Eavesdropping and the Applications of Slang

Eavesdropping and the Applications of Slang

Author’s Notes: This is Ann’s fault. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. I was perfectly happy to let “A Cure for Boredom” stand alone, but then we started chatting and more plot complications started coming to mind, and now I’m writing three stories instead of just one. Thanks for the beta, BTW. ;) This one’s Martouf’s POV throughout, and < > indicates internal conversations between Martouf and Lantash.

* * * *

Eavesdroppers seldom hear good things about themselves. It’s an aphorism on countless worlds, testament to its underlying truth. Unlike other Earth slang that Jacob often uses, that particular turn of phrase requires no explanation.

Perversely, I do it anyway. I lean against the wall outside Colonel O’Neill’s office, impatiently waiting for Samantha to finish speaking with him. We’ve already showered, been to the infirmary and pronounced healthy, and debriefed General Hammond on how an apparently simple mission went disastrously wrong. I believe the term Jacob would use is “blew up in our faces.” Telling the High Council the results of today’s mission will no doubt take all my tact and Lantash’s ingenuity. They know that no mission is certain of success, but to fail on one so superficially simple is indeed galling.

I sigh with relief, glad to be clean and in my own clothes once more. I do not care for the Tau’ri’s military uniforms, which seem to be designed completely for utility rather than comfort. The shower, while not as pleasant as the bathing pools on Vorash, was nonetheless sufficient to wash away the last of the sand and grit from the planet.

Unfortunately, it also washed away the last of Samantha’s scent. Which is probably a good thing, since it doubtlessly would have embarrassed her to sit in a debriefing, both of us smelling of sex. But since I had to shower, I can’t help wishing she’d been there with me -- it would have been much more enjoyable. However, the Tau’ri insist on segregating their bathing facilities, as if the human body was anything unusual.

On the other hand, Samantha’s body is anything but mundane. Closing my eyes, I picture once again her lovely face, eyes closed and mouth open in a gasp, hands restrained above her head as we made love.

<Can’t you wait until we’re alone with her?> Lantash scolds me indulgently. <Our clothing is not suited to concealing your physical reaction.> Fortunately, he’s already encouraging the blood to flow to all areas of my body, not just the areas below the waist. I don’t even bother telling him that I’m not the only one responsible. We share my body, and our minds, and we both know that we’re equally susceptible to uncontrolled excitement at the thought of her.

Through the closed door, Samantha’s voice remains a steady murmur as she tells her commanding officer of her capture, both of them taking notes in order to complete the endless reports these Tau’ri have. I listen halfheartedly. My hearing has always been acute, and when I blended with Lantash, it became more so.

<Glad to know I can be of service,> he teases me. <Will they ever be done?>

<Soon,> I assure him, listening more intently as writing utensils clatter onto O’Neill’s desk. The conversation changes once more, and this time I pay closer attention.

“So, Carter,” O’Neill says, “there’s going to be a good series of self-defense classes over at the Academy in a couple of weeks. It coincides with our scheduled downtime. You’re going to spend four days polishing up on some skills.”

“Yes, sir.” Samantha’s voice is respectful, with a hint of wariness. “I’ll have to rearrange my schedule, since I did have plans with Cassandra.”

“I’ll take her hiking to help make up for it, Major,” he tells her. “After the events of today’s mission, I think you need a refresher course.”

“Sir, there was no way I could avoid capture,” she protests.

“That’s not what I was talking about, Carter.”

“Oh. Right, sir,” she says ruefully.

I wish I could see their expressions, but although I can hear through this thin door, I can’t see through it.

<Not my fault,> Lantash jibes.

“Ah, Major, don’t look so glum,” O’Neill says jovially. “Remember Argos? When I got back to normal, Hammond had me scheduled within an inch of my life during down time for the next two months. Besides, an old friend of mine is teaching one of the advanced classes; you’ll learn a lot from him.”

“I see.” Her voice is now resigned, with a hint of humor in it as well. “In other words, I’ve had my fun, now it’s time to pay the piper?”

“You got it. Besides, it’s better than me setting up a blackboard in the gate room, and having you write ‘I will not have sex on another planet when doing so leaves me vulnerable to attack’ five hundred times.”

