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SG-1 fic: Blind Date, PG (Sam/Vala)
Disclaimer: not mine
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Pairing: Sam Carter/Vala Mal Doran
Rating: PG
Genre: femslash, romance comedy (an attempt at one, at least)
Prompt: tender
Length: 3000+ words
Notes: this was written for one of the current![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
femslash_land challenges. I was given the prompt and the genre. And then promptly sulked over it, as I'm not the biggest romance comedy fan on the planet (I'm not entirely sure I even like them), much less someone who's ever envisioned attempting to write one, or even write in a style.
I'm still not sure this entirely qualifies, but it's what I've got.
Blind Date
by ALC Punk!
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this." It wasn't the first time Sam Carter had said those words to Daniel Jackson, and she doubted it would be the last. Usually, though, they weren't in reference to her carefully-chosen little black dress and nice flats coupled with the restaurant lot that she was pulling into.
Sam Carter just didn't do blind dates--not after that disastrous one while she'd been in the academy that had ended up with her and Cameron Mitchell in hack together while he nursed a black eye and she tended her own skinned knuckles.
It was probably just as well that Daniel hadn't enlisted Cameron to help him in his plans.
Daniel shrugged, the movement more understood than seen. "You need to get out more, Sam."
He didn't add that she hadn't dated in years, and that there was a betting pool going about her and half of SG-1. Nor did he add that he was worried about her (he'd tried that tack first).
With a sigh, Sam turned off the car. "I don't even know why you're here."
"Observation. Anthropologically-speaking, blind dates are fascinating rituals." He replied blandly.
Sam snorted and got out. "Fine," she said over the top of her car, "But if I start a bar fight to get out of it, you'll only have yourself to blame."
For a moment, alarm widened Daniel's eyes. "Sam, you wouldn't."
"Try me," she challenged before leaving him standing there and stalking towards the entrance to the rather classy place the online dating service Daniel had been poking around had suggested.
Sam had to admit, if only to herself, that she was looking forward to having a nice dinner. A little good conversation that wasn't about aliens or death or invasions or religion would go a long way towards making it a more pleasant evening, too. Not that she expected much, having no real idea who Daniel's friend that he claimed to be doing a favor for was.
Inside, Sam was instantly grateful for her carefully-chosen dress and accessories. Definitely a classy place, not like her normal fair in the mountain's cafeteria, or heating up crap in the microwave, that was for sure.
The hostess was dressed even more elegantly, and Sam envied her the ease that she walked gracefully into the dining area in her stilettoes.
For convenience, their party was listed under Daniel's last name, and Sam felt a little trepidation when informed that someone was there already. Leaving Daniel to chat with the coat-check girl, Sam was escorted into the sumptuous dining room to a table containing candles and a champagne bottle.
It also contained someone she recognized, even without the carnation decorating the button-hole in her tuxedo.
"Samantha," greeted Vala Mal Doran with a smile, "So glad you could come."
As though they hadn't spoken earlier that day over lunch in the cafeteria, with Sam complaining about Daniel's proposed outing that night. Sam opened her mouth, then closed it with a snap.
"Thank you," Vala said to the hostess before moving to pull out Sam's chair. She winked at Sam, "This is right, isn't it?"
"I'm going to kill Daniel." OK, maybe not kill him. After all, a blind date didn't have to be with someone you didn't know, right? Not that Sam cared. She wanted to reach up and rub her hands over her face, but was afraid she'd smear her carefully-applied make-up.
"You can't," sitting back across from Sam, Vala smiled happily at her, "I put him up to it."
"Of course you did." Leaning one elbow on the table (probably not what one did in a place like this, not that she cared), Sam said, "This was a bad idea."
"It was a brilliant idea," Vala contradicted. She held up two cloths, "I even brought blind-folds."
"Vala--" Started Sam, only to be interrupted.
"Oh! Samantha, I'm sorry. I forgot to compliment you on your ensemble. You look ravishing, my dear."
