Bring it all Back

Chapter 15

Sand

They take a vacation. Well, sort of. SG-7 are still campaigning all over P3X-404 or was it P3J-505 it's so hard to keep all the Ps and Xs and Js straight. He used to have a better memory, used to be able to recall a mission by the log number, now it takes him three times before he dials the correct number to the perky office assistant, who's usually out running errands for O'Neill who keeps getting cravings for Dilly Bars.

It's summer on the planet, well on half, which is important because it's winter on Earth, well, half of Earth. So, the boys of SG-7, including the usually grumpy Major Dumas, are all grins. There's a summer festival tonight, she said it was honoring fertility Gods and the twin moons that circle the planet, but all he knows is that they get two down days on a tropical resort planet.

The team splits up, Rodriguez going to a club to pick up girls, Dumas takes the rest of his guys and heads for the bar, a healthy choice. And she—she parks herself on the beach all pigtails and bikini strings and topped off with a floppy sunhat. Lays on her stomach on an SGC issued bath towel, sand sticking to the bottom of her feet and between her toes.

"I got you a drink." Holds two red cocktail mixes in his hand and doesn't know what's in them or how they're made, but Dumas and his guys aren't three sheets into the wind yet and have been drinking since dawn.

She grins and slides her oversized sunglasses down on her nose. "Did you tell the bartender the drink was for me?"

It's a weird question, but she likes to ask him weird questions so often that it barely phases him, and he's learned to always answer since the garburator incident. "Yeah?"

"Then I can't drink it." Her back rolls out as she sits up, knees digging into the sand and palms resting on her bare thighs.

The red floral pattern on her bikini top distracts him for a second, her skin glistening but he doesn't think she's been in the water yet. "Huh?"

Chuckles because she knows exactly what happened. "I can't drink your generous gift."

"You think it's roofied?" He didn't think ahead to bring a towel, so he flops down in the sand next to her, trying to balance two oversized, possibly drugged drinks.

"Why would they feed me Roo feed?"

"No roofied—it means drugged."

"Oh, not just me." She stretches an arm out to gesture to the beach and the other snaps to her head to keep her hat in place. His expression must give away how he doesn't understand a thing she's saying and with another chuckle, she reminds, "fertility festival, darling. Food and drink are littered with procreant stimulants."

"Why are you telling me this now, I've eaten like six hot dogs."

"Those are not hot dogs, they're the genitalia of—"

"Stop. Stop." Scoops some sand from between them and sets the drinks down into the dips. "So, you're telling me, we're like super charged right now."

"You don't have that much to worry about." Reclines lazily, her arms and legs stretching out, glowing in the sun.

Arches an eyebrow at her legs sort of bent and he traces the curve with his eyes. She tosses her floppy pancake hat at him and it knocks him in the side of the face, pushing out his reply. "Why's that?"

"This festival celebrates women's fertility. Everything is laced towards making their bodies more efficient at accepting fetuses."

"Oh." He grabs one of the drinks and starts sipping on the straw, it's tart and sour and makes his tongue feel rough. Then stares at the ocean that's the color of Windex and is feeling the sand clump between his own toes when a thought hits him. "Wait does that mean we can't—"

"Can't what?" Slides down her glasses again, resting up on her elbows. Her stomach crunches a bit, and her bikini bottom slides a bit to her hip.

"Can't—ugh—can't—" Leans his hand into her towel and sinks into the sand a bit. "You know—"

"Not for a while." Might call her a liar if she didn't have that disappointed half-grin she wears whenever one of the Daniels tries to explain something to her.

His voice comes out a little curt because he's having a hard time not touching her now on a crowded beach with their unit a few yards away. "How long?"

Plays with the arm of her glasses and reclines again, shin resting across the opposite knee and arms sprawled above her head. "That part is a bit unclear. Women from other planets have different physiologies and metabolisms, it could take weeks or I could work through it all tonight."

"We could work through something tonight."

"We should definitely not be doing anything tonight."

"Why not? I brought protection."

"Well not only do the two moons, when they line in unison, burst fertility accompanied with the laced food and drink, but prophylactics are prohibited during the ceremony."

"What?"

