"No! Absolutely not."
"Oh, come on, Sam. What have you got to lose?"
Sam shook her head, placed her hands on her hips and scowled at her friend. "I swore off blind dates a long time ago, Janet."
"With that attitude, you're never going to meet anyone," Janet said, her voice gentle, as if attempting to soften her words. "You know how hard it is to meet people in our line of work and, not to mention, at our age."
"Are you trying to convince me or depress me?" Sam said, and began to tap her foot impatiently.
"I'm just saying that you should give it another chance." Janet gave Sam an oddly mingled look of sympathy and encouragement. Sam hated that look. She had a hard time arguing with it.
"He sounds like a great guy," Janet told her. "He has his own successful cabinet-making business. You always said you loved a man who works with his hands. And the timing is perfect, because you're on stand-down for the entire week. Come on, it'll be fun. Besides, I have a reputation as an excellent matchmaker."
Sam sighed and tried to strengthen her resolve. She hadn't been out on a blind date in years, and had sworn them off with good reason. On her last blind date, she'd been set up with a guy whose nickname was Psycho. He'd even had it tattooed on his left bicep for emphasis, presumably so that if he ever forgot, he could always just look down. "Oh, yeah. I'm Psycho!"
"When was the last time you've been out on a date?" Janet said, interrupting Sam's bad memories.
"Um, with Orlin?" Sam said with a wince.
Janet shook her head and grinned at Sam. "Uh-uh," she said in a sing-songy voice. "He doesn't count, because, need I remind you, he was an alien?"
Sam shrugged. "Well, he did live on Earth for few days... And besides, he gave great presents. Albeit rather large, expensive presents..." Janet gave Sam one of her patented 'cut the bullshit' looks, and Sam threw up her hands in exasperation. "You're not going to leave me alone until I say yes, are you?"
"I just want you to be happy, Sam. You deserve a chance at happiness and to have someone to share your life with. And, it's just a date. If you don't like each other, then there's no harm done, right? But you'll never know if you don't take that chance."
Sam leaned back against the table, chewed on a hangnail and stared at her heavy military-issue boots. When was the last time she'd put on a pair of heels, or even her ridiculously expensive but totally hot black ankle-length boots that made her legs look about a mile long? She couldn't remember. Would she even remember how to walk in them? She did remember that somehow, the minute they were on her feet, her libido did the walking for her.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to talk to someone on the 'outside.' Someone who wasn't in the military, someone who had a regular job, came home at 5:00pm, cooked his dinner, and lived a normal life. Maybe it would even remind her of what that felt like. Besides, she had to admit that she getting tired of coming home to nothing but a bunch of houseplants.
"It's entirely up to you, Sam," Janet continued. "I'm not going to pressure you into anything you don't want to do."
Sighing in defeat and grimacing, Sam said, "What's he like?"
Janet jumped as if surprised, then grinned happily at her. "Well, I've only met him briefly, and he was wearing a cap and a heavy jacket, so I didn't get a good look at his face, but he's Helen's cousin. He came to pick her up once, in the parking lot. You know Helen, right? One of the night shift nurses. Anyway, his name is Steve, he's a few years younger than you, but that shouldn't matter. Helen says he's very cute, very shy, but really sweet, and he'd love to meet a nice woman."
Sam remembered Helen. She'd chatted for a while with the nurse when checking up on Daniel who'd been in the infirmary one night. Helen was always friendly, cheerful, and most of the guys found her attractive. Not that it meant that her cousin would be anything like her, but at least Sam didn't have to worry about the guy being a closet psycho. Or at least she hoped so.
She thought for a moment, then silently berated herself. She'd faced down system lords and man-eating replicators without hardly breaking a sweat, so she could handle a blind date, right? Piece of cake. And did she want to be single forever?
Against her better judgment and gritting her teeth, Sam said, "All right. I'll do it."
Janet all but hopped up and down, but thankfully resisted clapping her hands together with joy. "Good! I'll call him right now. Do you want me to give him your home number, or do you want to set up the time to meet him?"
"No."
"Daniel, come on. You spend far too much time cooped up in this office. It would be good for you to get out more."
"I get out far more than I'd like to sometimes, and I'm really not interested in meeting anybody right now," Daniel answered, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the papers on his desk. If he didn't look at Janet, maybe she would give up and go away. Just to make sure it was working, he snuck a peek, and her raised eyebrow told him he had lost his chance.
"I don't think you mean that." Janet's voice transmuted to one of gentleness, of syrupy, infinite sympathy. Daniel didn't buy it for a second - Jack didn't refer to the deceptively harmless looking woman in front of him as a Napoleonic power monger for nothing.
Daniel dared another quick glance up at Janet. "Yes, I do mean it," he said. Looking back at his desk again, he tried for the most effective line of defense around pushy women - a sad pout and a shy, tentative glance through his eyelashes, looking slightly past her, as if her couldn't bear to reveal his emotions. "I'm just not ready to date yet, Janet."