She snorts. “If you did, you and Daniel would be right beside me, chalk in hand, sir,” she points out.

<Hmm. Sounds like an interesting story, there,> Lantash muses.

“Quite possibly, Carter,” he responds, clearly amused. “Now go, you’re dismissed. Marty’s waiting for you, and he’s probably wearing a path in the concrete outside my office. He looked like he was ready to go pick out china patterns.”

What could he possibly be talking about? What does the appearance of dishes have to do with my relationship with Samantha?

<We can ask Jacob the next time we see him,> Lantash suggests. <Although we might ask Samantha’s permission before telling him that she is now our lover.>

“I don’t think we’re going to do that, sir,” Samantha replies. “Besides, he doesn’t have clearance to leave the base.”

“Well, there’s always catalogs,” O’Neill retorts flippantly. “So we don’t have to worry about you leaving us to join the Tok’ra anytime soon?”

<She is still very afraid of being blended again, Martouf!> Lantash scolds me. <We shouldn’t presume to know her mind just because we have been intimate with her.>

“No, sir.” Her voice is very definite, and I am surprised to feel a sense of loss. As well, I am very confused by many of the terms she and O’Neill were using in their conversation. The next time I see Jacob, I must ask him to explain more of the Tau’ri slang.

****

Placing her knife and fork neatly on her now empty plate, Samantha leans back in her chair and smiles at me, raising an eyebrow as I continue to struggle with the noodles on my plate. The taste is quite pleasant, but these eating utensils are not familiar to me. Instead of continuing, I decide I’ve eaten enough and sit back, wiping my mouth with the cloth napkin.

These quarters are spare and utilitarian, without any of the grace of the crystal tunnels to which I am accustomed, yet she assured me earlier that these were among the more luxurious accommodations. Now and again, her eyes stray towards the bed, which is fortunately wide enough for the two of us. Not that it matters especially. There were times when Jolinar and I slept on rough pallets in each others arms, and I never noticed much discomfort.

<And what would Samantha think if she knew you were thinking about Jolinar at the moment?> Lantash queries.

I sigh mentally. <It is difficult to banish all thoughts of her, especially when I am with Samantha.>

Focusing once again on her lovely face, I realize that her smile has turned decidedly predatory. A quick shiver runs down my spine as beneath the small round table, her foot slowly caresses my leg. I put down my glass of water before I spill it, and carefully keep my hands from shaking.

Earlier, I wanted nothing more than to drag her to the nearest bed, but now I find myself wishing to delay our gratification, to spend more time merely enjoying each other’s company. “I understand that I am not permitted to leave this installation, but would it be possible for me to see the surface of your world?”

Surprised, she nods. “It shouldn’t be a problem, as long as we stayed on base,” she explains, a momentary look of confusion on her face. It quickly dissipates into resolve, and she speaks again. “Martouf, you’ve seemed a bit uncomfortable for a while now. Have I done something to offend you?”

<She’s quite forthright,> Lantash tells me. <An admirable quality.>

I struggle for the appropriate words. “I do not believe so,” I tell her, reaching across the table to clasp her hand. “I am merely confused by a conversation I overheard earlier.”

“In what way?” Her hand squeezes mine firmly.

“You and O’Neill were talking. He mentioned such things as... china patterns?”

Rolling her eyes, Samantha stifles a laugh. “Sorry. The Colonel’s not the most polite person on the planet.”

“I was already aware of that fact.”

Absently, she continues stroking my hand. “He knows what we did while we were alone,” she explains. “I didn’t tell him! But you were wearing your shirt inside out, and...” she shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s not a problem, he was just teasing me.”

“I see. What did his reference to china patterns mean?”

A faint blush spreads over her cheeks. “It’s a tradition in many societies here on Earth than when a couple decides to marry, they choose the items that they will use in their new home. Then, at the wedding, their friends give them gifts, based on the styles they prefer. Basically, he was saying that you were behaving as though we were going to be married.”

This must be a more subtle form of humor than I previously thought O’Neill was capable of, I think acidly. “I see,” I reply somewhat stiffly.

Dismay spreads across her face. “Now I know I’ve offended you.” I shake my head but she keeps on talking. “Martouf, I thought we understood each other earlier.”

