There was a low knock on the door frame and Sam turned over in the infirmary bed to see Paul Davis standing in the open door, smiling at her. She sat up a bit as he walked in and over to her, running a hand through her still-damp hair when he approached.
"Hey," she said.
"Major," he replied, "How you feeling?"
"Fine, I'm fine," she said, "Dr. Fraiser just wants to makes sure."
"Understandable," he said. "You still look cold."
"You're shivering," he said, looking around the infirmary. He grabbed the blanket from the next empty bed and moved to wrap it around her shoulders. She stopped him, holding his wrist with one hand and taking the blanket with the other. He didn't seem to take offence, just simply let go of the rough white material and took a step back from the bed.
"Thanks," she said, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders.
"Ah, no problem," he said. "Where's Colonel O'Neill?"
"I'm not sure actually," she said, "He was next to me when I feel asleep.."
They both looked at the empty bed beside her, sheets ruffled, blanket on the floor in pile. She shrugged and he smiled.
"Mind if I sit?" he asked. She shook her head and he sat down in the plastic chair next to the bed.
"So," he said.
"I'm glad you're okay," he said after an awkward moment, "I should've gone down to the computer core with you and the Colonel."
"So you could be cold and wet and stuck in the infirmary too?"
"It sounded better in my head," he said, a light blush spreading across his cheeks, that she thought was cute.. She laughed a him, relaxing back in the infirmary bed, tucking the blanket tighter around her. She really did feel cold. And damp. "You scared me that's all," he added and she frowned at him, unsure what to make of that.
"It's not the first time I've nearly died Davis."
"I hated being unable to do anything," he said."I was going to run down there and try and force the door open. Your dad had to stop me."
"It's a horrible feeling," she said, "I've never gotten used to it."
"Me neither, I've been told I never will."
"My father. He was in the Air Force too, before he died."
"A general?" she asked, sitting up a little straighter. She didn't know a whole lot about him and she had always loved information.
"No, no," he said, with a wistful smile, his eyes looking away from her for a moment, "He was a Colonel but he was injured on an assignment and never fully recovered."
"Were you close?"
"Pretty close," Paul said, with a wider smile. "We never worked together like you and your dad."
"Doesn't mean we're close Paul," she said, with a snap in her tone that she hadn't intended. She closed her eyes and took a breath.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to imply-"
"It's okay, I didn't mean to snap."
They were silent again, and he shifted in the chair next to her, not looking at her as she watched him. He didn't look uncomfortable, he never did, but there was something there. She thought he was going to leave when he spoke again.
"Listen, Major, Sam," he said, "We've been working together for a little while now."
"On and off, yeah," she said.
"So, I was wondering-" he hesitated.
"Hey kids," Jack said, walking into the room. He was dressed in a hospital gown and two robes, a towel in his hand.
"Colonel," Paul said, snapping back into the perfect officer mode she too had in her, standing up as the older man came walking up to his bed. "We were just wondering where you'd gotten to."
"Fraiser let me have another hot shower," he said, "Just can't get warm you know?"
"Yes Sir," Sam said, with a shiver.
"Think I'd be used to it," he muttered, "You should try it Carter. It'll help for ten minutes."
"Hardly seems worth it, Sir," she said. Jack got back into the bed, wrapping the covers around him.
"I'll leave you two to warm up," Paul said with a nod, "Colonel O'Neill, Major Carter."
He saluted and walked out, Sam watching him go before turning to take a quick look at the man shivering in the bed next to her.
"That guy has spent way too much time in the Pentagon," he said.
"Yes Sir," she said, smiling.
Sam called out his name as she jogged up the corridor to catch him. She's caught a glimpse of him passing her lab but he hadn't heard her calling out to him then so she'd gone after him.
"Major Carter," he said, "Back on duty?"
"Yeah, first thing this morning."
"I go the impression you were trying to say something yesterday," she said, moving to one side as an airman walked by, the two of them leaning against the grey concrete. "Before Colonel O'Neill interrupted you."
"It wasn't important," he said, the lightest of blushes returning to his cheeks, making Sam smile.
