fic for dirty_diana: 'Tis Better to Give
Title: ‘Tis Better to Give
Recipient: dirty_diana
Author: evesharmony
Pairing: Cameron/Sam/Daniel
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: vacation or downtime
Summary: “I’ll do better that tell you. I’ll show you.”
Word Count: 1,603
Notes: There ended up being more banter and less angst, though I tried really hard not to stray into the “fluff” category. Hope you enjoy!
Sam stares at the black dress hanging from the door. Her dress uniform is laid out on the bed, pressed and pristine. This Christmas party isn’t a formal work function, not like last week where she’d nearly forgotten and dashed out of her lab in wrinkled BDUs in time for General Landry’s toast. Still, there are going to be plenty of people from the SGC, higher ups from the Pentagon and Washington and Area 51. She knows without asking that Cam will be wearing his dress blues.
Screw it, she thinks, and yanks the dress off the hanger.
****
Cam runs a finger under his collar when he thinks no one is looking. He hates these things, hates the schmoozing, the politics. He tries to tell himself that in eight short hours he’ll be on a plane to Kansas, and after that in a car to his parent’s farm. It’s cold comfort though, when he looks across the room and sees Daniel sipping champagne, surrounded by an attentive if somewhat sycophantic crowd. Daniel looks completely at home as he lectures. Cam wonders if anyone is actually listening, or if they’re already thinking of ways to drop Daniel’s name into their next conversation.
Guiltily, he admits to himself that his first few months at the SGC were largely spent curbing his tongue whenever “Well, Dr. Jackson said” or “I was just speaking with Dr. Jackson” wanted to pop out.
Cam suddenly realizes that he’s been caught staring. Daniel is still talking, but his eyes have shifted to Cam. He raises his eyebrows, so Cam raises his beer in response. He turns, hoping to find someone as uncomfortable as he is to commiserate with, and spots a tall blond coming through the door.
Holy mother of God, he thinks, and almost drops his beer.
****
Daniel’s been trying to get Cam to come and rescue him all night. The man either has a vindictive streak a mile wide, or he’s completely clueless. Daniel isn’t sure which option he’d prefer in his team leader.
He sees Cam freeze and follows his line of sight to the door. To Sam. To Sam in the slinkiest black dress he’s ever seen her wear.
Daniel starts describing the coming of age stone ceremony he studied on M3X 484. One by one, the eyes pointed his way begin to glaze over.
Thank God, he thinks, and begins to make his escape.
****
Sam spots Cam immediately, blue eyes methodically scanning the crowd. She realizes that she’s more excited than usual to see him, and smoothes a hand down the side of her dress. In that instant he spots her.
Sam can’t help a small grin from escaping. She’s seen Cam look at her like that occasionally, but it’s never been quite so obvious or quite so public. She almost feels guilty about how much she enjoys it. Especially when Cam’s stunned gaze sweeps down her body and ever-so-slowly back up.
She sees Daniel on the other side of the room, the third point of their triangle. He looks relaxed, but she can tell from his polite smile that he’s contemplating strangling someone with his tie. She tips her head toward Cam, and Daniel nods back. They move at the same time, approaching Cam in the center of the room.
****
He watches Daniel smile fondly at Sam, his eyes never straying below her collarbones. “Sam. You look wonderful.”
“Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.”
They both turn to Cam at the same time, as if they’d timed it. Even the expectant tilt of their heads is identical. He fumbles for something to say, wondering at what point their conversation began starting with comments on fashion.
“What, this old thing?” he finally says, when it becomes clear neither of them are going to make a remark about his uniform.
Sam’s laugh is mischievous and does nothing to ease the tightness in his chest. Not to mention his dress pants.
A new song starts and Sam holds out her hand. “Come on, soldier,” she grins.
“Yes, ma’am,” he mutters, trying to hold back his own silly grin.
****
He fits his hand gingerly in the small of her back. A tingle shoots up her backbone when his fingers brush back and forth a few times before settling in the dip of her spine.
“Tickles,” she whispers.
“Sorry,” he whispers back, and then does it again. Involuntarily, her fingers tighten around his.
“Cameron Clayton Everett Mitchell, didn’t your momma ever teach you that it’s not nice to tease?” She feels Cam tense. “Cam?”
He has to clear his throat a few times. “Yes?”
