. After Hathor's rape, her touch chases away the slimy feeling on his skin, making him feel less disgusting. After Cassandra is settled in her new home, she comes to him to celebrate the near miss, and he spends the night letting her know how thankful he is that she's still around.
She reminds him that he is alive, that the constant death and destruction that surrounds them does not have to define them. In this line of work, they need that; they need to be reminded of the good in the world, they need each other.
He thinks Sha're would understand; it was out of necessity, in order to survive with their sanity intact. There is nothing else involved here, he convinces himself, so there is no reason for his heart twist so painfully in his chest when he catches Narim kissing Sam. And there is no reason for jealousy to rip through him that time he gets stuck in an alternate universe and finds out Sam and Jack are engaged there. No reason at all.
But then he forgets. She is in his arms, and he forgets all his jealously and guilt, his insecurities and self-doubts. She thought he'd died on Apophis' ship when it exploded, and she's making him aware of just how much she's glad he's still alive, and despite the general downward trajectory of his troubled life, in this moment, Daniel is very glad to be alive too.