"Oh, please... that's not what I heard from Colonel O'Neill." Janet all but smirked at him.
"Wh-what?" Daniel's head popped up and he blinked at her in surprise. "What... what did he... what did he say? What did he tell you?" he demanded, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Last weekend," Janet paused, moving in for the kill, "at Moloney's. The redhead you spent most of the night dancing and playing tonsil hockey with. Oh, and Daniel, must I remind you it's cold and flu season?"
Daniel crossed his arms over his chest, briefly contemplated the numerous ways he would exact his revenge on Jack for ratting. Ignoring the hot blush creeping across his cheeks, and giving Janet his best earnest expression, he said, "That doesn't count. It wasn't technically a date and... and I didn't even get her phone number, and, also, I was drunk. Jack kept buying me flavored Martini's. Those things go down like Kool-Aid. One minute you're fine, the next minute you're wondering how you ended up dancing on the speakers. Actually, you're not wondering. More like surprised at how well you CAN dance... on top of speakers, that is..."
"You speaker-danced?" Janet said, her voice pitched higher with incredulity.
"What?" Daniel frowned at her, realized that he had revealed a little too much information. "No! I... um, I'm just saying that..."
Janet smiled. "I think that's great, Daniel. I just want you to be happy. You deserve it after everything you've been through. Besides, it's just one date. If you two don't like each other, it's no big deal, right? I'm not going pressure you into anything you don't want to do, but you'll never know if you don't take a chance."
Daniel played with his pen, drew curlicues and cartoon faces on his previously neat page of notes. Last weekend had been fun. Jack had all but dragged Daniel kicking and screaming from his apartment, but once Daniel was out and surrounded by people having fun, it really wasn't so bad. And that redhead had been pretty cute.
Maybe he could still turn on the old charm when he wanted to. Maybe Janet was right. Maybe he'd been isolating himself too much. He dropped his head, and lay down his pen in surrender. "Who do you have in mind?"
Janet grinned and perched on the edge of his desk, triumphant. "You'll like her. Her name is Larissa, she's a medical research assistant. She's the younger sister of one of Cassie's friend's mom's..."
Sam had reluctantly agreed to let Steve pick her up at her house. Hell, if she was going on a date, she may as well go all-out traditional. They'd decided on a lunch date. Less stress and easier to make an escape if they didn't hit it off.
Taking a quick last look in the mirror, Sam fluffed her hair for the seventeenth time, put on a little more lip gloss, lightly pinched her cheeks for that naturally healthy looking glow. Adjusting her white wrap top again and carefully draping the ties over her tan pants, Sam decided she looked pretty damn fine. Naturally, she'd decided to wear the hot little boots, which gave her outfit an extra edge. Casual, but stylish, she thought.
Hearing the doorbell ring, Sam took a deep breath, grabbed her bag from the hall closet and went to answer the door.
"Here goes," she said to the empty house.
Digging through his laundry hamper, Daniel inspected his blue flannel shirt, sniffed it, then discarded it over his shoulder with a grimace. Definitely too ripe.
Tossing articles of clothing around the room, he finally found a short-sleeved gray T-shirt that didn't seem too dirty. He took a whiff, and only smelled traces of soap and aftershave. Inspecting the shirt for stains, he found none, and decided that the wrinkles would straighten out once he wore it for a few minutes.
He really should have done his laundry ages ago, but he always spent so much time on base, his wardrobe usually consisted of BDU's, anyway. Daniel knew there was a good reason why he didn't do this dating thing anymore.
Tugging the shirt on over his black jeans, Daniel went into the bathroom, ran his hand over his hair. He should have had a haircut two weeks ago, but hadn't gotten around to it, and now his hair was sticking up in an unmanageable cowlick. He pawed at it again, and once again, it popped back up. "Screw it," he muttered under his breath.
Making a face at his reflection, Daniel tugged on the hem of his shirt, trying to straighten it out a little more. Well, he was going to meet Larissa at the pub close to his place - luckily the lighting was always dim. And maybe his unruly hair would take her attention away from his wrinkled shirt, or vice a versa. Maybe she'd see him in his less than suave get-up and not introduce herself at all. Maybe the hair would be a distraction all afternoon long. And maybe... well, maybe he'd just better not go.
No. No... he promised Janet, and a promise is a promise. That and Janet was the one who administered all his shots and performed all those rather invasive examinations. Best not to piss her off too badly.
Digging through the closet by his front door, Daniel realized that he had left his casual shoes on base and had come home in his combat boots. Well, the boots were black, and would go with his jeans, he reasoned, and figured they would have to do. And hadn't he heard the grunge look was a good thing? Did people still do grunge? He'd have to ask Cassie the next time he saw her.