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No.” A beat. “Maybe.”
She smiles into his shoulder. “It’s not like you’ve never seen me in civvies before.”
“It’s not like team nights are a formal event.”
Something she is starting to seriously reconsider. She finds herself staring at Cam’s neck, the razor straight line of his hair, the starched collar of his shirt, and the tantalizing strip of skin in between. She wishes she’d been at the SGC his first day to see him walk through the doors in his dress blues, full of hope . . . only to have that hope dashed when he found out that the original SG-1 had been disbanded.
“I’m glad you talked me into coming back.”
“You know you missed the action.”
“I didn’t miss getting shot at.”
“Meeting new and interesting cultures.”
“And getting thrown in jail when we undoubtedly break some cultural taboo.”
“Playing with alien artifacts?”
She leans back to give him a raised eyebrow.
“Right. You were already doing that at Area 51.”
“Come on, Cam. Never could say no to you.”
“Ha. I remember you saying no to me on several notable occasions.”
“Like what?”
“Like the first time we met!”
Sam laughs. “You asked me if I’d like to see your cockpit - of course I said no. I didn’t even know who you were.”
“Fine. What about when I asked you to the graduation party?”
“I already had a date.”
“Tad Arlington.” He scoffs. “Your dad liked me better.”
“My dad liked you because you weren’t my date.” She settles her chin on his shoulder and contemplates her next words. “Tell you what. You ask me one thing tonight and I bet I can’t say no.”
For a moment Cam’s fingers tighten on her back. “And if I lose that bet?”
“I’ll come up with some suitable punishment. Type out my dictation, clean my house.”
“That hardly seems like a fair punishment.”
“Depends on what you ask me to do,” she grins, and tugs him closer.
****
When her feet get too sore in the ridiculously high shoes, she drags Cam out of the ballroom and into the hotel bar. Daniel is already there, working on a glass of wine and talking with the pretty bartender. He orders two more drinks for them.
“Hey guys,” he smiles as they sit down.
“Hey Daniel. I see you started without us.”
“I was starting to run out of places to hide.”
“Hide?” asks Cam, looking surprised. “From who?”
“Xao,” answers Sam knowingly.
“Oh. Well, she is kind of a-“
Daniel says something in what Sam can only assume is Mandarin. Whatever it is, it makes Cam choke on his drink.
“Do I even want to know what you just said?”
“Probably not,” Daniel says, sipping his wine.
Sam lifts her drink and notices something on her napkin. It’s a note in flowing hand. It reads ‘look up’. The bartender gives her a sly wink and wanders off to the far end of the bar.
Sam looks up and sees bundle after bundle of mistletoe strung along the bar. Cam notices as well. When she lowers her eyes he’s looking straight at her, expression speculative.
“This would be a prime opportunity to use your question, you know.”
“Don’t have to. Mistletoe tradition, Sam. No girl goes unkissed.”
She grins and taps her cheek with one finger. “Lay it on me, soldier.”
Just as his breath ghosts her cheek she turns and catches his lips with hers, lightly at first, until a hint of tongue has her reaching for this thigh.
“…mistletoe is actually a parasite?”
Sam opens her eyes to see Cam staring back at her. They’re breathing each other’s air, lips not quite touching. Cam finally sighs and leans around Sam. “Jackson. Anyone ever tell you you’re a real mood killer?” he asks.
Daniel’s answering grin is just this side of evil. “Once or twice.”
Sam narrows her eyes and looks pointedly at Daniel. “Well, you know you’re sitting under the traditional parasite too.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” he says, eyebrows raised.
Sam tosses back the rest of her wine, feeling reckless. She wraps her fingers around Daniel’s tie and tugs him closer. “Come on, Daniel. It’ll be just like that time on M4J 782.”
He is visibly surprised. “You remember that?”
“Of course I do.”
Cam pipes up from behind her. “Wait. What happened on M4J 782?”
She ignores him in favour of holding Daniel’s gaze. “I think it was close to Christmas, too.”
“It was October.”
She shrugs. “That’s close. What do you say?”
“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”
A small smile curves the corner of Daniel’s mouth. Like Cam in his dress blues, Sam has never been able to resist a mischievous Daniel. She brushes her mouth against his and glances back to see Cam’s reaction.