"Come into my lab," she said, tilting her head back. He nodded and followed her back down the corridor. She closed the door behind them and leaned back against her work bench. Paul stood against the door, looking comfortable, still, but the light, light blush still staining his cheeks. She waited for him to say something.
"So, no complications from nearly drowning in sub-zero temperatures?" he asked.
"None at all."
He didn't say anymore, and there was more awkward silence between them which frustrated Sam a little but she waited him out.
"I really enjoyed the mission until it went wrong," he said.
"You loved the danger Davis, admit it," she said, grinning at him.
"Maybe," he said with a smile. "Except the bit where you nearly died."
"Believe me, I didn't enjoy that much either," she said.
"I enjoy getting out in the field," he said, shoulders slumping a little as he finally relaxed, "Gets a little claustrophobic in the Pentagon. Knowing what's out there."
"Why don't you put in for a transfer? I know General Hammond would approve," she asked.
"I like my position, I just-need a break every now and again."
"I wouldn't call the last few days a break Davis. Or any of your assignments here."
"Maybe not to you," he said smiling, "But to me, it's like two weeks in the Bahamas."
"You are a strange man," she said with a laugh.
"This from the woman who spends her vacation time in this very lab."
"Not all of it," she protested, blushing herself.
"Most of it."
"Ninety at least," he countered, moving towards her as they argued.
"Okay, Eighty-five," he conceded. "What do you do with the other fifteen percent?"
"I visit my brother in San Diego usually."
"He's got a couple of kids right?"
"Yeah," she smiled and took a few steps towards him. "Paul, what were you going to say yesterday?"
"It was nothing."
"Come on, seemed important, and I'm a genius remember."
He frowned, tilting his head to the side, thinking.
"I was just thinking, we've been working together for a while and I was wondering if you wanted to go out."
"On a date."
She smiled at him, and moved again so that they were inches apart now, and for a moment she thought he was going to take a few steps back. When he didn't move, didn't tense up, she kissed him on the cheek.
"I'd love to."
"I think the Colonel's right," he said. "I have spent too much time in the Pentagon."
She laughed; she hadn't realised he'd heard.
"The desk job has left me so unfit just a kiss on the cheek can make me breathless."
"You have spent too much time in the Pentagon if that's the best line you've got Davis."
"Maybe," he said.
"So this date, where d'you want to go?"
"I was thinking I'd cook for you.."
"Yeah," he smiled at her. "No restaurant is going to be good enough, so I'll cook for you. At your place, or mine."
"Mine, I won't be able to get to Washington for a little while."
"Do you know where I live?" she asked.
"I know where everyone in this mountain lives Sam."
"That's a little weird."
"That's my job."
"To be weird?" she asked with a grin. He laughed.
"A little bit yes."
Sam leaned back on her own kitchen counter and watched Paul Davis cook. He'd turned up in a black shirt and slacks, with two bags of groceries in his arms and was now making them both risotto.
"You know you're washing up right?" he said over his shoulder.
"Of course," she smiled at him.
She'd put a skirt on, made a real effort, just because he'd wanted to make the effort for her and it had taken her aback a little. He had been a little unexpected over the past day or so. She'd suspected he would ask her out, had seen it coming for a few months, but there was much more to it, and to him, that she as discovering very quickly.
Like light blushes, black shirts and risotto.
"Do you really like it over at the Pentagon?" she asked.
"Absolutely," he said, "I wasn't exactly built for the Air Force, but I've found my niche."
She crossed the kitchen to stand by his side, looking at the risotto. She didn't know if it was almost done or not, though it looked like risotto she'd been served in the past. In restaurants. She'd never made it herself. Paul put a tiny bit on the edge of the wooden spoon and held it to her lips, she smiled and blew gently on it before tasting.
"Good?" he asked.
"It won't be long," he said and she nodded, staying where she was, next to him, leaning back on the counter.
"Why did you join?"
"My dad," he said, not looking up from the pan.
"Do you regret it?"
"Not really. Not anymore," he said, "When I first came to the SGC, I realised I'd made the right choice, or he'd made the right choice for me."
