[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: Fishing is Good

[jennickels]

Jack and Sam enjoy a leisurely mission along a lake. I'm sure there has to be some fish in that water.

(This story was originally written in 2011 and has been updated for composition and clarity in 2020.)
570 words | [PG]

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“I could stay here forever,” Sam murmured. The heat of the mid-day sun warmed her exposed skin, sending a pleasing shiver down her spine. She spread her limbs out letting the soft grass glide against her body. The ground felt cool and solid under her, and the smell of pine and freshwater saturated the air.

Next to her, the colonel rolled onto his stomach so he could see her face. His cheeks were slightly sunburned and his hair, now freed from his cap, was sticking up in impossible directions. She fought every urge to reach out and run her fingers through it. “It’s not bad,” he said, pulling up a long blade of grass to play with.

“It’s perfect.”

“The view’s good.” He squinted up at the horizon where three white-peaked mountains rose over the treeline. Like a royal family lording over their empire.

Sam let her head fall to the side, the bill of her hat guarding her eyes. He was staring down at his hands now as they twisted and pulled apart blade after blade of grass. “I bet the lake as fish.” She bit her lip and waited for his response.

Slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Sam pressed her teeth deeper into her lip to keep her own grin hidden. “You think?” he asked, his voice sounding pleased.

“We could find out.”

He lifted his gaze to the water lapping gently against the rocky shore just a few yards from where they lay. “I guess we have time, no?” That sounded downright hopeful.

“Sure, sir. Until Daniel and Teal’c, get back we’re pretty much stuck here.”

He snorted. “True. And catching some fish would actually be productive. Dinner and all.”

“Exactly, sir.” She watched his expression change again, this time to something akin to anticipation. “So?”

He looked up at her. She loved when he smiled like that—the way the corners of his eyes crinkled and how he quirked just one half of his mouth. There were so many better things she could think to do with him than fish. None of those would stand up to regulations, though. She realized a moment too late that she was still staring at him. Probably with her jaw all slack. She wouldn’t be surprised if there was drool. She fought the urge to wipe at her mouth then noticed the colonel’s eyes had gone black.

He slowly licked his lips, his hands actually stilling in the grass. And they stared. Sam was sure the distance between them was evaporating along with the morning dew. He was definitely getting closer. And his hand moved. Just a bit so that it almost touched hers. Oh god, she thought. Her eyes darted down to his lips of their own accord as her brain blared warning bells that were ignored by her body.

Just when she thought they couldn’t stay apart a second longer, a sudden blast of cool mountain air descended into the valley, tossing Sam’s hat from her head. Her hair whipped around her face for a second until she felt the colonel’s fingers pull it back behind her ear. She gave him a sheepish grin. That lopsided smile again—it was going to be the death of her career, she was sure of it.

“Fishing,” he mumbled, his voice a little raspy.

“Right,” Sam answered, slightly less rough, “fishing. Fishing is good.”