I turn away from her slightly. “No promises,” I quote, unable to keep the note of bitterness from my voice.

“I thought you were okay with that,” she says softly. “Look, you’ve got to tell me specifically why you’re upset, or we can’t work through it.”

“Our encounter this afternoon -- it meant nothing to you?”

Eyes wide, she shakes her head. “No, Martouf! That isn’t it at all!” Scooting her chair closer to mine, she takes my hands in hers, waiting until I meet her gaze. “Look, it’s true that I don’t want to leave Earth and join the Tok’ra right now -- that still makes me very uncomfortable. And I’m not saying that what we have between us is definitely going to be permanent. With the work we do, neither of us could say that. I guess I made some assumptions on how you would view the change in our relationship.” She bites down on her lip, and I can’t suppress an involuntary quiver. Why does she have to be so beautiful? “But I don’t take you lightly, Martouf.”

I look down, feeling ashamed for doubting her so. We could both die in the line of duty at any time, and I wanted to encourage her towards a path she was not ready for. “Nor I you, Samantha.”

She captures my lips with her own for a quick, soft kiss. “I never could, Martouf. Jolinar left me so many of her memories and feelings for you, and I’ve grown more familiar with you as well. I know you far too well to simply dismiss you as unimportant. My doubts as to whether I’ll ever join the Tok’ra have nothing to do with how I think of you.”

With an overwhelming sense of relief, I stand, drawing her upwards into an embrace. “That was indeed my fear, Samantha,” I tell her. “It does not bother you, speaking of Jolinar?”

<Martouf!> Lantash shrieks, <are you deliberately trying to drive her away?>

Wrapping her arms around my waist, she shakes her head again. “No. I don’t want you to get the two of us confused, mind you,” she says wryly, “but I know that you will never forget her. It wouldn’t be very kind of me to make you try.”

I tangle my fingers through her soft, short hair, then kiss her warm lips. “Thank you,” I whisper. “By your clock, is it now dark outside?”

She glances quickly at her watch. “Yes, why?”

“I thought perhaps we could walk on the surface, and you could show me the stars.”

Smiling into my eyes, she agrees. “That sounds nice. Or...” her voice grows suggestive, “I could, um... *kerash tal cha’tor*?”

<Did she just say what I think she said?> Lantash demands excitedly.

<Yes. It seems she has a good memory for language, although her pronunciation needs work. Now calm down!>

<Calm down!? When she just offered to-->

I clear my throat, which is suddenly quite dry, and raise a hand to caress her cheek, smiling at the look of blatant desire in her expression. “That, too, would be very nice.”

* * * *

“Samantha, please!” My back arches helplessly, only to have her press me back down onto the mattress.

She smiles wickedly as she raises her head. “Not yet,” she murmurs, then takes me into her mouth once more.

<Lantash, you just had to tell her how you could control my physical reactions, didn’t you?>

<She asked me a direct question, if you recall. It would have been rude not to tell her,> he replies ingenuously.

<You couldn’t have lied? Oh, Spirits--> A hoarse cry is torn from my throat as she caresses my upper thighs with her fingernails. I’m drowning in bliss, but the pleasure is almost painfully intense. I need desperately to climax, to release the awaiting tremors, but Samantha has told me in no uncertain terms that I cannot do so without her permission, and Lantash is backing her up. <Lantash, this is torture!>

I can tell how pleased he is with the situation. <Quit being so melodramatic,> he taunts me. <Enjoy it, and let this teach you not to be such a tease in the future.>

Even as I writhe underneath her ministrations, I blush, remembering how I treated her this afternoon. Perhaps I do deserve this treatment, this... Spirits, where did she learn to do that? Digging my fingers into the smooth sheets, I bite down on my lip, trying to stifle my groans as she wraps her fingers around the base of my shaft, squeezing delicately.

“Samantha!” She’s going to kill me, I just know it. She’s got me feeling as though I’m about to burst into flames, and she still hasn’t let me touch her at all.

Once more, she releases me, rubbing her breasts against my legs. “Now,” she whispers, her hot tongue wrapping around me again, sending my nerves into fiery explosion.

