Work annoyance filtered through fic
Aug. 11th, 2006 04:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
itsallovernowSo, as a result of being ultra annoyed at one of my fellow cube rats, I ignored the mountains of work I had, and drabbled. I feel much better now.
So, SG-1, S10, post-Insiders. I think this is going to be a short series of three or four drabbles so I can get the Mitchell/Vala power struggle through sexual innuendo idea out of my head.
Against his better judgment, he leaves Carter alone to work through the fallout on her own.
"I'm fine," she says, when he starts to ask, keeping away from his casual reach with that tight lipped stonewall thing she does that signals so not fine, but he doesn't know how to push with her. Never has, really. Not like he could hug her, tell her it's fine. IT's not. And he wouldn't. Not like he can lie to her. She's sure not lying to herself. But they all screw up. It's been a running theme.
She's heading in the direction of the lab, and he doesn't begrudge her having a place to go, having something to tinker her frustrations out with. He wishes he had better words to say.
Mitchell knows he should go home, but he's at loose ends, antsy and a little angry and he's got no where to put his frustrations, so when Vala traps him in the hallway, walking forward while he walks back, ending up flush to the wall and flush to her intent, he's not too sure what to say.
"You haven't thanked me yet," she says and her eyes are dark, not quite amused. She's close enough that he can smell her perfume – expensive – and her shampoo – standard issue – and that scent that says trouble that she wears like skin. She smells like… good sex and clean grass and cotton sheets. She twists her hips in a way that sends a MASH note to his groin, but she never actually … touches him. That sparks low and deep, the way she gets under his skin but manages to stay clear of the flesh and he grabs her by her upper arms, moves her back until there's room to breath.
"Well," he says. "You didn't get us killed. I can report that to Jackson."
She gets a little closed-in there, mouth pulling down like it's a cheap shot and she can't quite believe he had to resort to Daniel.
"You do that, then, darling," she says and pivots on her heel.
Fuck. He didn't mean to hurt her feelings. They'd all busted their asses over the past day, and she didn't screw up. She held her own, more than her own.
He tells her so, "You did more than okay. I … you did good, heart-attack inducing improv and all."
She looks back over her shoulder. "Then take me somewhere to celebrate," she says, low and sly, and Christ, even if she means what he thinks she means, he's had enough adventures today.
"Find Teal'c," he says, and he knows it's a bad idea, knows he should quit while he's ahead, "We'll go dancing."
*
It's a lie. He doesn't actually take them dancing, but Landry gave them clearance for a couple of hours and so Mitchell takes the aliens to a bar on Nevada with crappy beer and a hell of a jukebox, sits them at a rickety booth in the back and feeds the machine quarters until he's got a night's worth of music to get moderately buzzed on.
There's a line of tension in Teal'c's shoulders that's got everything to do with an egomaniacal cloned not-god on the loose, but Vala's let down her hair and her attitude matches Teal'c's cowboy hat and Mitchell thinks the cheap beer might have been the best call he's made all day. None of them are immune to the heady scent of Vala's perfume or her equally heady enthusiasm for illicit journies into town.
The waitress doesn't give any of them a second look, doesn't actually come back once she serves their first round, so when Cam returns from the bar with a Coke, a Budweiser, and something pink, he's more surprised than he should be to find Vala gone.
His first instinct is to panic, but Teal'c just gestures with his eyebrow, the brim of his Stetson dipping down and Mitchell sees Vala with her arms around a scruffy looking kid. They seem to be doing the two-step to The Stones' Honkeytonk Woman.
"Huh," he says, sort of non-plussed and slides Teal'c the soda as he slides himself into the booth.
"I told her I was waiting for the Al Green," Teal'c said, deadpan, and Cam stifles a snort of laughter. The song finishes on Jagger's drawl, and Mitchell watches as Vala's handed off to an equally scruffy, but less young version of her initial partner.
"Hell of a day," he says, by way of conversation. Since Bra'tac's attempted suicide/SG-1acide run, he and Teal'c have been … off-kilter. Communicating a lot through heavy silences. Vala's filled in a lot of the gaps, but he kinda wishes they could get back to their banter. Even if he'd been the one doing most of the bantering.