Giving in to the urge, Sam put a hand over her eyes. She managed not to groan, and was hoping she wasn't blushing. Just for a moment, she entertained the notion that Vala's compliment wasn't all for show. Then she straightened and dropped her elbow off the table. "That's not the point, Vala."
Frowning, Vala reached for the champagne bottle. "I thought I was supposed to compliment you?"
"If we were dating, yes." And the idea that they were dating wasn't something Sam had entertained, she added to herself silently. Really. The very idea--especially given the current restrictions on military fraternization--was a fantasy, a dream.
"Oh, look--Daniel's explained about not telling." Reaching across the table, Vala touched Sam's hand. "I've never kissed and told--well, not unless there was a need for--but that's beside the point," hurriedly, Vala discarded whatever she'd been going to admit to (some felony, no doubt. Possibly blackmail), and smiled, as though smiles solved everything. "But I wouldn't."
Sam tried to ignore that a tiny part of her wanted to turn her hand over, or respond to Vala's overtures. "It's not a good idea."
"Why not?" Pouring out two glasses of champagne, Vala raised them both and chimed them together, "It's not as though it's some sort of commitment. It's a date, Samantha. To us." She held one of the glasses out to Sam.
Committing Daniel, and then possibly Vala, had a sudden appeal. So did the champagne. "This doesn't mean I agree--" Sam took the glass and quickly drank half of it.
"Oh, bubbles," Vala giggled as she drank her own, "I've always loved them."
Sam drank more of hers, then set it down. "I should go."
"You can't go, I ordered steaks for us."
Since Vala had heard Sam complaining about having no time for a decent steak these days, Sam thought that was a little underhanded. Still... "We're not on a date, Vala."
"I know. You haven't even told me I look nice." Vala actually looked hurt about that.
"We're friends," Sam said firmly.
"Friends compliment each other."
Sam tried to find an argument to that logic, and had to drink more champagne instead. "Fine, fine. You look--nice."
"Not diplomatic, but thank you."
Really, Sam had never been much for diplomacy. She was more the person who techno-babbled you to death, or if that failed, went for the explosives. It was a pity she couldn't just blow up the restaurant, but that would probably look bad on her record.
"So, tell me, do you come here often?" asked Vala, reaching over to pour more champagne into Sam's glass.
The level in the bottle was decidedly lower than it should have been, but Sam didn't object. "This isn't a date."
"I'm just making conversation."
Sam sighed. "No, I don't. Never been here before, in fact."
"That's a pity. I've read good things about their food."
Which was an excellent moment for their waiter to arrive with the appetizers. Sam had to admit the salad was excellent--though the tomato was obviously out of season. Even if it was probably only a garnish for presentation.
Vala picked at hers, then finally gave up and sat back in her chair with a sigh. "I've had better green things on a Trakenin trader vessel."
"I don't think you'll impress the cook with that attitude," Sam informed her before stabbing at one of the bits of bleu cheese with her fork. She'd always rather liked bleu cheese.
"Does one normally talk to the cook in a restaurant?"
"No."
Vala smiled and drank more of her champagne, "Tell me, Sam. What sort of things do you do in your spare time?"
Now that sounded like a date-type question. And they weren't having a date, they were here as friends. Even if Sam kept being distracted by how oddly attractive Vala was in her tuxedo. It must have been tailored, to fit her so well. She shoved the thought aside and snorted. "What spare time?"
"Oh, c'mon, pretend we don't know each other," coaxed Vala.
"But we do."
"Samantha." Setting her glass down, Vala leaned forward, obviously trying for a mixture of practical and cajoling as she continued, "Daniel expects us to have a good time. Isn't finding out about each other part of that?"
"Daniel can go to hell."
"He's been there."
Sam made a face and drank more champagne. Hopefully, the steak would get here soon to soak up some of the alcohol in her bloodstream. Not that it worked like that, there were other factors such as water consumption to consider. "So have I."
"You have?" Vala frowned, "But I didn't think you'd died."
Really, Sam didn't want to get into the number of times she'd died, or nearly died. Not in a fancy restaurant. Besides, Vala had access to mission reports, she could do her own research. "Not then. And I'd rather talk about something else."
