Girl Talk



Janet tilted the wine bottle over her glass and filled it to the brim, snickering and murmuring an oops before leaning down to take a slurp from it that still managed to be precise even though she was, if Sam was any judge, smashed out of her skull.

Sam recognized the signs. Her own head was buzzing and she had an urge to do something. Something wild and crazy, but it was late, it was raining, a heavy, icy rain, and really, she didn't want to be anywhere but here. With Cassandra on a sleepover, she'd come prepared to stop the night, but even if she hadn't, the conditions would have made that the sensible course of action.

Screw sensible on general principles, yes, but she was drunk, not crazy.

Scooping up a handful of chips, she settled back on the couch next to Janet, admiring the firelight-painted highlights in Janet's red hair with an abstracted appreciation as she crunched her way through to salt-gritted skin.

Which she planned to lick clean because Janet's eyes went warm and bright when she did.

Janet studied the marginally less full wine glass. "Good enough," she decided, picking it up and tilting it carelessly so that a straw-coloured rivulet coursed over her chin and neck. "Damn!"

Sam giggled, wiping her hand on her jeans and grabbing a paper napkin. "It's probably good for the skin."

Tossing the damp napkin aside, Janet smiled mysteriously. "Come."

"Where?"

Janet rolled her eyes. "Come. Good for the skin. I read that somewhere."

"You made that up," Sam said with conviction.

"Did not. Moisturising qualities." Janet sighed. "Not that I've been near any for a while."

"I can't say that I have either," Sam offered. The wine still tasted good. Her mouth wasn't numb yet. That was bad. "Do you have vodka?"

"With a teenager in the house?"

"Oh, I didn't think -- sorry."

Janet tried the eye roll again and couldn't manage it. "I meant, yes, of course I do. You need it. God, do you ever. What do you want in it?"

"Ice."

"You go, girl," Janet murmured, unearthing a bottle from behind a shelf of medical journals about infectious diseases. "Ice. Right. Where do you find ice?"

She spun in a slow, wobbly circle and Sam pointed silently at the kitchen.

"Right!"

Ice, glasses, and vodka met and made friends with each other and Sam's mouth. "Gaah."

"Is that a good sound? Want some more?"

"Yes. Shouldn't you be able to tell if it's a happy sound?"

"You moan and groan and it could be pain or pleasure; who knows?" Janet smiled, wicked and sweet. "When you're coming, does it sound like you're having fun?"

Sam tried to blush. Too much vodka. "I don't moan. I howl at the moon," she confided. "I had this one boyfriend who used to put his hand across my mouth…" She stopped abruptly, feeling the harsh press of salt-sweat skin against her lips, the bruises her teeth used to make, the taste, once, of his blood as she'd bit down savagely, needing to spill her need out before it filled her, drowned her.

"Ooh." Janet scooted closer, topping up Sam's glass. "Okay. I'll top that. In college I dated this guy who got off on being tied up."

"Really?" Sam's mind went automatically to a list of the best knots for that and she whimpered sadly. "I'm so boring."

"Not at all. At all. Not at all." Janet's head started bobbing and didn't stop until Sam reached out and stilled the movement. "Thank you," Janet said with a soft hiccup. "But you're not. Hell, with all the scuttlebutt about what you get up to, people are more likely to think you're the luckiest --"

"What?" Sam blinked. "What gossip? What do they say? Why?"

Janet eyed her. "You're on a team with three men who'd make most women weak at the knees -- and wouldn't you get a nice view once you were down there -- and you're surprised there's gossip?"

"Well, yes. But, no! So much no. It'd be a no-no. No." She grabbed the vodka bottle. "More vodka."

"Methinks the luckiest bitch on the planet doth protest too much," Janet sang, waving her bare feet in the air and grinning at her scarlet painted nails.

Sam downed her vodka and slammed it down on the table. Janet refilled it and gave it back to her before the ice had finished clinking. "First, I don't. Haven't tushed --touched any of them. Regs an', and stuff. You know. Second, I'm not the one telling them to strip and assume the position every week."

"Oh, please! Like that's so romantic." Janet's lips twitched. "Although, it's an interesting angle, and it'd be unprofessional of me to close my eyes."

"I bet it would." Sam leaned back against the arm of the couch and brought her feet up, nudging Janet's leg, a low, slow burn of curiosity and lust igniting. "So -- hypothetically speaking…"

"Who would I fuck until they'd forgotten how to do anything but whimper my name?"

Sam choked over a mouthful of chilly vodka. "Janet!"

"If you meant anything else, say so and I'll apologise for my unladylike words." Janet primmed up her lips and then burst out laughing as Sam stayed truthfully silent. "See? Sisters under the skin, honey."

"Maybe," Sam said, taking a large gulp. "But which one? And, no, you can't have them all."

"Why not?"

"They're not the sharing sort."

"Do tell."

Sam shrugged. "They're just --" Caution and loyalty nudged her. "Look, this is all off the record, right?"

Janet's face dropped. "Sam… we're friends. And I love those three boys to death, you know that."