"The use of condoms is illegal."

"Yeah I got that." Sets down the empty cocktail glass and eyes her trying to gauge if she's talking pure bullshit to play him, or if this is true. She's been on the planet a hell of a lot longer than him, and he can never keep planetary etiquette rules straight. "Why?"

"It's basically a big—" She raises her index finger with a grimace "—to the Gods."

"Middle finger, honey." Clasps her hand and lowers all but that finger. She grins, then rolls back onto her stomach, the bikini bottoms stick to her. "So no—" he raises his eyebrows at her "—tonight."

"None for the next while I'd imagine."

"That's fine. That's good." Leans back on his palms in the sand and the hotness creeps over his skin, but it might be the drink finally hitting him. "It's fine."

"Problem, Colonel Mitchell?" Her tongue taps her lips as she eggs him on.

"Not at all." Turns his head towards the sky where the one sun begins to set. In an hour or two it'll fall over the horizon and then two moons like white spots on a domino will spring up. There's a brief dinner and dance, and then everyone retires within an hour. "We can definitely share a bed and not have sex."

They have sex.

It's entirely her fault.

Well, no, he didn't exactly stop it, and he didn't exactly not encourage it, and flame it until it sort of burst.

After the sun went down and the two moons hung over the beach low and snoopy, they went to the bonfire, at this point losing every other member of SG-7. They ate the food, the ribs of something like a pig, and while he drank other strangely fruity drink, she stuck to the water. They danced—sort of waltzed while all the citizens hooped and hollered in fire jumps and breakdanced around them. He felt joined to her then, her hand in his completing a chain and she got that half-lidded expression, her tongue poking out again for a different reason.

He almost broke her room door off the hinges when it wouldn't open. Tore the sundress she wore on top of her bikini off and fell on top of her on the bed. She yanked his head down to her face, fingers gripped in like talons as he plucked at her bikini strings like he was playing the guitar. He tried to go down on her, but she wrenched him back up, and he didn't understand until she started stroking him and it didn't feel as good as it usually did.

"Stop."

"Just?"

"Yeah—I mean if you're good to go then—"

"Never ask me that, Cameron." Crashed her mouth over his again and he crawled with her to the head of the bed. Every touch, every stroke felt like a phantom touch. She angled her leg against his hip and he held onto the last shred of his command. "Wait. Wait."

She groaned, her back arched into him which didn't help, as she threw an arm dramatically over her face. "Cameron."

"Condom. We need one." Scrambled off her, his fingers sifted over the cargo shorts he tossed and found one in the back pocket because he's a genius like that.

"You will be detained."

He stuck the wrapper between his teeth and tore. "How are they going to find out."

"Well you're going to have to dispose of it."

"Vala, they are not going to be looking through our trash for used condoms."

They didn't go trash digging but the authorities knew. Almost immediately too which is creepy. Woke up with her thrown over him exhausted, her head angled under his chin and her chest pressed flat to his. Checked the clock like it mattered and gave her a kiss on the shoulder. "Princess, I gotta get back to—"

A knock at the door interrupted him and startled her awake. He placed a hand on her shoulder before she spoke, and she slowly rolled off him. The door of course was planetary agents aware of his giant fuck you to the fertility Gods, and they arrested him wearing only cargo shorts and a grin.

She's the one who gets him out of prison. The rest of the team are MIA, and she arrives less than an hour after his booking with a large bag of currency to pay his bail. Initially, they want him to rot for half a year, but apparently this day is dedicated to the women who conceived life last night and to deny them anything is basically another big fuck you to the Gods.

She gets her way, he never doubted she wouldn't, and walks out with him and the bag of currency still fully intact.

At his house that night, despite having a shower early that day on P3J-404 and one at SGC when they returned, she still has sand crested to the bottom of her feet, and in between her toes. He tickles her, fingers tracing the sensitive skin until she bucks a heel into his side. It's still woman's appreciation day, and he's a little wary that the guards might chase him down for not treating her like a queen.

"Was it worth it, Cameron?" She taps her foot at his chest and grabs his shirt between her toes, yanking playfully.

"If I was given the choice, I would do it the same every time, darlin."