"Like what? Oh! Do you do needlepoint?"
"What?"
Vala mimed with her knife, though whether she was trying to demonstrate gutting a fish or cross-stitch was unclear. "You know, needlepoint."
"You should ask Dr. Lam, I hear surgeons do it to keep their fingers in practice," Sam suggested, easily throwing her colleague to the wolves.
"I'll keep that in mind, if I need another blind date."
Which didn't sound like a good idea at all, but Sam let it pass. It wasn't up to her to tell Vala who she could and couldn't see. For a moment, Sam let herself think about having that right, and all that it would entail. Having to put up with Vala in intimate situations, having some sort of connection that wasn't just friendship. The awkward moments, the missed lunch dates (which already happened), the sex.
The sex would be awkward. Or maybe not.
She grabbed her champagne glass again and drank it dry.
"More?" Vala offered, holding up the now-empty bottle. "Or should we have something stronger?"
"I have to drive."
Vala sighed, "I'm not getting laid, then?"
Sam drank her water.
"You're blushing," accused Vala, her eyes widening. "Samantha Carter, you--"
"Stop it. This isn't a date, Vala." Sam would have elaborated, but their food arrived.
The waiters made a production of it, setting domed plates in front of each of them, then pulling the domes off with a flourish. Sam stared down at the concoction on her plate. It was probably esthetically pleasing to someone, but it looked like a pile of mush. Garnished.
"Vala, I thought you ordered steak?"
"Steak tartare. I thought it sounded extra special." Vala was staring at her own plate. "The name, I mean. The description didn't really say much about what it actually was."
"Raw beef," Sam said dryly. She wondered how many cultures she'd encountered would have considered her meal a delicacy. Daniel would probably be perfectly willing to expound on how cooked meat had come about more as a way of storing the meat than because of an actual need to do so.
Vala picked up her fork and poked at her food, "Is that a bad thing?"
"It is when you wanted steak," Sam told her. "This is like ordering a zat and getting a paper knife."
"That," said Vala, waving her beef-filled fork, "is a horrible analogy." She popped her fork into her mouth, and grabbed for her napkin a moment later.
"And this is a horrible meal?" suggested Sam as Vala rinsed her mouth out with the last of her champagne. "I hope you're paying for this."
"Very horrible." Vala set her fork down and slumped back in her chair. "And I'd wanted this evening to go so well."
"It's a blind date, Vala, those never go well." For some reason, Sam felt that she had to encourage the other woman. They were friends, after all. And a sad and disconsolate Vala would be difficult to deal with the next day, anyway. "Besides, it's not like this is a real date."
Vala brightened, "That's true. Where would you have gone on a blind date, Samantha?"
Breaking Vala of her habit of using Sam's full name--something she'd done to irritated her, in the beginning--was something Sam had long since given up on. Besides, a part of her rather liked the way her name rolled off Vala's tongue. Sam blamed the champagne for that realization, and tried to distract herself. "Burger joint. Or the steakhouse at the truck stop."
"Very unromantic."
Sam shrugged, "I don't have time for romance."
And she didn't mind that, either, she decided. Romance hadn't really done much for her over the years, and she was happier deciphering technology than people.
With a sigh, Vala waved a hand towards the waiter. "It's a good thing I stole Mitchell's credit card for this."
"You what?" Sam sputtered, before getting control of herself while Vala informed the waiter they wanted the check. Stealing Cameron's credit card wasn't something Sam would have put past Vala, but still, Cameron was a teammate, and surely that counted for something.
"It's a pity you don't have time for romance," mused Vala as she idly dangled her empty wine glass from her fingers.
"You don't, either."
Vala snorted, then raised one elegant eyebrow, "Really, Samantha, and how would you know that?"
There was something oddly wistful in Vala's expression, and Sam found herself feeling cruel. She hadn't wanted to hurt Vala, but she'd never expected Vala to pull something like this, either. "We work long hours," she said softly, "And we're very dedicated to our jobs."
"Yes." Vala set her glass down and leaned over the table to whisper, "That's why these secret rendezvous are such a good romantic tactic. Don't you agree?"
