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one - he's her ride to the airport
They're standing up after a long briefing on a Friday afternoon. Not that the time of day or the day of the week is particularly meaningful to anyone at the SGC - "it's five o'clock somewhere" is just as true as "it's eight AM somewhere" when you have eleven teams off-world. But for once, SG-1 is headed home for the weekend as if they worked normal jobs.
"Are you busy tomorrow morning?" Sam asks Daniel in the elevator up to the locker rooms.
"No, why?"
"Can you give me a ride to the airport?"
"Sure," Daniel says immediately.
"I didn't tell you what time."
"Doesn't matter. I can do it."
"Can I get that in writing, then? My flight leaves at oh-six hundred," Sam says with a smile.
Daniel sighs. "Stay over at my place so I don't have to drive across town first."
She bumps his shoulder with hers. "I'll even buy you coffee on the way."
He smiles. No one he'd rather wake up at three in the morning for.
"What's the occasion?" he asks.
"Mark's been asking me to take his kids to the San Diego Air and Space Museum for ages, and who am I to say no?"
"Get me a novelty mug that'll piss Jack off," Daniel tells her.
(She gives him a blue travel mug with a little drawing of a plane on one side and I Love Getting High i n big bold letters on the other side. Jack does hate it.)
two - she's his hypothermia buddy
Daniel's starting to get an idea of why there's no civilization on this planet. They had arrived thirty-six hours ago to beautiful bright double-sunny skies and a nice sixty-five degree day. They had been warm thirty-six hours ago!
Now, though, it was barely forty degrees and the wind was driving cold rain sideways against them. Jack was marching them toward a forest still half a kilometer away, and Daniel supposes he's glad his toes aren't cold anymore and his teeth have stopped chattering. A little part of his brain suggests that maybe it's not such a good thing that numbness has replaced cold.
It's one foot in front of the other for a walk that keeps dragging on forever, and then suddenly the rain isn't quite as intense. Daniel looks up at the trees and forgets to look away for a while. Sam notices.
"You okay?"
He nods and blinks at her. Is he okay? She'd know better than he does.
"Your lips are blue," she tells him. She sounds concerned.
"Cold," he says. Jack and Teal'c are setting up tents as quickly as they can. He should be helping. He goes to help drive in a rain fly stake. His hands aren't working the way they should.
"Jesus, Daniel, get in and get warm," Jack tells him as soon as he notices Daniel’s heavy-handed fumbling with the stake.
Daniel stubbornly tries again to shove the stake into the ground. It shouldn't be this hard. Sam pulls his hands away and herds him into the tent. When his fingers won't close on his BDU zipper she helps him with it, then peels him out of the rest of his wet clothes.
Jack or Teal'c unzips the tent only barely enough to shove in their packs. Sam strips out of her clothes and piles the wet stuff at the lowest corner of the tent.
"Carter, Daniel, you two all set in there?" comes Jack's voice over the radio a half minute later.
"Very cozy," Sam tells him.
"Good to hear, Major. Check in in two hours or when the rain lets up, whatever comes first," says Jack.
"Yes, sir," Sam says.
Daniel tries to do the mental logistics of getting both sleeping bags laid out in the tent without getting them wet. He knows it shouldn't be this hard, knows something is wrong, but the big picture just won't come to him. Sam takes one of his hands in hers. They both wince; Sam's hands feel almost painfully hot to Daniel, and Daniel's hands feel like ice to Sam.
Motivated by how cold Daniel felt, Sam makes short work of setting up the sleeping bags. She quickly zips the two together to create an extra-large bag and bundles Daniel inside, shimmying in next to him. After zipping the double-wide bag shut she presses herself against him, trying to warm him up with her body heat.
She's so warm. Daniel tucks his nose into the space between Sam's neck and shoulder and pulls her close. She rubs briskly at his back with fever-hot hands and slowly, slowly he can feel his brain defrost.
(He bites back embarrassment and a bad joke when Sam checks in with Jack and he realizes they're both absolutely naked. Instead he asks her why she wasn't hypothermic, and of course the secret is custom-made battery-powered heated socks.)
three - he's her wedding date
"My best friend from high school is getting married in June," Sam tells him in April.
"Good for her," he says absentmindedly while he sorts through scattered pieces of pottery.
"Him."
"Good for him," he corrects himself in the exact same distracted tone.
"Would you go to the wedding with me?" she asks.
That’s enough to pull Daniel from his archaeology trance. "Why?" he asks.
"It's silly," she warns him.
He rolls his eyes. "If I was going to think differently of you because of something silly, don't you think I would have started when you told me you didn't think narwhals were real until you were nineteen?"