He was glad neither Sam nor Jack were around to see him. Jack would probably give him a lecture on appropriate casual wear, and why did he always go around with his head in the clouds, and leave everything to the last possible second? Sam would probably skip the lecture and drag him off shopping again. Daniel hated shopping. It was right up there with long debriefings and routine psych evaluations. Actually, he sometimes enjoyed the long debriefings when he was the one doing the talking.
Shoving his wallet into his pants pocket and slinging his jacket over his shoulder, Daniel headed for the door.
"Well, here goes nothing," he told his fish swimming obliviously in their glass-encased universe in the living room.
Grabbing hold of the door handle Sam plastered on a good-natured smile in anticipation of the man on the other side. But when she opened the door, the smile froze and the slightest "Oh" escaped her lips as she looked down at the man.
Okay, so he was a little... short. The top of his head barely came up to Sam's chin. She should have stuck to flat shoes, but it was too late to change them now. And the fact that Steve was almost as wide as he was tall wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It wasn't as if he were seriously overweight, he just was built... like a Mack truck. His head kind of disappeared into his shoulders, no neck to be seen. He was dressed in a baggy T-shirt and equally baggy, shapeless, colorless pants.
Sam looked at his face, squinting against the sunlight gleaming off his head. All right, so he was bald as a cue ball too, but lots of follicle-ly challenged men are attractive, Sam sternly told herself. Sean Connery, Patrick Stewart, Teal'c, to name a few. Even General Hammond was kind of cute in a grandfatherly sort of way. Besides, looks weren't everything, right?
Right?
"Hi!" she finally said, her voice coming out a little too high-pitched. She stuck out her hand in Steve's general direction. "You must be Steve. I suppose..."
"Yeah. Hey," he answered, looking her up and down with the same scrutiny she'd probably subjected him to. Well, she was pretty sure she hadn't had that sneer on her face while she was at it.
Steve grasped her hand in a clammy grip, then dropped it. Glancing up at her, Steve said, "So, you ready to go, or what?"
"Yeah, sure!" Sam said with false cheer, but she already knew that this date was going to suck big time. Still, she resolved to tough it out. Maybe there was still a chance this guy had a great personality once you got to know him. Maybe he was also independently wealthy. Maybe she could run screaming into the street and convince him she had multiple personalities. Maybe if she asked if she could bring along her "heat," he'd go away.
Or maybe, she'd just tough it out. How bad could it possibly be?
As they walked to Steve's van, Sam noticed the rust-scabbed dented back fender. At first she thought the van was grey, but then she spotted a few specks of white amidst the grime. Barely visible were the painted, dirt-encrusted letters 'SM' on the side. The rest of the writing was coated in mud. Sam truly prayed that the 'SM' stood for Steve's initials and not his favorite past-time. On the back bumper, a faded, but unfortunately still legible sticker proclaimed, "The Lord is my Co-pilot."
"Oh, God," Sam whispered under her breath, paused for a moment to wonder how pissed Janet would be with her if she ran back into her house and bolted the door behind her.
Steve lumbered ahead of her, thick arms held out to his sides. He walked over to the driver's side, clambered inside. Sam watched the van sink a few inches and rock back and forth as he settled in. She waited patiently by the passenger side while Steve fumbled around, clearing stuff off the passenger seat, patted a shadowy bouncing shape behind him. Finally, he reached over and unlocked the door for her.
Sam got in, sat down and tried not to wrinkle her nose at the smell of oil, cigarette smoke, and wet dog. Her feet skidded on greasy balled up McDonald's wrappers, and something else she didn't really want to identify.
"You don't mind that I brought my dog," Steve said as more of a statement than question.
"Um, no," Sam said, but found it odd. He'd brought his dog for what? Protection? "Actually, I'm more of a cat person, but I love d-oof!" Her breath whooshed out of her lungs as 70 pounds of black wriggling flesh threw itself on her. Dodging the wet nose and lightning-speed pink tongue trying to wash her face, Sam held onto and patted the head of an overly enthusiastic Black Labrador retriever.
"Tasha, settle down, sweetheart," Steve said in a high-pitched voice, smiling indulgently at the dog, but making no moves to get the animal off Sam. Not that there was much room for both the animal and Sam in the crowded vehicle. The back of the van was so filled with wood, ladders, and other various equipment that she couldn't see the floor.
Managing to push the hairy beast partially off her, Sam noticed with dismay the gazillions of black hairs all over her white top and the dirty smears of paw prints and doggy drool on her tan pants.
"She's a little friendly," Steve informed Sam, pulling away from the curb.
"I noticed that." Sam briefly contemplated hurling herself out the door before the van took up speed.All I have to do is tuck and roll. I'll be fine! But she stubbornly decided to stick to her promise to tough this out. Muddy paw prints or not.
Luckily, the pub was a short walk from Daniel's apartment, so it didn't give him too much time to think about what he was doing, or allow him to give in to the temptation to bail out with the excuse that his allergies were acting up. Maybe Thor would suddenly beam him aboard his ship. No, that only worked for Jack. Unfortunately.