Sam groaned and sat back in her chair. "Vala, this is not--"
"I know, it's not. But I can pretend, can't I?" She sniffed, then took the check from the waiter to sign the receipt.
"You do not wish to take this?" the waiter asked, looking surprised as he noticed the nearly-untouched food.
"Very sure." Vala slammed the little vinyl case with the check on the table and stood up. "You should actually point out in the menu that it's raw, you know."
The waiter looked confused as Vala stalked past him towards the entrance.
Sam hopped to her feet and tried to give him an apologetic smile, but she was still hungry, and she'd been told there was steak. It was hard to not be a little annoyed at the poor man.
In the foyer, Vala was arguing with the coat-check girl. Sam noted that Daniel appeared to have disappeared, but he hadn't been in the dining area, either. Accepting her coat and pulling it on, Sam raised her eyebrows at Vala. "Daniel seems to have gone."
"Yes, he was to take a taxi once he'd gotten you here." Vala cheerfully caught Sam's arm and tucked her own through it. "So, where's the best steakhouse, Samantha?"
"Why?"
"Because," Vala said as they stepped out into the evening, "It's still early, we're both still hungry, and I want to find out just how much alcohol it takes to get into your pants."
"I'm not wearing pants."
"Well, under your dress, then."
Shaking her head, Sam pulled Vala along to where she'd parked. "Vala, this is not a date."
"No, it's not. But friends have sex, too."
"Oh, they do not," Sam protested as she unlocked the car. Really, why she wasn't just stranding Vala here, she didn't know. Then again, Vala on her own in Colorado Springs was a frightening prospect. "And where does sex come into it?"
God. Why was she having this conversation? Sam yanked open her door and got in.
Vala slid into the seat and closed her door.
"I'm driving us back to base, and you're staying there," Sam said, her voice firm.
"Fine. If that's the way you're going to be." With an annoyed sound, Vala crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat.
Determined to ignore the other occupant of the car, Sam drove silently. It wasn't her fault Daniel and Vala had cooked up this little scheme of theirs, and it certainly wasn't her fault that Vala was incapable of understanding why it was a bad idea. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and told herself that it wasn't even her fault if Vala was feeling sorry for herself.
But she could have said no to Daniel, or she could have walked out before the 'date' started.
Or she could admit to herself that the prospect of a date with someone she didn't know still held a great appeal. "Screw it," she said into the silence.
Vala made a disinterested noise, then yelped as Sam slammed on the breaks so she could take advantage of the relatively quiet street to execute a u-turn. "Sam?"
"I'm hungry. And this is not a date," Sam snapped as she took the turning for her favorite steakhouse. It wasn't very far away--part of the appeal was that it was between her house and the mountain, so stopping there on the way home was easier than running to the store for food.
"Of course it isn't," Vala agreed, her tone brighter.
Sam parked in the lot, pleased to see that the place wasn't too busy. Enough personnel from the mountain frequented it to make it a possibility they'd be recognized. "Just so we're clear, no--"
"No kissing, no sex in the restroom, and no playing footsie under the table." Vala enumerated, then she grinned, "But what about afterwards?"
"I'm regretting this already," Sam muttered as she opened her door.
"But there's steak involved--apparently good steak, from all accounts," said Vala. "So you can't regret that."
"You'd be surprised."
Looking across the roof of the car, Vala smiled. "I certainly hope so, Samantha."
Trying to pretend that she hadn't just had a little twinge of anticipation, Sam hrmphed and didn't reply. There was no way she was admitting that, just for a moment, she'd thought about this being a real date.
Vala was a friend.
You didn't date friends.
That's why Sam didn't hold her hand as they went in.
But that didn't explain why Sam ended up making out with Vala in the street out in front of her own house, or why she didn't return Vala to the mountain until the next morning.
She couldn't even blame it on temporary insanity or alcohol. But she might blame the tuxedo.