"Indeed," Teal'c replies. He pauses, "But we've had worse," and something loosens a little for Cam. A weird comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.
The bar smells like sweat-socks and old beer, the linoleum floor sticky and the lighting fluorescent and unflattering, but it's not a bad place to end up.
He watches Teal'c watch the crowd, watches Vala grin at the line of men willing to dance, thinks about Sam stuck between guilt and conviction and that awful place where you know you fucked up, took the wrong risk. It's a place he's been teetering on for awhile, and looking at Vala, her wide grin and the sway of her hips, he feels himself on the brink of another bad decision. When the tail end of the second beer swirls in his gut, he throws caution to the wind.
"Ah, hell, maybe I'll dance after all."
Teal'c's mouth twitches, but he refrains from commenting and Mitchell pushes out of the booth, taps the shoulder of the rangy guy in a baseball cap and shit-kickers dancing with the alien.
The guy gives him a hard look, but Mitchell's been wearing the military like a badge for a long time now, and the guy finally steps aside, touches his hat at Vala in an oddly courtly gesture and leaves them to it.
"Aren't you supposed to ask me if I want to dance with you," her smile hits him low in his belly, travels south. She still smells good, and her waist curves just right under his palms.
He angles his head, mouth to her ear. "Pretty sure I'm done askin'," he murmurs and clenches his fingers as a shiver runs through her. "Think it's gonna be all ordering from here on out."
"Then we'll call this round one," she murmurs back, voice so low that his spine tingles. She puts an arm on his shoulder, breasts pressing against his chest, lets him take her other hand, tuck it between them. Emmylou Harris starts singing about Evangeline and he nudges Vala's thigh with his, shuffling into a half waltz, half sway. She turns a little, pressing forward, her sex riding against his.
He pushes against the small of her back as he edges them towards the shadow, turns so that he can nudge his knee between her legs. She takes the hint, parts her thighs, settles with her weight resting against him. "More," he says, smiling at her like she's just a pretty girl in a dive bar, like this is just a song, and nothing else is at stake. He stops moving, and she cants her pelvis, sex grinding against the long bone of his thigh. He cups her ass through the cotton of her pants, fingers brushing slightly against the join of her legs, stroking just a little at what he imagines to be very, very delicate skin. She hisses in pleasure, eyes getting very dark, very wide.
She stretches up, lips brushing against his neck, his jaw, fluttery faint touches that make him shaky and a little dazed. "Round 1 to you, then," she whispers, as she grazes his earlobe with her teeth. He swallows a moan, and lets her step away when the music ends. Al Green starts to sing, low and deep and she grins. "This one's already promised," she says.
Mitchell goes back to the booth, as she summons Teal'c with wide eyes and hands on hips. He's half-hard, and hella confused, and thinks that he's about to take a test of some sort, and he's not even sure he took notes for the right class.
So, SG-1, S10, post-Insiders. I think this is going to be a short series of three or four drabbles so I can get the Mitchell/Vala power struggle through sexual innuendo idea out of my head.
Against his better judgment, he leaves Carter alone to work through the fallout on her own.
"I'm fine," she says, when he starts to ask, keeping away from his casual reach with that tight lipped stonewall thing she does that signals so not fine, but he doesn't know how to push with her. Never has, really. Not like he could hug her, tell her it's fine. IT's not. And he wouldn't. Not like he can lie to her. She's sure not lying to herself. But they all screw up. It's been a running theme.
She's heading in the direction of the lab, and he doesn't begrudge her having a place to go, having something to tinker her frustrations out with. He wishes he had better words to say.
Mitchell knows he should go home, but he's at loose ends, antsy and a little angry and he's got no where to put his frustrations, so when Vala traps him in the hallway, walking forward while he walks back, ending up flush to the wall and flush to her intent, he's not too sure what to say.
"You haven't thanked me yet," she says and her eyes are dark, not quite amused. She's close enough that he can smell her perfume – expensive – and her shampoo – standard issue – and that scent that says trouble that she wears like skin. She smells like… good sex and clean grass and cotton sheets. She twists her hips in a way that sends a MASH note to his groin, but she never actually … touches him. That sparks low and deep, the way she gets under his skin but manages to stay clear of the flesh and he grabs her by her upper arms, moves her back until there's room to breath.