Damn, he was stuck with going through with this. Besides, Janet would never let him hear the end of it if he bailed without good reason, and good reason as far as Janet was concerned would involve broken bones or emergency surgery. Daniel didn't think he was quite desperate enough to inflict bodily harm on himself just to get out of a date.
Not that he was nervous or anything - he'd stood up to aliens who resembled giant walking squid, insulted 2,000 year old system lords, and shot at bugs the size of your average house cat, but somehow, there was less pressure in doing that. You weren't supposed to impress them with your charm and your looks. Impressing women was a whole other world of nerve-wracking pain. Defusing bombs was a breeze in comparison.
Maybe he should call the base just to see if there were any sudden convenient intergalactic emergencies. Too late - he was already at the pub. Daniel pulled open the heavy door and slowly stepped inside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust from the bright sunlight to the dim, smoky gloom inside. Even though it was early March and unseasonably warm, the wrap-around bar was still adorned with a few pink and red paper hearts and a cutout Cupid aiming his arrow. Daniel noticed that Cupid's arrow was bent and hanging down rather forlornly. He wondered if that were a bad sign. Maybe the pub staff was just waiting till St. Patrick's Day to change their decorations. Or maybe they were left over from Valentine's Day the year before. Who knew?
Glancing around, he tried to pick Larissa out from the small crowd. Suddenly, a spandex clad, wild-haired woman sitting on one of the barstools perked up and waved at him. Daniel looked at her, wide-eyed, glanced behind him to see if maybe she was waving to someone else. He hoped, hell, he prayed!
Nope. No such luck. There was nothing behind him but the door. Resisting the near-overwhelming urge to hurl himself back outside and to safety, Daniel instead took a deep breath, pasted what he hoped was a pleasant expression on his face and cautiously stepped over to her.
"Hi! You must be Daniel! You're just as cute as Cassie says you are!" the woman said with enthusiasm, bouncing on her barstool. Her red spandex encased bosom bounced in time and threatened to spill out over the plunging neckline. Whatever you called the thing she had squeezed into was so tight, Daniel could see a perfect imprint of the lace on the sides of her bra that was cutting into the fleshy sides of her ribcage. Her belly peeked out in a roll underneath the top, and he wondered how she could breathe. He checked her lips to see if they were turning blue yet.
He gave her a tentative smile. "Yes, and you must be Larissa?" Although he really, really hoped not. This woman looked scarier than Nirti in a bad mood.
"Yeah!" Larissa exclaimed, hopping off the stool, and offering Daniel an electric purple taloned hand. "Pleased tah meet'cha!"
"Nice to meet you, too," Daniel said, wondering if it was too late for an allergy attack. He carefully took her hand, wary of the four-inch long nails.
Larissa's equally tight, short black skirt had hiked up her legs, and with her other hand, she reached around and wriggled and tugged it down. Giggling and cracking her gum at the same time, she kept hold of Daniel's hand for balance as she adjusted herself. Daniel stood patiently, looking in every direction but hers until she finally released her grip, then fluffed up her already fluffy maroon-streaked hair.
"I've been looking forward to this all week, but I'm a little nervous, ya know? You seem like a good guy, though. Most guys I go out with are real jerks. Real insensitive, ya know?" She cracked her gum and looked at Daniel with wide, hopeful mascara-caked blue eyes, her lower lip trembling slightly.
Daniel found himself softening, his empathic nature that always got him in so much trouble kicking into full gear. "There's nothing to be nervous about," he said in the voice he usually reserved for skittish aliens. "Why don't we go find a table?"
Larissa grinned and grabbed his arm with both hands. Tottering on her spiked heels, she all but dragged him over to a booth near the windows.
Daniel tried to ignore all the looks they received as they passed. Tried to ignore the leers on the faces of the seventy-something-year old men sitting at the table beside the one Larissa had chosen.
Why, why, why do I get myself these situations? Daniel silently asked himself. Maybe Larissa was a perfectly wonderful person, who just needed to learn how to dress. Janet said that she was a lab assistant, so she probably wore a lab coat all day, and was just sartorially challenged like Daniel was.
Yeah, right.
Sam and Steve had stopped at the Starbucks near the park where they were going to take Tasha for a quick walk. Steve ordered a regular coffee for himself, paid for it, then stepped aside to let Sam order.
Sam suppressed a nasty thought. She was an independent woman, probably earned three times the amount this guy did, but still - is chivalry that dead? She decided on a white chocolate latte. It had a trillion calories, but what the hell. It was probably the only pleasure she was going to get on this date.
They took their drinks and headed for the park, Tasha bounding joyfully ahead of them. Sam tried to start up a conversation, but Steve seemed more interested in talking to Tasha and throwing sticks for the animal, so Sam gave up and sipped her latte in peace.
At least it was a gorgeous day. The sun was shining, and the air smelled fresh and clean. If she hadn't gone on this date, she'd probably be cooped in her office, or puttering around in her house, so at the very least, she could say the fresh air was a nice change.