-f-
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Pairing: Sam Carter/Vala Mal Doran
Rating: PG
Genre: femslash, romance comedy (an attempt at one, at least)
Prompt: tender
Length: 3000+ words
Notes: this was written for one of the current
femslash_land challenges. I was given the prompt and the genre. And then promptly sulked over it, as I'm not the biggest romance comedy fan on the planet (I'm not entirely sure I even like them), much less someone who's ever envisioned attempting to write one, or even write in a style. I'm still not sure this entirely qualifies, but it's what I've got.
Blind Date
by ALC Punk!
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this." It wasn't the first time Sam Carter had said those words to Daniel Jackson, and she doubted it would be the last. Usually, though, they weren't in reference to her carefully-chosen little black dress and nice flats coupled with the restaurant lot that she was pulling into.
Sam Carter just didn't do blind dates--not after that disastrous one while she'd been in the academy that had ended up with her and Cameron Mitchell in hack together while he nursed a black eye and she tended her own skinned knuckles.
It was probably just as well that Daniel hadn't enlisted Cameron to help him in his plans.
Daniel shrugged, the movement more understood than seen. "You need to get out more, Sam."
He didn't add that she hadn't dated in years, and that there was a betting pool going about her and half of SG-1. Nor did he add that he was worried about her (he'd tried that tack first).
With a sigh, Sam turned off the car. "I don't even know why you're here."
"Observation. Anthropologically-speaking, blind dates are fascinating rituals." He replied blandly.
Sam snorted and got out. "Fine," she said over the top of her car, "But if I start a bar fight to get out of it, you'll only have yourself to blame."
For a moment, alarm widened Daniel's eyes. "Sam, you wouldn't."
"Try me," she challenged before leaving him standing there and stalking towards the entrance to the rather classy place the online dating service Daniel had been poking around had suggested.
Sam had to admit, if only to herself, that she was looking forward to having a nice dinner. A little good conversation that wasn't about aliens or death or invasions or religion would go a long way towards making it a more pleasant evening, too. Not that she expected much, having no real idea who Daniel's friend that he claimed to be doing a favor for was.
Inside, Sam was instantly grateful for her carefully-chosen dress and accessories. Definitely a classy place, not like her normal fair in the mountain's cafeteria, or heating up crap in the microwave, that was for sure.
The hostess was dressed even more elegantly, and Sam envied her the ease that she walked gracefully into the dining area in her stilettoes.
For convenience, their party was listed under Daniel's last name, and Sam felt a little trepidation when informed that someone was there already. Leaving Daniel to chat with the coat-check girl, Sam was escorted into the sumptuous dining room to a table containing candles and a champagne bottle.
It also contained someone she recognized, even without the carnation decorating the button-hole in her tuxedo.
"Samantha," greeted Vala Mal Doran with a smile, "So glad you could come."
As though they hadn't spoken earlier that day over lunch in the cafeteria, with Sam complaining about Daniel's proposed outing that night. Sam opened her mouth, then closed it with a snap.
"Thank you," Vala said to the hostess before moving to pull out Sam's chair. She winked at Sam, "This is right, isn't it?"
"I'm going to kill Daniel." OK, maybe not kill him. After all, a blind date didn't have to be with someone you didn't know, right? Not that Sam cared. She wanted to reach up and rub her hands over her face, but was afraid she'd smear her carefully-applied make-up.
"You can't," sitting back across from Sam, Vala smiled happily at her, "I put him up to it."
"Of course you did." Leaning one elbow on the table (probably not what one did in a place like this, not that she cared), Sam said, "This was a bad idea."
"It was a brilliant idea," Vala contradicted. She held up two cloths, "I even brought blind-folds."
"Vala--" Started Sam, only to be interrupted.
"Oh! Samantha, I'm sorry. I forgot to compliment you on your ensemble. You look ravishing, my dear."
Giving in to the urge, Sam put a hand over her eyes. She managed not to groan, and was hoping she wasn't blushing. Just for a moment, she entertained the notion that Vala's compliment wasn't all for show. Then she straightened and dropped her elbow off the table. "That's not the point, Vala."
Frowning, Vala reached for the champagne bottle. "I thought I was supposed to compliment you?"