"Hey, if someone told you that there were whale unicorns living in the Arctic, you'd be skeptical too," Sam complains. "He started dating his now fiancée when I was a senior and they were both juniors. Melissa, that's his fiancée’s name, thought I was her competition and told me I'd die alone after they’d been together for a few weeks."
Daniel winces. "He didn't break up with her for that?"
"Not as long as she was putting out," Sam says . "I actually didn't tell him she said anything because I wasn’t entirely sure he would break up with her, and I didn't want to know if he'd pick her over me." She sighs. "It was a long time ago. She's been perfectly pleasant to me ever since, not that I've given her a chance to not be."
"So you need a hot date to prove her wrong,” Daniel smiles.
Sam winks at him. "Her family's old money. They're hosting it at some private estate near D.C. It'll be a good party, at the very least."
"It would be nice to visit D.C. as a tourist instead of the usual trying-to-stop-the-end-of-the-world routine," Daniel says. "Tell you what, I'll go to the wedding as your arm candy if you go to the Museum of Natural History with me and count the things in the Egyptian Mummies exhibit that actually belong here."
(They count fourteen, which was less than Daniel expected and more than Sam did. The count may not have been entirely accurate since they both had god-awful hangovers from the wedding the night before.)
four - she's his recovery nurse
Getting shot isn't Daniel's most favorite thing to do, even with a tac vest on. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the vest; the cracked ribs and bruised lung that leave him unable to walk from his bed to the kitchen without taking a break are probably the lesser of two evils. Sometimes he privately thinks it might be easier to just get shot. At least there's something to do for bullet wounds, and he feels better about being laid up with an obvious injury. There's no surgery out there for broken ribs.
The SGC infirmary is at maximum capacity, so Janet sends him home for a lonely recovery. An airman drives him home and makes sure he gets up to his apartment okay, but after that, he's on his own. The first twenty-four hours are easy; the pain meds keep him dozing except to go to the bathroom. The next twelve are harder, since he's starting to get hungry again but if there's food in the fridge at all, he doesn’t feel stable enough to stand up long enough to cook it.
It's late afternoon when he finally calls for help. He barely musters the energy and concentration to dial the phone. “Carter” is closest to the top of his alphabetic contacts list, which is good. If he’d had to scroll to “O’Neill” he might have passed out from the effort.
"Carter," she answers after five rings.
"Hey, Sam, it's me. Listen," he pauses to take a few steadying breaths. God, this sucks. "Could you grab some groceries for me?"
"Christ, Daniel. Of course. I can't believe she sent you home."
He laughs, once. It's a mistake. He bites back the groan of pain. "I'm fine. Just in no shape for shopping."
"I'll be there in an hour. Bye!"
The line's dead before he can tell her it's no rush, he's fine, don't leave work for this.
The call was exhausting; he dozes until she lets herself in and starts unpacking groceries. It sounds like a lot more than a frozen pizza and some microwave dinners; Daniel drags himself out of bed and shuffles to the kitchen.
"You look terrible," Sam tells him.
"Thanks." If he doesn't talk too much, maybe his shortness of breath won't be as evident.
"Go back to bed. I'll bring you soup."
Daniel nods but doesn't move from where he's leaning on the wall. Just another minute and he'll be recovered enough to walk back to his bedroom. Sam puts away a gallon of milk. Just another minute, and maybe one more after that. Another grocery sack is emptied, and Sam turns to him. Her mouth opens to ask why he’s still there before she connects the dots.
She gives him a small smile that's empathy rather than pity. She's been here before; they all have. "Let me give you a hand."
Daniel wants to tell her no, he can do it himself, but she's already next to him and bringing his right arm around her waist. He leans on her gratefully, not only for the support but also for the way she's carefully bracing him without touching any of the bruises on the whole left side of his body. They make it back to his bedroom, and it's the easiest walk Daniel's had in two days.
She checks that he's had his pain medicine , then goes back to the kitchen. He's not sure how long it's been before she brings him a bowl of steaming chicken soup. It's the absolute best thing he's ever eaten, and he tells her so. Sitting up is hurting his ribs, though, so he lays back down when he's finished the bowl and falls asleep even though he doesn't mean to.
(She stays over for four nights. The bruised lung is mostly better by day three, but Daniel's got her hooked on a replay of last year's Shark Week and she doesn't have the Discovery Channel at home .)
five - he's her bed partner
When this year's Shark Week rolls around, Daniel invites her over for a five-hour sharkstravaganza complete with some wine he found at the grocery store that has a shark on the label.
It's not very good wine, but it suits the theme and it gets them tipsy anyway. Well, it gets Sam tipsy and Daniel a little more than tipsy. Sam pours the last bit of the bottle into her glass and goes back to Daniel's couch for the thrilling conclusion of Air Jaws: Sharks of South Africa.
Daniel has taken advantage of her brief trip to the kitchen and has stretched himself out across the whole couch.