After their walk, they piled back in the van. Thankfully this time, Steve set up a barricade behind the seats so that Tasha couldn't climb all over Sam. She wasn't sure why that couldn't have been done the first time she got in the van, but who was she to question Steve's motives? Trying to reason her way through this date so far had been an exercise in futility. She thought for sure she would one day laugh at all this, but that would be in the future. The far, far too distant future. Unfortunately, she had to get through the present, first.
"So you want lunch?" Steve asked.
Sam considered saying no, contemplated feigning a migraine, but they'd only been out for - she darted a quick glance at her watch - dear God, only half an hour! How could it possibly only be half an hour? And she was starving. She'd skipped dinner the night before, and had been going on coffee and sugar all day.
How bad could a simple meal such as lunch possibly be?
"Yeah, sure, why not?" she said, abdicating her happiness to the powers that be, hoping she hadn't pissed one of them off too badly.
Larissa slugged back her fourth beer and thunked the empty glass on the table. Daniel blinked at the glass, astounded at how quickly she was tossing them back.
"My last boyfriend - Cliff - shit, he was always so friggin' uptight, you know?" Larissa told Daniel in a voice that could probably be heard outside. Daniel nodded and tried to surreptitiously place his hands over his ears.
"I mean, shit, I could never do anything right as far as he was concerned, but it was all fine and dandy for me to do his friggin' laundry, cook his friggin' dinner, suck his -"
"So! You seem hungry! Are you hungry? Maybe you'd like some food?" Daniel interrupted, looking wildly around for the waitress. Maybe if Larissa was eating, she wouldn't be able to talk so much. Or drink so much. They'd only been at their table for less than an hour, and Larissa already had more to drink than Daniel could manage in one evening. The scary thing was that it didn't seem to be affecting her, either.
"Sure! I'm friggin' starved!" Larissa smiled happily and giggled. She pondered the menu, ran the tip of her tongue along her lower lip, revealing a rather large, rather frightening tongue stud. Daniel tried not to look horrified - he'd never actually seen one of those before. It looked... painful. In fact, it looked as if it could inflict a lot of pain.
"You gonna get anything?" Larissa asked.
"No, I'm fine, but you go ahead," Daniel told her.
Larissa decided on the extra-large nachos with extra guacamole, cheerily telling Daniel that they could share. When the waitress came up to the table, Larissa ordered, and asked for another beer for herself and for Daniel, even though he hadn't finished his first drink yet. Before Daniel could refuse the offer, the waitress was scampering away, wiping her hands on the back of her jeans.
"So, Cassie says you're an archaeologist," Larissa said when the waitress left. She leaned forward, the tabletop acting as a perfect shelf for her bosom. "That mean you're like Indiana Jones, or something?"
"Not quite," Daniel said, and played with his damp paper coaster. Indiana Jones had much better luck with women.
"You carry a whip around?" Larissa purred, then grinned laviciously at him, reaching over to run a deadly sharp nail over the back of his hand. "Whips can be a lot of fun."
Daniel pulled his hand back with a startled yank and almost toppled his glass into his lap.
"Relax! Shit, I'm just kidding!" Larissa giggled, then reached into her top to adjust herself.
The old men sitting across from them nearly began to drool.
The restaurant had opened their patio early due to the nice weather, and Sam and Steve had chosen to have their lunch at an outside table. The sun was shining brightly on them, pleasantly warming Sam's forearms and face, making her momentarily forget the awkwardness and the utter silence from the man sitting across from her.
An eternity later, the waitress brought their meals and Sam smiled at her and thanked her. Steve merely grunted, and started rearranging his French fries.
"So what area of town do you live in?" Sam asked, still desperately making attempts to start up a conversation.
"About five miles out of town. I have a half an acre. I really don't like people. I don't like to live too close to anyone."
"Oh," Sam said, unsure how to reply to that. That comment could be taken a number of ways, but still... how much worse could this date get?
"I have issues with women that I think I'm working successfully through," Steve said while stuffing a handful of French fries in his mouth.
"Issues?" Sam echoed. Apparently, the date COULD get worse. "What kind of issues?"
Steve shoved nearly half his hamburger in his mouth. When the portion of his burger didn't quite fit, he used his fingers to push in the rest, making smacking sounds and crunching down noisily, grease dripping down his chin. "This and that," he mumbled around the bun and meat in his mouth. Swiping a hand over his face and taking a gulp from his beer, he glanced at Sam. "Well, I'm trying not to be so critical and so judgmental."
"Really?" Sam eyed Steve and looked at the smear of ketchup at the corner of his too-thin lips, which trailed off onto his round cheeks. And who was he to talk?
"Yeah." Steve nodded solemnly. "I've decided that the only way to fully achieve that is through meditation and celibacy."
"Really?" Sam said again, astounded. Sam knew that she and 99% of the female population would absolutely be able to support the second half of his commitment.