"God, I'm sorry," Sam began, wincing at the hurt on Janet's face.

Janet shook her head. "Honey, you're wired too tight if you've forgotten the rules. What's said here, stays here. And I'd never ask you to betray a secret or be indiscreet. Just…share a little. I'm interested."

"Nosy."

"Consumed with curiosity," Janet agreed easily. "So; I've seen them as God intended -- and she must have been female, because, damn, they're fine --"

"Or gay."

"Huh?"

"God could be gay," Sam said slowly, getting a kick out of the flicker of shock in Janet's eyes. See? Not boring. Shocking. Controversial.

Janet didn't stay shocked for long. "Good point!" Sam's leg got an approving slap. "And you know, that's something else to consider."

"What is? Because I don't really believe in --"

"You're not doing the dirty with them -- any of them -- and we'd know if they were courting anyone on base…"

"Mine," Sam said with a good attempt at a growl. "My boys."

"Lord, I'd love to see their faces if they heard you say that."

"The Colonel gets to call us all his kids; why can't I call them --?"

"'The Colonel'? Sam… even I call him Jack off-duty."

"No, you don't."

"Do. And at the last barbecue he called me," Janet took a smug swig from her glass, "my dear."

"God. Carter. I get fucking Carter in season and out."

"Still carrying a torch?"

Sam sighed and waved her hand. "It can't happen; what's the point. Besides, I don't know…sometimes I think any messages I've got have been…"

"Do you know which one is bigger?" Janet interrupted, ruthlessly interrupting.

Sam sniffed sulkily. "Unless you've seen them at attention, you can't tell," she pointed out.

"But have you seen them at all?" Janet asked, her eyes sparkling.

"Yes," Sam muttered defiantly, burying her nose in her glass and bumping it on an ice cube. "Ow."

"Tell, or I'm cutting you off."

"Bitch."

"You bet. Spill, honey."

"Lots of times… in the field, in the showers…"

"I thought they were supposed to let you go first in the locker room?"

Sam snorted. "You've seen the state we're in sometimes when we get back. We might all love each other, but there's a limit. We shower together sometimes; we just don't look."

"But you peek."

"You can't help looking, and I'm not used to not looking. It's different with women; we don't care. And they're so busy not looking at me, or each other, that they don't notice me…"

"With your eyes out on stalks?"

Sam took an irritated sip. "It's not like that. It's just skin. Sure, they're all good-looking guys --"

"Wet and soaped-up and that's the best you've got?"

"Filthy, stinking, dead on their feet, which are really ripe… oh, yeah, they're a maiden's dream."

"Going back to what we were saying…"

"Which bit?" Sam tried to focus. "You have too many toes," she discovered. "Are you an alien?"

"Are they doing each other?"

"You've got to be kidding me. No! Regs! God, Janet!"

"Think about it," Janet crooned seductively. "All the possibilities…"

Sam thought. "It's freaking me out."

"Teal'c. With…hmm, Daniel. He'd be…"

"So fucking gentle," they chorused, misty-eyed.

"His skin's toned," Janet said reverently. "Like running your hands over silk covered steel. And now Junior's history…"

"He gives the best hugs…"

Janet moaned. "Oh, he'd just swallow me up if he did….God, yes."

"Swallow." Sam snorted and kicked Janet again. "Might be a good way to shut up Daniel. Or the Colonel."

"You mean?" Janet's eyes went round. "The Colonel and Doctor Jackson?"

"Daniel." Sam took another gulp of vodka slush. "Everyone calls him Daniel. The Colonel calls him Daniel. All the time. Jack and Daniel. Fighting and snapping and --"

"So in looooove," Janet crooned. "So damn married."

"You know Colonel O'Neill --"

"Call him Jack. I dare you. I double dare you."

"I can call him J- Ja- Jack if I want. And if he heard you --"

"Us, honey, us."

"He could kill you with his pinky," Sam wiggled hers, "and no one would ever know."

They considered the Colonel's Black Ops training in silence.

"Is it weird that that gets me hot, or is it because I'm in the military?" Janet mused.

"That's too hard," Sam decided. "Multiple choice question; not allowed. Pay the penalty."

"Okay. What is it?"

"Maybe God's female and gay," Sam said.

Janet's mouth curved in a smile. "Maybe she is," she agreed. "Is that connected to the penalty?"

Their eyes met. "Maybe."

"Do you still want to know which of them's the biggest?"

"No." Sam closed her eyes. "Okay, yes. Whisper."

"Whisper?"

"It won't count, that way."

Janet moved closer, her lips petal-soft and cool against Sam's ear.

Sam turned her head and stopped the word with her mouth and a moan that Janet echoed a moment later, her tongue licking sweet, hot promises against Sam's.

Pure pleasure. Against regs. Wild and crazy.

They could always blame it on the vodka, but they wouldn't need to.

It stayed here. Rules of the night.

And if it crossed Sam's mind to wonder if her boys had rules, too, it was the last coherent thought she had until she woke, her hand on the soft lushness of Janet's breast, her thumb already brushing the nipple hard.


Return to Home

Click here if you'd like to send feedback