She was nodding, eyes going between the risotto and his face as he spoke, watching the changes in his expression. It was fascinating. He was fascinating.
"What about you? Any regrets? I suspect General Carter pushed you into joining up too?"
"Yes, but no regrets," she said. "I'm pretty sure I would've ended up at the SGC anyway."
"You've had evidence to back that up too," he said, looking up at her with a smile.
"Exactly. In fact, I might be the rarity in joining the military, the others haven't so far."
"So far? You're expecting more versions of you to turn up?"
"I haven't ruled it out. You can't expect anything to happen, or not to happen at the SGC."
"I suppose. You can expect this to be amazing though," Paul said, pulling the pan from the hob, and turning off the heat.
"I'll get some wine then," she said with a laugh.
They returned to her lounge after dinner, taking the last of their wine with them, the dishes sitting unwashed in her sink. just because she said she was doing them, didn't mean they would be cleaned any time soon.
"Enjoy that?" he asked.
"It was wonderful," she said with a smile, relaxing back on her sofa, their shoulders just brushing together.
"I put some ice cream in your freezer, if you want some."
"I'm still cold," Sam said, "But thank you anyway."
"Want me to start a fire for you?"
He went to stand an Sam grabbed his upper arm, pulling him down. She kept hold of his bicep for a moment as she shuffled along the sofa a little to sit even closer to him.
"I'll be fine Paul," she said. "A little extra body heat will be fine."
He smirked and she frowned for a moment. It wasn't something Paul did, smirk. Then his smile turned lascivious, all lust and want and that was something she had seen on Paul, in fleeting moments when she'd caught him looking at her. It was a good look on him, hot, but rare and had always left her a little confused before, bemused even, in the months she had waited for him to ask her out.
"There are other ways I could I could help warm you up Sam," he said.
"Dear God," she muttered, and he laughed.
"I'm joking," he said. "Mostly."
"I'm not sure I can date someone with so many bad lines."
"I'm not sure I can think of anymore," he said with another laugh. "Though, I'm sure eavesdropping on a few government officials flirting with their assistants would teach me a few."
She wasn't really shocked, and laughed with him, leaning more against him in the process, wishing he was wearing short sleeves so she could feel a little of his skin against her bare arm.
"You know what it was like there Sam, hell, what it was like all over D.C."
"You probably got hit on."
She finished her wine and set the empty glass down on the coffee table.
"Working on the Pentagon turned me into a workaholic, the office was the only place I could avoid the flirting."
"Really?" He was genuinely surprised and she wasn't sure if she was insulted or not.
"It's partly true."
"You've always been a workaholic?" he asked, with a laugh. She laughed too, then a shiver ran though her, and a shudder.
"I'm lighting a fire," he said.
The same as before, Paul went to stand and she pulled him down again, almost on top of her, this time kissing him on the lips when he was back in place.
"Body heat," she murmured.
"And you think I'm cheesy."
"Shut up," she said, leaning backwards and pulling him on top of her. He dropped his glass onto the floor, and she made sure his attention remained on her and not the drops of white wine on her carpet, by playing with his tongue. They shifted together, getting comfortable while they kissed, until they settled on her sofa. His hands wound into her hair, hers under his shirt and across his spine making him moan.
"Sensitive Paul?" she teased between kisses.
"A little," he breathed.
She pulled at his shirt and he put his weight on his hands so she could pull it up off his body, then over his head.
"Moving a little fast aren't we Sam?" he asked, not looking at all bothered by the prospect as he pushed Sam's own black top up a little and his fingers made their way up to skim the underside of her breasts.
"We can't waste time at the SGC, you should know that Paul."
"Guess we're a little slower going over at the Pentagon."
He shifted a little so he could kiss her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin and she sighed. Paul had potential and she wasn't going to waste time.
"Tell me about it, I've been waiting for you to ask me out for months."
"I like to take my time," he said with a harder bite. She squeaked, and arched into him, the sound making him laugh.
"I'll have to take you out on my bike. Show you just how fast we like to go at the SGC."
"You own a bike?" he asked, looking up, at her.
"Yep, I like to go fast."
"I'm sure I can accommodate."