Just Another Tequila Sunrise
Rating: Oh, definitely T edging into M, I should think.
Notes/Keywords/Spoilers: Tequila/humor/porn/OT3/snark. Spoilers for S9 and S10. This is utterly plotless sorta-smut written entirely to cheer up Lyss. Nothing graphic happens, but this is the aftermath of, well, something fairly graphic happening, so if you can't stand the thought of Sam having sex with anyone but Jack, you should likely steer clear. If you just like snark and wacky hijinks, then stay! Enjoy!
Sam rolled over, squinting in the too-bright lights and then managed to focus her blurry vision enough to see that it was just a bedside lamp.
It was glowing. Cheerfully.
It was making the pounding in her head worse.
It needed to die horribly.
And she would take care of that just as soon as the world stopped spinning and she lost the horrible sensation that something had crawled down her throat and died.
Sam dropped her head back into her pillow and let out another groan. A set of fingers stroked through her hair, easing some of the pain in her skull and she sighed, snuggling into the pillows and the body spooned up behind hers before things registered.
These were her on-base quarters. Even through her pounding head and general malaise, she recognized the spartan decor interspersed with the most godawful color scheme known to the mind of man.
She was supposed to be alone in these quarters, not snuggled up to someone else and fairly certain that, not only had there been sex the evening before, but that the sex the evening before had been fairly spectacular.
A low chuckle sounded beside her and she turned over, cringing to find Vala smirking at her from the other side of the bed.
"I am impressed, Samantha," the raven-haired smuggler/thief/constant source of terror to Daniel announced. "You very nearly out-drank me."
"Oh god..." Sam repeated, clutching the blankets a little tighter around herself. She couldn't suppress a small moan as Vala reached out and ran a fingertip over her bared shoulder.
"A good time was had all around, I should think." Her smirk deepened. "I would like to know who Kara is, though."
Vala chuckled again. "Red all the way down, I see."
Sam glared at her and flopped on her side, pulling the blankets over her head. "Shut up."
A hand crept under the blankets, settling on her hip, and she debated slapping it away. But since it stayed still, slapping it away would require making sudden movements, and it actually felt pretty damn good, loath as she was to admit it, Sam decided to leave it alone.
The fingers began stroking gentle circles over her hip and Sam let out a soft, contented hum, starting to feel drowsy and warm again. Her eyes drifted shut, then snapped open when a groan sounded from the floor.
"Never drinking again. Ever," a gravelly voice announced in a slightly slurred drawl. "And which one of you kicked me out of bed?"
Sam cringed, glanced at Vala, then peered slowly over the side of the bed to find Cameron Mitchell glaring up at both of them and very much in a state of nature.
"Oh god..." Sam flopped back, wondering how long it had been since her last confession and if there were enough Hail Marys in all the world to cover drunken threesomes with her fellow officer and one of the SGC's resident aliens.
Her stomach gave a warning twinge and Sam shot upright, managing to lurch her way into the tiny half-bath connected to her quarters and slam the door behind her just in time.
Cameron glanced up at Vala and, deciding not to let the opportunity pass him by, proceeded to commandeer Sam's vacated half of the bed and close his eyes as soon as his head hit the pillow.
"Warn me when she comes back, will'ya? I want a good head start."
Vala let out a full laugh and patted his shoulder. "I like you, Colonel Mitchell."
"Yeah, I like you too," he muttered drowsily. "Now shut up and let me sleep."