DISCLAIMER: Not mine. I promise I'm only borrowing them and will return them to their rightful owners whenever they ask for them back. My imagination took a flight of fancy.....my bank account stayed empty. (Seriously, the cast of SG1 belong to MGM and I'm only borrowing them for some free daydreaming that I wrote down).
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
FEEDBACK: To ncruuk[at]gmail.com

September, in the Rain
By ncruuk


Stepping into the dimly lit bar, Sam Carter struggled to find the right words to say what she was thinking. It was not an unusual situation, and explained why SG1 was so much better when Daniel Jackson was around. Ironically, the blonde major had a reputation for being the 'cool head in a crisis', always knowing the right techno-babble to get them out of every eventuality. The reality was far more mundane - it wasn't that Sam could say the right words, just that Jack O'Neill was way quicker on the draw with the very, very wrong words. Unfortunately, Jack O'Neill wasn't here to beat her to the punch.

"We've all of DC to drink in, and you pick this place?" The words were out of Sam's mouth before she could censor them. It wasn't what she'd said that was triggering the Napoleonic Powermonger's glare right now, but rather the tone with which she'd said them. If there was one thing that got that particular glare going from zero to maximum roasting in nano-seconds, it was scathing disdain.

"You want to rephrase that Ms 'I was stationed at the Pentagon, I'll pick the best bars to go to'?" asked Janet icily, furtively glancing into the depths of the bar to make sure that her memory was right. Yup, this was the place, and it hadn't changed a bit.

"It wasn't my fault Jezzie's had closed for refurbishment!" protested Sam, wincing at the memory of an hour earlier when, full of enthusiasm, she'd lead her lover to her once favourite haven of smokey jazz civilian relaxation, only to find it closed for a refurbishment. To say Janet was grumpy when they stood on the damp sidewalk would be an understatement. It was a miracle the falling rain wasn't sizzling away on contact with the brunette's skin.

"Well, we're somewhere now...." groused Janet, handing her dripping coat to Sam, already forgetting her annoyance at the hour's trek through a wet and wild DC in search of a convivial environment and a good drink. "I'm going to the bar..." and with a flick of her hair, she mock-stomped to the bar, already eying her once favourite bar stool. It was good to come back to it.....

Bemused at her lover's behaviour, Sam scrutinised Janet's strut through the quiet bar, absently noticing the vaguely familiar song playing on the juke box. The words Janet had said to her suggested annoyance, the dumped coat demonstrated a loss of patience, but the strut....that was something else, something that Janet knew caused interesting things to happen deep inside Sam.

Intrigued, but also concerned, Sam hurried through the tables after her lover. Janet was up to something, but what Sam couldn't fathom. Coming up behind Janet, Sam was caught with the scent of her lover's shampoo, a scent that, whilst beguiling for the blonde virtually all the time, was surprisingly strong suddenly....as if Janet's hair was now only an inch away from Sam's nose. Depositing both wet jackets on the floor below Janet's feet, Sam began to straighten, only to freeze as her brain processed the seductively crossed legs encased in shimmering stockings....

"Surprise?" husked Janet, reaching forwards and raking her fingers through the short hair at the base of Sam's skull, understanding what had caused her lover's brain to short circuit on. Swallowing thickly, her voice suddenly gone, Sam could only nod, as her mind recalled the planet of torrential rain but interesting plants, when, stuck the wrong side of a mud flow, she and Janet had been forced to play twenty questions. The fact that they were millions of light years away from 'don't ask, don't tell' and the only humans on the planet had only helped the new lovers' questions turn steamy....

"Tell me a fantasy you have involving me...." dared Janet, shrinking further into her poncho...

"How do you know I have a fantasy involving you?" countered Sam, willing her ears not to turn bright red with embarrassment. Her problem wasn't that she couldn't think of any fantasies, but that she couldn't bring herself to say them.

"Your ears are bright red.....spill!"

"Umm...." Sam stalled for as long as she could, but finally could resist no longer. Settling for the tamest one she could picture in the hope she could stutter it out, she said shyly... "A thunderstorm....a quiet bar....juke box playing....and you on a bar stool...so we're the same height...just drinking beer and kissing...."

"Hmm....I like it..." interjected Janet, surprised by the innocence, but more surprised by how warm and loved it made her feel. She was so caught up in her own reaction that she almost missed Sam's postscript....

"...a short skirt and stockings wouldn't hurt...."

Raking her fingers through the soft hairs, Janet let her hand drift down Sam's back, encouraging her to stand up....

"How's my bar stool sweetheart?" she cooed once their eyes were level. Smiling in response, Sam pressed her body up against Janet and murmured

"Perfect...just like you," in Janet's ear, which conveniently for Sam, was at just the right height to ensure that much attention could be lavished there, and also on Janet's neck....something that could quite possibly be Sam's most favourite pastime...assuming she could ever get Janet on this bar stool again....it was so much more enjoyable when Sam didn't get a crick in her own neck.....

The End

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