"Well," he says. "You didn't get us killed. I can report that to Jackson."
She gets a little closed-in there, mouth pulling down like it's a cheap shot and she can't quite believe he had to resort to Daniel.
"You do that, then, darling," she says and pivots on her heel.
Fuck. He didn't mean to hurt her feelings. They'd all busted their asses over the past day, and she didn't screw up. She held her own, more than her own.
He tells her so, "You did more than okay. I … you did good, heart-attack inducing improv and all."
She looks back over her shoulder. "Then take me somewhere to celebrate," she says, low and sly, and Christ, even if she means what he thinks she means, he's had enough adventures today.
"Find Teal'c," he says, and he knows it's a bad idea, knows he should quit while he's ahead, "We'll go dancing."
*
It's a lie. He doesn't actually take them dancing, but Landry gave them clearance for a couple of hours and so Mitchell takes the aliens to a bar on Nevada with crappy beer and a hell of a jukebox, sits them at a rickety booth in the back and feeds the machine quarters until he's got a night's worth of music to get moderately buzzed on.
There's a line of tension in Teal'c's shoulders that's got everything to do with an egomaniacal cloned not-god on the loose, but Vala's let down her hair and her attitude matches Teal'c's cowboy hat and Mitchell thinks the cheap beer might have been the best call he's made all day. None of them are immune to the heady scent of Vala's perfume or her equally heady enthusiasm for illicit journies into town.
The waitress doesn't give any of them a second look, doesn't actually come back once she serves their first round, so when Cam returns from the bar with a Coke, a Budweiser, and something pink, he's more surprised than he should be to find Vala gone.
His first instinct is to panic, but Teal'c just gestures with his eyebrow, the brim of his Stetson dipping down and Mitchell sees Vala with her arms around a scruffy looking kid. They seem to be doing the two-step to The Stones' Honkeytonk Woman.
"Huh," he says, sort of non-plussed and slides Teal'c the soda as he slides himself into the booth.
"I told her I was waiting for the Al Green," Teal'c said, deadpan, and Cam stifles a snort of laughter. The song finishes on Jagger's drawl, and Mitchell watches as Vala's handed off to an equally scruffy, but less young version of her initial partner.
"Hell of a day," he says, by way of conversation. Since Bra'tac's attempted suicide/SG-1acide run, he and Teal'c have been … off-kilter. Communicating a lot through heavy silences. Vala's filled in a lot of the gaps, but he kinda wishes they could get back to their banter. Even if he'd been the one doing most of the bantering.
"Indeed," Teal'c replies. He pauses, "But we've had worse," and something loosens a little for Cam. A weird comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.
The bar smells like sweat-socks and old beer, the linoleum floor sticky and the lighting fluorescent and unflattering, but it's not a bad place to end up.
He watches Teal'c watch the crowd, watches Vala grin at the line of men willing to dance, thinks about Sam stuck between guilt and conviction and that awful place where you know you fucked up, took the wrong risk. It's a place he's been teetering on for awhile, and looking at Vala, her wide grin and the sway of her hips, he feels himself on the brink of another bad decision. When the tail end of the second beer swirls in his gut, he throws caution to the wind.
"Ah, hell, maybe I'll dance after all."
Teal'c's mouth twitches, but he refrains from commenting and Mitchell pushes out of the booth, taps the shoulder of the rangy guy in a baseball cap and shit-kickers dancing with the alien.
The guy gives him a hard look, but Mitchell's been wearing the military like a badge for a long time now, and the guy finally steps aside, touches his hat at Vala in an oddly courtly gesture and leaves them to it.
"Aren't you supposed to ask me if I want to dance with you," her smile hits him low in his belly, travels south. She still smells good, and her waist curves just right under his palms.
He angles his head, mouth to her ear. "Pretty sure I'm done askin'," he murmurs and clenches his fingers as a shiver runs through her. "Think it's gonna be all ordering from here on out."