"Scooch," she says, poking him in the ribs.
"Nah. Comfy here," he replies.
Sam considers her options for a minute. She's got no doubt that if she wanted to, she could make him move. Or she could say please. But geometrically, there is space left on the couch for her - it's just not in the shape she expected.
She sets the wine down on the coffee table and carefully, she steps up on the couch and wedges herself between Daniel and the back cushions. He does have to move a little, but for the most part, she really does fit. She shifts so that her head is propped up on a pillow and she can see the TV over Daniel's head.
"Still comfy?" she asks.
"Even better," he tells her.
It's nice. She hasn't been this physically close to anyone she trusts as much as she trusts Daniel in, well, a very long time. For the rest of the program they settle together, Sam's arm around Daniel's chest.
They watch in contented silence. Eventually the red numbers on Daniel's DVD player tick over to midnight, and Shark Week is officially over. Sam stretches.
"Don't take this the wrong way," Daniel says quietly, and hesitates.
"Okay," Sam prompts, patiently.
"Will you sleep with me?" he asks in the smallest voice she's ever heard from him. “Just… sleep.”
"Okay," she says again.
He twists so he can see her face. "Really?"
"Yeah. I'll need to borrow clothes. I expected to drive home."
He smiles at her, a small but totally unguarded expression. "Of course."
They get up. Daniel turns off the TV and goes back to his bedroom while Sam tidies up his living room and rinses their glasses. He comes back and presents her with a still-packaged toothbrush, a pair of flannel pants, and a t-shirt. Sam takes the small bundle and goes to the bathroom to change and brush her teeth.
The t-shirt says MY LIFE IS IN RUINS with a cartoony picture of a ziggurat. The screen printing is cracked and faded, and it comes close enough to fitting her that it must have gotten too small for Daniel years ago. The pants, on the other hand, are hugely oversized and she has to cuff them three times just to be able to walk.
Daniel's already in bed, and he's folded the blankets down on the other side. Sam climbs in and hesitates for a minute, trying to reconcile that she's not interested in Daniel like that but also that she's never just slept with someone she wasn't interested in. She doesn't come to a resolution fast enough for Daniel, because suddenly his arms are around her, if somewhat hesitantly.
"I actually prefer to be the big spoon," she tells him, and she tries not to think about how crazy it is that she's saying that to her best friend.
"Oh thank God," Daniel says and turns over so she can hold him instead.
(He tries to make her French toast in the morning, since the bread is stale, but the evaporated milk and "Shelf-Stable Egg Substitute Product" make it more like backwoods Quebec toast instead. They throw it away and get brunch out instead.)
plus one - the date goes poorly
The sixth time in as many months that someone assumes Sam and Daniel are together together, she asks if he'd like to try it for real.
"I don't want to ruin this," he tells her.
"Oh, come on. If we go on one date, the worst that can happen is we have a funny story. If it works out, well, all the better," she reasons. "You think we can ruin this with one date? You threw up on me three weeks ago."
He shrugs. "Fine. But we've gotta start with third date activities. I'm not taking you out for coffee."
"Who says you're taking me anywhere? I'm taking you to the zoo."
They take advantage of their irregular hours and go to the zoo on a Tuesday morning. They stay most of the day, getting the most out of their admission fees. The giraffes alone are worth the trip, but Daniel scores Sam a spot on a sloth experience and letting the little guy cuddle her might be the highlight of her year. Come six o'clock they decide that it hasn't really been a date so much as just something else they've done together. So Daniel drives them back downtown and they get a table at the brand-new French restaurant.
That feels much more like a date. They hold hands across the table. Daniel orders a glass of wine for Sam he knows she'll like. They split a dessert. Sam grabs the check out of the waitress's hand when she tries to give it to Daniel.
Daniel drives Sam home and stops in front of her house. They sit for a minute, both knowing what's supposed to come next. Daniel leans over and kisses Sam's cheek. She turns toward him and kisses him back. They make it most of the way through the kiss before Daniel starts giggling.
"It's not you!" he tells her. She's trying and failing not to laugh, too.
"It's not you either," she says. She leans over to hug him across the center console. "I think I liked us better before."
He smiles and holds her tight. "Yeah. This is better."
"Want to come inside?" she asks him, hand on the door.
"Yeah." He puts the car in park and turns off the headlights. "You know, normally I don't sleep with anyone until the fifth date."
"Then I think we missed some steps, somewhere in there." They get out of the car and Daniel hits the lock button on his way up Sam's front steps.
Sam makes them coffee and they sit thigh-to-thigh on the couch watching a Nova special on Ernest Shackleton, then go to bed together to just sleep, like always.
(The next time someone mistakes them for a couple, which is actually just a few days later, they don't stop laughing for several minutes.)