Janet was sooo gonna pay for this...
"I realized that every time I got sexually involved with a woman, that's when problems started," Steve continued, "so I'm not going to have sex until I'm married."
That shouldn't be too hard, Sam thought. She couldn't imagine any woman even wanting to have sex with Steve, let alone marrying him.
"So what about you?" Steve gave her a suspicious look. "Anything you want to share with me?"
"Not really, no," Sam said, shaking her head, and deciding to finish her lunch. Fast.
"Relationships are weird, aren't they?" Steve said, gazing thoughtfully at the sky.
"They sure are," Sam agreed, and took a sip of her Long Island Iced tea. Suddenly her plants and her empty but comfortable, peaceful house weren't looking so bad. She wondered if she could attempt a form of meditation to help her get through the rest of this date...
Slow deep breaths, Sam, she chanted to herself. It's almost over, it's almost over...
After having cannon balled the first half of drink number seven, Larissa looked at Daniel with great intent. "So, when do you think is a good time to get married?"
Daniel nearly choked on his own drink, swallowed the wrong way, and started coughing, tears filling his eyes as he tried to get some air into his lungs. "Wh-what?"
"I want a June wedding," Larissa said, a dreamy look to her eye. She was either envisioning dragging some poor unsuspecting slob down the aisle, or even worse, envisioning Daniel as her Prince Charming. Or maybe, he hoped, the beer was just getting to her.
"So how many children do you want to have?"
"Huh?" Daniel said, not very intelligently, blinking at her in astonishment. This woman didn't waste any time.
"Children. Do you want any?" Larissa said, tapping her nails on the table, making an irritating drumming sound.
"I-in general, you mean?" Daniel said, looking at her wide-eyed.
"I mean, how many kids do you want to have? I want at least two. A boy and a girl. Their names will be Brandon and Brittany. I think I'd like to have Brittany first, though. Boys who grow up with a big sister are so much nicer to women, don'cha you think? You have such nice big, blue eyes. Shit, I bet you were just the cutest friggin' kid."
Daniel just stared at her, trying to think of anything to say. Anything!
"I couldn't possibly marry someone who wasn't a Presbyterian. My grandfather's a minister. He always said he'd perform my wedding. Are you Presbyterian?"
Daniel blinked, realized that she had asked him something again. He was still too busy trying to work around the children bit. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"I asked if you were Presbyterian."
Daniel frowned, unsure of what being a Presbyterian had to do with anything. "I'm agnostic, actually. Why?"
"Agnostic," she said, twisting her mouth like the syllables were horrible tasting.
Daniel shrugged. "Yeah. Kind of goes with the territory. Archeology, agnosticism - you know."
Larissa studied him, squinting her eyes slightly, as if she were trying to decide how much of a heathen or an eternally damned pagan he really was. Spotting their waitress, Larissa suddenly waved her over, spandex squirming and rippling, every attribute clearly outlined. Daniel could see the seams straining on the sides of the top and prayed it wouldn't burst. If it did, the old coots beside them would probably have strokes.
When the waitress came over, Larissa waved at their drinks. "Another round. Thanks. So how do you feel about converting?"
For a moment, Daniel thought she was asking the waitress, but Larissa's black-smudged, slightly bleary focus was back on him.
"I don't, actually," Daniel said, getting long past the point of pretending to be polite.
Larissa scrutinized him some more. "Hunh." She dug into the plate of nachos in front of her, peeling strips of cheddar cheese from the plate and sucking them off her fingernails.
"So, you're like - what? - in your mid-thirties and you've never been married?" Steve looked at Sam, his hamburger grease-stained lips hanging open with apparent incredulity. "You're attractive, you have a good job, so, I mean, what's wrong with you?"
Sam gaped at him astonished, momentarily rendered speechless with indignation. What was wrong with her? Just because she wasn't stupid enough to marry the first loser who came along, and had decided to concentrate on her career instead, didn't mean there was something wrong with her.
"Just because I didn't marry the first loser to come along, and decided to concentrate on my career, doesn't mean there's something wrong with me!" Sam spluttered. "I mean, where do you get off saying something like that? If a man is single and in his mid-thirties, no one thinks twice about it. In this day and age, we should be long past such stereotypes."
Steve looked at her thoughtfully and nodded. "Ah, I get it. You're bitter."
Sam gaped at him again. "I am NOT bitter!" She knew she was losing her temper, but she didn't care. "You're the one with the 'issues,' so maybe you should work a little harder on your spiritual quest to stop being judgmental."
Steve just looked at her with apparent sympathy, which only riled Sam further. She didn't have to sit here and take this crap from some loser social recluse. Hell, if he only knew that she could render him paralyzed from the neck down in nine different ways with her bare hands. God, his IQ was probably lower than her plants. Not to mention that the plants were a lot less judgmental and -
SPLAT!