As though from far away, I hear myself crying out her name. Spasming against her, I gasp and surrender to the insistent climax that tears through my body. Her hands and mouth still press against me, holding me tightly, a welcome anchor. If not for them, I feel as though I’d be bouncing off the ceiling right about now.

After a few more moments pass, Samantha crawls up the bed to lie beside me, her smooth skin pressing against my side. I release a shuddering sigh as her arm lazily trails across my chest. Raising up on one elbow, she kisses me, and I taste the lingering remnants of my essence on her tongue.

My voice is remarkably steady, considering what she’s just put me through. “That was payback, I presume?”

Her laugh is muffled against my chest as she drapes herself over me, resting her arms. “Yeah,” she sighs contentedly. “Nice, isn’t it?”

“You realize, of course, that now I have to escalate matters?” I roll onto my side, facing her, rubbing my hands over her arms, which are still sore and fatigued from this afternoon.

Her smile dazzles me. “That was the point,” she giggles, then shrieks as I quickly cover her body with my own.

“Good,” I whisper, settling on top of her and smiling tenderly. Already, I can feel myself recovering from her prior actions. This time, we shall sate our desire together, giving to one another as equals. A soft breath of air tickles my neck as she moans quietly, shifting her hips against mine to accommodate my growing arousal.

I move my lips to hers once more, immensely gratified by her passionate response. We told each other earlier that no promises of eternal love were made, but it would be so easy to go back on my word...

<Martouf, sometimes you overanalyze everything,> Lantash says in amusement. <She’s in your arms, naked and willing, and you’re fretting over trivial matters.>

<Not trivial in the slightest,> I think, but concede the point for now, choosing instead to concentrate upon the beautiful woman I hold.

* * * *

Standing at the base of the ramp, I appreciate the play of the rippling light from the event horizon across Samantha’s face. She stands a discrete distance from me, aware that we are being observed by many others, but her eyes hold just as much affection and heat as yesterday.

My joint mission with SG-1 was, in and of itself, not a success, but I have enjoyed being here nonetheless.

<I’m sure that’s going to make the Council feel much better,> Lantash mocks me. <Hello, Garshaw, we didn’t get any of the weaponry you wanted, but we had wonderful sex with Samantha, so all’s well?>

<Perhaps, but have you noticed how the rest of her team is staring at you?>

<O’Neill must simply adore you, then, Martouf,> my symbiote snickers.

It was indeed a pleasant evening. We made love, dozed in each other’s arms, made love again, slept again, and finally, very early this morning, we dressed and went to the surface of her world. There were still some stars left in the sky, and we sat and ate our morning meal while watching the sun rise. The sight was lovely, but watching her face was even more enjoyable.

<Now you’re getting overly sentimental,> I hear within my mind. Ah, the joys of having a symbiote!

I sigh, then smile. “Should I see your father again before you do, I will give him your greetings.”

“Thank you,” she says, smiling brightly. “We’re going on another mission tomorrow, to P5C-768, but it should be routine, and only take about a week or so. The standard meet-and-great, as well as some promising mineral surveys. Do you know where my father is at the moment?”

I shake my head. “He is on his first mission since recovering from his imprisonment in Naetu, but I was not informed of his destination.” She frowns, and I place a hand on her arm reassuringly. “Selmak is an experienced operative, and though Jacob is young, he too is very skilled. They will be fine.”

Her eyes bright, she nods abruptly. “I know. He can take care of himself.”

“As can you,” I reply, “although that doesn’t stop him from worrying about you either. I hope you enjoy your mineral survey on P5...” my voice trails off as I shrug. “Your methodology of naming planets is most confusing. Does it have another name?”

She furrows her brow in thought. “SG-4 mentioned it. Um, Adina? No, I think it’s... Edora.” She shrugs. “I’ll have to look it up to make sure. Have you heard of it?”

“I have not.” After one final squeeze of her hand, I turn and walk up the ramp. “I hope I will see you again soon, Samantha.”

“Likewise,” she says demurely. “I’ll remember those phrases you taught me.”

I groan internally. She just had to put me off-balance again. It is just one of many things I love about her.

<Love? Ye gods, are we ever in trouble,> Lantash smirks as we step into the event horizon.

fin.