blue flamingos

Four injuries Sam actually liked receiving and one that she didn't

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis/Stargate SG1

Category/Rated: Het, PG

Year/Length: 2010/~568 words

Pairing: Carter/O'Neill

Disclaimer: No, I don't own them, for which I should think they're profoundly grateful.

Feedback: Yes please. Even if it's bad. Especially if it's bad.



She had a girlfriend, when she was at the Academy, who liked to leave bruises when they had sex. Nowhere that could be seen when Sam was dressed, but when she was changing clothes, it was obvious how she'd gotten them. Sam loved pressing down on them when she was in a boring lecture, loved smiling coyly when the others tried to guess who'd given them to her. It was the only outward sign she could give of who Alison was to her.


When she landed, one plane where there should have been two, Tony, the third member of the team, was waiting for her. He got a written reprimand for it, later, but Sam welcomed the punch he threw at her, and the resultant black eye. It was better than her own churning guilt, anyway.


Teyla was clearly surprised when Sam asked if she had the time to give Sam lessons in bantos fighting, but she said yes anyway. They met twice a week, at 0530 on Tuesdays and Fridays, unless the world was ending one of those days, the gym windows open, the warming sun casting bright patterns across the floor as they moved together. Sam always left with bruises, and occasionally bleeding, but also buzzing with adrenaline, and warm with their slow growing friendship, which more than made up for it.


The first time she flew to Washington, for what they both understood, but didn't say, was to be a date, Jack took her back to his place after dinner and a bottle of wine. Supposedly, they were going to have coffee – even with him in Washington, they still needed to keep up some semblance of appearances. She needed to – but she'd been itching to touch him, finally, finally, all evening. She pounced on him before he'd even finished closing the door, he lost his balance, she put her hand out to catch her own on the shelf that wasn't there, and they crashed down to the floor in an undignified heap. Sam didn't even notice that she'd twisted her wrist and cut her knee until she was curled against him, sweaty and limp. She poked at the healing cut on her knee for weeks, to make it scar. Just in case.


The Mixans were absolute in their insistence that Daniel, having trespassed on a sacred site, must be punished, and no amount of pleading that they hadn't known, or offering some other penance, changed things. The Mixans had taken their radios, and Cam, Teal'c and Vala were visiting the next village, not expecting them to check in for two hours.

"I'll do it," Sam said, finally. "He's my responsibility."

The Mixans conferred, and Daniel protested, but Sam ignored him. Protect the civilian, and she was tougher than Daniel, always had been.

When it was over, she couldn't even stand up, she was shaking so hard. There was blood in her eyes, and she thought her wrist was broken, maybe a couple of ribs. She wanted to be sick, and forced herself not to, knowing it would only hurt more. "Call Cam," she said, tasting blood on her split lip. "Get us out of here."

She was off-duty for weeks, recovering, and Daniel hovered, guiltily, which she hated. She had nightmares and got funny looks in the street, but better her than Daniel, or Vala. Always better.

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