"If we were dating, yes." And the idea that they were dating wasn't something Sam had entertained, she added to herself silently. Really. The very idea--especially given the current restrictions on military fraternization--was a fantasy, a dream.
"Oh, look--Daniel's explained about not telling." Reaching across the table, Vala touched Sam's hand. "I've never kissed and told--well, not unless there was a need for--but that's beside the point," hurriedly, Vala discarded whatever she'd been going to admit to (some felony, no doubt. Possibly blackmail), and smiled, as though smiles solved everything. "But I wouldn't."
Sam tried to ignore that a tiny part of her wanted to turn her hand over, or respond to Vala's overtures. "It's not a good idea."
"Why not?" Pouring out two glasses of champagne, Vala raised them both and chimed them together, "It's not as though it's some sort of commitment. It's a date, Samantha. To us." She held one of the glasses out to Sam.
Committing Daniel, and then possibly Vala, had a sudden appeal. So did the champagne. "This doesn't mean I agree--" Sam took the glass and quickly drank half of it.
"Oh, bubbles," Vala giggled as she drank her own, "I've always loved them."
Sam drank more of hers, then set it down. "I should go."
"You can't go, I ordered steaks for us."
Since Vala had heard Sam complaining about having no time for a decent steak these days, Sam thought that was a little underhanded. Still... "We're not on a date, Vala."
"I know. You haven't even told me I look nice." Vala actually looked hurt about that.
"We're friends," Sam said firmly.
"Friends compliment each other."
Sam tried to find an argument to that logic, and had to drink more champagne instead. "Fine, fine. You look--nice."
"Not diplomatic, but thank you."
Really, Sam had never been much for diplomacy. She was more the person who techno-babbled you to death, or if that failed, went for the explosives. It was a pity she couldn't just blow up the restaurant, but that would probably look bad on her record.
"So, tell me, do you come here often?" asked Vala, reaching over to pour more champagne into Sam's glass.
The level in the bottle was decidedly lower than it should have been, but Sam didn't object. "This isn't a date."
"I'm just making conversation."
Sam sighed. "No, I don't. Never been here before, in fact."
"That's a pity. I've read good things about their food."
Which was an excellent moment for their waiter to arrive with the appetizers. Sam had to admit the salad was excellent--though the tomato was obviously out of season. Even if it was probably only a garnish for presentation.
Vala picked at hers, then finally gave up and sat back in her chair with a sigh. "I've had better green things on a Trakenin trader vessel."
"I don't think you'll impress the cook with that attitude," Sam informed her before stabbing at one of the bits of bleu cheese with her fork. She'd always rather liked bleu cheese.
"Does one normally talk to the cook in a restaurant?"
"No."
Vala smiled and drank more of her champagne, "Tell me, Sam. What sort of things do you do in your spare time?"
Now that sounded like a date-type question. And they weren't having a date, they were here as friends. Even if Sam kept being distracted by how oddly attractive Vala was in her tuxedo. It must have been tailored, to fit her so well. She shoved the thought aside and snorted. "What spare time?"
"Oh, c'mon, pretend we don't know each other," coaxed Vala.
"But we do."
"Samantha." Setting her glass down, Vala leaned forward, obviously trying for a mixture of practical and cajoling as she continued, "Daniel expects us to have a good time. Isn't finding out about each other part of that?"
"Daniel can go to hell."
"He's been there."
Sam made a face and drank more champagne. Hopefully, the steak would get here soon to soak up some of the alcohol in her bloodstream. Not that it worked like that, there were other factors such as water consumption to consider. "So have I."
"You have?" Vala frowned, "But I didn't think you'd died."
Really, Sam didn't want to get into the number of times she'd died, or nearly died. Not in a fancy restaurant. Besides, Vala had access to mission reports, she could do her own research. "Not then. And I'd rather talk about something else."
"Like what? Oh! Do you do needlepoint?"
"What?"
Vala mimed with her knife, though whether she was trying to demonstrate gutting a fish or cross-stitch was unclear. "You know, needlepoint."