Sam jumped back in her chair, the metal legs screeching against the cobblestone. White goo splattered on her arms and all over her half eaten lunch. Glancing up at the sky, she saw a pigeon flying off.
Great. Pigeon shit.
Sums up this date perfectly.
Sam shook her head and started to sardonically laugh. It was either that or burst into tears, but she wasn't about to do that in front of this bonehead. Reaching for her soiled napkin, she tried to clean the crap off her arms.
Steve just stared at her as if Sam was somehow personally responsible for the mess, and made no attempt to help her, or at least get her some more napkins. The putz.
"You got some on your other arm," he said, his face scrunched in distaste.
"Thanks, I noticed that," Sam said, voice dripping with barely suppressed venom.
"So you ready to go?" Steve said, disgust still evident on his face.
"Oh, you bet I am." Sam stood, still trying to wipe off her arms. "Tell ya what, Steve, I have a few errands to run, so I'll find my own way home, thanks."
"Sure, whatever," Steve said, and shrugged. He stood and sauntered off, tossing a 'later' over his shoulder, and leaving Sam still wiping off her arms, silently plotting slow, painful revenge on Janet.
Daniel helped himself to a nacho, more out of something to do, rather than any desire for a greasy cheese, hamburger and pepper encrusted chip. He'd decided to tune out Larissa's incessant chatter so that it became a senseless hum of white noise. He had plenty of practice - he did it to Jack all the time.
Chewing, and just as he swallowed, Daniel realized that there were black olives in the nachos. He couldn't remember if he was allergic to black olives, or if he had just eaten too many of them the last time they'd made him violently ill and break out in hives.
Crap. But then again, somehow it seemed fitting.
Noticing that Larissa had finally stopped talking, he glanced at her and saw her slumped back in the booth, head tipped backwards, arms relaxed at her sides, top askew. She was asleep.
Daniel grinned to himself and decided to enjoy the quiet for a minute and the fact that she couldn't drink while she was sleeping. They'd already run up a $100.00 tab, and Daniel was glad that he'd remembered to pay his MasterCard bill the week before.
His peace was short-lived, however, when Larissa started to snore. Loudly. The old guys at the other table had since left, and a young couple had replaced them. They stared at Larissa and started snickering.
Daniel sighed and reached over to jostle Larissa's bare shoulder. Her head snapped forward, and she snorted, threw her hands in front of her, catching herself. She looked up at Daniel blearily. "Whu...?"
"You, um... you fell asleep," Daniel told her.
"Oh," Larissa said, then shrugged and rubbed her eyes, smearing her mascara even more. "So you wanna go back to your place and watch a movie, or something?"
"Um, I don't have a VCR or DVD player, and I really have to get going -"
"You don't?" Larissa stared open-mouthed at him.
"Well, I did... have a VCR... once," Daniel explained, at the same time wondered why he was even bothering. "It broke, and I haven't gotten around to fixing it. I work a lot, so I don't have much time to watch movies."
"That's okay," Larissa shrugged again, "we can just watch TV."
Daniel tried not to panic. "I... uh... I don't have a TV, either," he lied, but he spoke slowly so that she could try to understand his words.
Larissa looked at him as if he'd sprouted a second head.
"I work a lot..." Daniel repeated, his voice trailing off. "And I... promised that... that I'd help a friend... um, move later today, so I uh, I really should..." he pointed to the door.
"Well, some other time maybe." Larissa yawned widely, showing off the spike in her tongue, as well as all of her fillings.
"Sure," Daniel said, and gathered up his jacket. "I'll just go take care of our bill, and I'll walk you home, or call you a cab." He noticed that she was weaving slightly in her seat. "Maybe a cab would be best."
"Nah, that's okay," Larissa said. "I think I'll hang out here for a while."
"You sure?" Daniel thought she looked as if she'd fall asleep again any minute.
"Yeah, I'll call my sister and have her come meet me here."
Daniel didn't like the idea of leaving her alone, his stupid chivalry kicking in again. He tried to shut up that gentile side of his morality, but the idiot wouldn't be quiet. "Do you want me to wait until she gets here?"
"Sure!" Larissa agreed and Daniel suppressed a curse. "I'll just go call her, right now." She stood and staggered a little. Daniel caught her arm, and Larissa beamed up at him and planted a sloppy kiss on the side of Daniel's neck. "This was fun!"
"A regular hoot," Daniel said, keeping a hand on her shoulder to hold her steady. He led Larissa over to the payphone and stood by the bar to pay their bill. While he waited, he absently scratched his forearm that was suddenly itching madly. Looking down, he realized that he was breaking out in the telltale sign of hives.
Great. Hadn't he pondered faking an allergy attack all day? Talk about tempting the fates... And he'd run out of the medicated cream that Janet have given him for such instances, which meant he'd have to make a trip to base and to the infirmary.
Crap.
Summed up this date perfectly.
Sam snorted with laughter, slapped her knee. "She actually fell asleep? Right in the bar?" She shook her head, dissolving into more giggles.