"Then we'll call this round one," she murmurs back, voice so low that his spine tingles. She puts an arm on his shoulder, breasts pressing against his chest, lets him take her other hand, tuck it between them. Emmylou Harris starts singing about Evangeline and he nudges Vala's thigh with his, shuffling into a half waltz, half sway. She turns a little, pressing forward, her sex riding against his.
He pushes against the small of her back as he edges them towards the shadow, turns so that he can nudge his knee between her legs. She takes the hint, parts her thighs, settles with her weight resting against him. "More," he says, smiling at her like she's just a pretty girl in a dive bar, like this is just a song, and nothing else is at stake. He stops moving, and she cants her pelvis, sex grinding against the long bone of his thigh. He cups her ass through the cotton of her pants, fingers brushing slightly against the join of her legs, stroking just a little at what he imagines to be very, very delicate skin. She hisses in pleasure, eyes getting very dark, very wide.
She stretches up, lips brushing against his neck, his jaw, fluttery faint touches that make him shaky and a little dazed. "Round 1 to you, then," she whispers, as she grazes his earlobe with her teeth. He swallows a moan, and lets her step away when the music ends. Al Green starts to sing, low and deep and she grins. "This one's already promised," she says.
Mitchell goes back to the booth, as she summons Teal'c with wide eyes and hands on hips. He's half-hard, and hella confused, and thinks that he's about to take a test of some sort, and he's not even sure he took notes for the right class.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-08-11 11:42 pm (UTC)this is a wonderful sentence: "There's a line of tension in Teal'c's shoulders that's got everything to do with an egomaniacal cloned not-god on the loose"
and perfect that teal'c is waiting for al green.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-12 12:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-12 01:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-11 11:43 pm (UTC)I'm looking forward to reading the rest.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-12 12:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-12 12:16 am (UTC)*is sekretly rooting for Vala*
no subject
Date: 2006-08-12 02:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-12 12:23 am (UTC)::downloads happily::
More Vala ALWAYS welcome.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-12 02:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-12 01:15 am (UTC)Yay!
no subject
Date: 2006-08-12 02:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-12 01:31 am (UTC)(And this is Isabelle (isabellesmuse), incidentally. I figure I'll go around for a week or two reminding folks that I've changed my username, and y'all will all get so sick of it that my goal--no more confusion--will be accomplished!)
no subject
Date: 2006-08-12 02:33 am (UTC)And thanks, I'm glad this worked for you!
no subject
Date: 2006-08-12 02:24 am (UTC)Sam and Cam do seem to have a good, friendly vibe between them, and I like that.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-12 02:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-12 03:21 am (UTC):)
(I have been *waiting* for a good time to use this icon)
no subject
Date: 2006-08-12 08:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-12 05:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-12 08:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-12 06:22 am (UTC)I love the relationship Cam has with Sam. So buddy-buddy and supportive and comfortable. Poor Sam really needed a drink. But then we wouldn't have had The Hot!
I will totally be looking for the next part.
seva
PS - Sorry about your coworkers. I suggest "squishing their heads" ala Kis in the Hall.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-12 08:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-12 09:37 am (UTC)Am so glad you're writing SG1, it means more Thea playgrounds to play in :)
Hmm, clearly I need a Cam icon.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-12 11:04 pm (UTC)Sorry I can't offer anymore coherent feedback.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-13 09:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-13 02:33 am (UTC)I love how you write Cameron's thinking... I like the way you write anyone character's thoughts.
And at the end, when Vala goes to dance with Teal'c? hehe, poor Cam.
Very very cute AND hot, how can you write cute and hot in the same fic???
Anyway, please more sooooon!!!
no subject
Date: 2006-08-13 09:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-01 01:11 am (UTC)The guy gives him a hard look, but Mitchell's been wearing the military like a badge for a long time now, and the guy finally steps aside, touches his hat at Vala in an oddly courtly gesture and leaves them to it.
I mean, wow, you say so much with so few words. I am seriously loving your style. There is characterization and mood and real life through odd facts right there in one sentence. Awesome.
Poor Cam. I love how you write him.
Friending you.
no subject
Date: 2006-12-01 01:16 am (UTC)