“If that was your one question,” she says to him, “I’ll do better than tell you. I’ll show you.”
Recipient: dirty_diana
Author: evesharmony
Pairing: Cameron/Sam/Daniel
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: vacation or downtime
Summary: “I’ll do better that tell you. I’ll show you.”
Word Count: 1,603
Notes: There ended up being more banter and less angst, though I tried really hard not to stray into the “fluff” category. Hope you enjoy!
Sam stares at the black dress hanging from the door. Her dress uniform is laid out on the bed, pressed and pristine. This Christmas party isn’t a formal work function, not like last week where she’d nearly forgotten and dashed out of her lab in wrinkled BDUs in time for General Landry’s toast. Still, there are going to be plenty of people from the SGC, higher ups from the Pentagon and Washington and Area 51. She knows without asking that Cam will be wearing his dress blues.
Screw it, she thinks, and yanks the dress off the hanger.
****
Cam runs a finger under his collar when he thinks no one is looking. He hates these things, hates the schmoozing, the politics. He tries to tell himself that in eight short hours he’ll be on a plane to Kansas, and after that in a car to his parent’s farm. It’s cold comfort though, when he looks across the room and sees Daniel sipping champagne, surrounded by an attentive if somewhat sycophantic crowd. Daniel looks completely at home as he lectures. Cam wonders if anyone is actually listening, or if they’re already thinking of ways to drop Daniel’s name into their next conversation.
Guiltily, he admits to himself that his first few months at the SGC were largely spent curbing his tongue whenever “Well, Dr. Jackson said” or “I was just speaking with Dr. Jackson” wanted to pop out.
Cam suddenly realizes that he’s been caught staring. Daniel is still talking, but his eyes have shifted to Cam. He raises his eyebrows, so Cam raises his beer in response. He turns, hoping to find someone as uncomfortable as he is to commiserate with, and spots a tall blond coming through the door.
Holy mother of God, he thinks, and almost drops his beer.
****
Daniel’s been trying to get Cam to come and rescue him all night. The man either has a vindictive streak a mile wide, or he’s completely clueless. Daniel isn’t sure which option he’d prefer in his team leader.
He sees Cam freeze and follows his line of sight to the door. To Sam. To Sam in the slinkiest black dress he’s ever seen her wear.
Daniel starts describing the coming of age stone ceremony he studied on M3X 484. One by one, the eyes pointed his way begin to glaze over.
Thank God, he thinks, and begins to make his escape.
****
Sam spots Cam immediately, blue eyes methodically scanning the crowd. She realizes that she’s more excited than usual to see him, and smoothes a hand down the side of her dress. In that instant he spots her.
Sam can’t help a small grin from escaping. She’s seen Cam look at her like that occasionally, but it’s never been quite so obvious or quite so public. She almost feels guilty about how much she enjoys it. Especially when Cam’s stunned gaze sweeps down her body and ever-so-slowly back up.
She sees Daniel on the other side of the room, the third point of their triangle. He looks relaxed, but she can tell from his polite smile that he’s contemplating strangling someone with his tie. She tips her head toward Cam, and Daniel nods back. They move at the same time, approaching Cam in the center of the room.
****
He watches Daniel smile fondly at Sam, his eyes never straying below her collarbones. “Sam. You look wonderful.”
“Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.”
They both turn to Cam at the same time, as if they’d timed it. Even the expectant tilt of their heads is identical. He fumbles for something to say, wondering at what point their conversation began starting with comments on fashion.
“What, this old thing?” he finally says, when it becomes clear neither of them are going to make a remark about his uniform.
Sam’s laugh is mischievous and does nothing to ease the tightness in his chest. Not to mention his dress pants.
A new song starts and Sam holds out her hand. “Come on, soldier,” she grins.
“Yes, ma’am,” he mutters, trying to hold back his own silly grin.
****
He fits his hand gingerly in the small of her back. A tingle shoots up her backbone when his fingers brush back and forth a few times before settling in the dip of her spine.
“Tickles,” she whispers.
“Sorry,” he whispers back, and then does it again. Involuntarily, her fingers tighten around his.
“Cameron Clayton Everett Mitchell, didn’t your momma ever teach you that it’s not nice to tease?” She feels Cam tense. “Cam?”
He has to clear his throat a few times. “Yes?”
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No.” A beat. “Maybe.”
