DISCLAIMER: The story, and characters and anything and everything else concerning SG: SG1 belong to MGM, Gekko, Secret Productions etc, they are so not mine and no money is being made from this and no copyright infringement is intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author
I Kissed You
Last night I dreamt that I kissed you.
The dream itself was simple, familiar. A scenario we have played out in real life a hundred times. A girls night in watching crappy scifi that you would never publicly admit to watching, hate to miss and love to criticize and which my daughter tapes for you without fail because she adores you. I am laid on the sofa, a half empty bottle of beer resting on my abdomen, my fingernail scritching away at the label to give my hands something to do. Idle hands too much temptation not a good combination.
You are sitting on the floor, your back resting against the sofa approximately level with my chest. Your long long legs stretch out towards the hearth. You're telling me again how they have not just stretched the laws of physics this time but moebius looped them. I'm as bad. If it was a medical based episode I'd be complaining about the magic DNA stick that these guys all seem to have.
I'm not really listening to what you say, just the way that you say it, the rise and fall of your voice, the humour, the sheer enthusiasm. If only it could be bottled, the world would be a much nicer place.
My hands are busy peeling the label off my bottle otherwise they would want to be stroking through your hair, touching your skin. And even in my dreams I daren't do that.
My mmm-mmm's obviously lack the required level of affirmation. You turn to face me, and your face is only inches from mine. Your brow quirks in that half smile of yours and suddenly it's absurdly simple. I reach over and I kiss you.
And in my dream you're kissing me back.
I wake with a start and lie back staring at the dim dull ceiling. I kissed you and you kissed me back. Samantha Carter kissed me back. I smile and hug myself.
In your dreams, Janet Fraiser, and only in my dreams.
But she's coming over this evening.. Is my subconscious trying to tell me something? An omen of some kind? Do I dare?
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