Disclaimer: not mine
Fandom: SG: Atlantis, SG-1
Pairing: Sam Carter/John Sheppard (aka, Spikey. *runs like mad*)
Rating: PG, if that.
Spoilers: all of season three of SGA, season four spec.
Notes: I blame Splash_the_cat. I give up on a title (if anyone has a better one, lemme know, ya?)
by ALC Punk!
It took her an hour to figure out where it had gotten to. Cursing under her breath, and wishing McKay would shut up about his latest discovery that she was not going to get to see, because the Leader of Atlantis wasn't allowed off-world much, Sam tried to figure out if he'd used it as well as swiped it.
When Sheppard leaned close to steal her pen after dropping his, she caught a whiff of violets. Damn. He had.
Pulling out another pen and idly scrawling a note, she interrupted Rodney to say something pertinent and leaned around Sheppard to do so. She dropped the note on Sheppard's notebook, sure he wasn't actually taking his own notes.
McKay made a cranky sound at her and took control of the discussion back, after nastily asking if she'd like him to explain everything in layman's terms, since, clearly, she hadn't remembered anything she'd learned in college.
Since Sam was far too professional to ever consider smacking him (and since she had the feeling he'd get over himself soon enough), she simply froze McKay with a glare, then waited for him to become absorbed in the sound of his own voice and brilliance again. Only then did she glance at Sheppard and raise an eyebrow.
He looked back at her, eyes completely innocent. Though the slight smirk at the corner of his mouth said he knew he wasn't.
Finally, the briefing broke up, and Sam moved to fall into step with the Colonel, waiting until they were in a fairly empty stretch of corridor, before hissing, "Did you have to steal my hair stuff this morning, John?"
He glanced at her, smirking even more, "I don't know. That look kinda suits you."
Sam rolled her eyes, and refused to reach up to self-consciously smooth down the strands of hair sure to be escaping from her ponytail. "You would. And that's beside the point, Colonel."
"I needed something for my hair this morning." He defended, his tone mild.
"And violet-scented hair gel sounded like a good idea at the time?" Sam asked, her tone just as mild. "I can kind of understand that. But why did you have to take the tube with you?"
"That was Cadman's fault--she called your quarters as I was closing it, and I kinda panicked and shoved it in my pocket so I could finish getting dressed before she descended on you."
"Wimp." A sigh escaped Sam, "Can I have it back, please?"
"Ah, no." When she raised both eyebrows at him, then smiled at a passing scientist, he said, "Actually, I think I need to catch up with McKay. There was something about that last thing he said--"
"You lost it, didn't you." Great. Just great. And she'd been hoarding it so carefully, so that it would last until the next shipment came through from Earth--she didn't even want to consider trying to find a local equivalent, since it just wouldn't be the same.
"Not as such, no. I just... sort of loaned it to Teyla."
Sam almost groaned, but that wasn't dignified. And, really, she was trying to work on that dignity thing, here. "Then I'll have to get it back from her."
"If you challenge her to a stick-fighting match, can I watch?" John asked, his tone hopeful.
"Oh well." He shrugged, "I should catch up with McKay, though."
"You do that. And try not to steal any of Rodney's equipment while you're there."
The look he gave her was one of bafflement. "Rodney isn't going to try to sniff my hair, Sam."
"You'd be surprised," Sam muttered, then smiled sweetly at him. "I have a city to run, Colonel. Have a good day."
"Right. See you at lunch?"
"Maybe," Sam called over her shoulder as she headed for the control room, her mind already beginning to fill with the minutia and details of the things she needed to accomplish today. And that didn't cover the mountain of paperwork to get stamped, sealed and triplicate for the next time the SGC asked for it. She didn't understand how Dr. Weir had stayed sane with the stuff, but she was going to give a damned good try at following her indomitable example.
Sam looked up from a report on the naquadah mine Zelenka's team was investigating, and blinked at Teyla Emmagan. "Yes?"
With a slight smile on her lips, Teyla walked into her office and set a tube of hair gel on her desk. "I believe this belongs to you."
Blinking in surprise, Sam picked up her hair stuff. "Thank you, Teyla." She looked up at her, "Did you need some, regularly?" Sam would hate to share it, but she'd understand the need and, in the end, she could get more from Earth. It wouldn't be the end of the world if she and Teyla used it up.
"Actually, I don't require it at all," replied Teyla, her tone amused. "I would have returned it earlier, but I wasn't sure who it belonged to."
"Then why--" Sam stopped. Admitting she knew who'd had it might be a tactical mistake. If only because Teyla would then have proof of juicy gossip. And while Teyla might not be someone to spread that sort of thing, she also didn't seem entirely comfortable with Sam in charge.
"I don't believe he realized I don't use it," replied Teyla, her words carefully tactful. Then her smile deepened, "His choices were Rodney or I, and I suspect Rodney would never have let him live this down."
"He still smells like violets."
"That, as well."
Sam sighed, "Teyla, I owe you for this." Her discretion, her amusement, and what appeared to be a promise not to repeat certain details of Sam's personal life certainly warranted that. "If there's anything I can do, let me know."
"I know," Teyla replied, smiling sweetly. Then she sobered, "I was wondering, Colonel--"
"You can call me Sam, you know."
"Sam. Would you have lunch with me? I have realized that I have done little to get to know you, and I would like to rectify that."
There were still three more reports to wade through, half a dozen files to annotate, and a copy of everything McKay had said at the briefing that morning to go over. But those could wait, Sam realized. She was hungry, and she would like to get to know Teyla, as well. There was only so much that notations from Dr. Weir and observation could garner her. "I think I'd like that." She stood, and her stomach growled, making her laugh softly. "I'd like that a lot."