"Well, at least she didn't bring her dog," Daniel pointed out. They'd both retreated to the privacy and safety of Sam's office to compare notes. He slid back against the table he and Sam were perched on and leaned against the wall.
Sam wiped her eyes, took a deep breath. "Janet is so gonna pay for this."
"Absolutely," Daniel agreed and scratched his arm. "Although I'm sure her intentions were good - weren't they?" He looked at Sam wide-eyed. "I mean... you don't think maybe she did this on purpose, do you?"
Sam shook her head. "No, I know she did mean well, but that's not the point, Daniel, and don't scratch," Sam said, shaking her head. "As a self-described 'excellent matchmaker,' she should have done better research."
"That's true," Daniel said, figuring Sam was right. Janet should have known better. The only thing their respective dates had had in common with each of them was that they were of the same species, and in their dates' cases, understandably single. Did Janet really think he was that desperate for a date? And Sam could pick up a better guy than Steve... anywhere, if she set her mind to it.
"Where's her gratitude?" Daniel said, filling with sudden righteous indignation and scratched his wrist. "After all, we did save this world. Her world!"
"Exactly! Don't scratch," Sam said, scowling and nodding at the same time. "She owes us more than... more than dates from hell!" Sam tore her hand through her hair. "I don't know... I suppose I should have known better. I have the worst luck with men, anyway."
Daniel rubbed his other arm, then noticed Sam readying to slap his hand. He tucked his hands under his arms.
"Oh, I don't know, Sam," he said, letting his legs sway beneath the table. "I think Jonas, your renegade fiance, probably wasn't such a bad guy when you first met him. Then there was Narim - he liked cats, same as you, and he was an all right kind of guy for an alien. Too bad he lives in a different solar system. Orlin also had real potential, had he been human, that is, and that Ambassador, Joe, he had really good taste in suits..."
"Are you finished?"
"I think so," Daniel suppressed a grin, paused to think for a moment. "Did I miss anyone?"
"Daniel! If you don't stop, I'll bring up Shyla, and oh, how about Ke'ra -"
"All right! I'm finished." Daniel tucked his hands in his lap and discreetly rubbed the maddeningly itchy spot on the back of his wrist.
"And don't scratch."
"I wasn't!" He wrapped his arms around his chest again. "One of these days, I know you'll meet the right guy, Sam."
"Thanks, Daniel," she said, slumping back against the wall, not entirely sure if she believed him. At the same time, she was grateful for his reassurances. Looking at her friend, characteristic slight frown creasing his brow, lower lip caught between his teeth in a way that most women found adorable, Sam couldn't help but ponder what could have been.
"You know," she said, still watching his profile. "If you hadn't been married when I'd first met you, I think I would have married you myself, and been done with all this dating crap."
Daniel looked at her, not sure if he'd been complimented or insulted. He decided to go for complimented. His ego had taken enough of a bruising for one day. "Thank you. So you wanna run off to Vegas and elope?"
Sam laughed. "Well, as tempting as that sounds, I'm pretty sure we'd kill each other within a week."
"Probably." Daniel nodded and rubbed at the itchy spot under his jaw. "You know, I just thought of something."
"What?"
"Don't you think Steve and Larissa would be perfect for each other?"
Sam burst into giggles again. "I'd give him her phone number, but I used the napkin he wrote his on to clean off the bird shit. Seemed kind of fitting."
"Very fitting," Daniel agreed.
"I just thought of something, too."
"What?"
"Janet and that chiropractor she'd been seeing broke up about three months ago..." Sam said, her voice trailing off speculatively.
"Really?" Daniel raised his eyebrows. "Coincidentally enough, Raymond, in my research department, is newly single, too. He just transferred over from Siberia, so she probably hasn't met him yet."
Sam looked at him. "Not Raymond, the skinny guy who collects beetles, and has the really bad body odor?"
Yep, that's him," Daniel grinned.
Sam matched his evil grin, then thought for a moment. "But that seems kind of mean, doesn't it? Janet would eat him for breakfast!"
"Raymond survived two years in Siberia. Trust me, he'll be okay." Daniel gazed at the ceiling, tapped at his lips. "And, tell me again, how bad, was your date?"
Sam noticed that Daniel was struggling hard not to laugh. She smiled again. "Janet's break is in about twenty minutes."
"Good, Raymond's probably just finished lunch now. Should I go talk to him?"
"Yeah," Sam nodded, "I think you should. And maybe I'll go pay Janet a little visit, too. It's been far too long since she's been out on a date."
Daniel nodded. "Yes, she really should get out more."
"Definitely."
"Absolutely."
This is my first attempt at humor. Ack! I hope it works. I think I wrote this more for personal therapy, rather than entertainment purposes. And before anyone asks, yes, this story was unfortunately inspired by actual events. Thank you as always to my good pal, Pough, for being the most awesome, enthusiastic and entertaining beta ever.
© 15th February 2003 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.