"You should ask Dr. Lam, I hear surgeons do it to keep their fingers in practice," Sam suggested, easily throwing her colleague to the wolves.
"I'll keep that in mind, if I need another blind date."
Which didn't sound like a good idea at all, but Sam let it pass. It wasn't up to her to tell Vala who she could and couldn't see. For a moment, Sam let herself think about having that right, and all that it would entail. Having to put up with Vala in intimate situations, having some sort of connection that wasn't just friendship. The awkward moments, the missed lunch dates (which already happened), the sex.
The sex would be awkward. Or maybe not.
She grabbed her champagne glass again and drank it dry.
"More?" Vala offered, holding up the now-empty bottle. "Or should we have something stronger?"
"I have to drive."
Vala sighed, "I'm not getting laid, then?"
Sam drank her water.
"You're blushing," accused Vala, her eyes widening. "Samantha Carter, you--"
"Stop it. This isn't a date, Vala." Sam would have elaborated, but their food arrived.
The waiters made a production of it, setting domed plates in front of each of them, then pulling the domes off with a flourish. Sam stared down at the concoction on her plate. It was probably esthetically pleasing to someone, but it looked like a pile of mush. Garnished.
"Vala, I thought you ordered steak?"
"Steak tartare. I thought it sounded extra special." Vala was staring at her own plate. "The name, I mean. The description didn't really say much about what it actually was."
"Raw beef," Sam said dryly. She wondered how many cultures she'd encountered would have considered her meal a delicacy. Daniel would probably be perfectly willing to expound on how cooked meat had come about more as a way of storing the meat than because of an actual need to do so.
Vala picked up her fork and poked at her food, "Is that a bad thing?"
"It is when you wanted steak," Sam told her. "This is like ordering a zat and getting a paper knife."
"That," said Vala, waving her beef-filled fork, "is a horrible analogy." She popped her fork into her mouth, and grabbed for her napkin a moment later.
"And this is a horrible meal?" suggested Sam as Vala rinsed her mouth out with the last of her champagne. "I hope you're paying for this."
"Very horrible." Vala set her fork down and slumped back in her chair. "And I'd wanted this evening to go so well."
"It's a blind date, Vala, those never go well." For some reason, Sam felt that she had to encourage the other woman. They were friends, after all. And a sad and disconsolate Vala would be difficult to deal with the next day, anyway. "Besides, it's not like this is a real date."
Vala brightened, "That's true. Where would you have gone on a blind date, Samantha?"
Breaking Vala of her habit of using Sam's full name--something she'd done to irritated her, in the beginning--was something Sam had long since given up on. Besides, a part of her rather liked the way her name rolled off Vala's tongue. Sam blamed the champagne for that realization, and tried to distract herself. "Burger joint. Or the steakhouse at the truck stop."
"Very unromantic."
Sam shrugged, "I don't have time for romance."
And she didn't mind that, either, she decided. Romance hadn't really done much for her over the years, and she was happier deciphering technology than people.
With a sigh, Vala waved a hand towards the waiter. "It's a good thing I stole Mitchell's credit card for this."
"You what?" Sam sputtered, before getting control of herself while Vala informed the waiter they wanted the check. Stealing Cameron's credit card wasn't something Sam would have put past Vala, but still, Cameron was a teammate, and surely that counted for something.
"It's a pity you don't have time for romance," mused Vala as she idly dangled her empty wine glass from her fingers.
"You don't, either."
Vala snorted, then raised one elegant eyebrow, "Really, Samantha, and how would you know that?"
There was something oddly wistful in Vala's expression, and Sam found herself feeling cruel. She hadn't wanted to hurt Vala, but she'd never expected Vala to pull something like this, either. "We work long hours," she said softly, "And we're very dedicated to our jobs."
"Yes." Vala set her glass down and leaned over the table to whisper, "That's why these secret rendezvous are such a good romantic tactic. Don't you agree?"
Sam groaned and sat back in her chair. "Vala, this is not--"
"I know, it's not. But I can pretend, can't I?" She sniffed, then took the check from the waiter to sign the receipt.