She smiles into his shoulder. “It’s not like you’ve never seen me in civvies before.”
“It’s not like team nights are a formal event.”
Something she is starting to seriously reconsider. She finds herself staring at Cam’s neck, the razor straight line of his hair, the starched collar of his shirt, and the tantalizing strip of skin in between. She wishes she’d been at the SGC his first day to see him walk through the doors in his dress blues, full of hope . . . only to have that hope dashed when he found out that the original SG-1 had been disbanded.
“I’m glad you talked me into coming back.”
“You know you missed the action.”
“I didn’t miss getting shot at.”
“Meeting new and interesting cultures.”
“And getting thrown in jail when we undoubtedly break some cultural taboo.”
“Playing with alien artifacts?”
She leans back to give him a raised eyebrow.
“Right. You were already doing that at Area 51.”
“Come on, Cam. Never could say no to you.”
“Ha. I remember you saying no to me on several notable occasions.”
“Like what?”
“Like the first time we met!”
Sam laughs. “You asked me if I’d like to see your cockpit - of course I said no. I didn’t even know who you were.”
“Fine. What about when I asked you to the graduation party?”
“I already had a date.”
“Tad Arlington.” He scoffs. “Your dad liked me better.”
“My dad liked you because you weren’t my date.” She settles her chin on his shoulder and contemplates her next words. “Tell you what. You ask me one thing tonight and I bet I can’t say no.”
For a moment Cam’s fingers tighten on her back. “And if I lose that bet?”
“I’ll come up with some suitable punishment. Type out my dictation, clean my house.”
“That hardly seems like a fair punishment.”
“Depends on what you ask me to do,” she grins, and tugs him closer.
****
When her feet get too sore in the ridiculously high shoes, she drags Cam out of the ballroom and into the hotel bar. Daniel is already there, working on a glass of wine and talking with the pretty bartender. He orders two more drinks for them.
“Hey guys,” he smiles as they sit down.
“Hey Daniel. I see you started without us.”
“I was starting to run out of places to hide.”
“Hide?” asks Cam, looking surprised. “From who?”
“Xao,” answers Sam knowingly.
“Oh. Well, she is kind of a-“
Daniel says something in what Sam can only assume is Mandarin. Whatever it is, it makes Cam choke on his drink.
“Do I even want to know what you just said?”
“Probably not,” Daniel says, sipping his wine.
Sam lifts her drink and notices something on her napkin. It’s a note in flowing hand. It reads ‘look up’. The bartender gives her a sly wink and wanders off to the far end of the bar.
Sam looks up and sees bundle after bundle of mistletoe strung along the bar. Cam notices as well. When she lowers her eyes he’s looking straight at her, expression speculative.
“This would be a prime opportunity to use your question, you know.”
“Don’t have to. Mistletoe tradition, Sam. No girl goes unkissed.”
She grins and taps her cheek with one finger. “Lay it on me, soldier.”
Just as his breath ghosts her cheek she turns and catches his lips with hers, lightly at first, until a hint of tongue has her reaching for this thigh.
“…mistletoe is actually a parasite?”
Sam opens her eyes to see Cam staring back at her. They’re breathing each other’s air, lips not quite touching. Cam finally sighs and leans around Sam. “Jackson. Anyone ever tell you you’re a real mood killer?” he asks.
Daniel’s answering grin is just this side of evil. “Once or twice.”
Sam narrows her eyes and looks pointedly at Daniel. “Well, you know you’re sitting under the traditional parasite too.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” he says, eyebrows raised.
Sam tosses back the rest of her wine, feeling reckless. She wraps her fingers around Daniel’s tie and tugs him closer. “Come on, Daniel. It’ll be just like that time on M4J 782.”
He is visibly surprised. “You remember that?”
“Of course I do.”
Cam pipes up from behind her. “Wait. What happened on M4J 782?”
She ignores him in favour of holding Daniel’s gaze. “I think it was close to Christmas, too.”
“It was October.”
She shrugs. “That’s close. What do you say?”
“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”
A small smile curves the corner of Daniel’s mouth. Like Cam in his dress blues, Sam has never been able to resist a mischievous Daniel. She brushes her mouth against his and glances back to see Cam’s reaction.
“If that was your one question,” she says to him, “I’ll do better than tell you. I’ll show you.”