"You do not wish to take this?" the waiter asked, looking surprised as he noticed the nearly-untouched food.
"Very sure." Vala slammed the little vinyl case with the check on the table and stood up. "You should actually point out in the menu that it's raw, you know."
The waiter looked confused as Vala stalked past him towards the entrance.
Sam hopped to her feet and tried to give him an apologetic smile, but she was still hungry, and she'd been told there was steak. It was hard to not be a little annoyed at the poor man.
In the foyer, Vala was arguing with the coat-check girl. Sam noted that Daniel appeared to have disappeared, but he hadn't been in the dining area, either. Accepting her coat and pulling it on, Sam raised her eyebrows at Vala. "Daniel seems to have gone."
"Yes, he was to take a taxi once he'd gotten you here." Vala cheerfully caught Sam's arm and tucked her own through it. "So, where's the best steakhouse, Samantha?"
"Why?"
"Because," Vala said as they stepped out into the evening, "It's still early, we're both still hungry, and I want to find out just how much alcohol it takes to get into your pants."
"I'm not wearing pants."
"Well, under your dress, then."
Shaking her head, Sam pulled Vala along to where she'd parked. "Vala, this is not a date."
"No, it's not. But friends have sex, too."
"Oh, they do not," Sam protested as she unlocked the car. Really, why she wasn't just stranding Vala here, she didn't know. Then again, Vala on her own in Colorado Springs was a frightening prospect. "And where does sex come into it?"
God. Why was she having this conversation? Sam yanked open her door and got in.
Vala slid into the seat and closed her door.
"I'm driving us back to base, and you're staying there," Sam said, her voice firm.
"Fine. If that's the way you're going to be." With an annoyed sound, Vala crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat.
Determined to ignore the other occupant of the car, Sam drove silently. It wasn't her fault Daniel and Vala had cooked up this little scheme of theirs, and it certainly wasn't her fault that Vala was incapable of understanding why it was a bad idea. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and told herself that it wasn't even her fault if Vala was feeling sorry for herself.
But she could have said no to Daniel, or she could have walked out before the 'date' started.
Or she could admit to herself that the prospect of a date with someone she didn't know still held a great appeal. "Screw it," she said into the silence.
Vala made a disinterested noise, then yelped as Sam slammed on the breaks so she could take advantage of the relatively quiet street to execute a u-turn. "Sam?"
"I'm hungry. And this is not a date," Sam snapped as she took the turning for her favorite steakhouse. It wasn't very far away--part of the appeal was that it was between her house and the mountain, so stopping there on the way home was easier than running to the store for food.
"Of course it isn't," Vala agreed, her tone brighter.
Sam parked in the lot, pleased to see that the place wasn't too busy. Enough personnel from the mountain frequented it to make it a possibility they'd be recognized. "Just so we're clear, no--"
"No kissing, no sex in the restroom, and no playing footsie under the table." Vala enumerated, then she grinned, "But what about afterwards?"
"I'm regretting this already," Sam muttered as she opened her door.
"But there's steak involved--apparently good steak, from all accounts," said Vala. "So you can't regret that."
"You'd be surprised."
Looking across the roof of the car, Vala smiled. "I certainly hope so, Samantha."
Trying to pretend that she hadn't just had a little twinge of anticipation, Sam hrmphed and didn't reply. There was no way she was admitting that, just for a moment, she'd thought about this being a real date.
Vala was a friend.
You didn't date friends.
That's why Sam didn't hold her hand as they went in.
But that didn't explain why Sam ended up making out with Vala in the street out in front of her own house, or why she didn't return Vala to the mountain until the next morning.
She couldn't even blame it on temporary insanity or alcohol. But she might blame the tuxedo.
-f-
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Thank you!
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Thank you!
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Thank you!
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Now I kind of want to read the convo where Vala convinced Daniel to go along with her insanity :)
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Thank you! =D
'Blind Date' by ALC Punk! #Stargate Sam/Vala rated PG
Cute story. :D
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And Vala is a tux = A+
:)
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