County Fair
County Fair
by Josephine
Summary: Sam and Paul have some good, clean fun
Category: Romance
Season: Season 6
Pairing: Sam/other
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).
Archived on: 03/28/04
Title: County Fair
Author: Josephine and Cincoflex
Email: Lovellama@aol.com and Cincoflex@aol.com
A/N: This is the third in the 'Major Romantics' series.
~~~~~
Hurrying down a stark corridor under the Mountain, Sam almost plowed into Joanna as she took a corner, the older woman catching her as she stumbled back.
"Whoa! You alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." Sam grinned ruefully, then frowned, realizing to whom she was talking. "Isn't SG-18 supposed to be on P3J-830?"
Joanna shrugged. "We took all the samples we needed, and the ruins weren't as extensive as we originally thought. So instead of killing time offplanet, I decided we'd come back early. Where is everybody?"
"Ah, Jack and Rose are having a Three Stooges marathon in their pajamas, Daniel and Teal'c went bowling- "
"Bowling?" Joanna interjected, amused at the thought.
Sam nodded. "And Paul and I are spending the afternoon at the county fair. But it's not a date, or anything," she quickly reassured Joanna. And herself.
"Sounds like good clean fun." Crossing her arms Joanna gave Sam a look. "What's up?"
"Yeah... " Sam paused. "It's a long story... " Tapering off, Sam was relieved to see Paul coming down the corridor toward them.
"Ready Sam? Ms. O'Neil." He courteously greeted Joanna, his gaze sliding over her to rest on Sam. Joanna bit back an understanding grin.
"The county fair, huh? Sounds like fun. I haven't been to one of those in awhile." The semi-panicked expression Sam wore at the chance that Joanna might come along was priceless, and while Paul plastered a polite smile on his face, it was obvious he was just as thrilled at the prospect.
"BUT... I have the mission log from P3J-830 to write up, and if I know you, Sam, I have some incomprehensible report on some weird alien thingy that SG-whoever found... I'll have to decline this time. You kids have a good time, though."
Relieved, Sam weakly smiled goodbye as Joanna sauntered off to her office, then turned to get out of there before anyone else decided to tag along.
~~~~~
"Aren't county fairs earlier in the season?" Paul looked at Sam as she drove, pleased to be able to watch her under the excuse of conversing. The changing Aspens flew by, but his attention was riveted to the woman sitting next to him, more focused on the blonde of her hair as it blew in the breeze from the slightly open window than the yellows of the leaves speeding by at forty-five miles an hour.
Sam chuckled, glancing over at him briefly before turning her attention back to the winding road. "It was supposed to be in July, but we had a lot of rain this summer. The fair grounds finally dried out a week or so ago."
Nodding, Paul reluctantly faced forward again, covertly watching Sam's slim hands out of the corner of his eye as she downshifted and turned the wheel to take a curve. He glanced over the interior of the car. "This is what the Saint drove, isn't it?"
A wide smile crossed her face, and Paul took a mental picture, tucking it away in his memory. "It is. You're only the second person to comment on it. The other was Sergeant Escobar in the motor pool, and he's such a huge gearhead he doesn't count."
It was Paul's turn to laugh. "I loved that show. I wanted to be Simon, of course; saving the world, fighting bad guys..."
"Getting all the women?"
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth at Sam's teasing words. "I had just turned fourteen when I discovered the reruns; a too thin, too short boy in a new school where football ruled. The show eased leaving England slightly, and imagining myself as Simon made it easy to forget those gorillas of the gridiron. And their blonde cheerleader girlfriends that wouldn't give me the time of day," he added truthfully.
Smiling in sympathy, Sam reached over and squeezed his hand. "I was Mrs. Peel, of course. I made my mother get me a black suit like she wore for Halloween one year."
Paul laughed with her, his thoughts dwelling on a very grown up Sam in a black leather catsuit as the object of his desire's concentration went back to driving.
~~~~~
"Doesn't look like there's many people here." Closing the Volvo coupe's door, Paul looked over the one-third full parking lot.
Sam frowned, looking around too. "Lincoln county's fair is also this week, most of the people who show animals might be there if they had to register to enter the judging contests." Shrugging, she joined Paul to walk toward the fair. "At least it won't be crowded."
They paid the nominal admission fee, stopping short at the intersection of five fairways right inside the grounds. Although not full strength, barkers, stalls, and animals all mixed together to form a cacophony of light and sound coming from every direction.
Sam turned in a slow circle, trying to make heads or tails of the mess. "What first?"
"This way." Paul tugged her over to a ticket booth, fishing out his wallet to buy a handful.
"How many did you get?" Peering over his shoulder, Sam vainly tried to count tickets as Paul stuffed them into his jacket pocket.
"Nuh uh, Sam. My treat." He dodged her lunge, batting away her hands. The usually jaded ticket seller leaned on her window ledge and grinned at the two of them.
Sam tried a feint to the left, but Paul anticipated it and spun her around so she landed against his chest, trapping her with his arms. He held her a moment, letting himself indulge in the warm, soft feel of her against him, the floral scent of Joy changed by her body chemistry rising up to tease his senses.
"My treat, Sam." He spoke softly in her ear. "No arguments. Besides, we're attracting attention." Reluctantly letting her go, Paul watched as Sam stepped away, settling her skewed leather jacket with more concentration than it really needed.
Sam fussed, buying time to try and regain some of her equilibrium that had been lost when Paul held her close. It seemed recently every time she got within a few feet of the man her insides turned to jelly. And as for actually touching him... She finally looked up, flashing an apologetic smile.
"I should be getting those. After the Colonel made you... you know." A slight blush stole over her cheeks, delighting Paul.
"I was pleased to do it. Not pleased, per se, I mean- " He trailed off, giving up on getting out of the hole he had dug himself into.
That wide smile was back, making his heart flip. "I know what you mean," Sam said. Tucking her arm in his, she pulled him down a random fairway. "Are you hungry? Or should we go on a few rides first?"
"I don't suppose it would matter much if we ate first, if you're used to the Gate, none of these rides is going to phase you. I will admit to being a little hungry." So saying, Paul inclined his head toward a booth selling bratwurst, veering that way at Sam's enthusiastic nod.
"Two brats and two Killians. That alright?" he asked Sam over his shoulder. At her yes, he traded a few tickets for the food. Paul handed Sam hers and the two moved down to the condiments, sauerkraut and mustard for him, mustard only for her.
Sitting at a bright red picnic table they began to eat. Paul merely opened his mouth and took a bite; Sam had to maneuver her brat slightly and take an oblique chomp out of it. He had to laugh as she struggled, and she wrinkled her nose at him.
"Not bad for fair food." Taking a long pull off his beer, Paul let his gaze wander over the fair offerings as he ate. The booths offering games of chance seemed endless, and he saw the standard rides: Ferris wheel, roller coaster, tunnel of love... Paul put that one out of his mind as too obvious. Looking back over to Sam he saw she was just finishing, picking up a thin paper napkin she wiped her hands of mustard and grease.
"Ready when you are."
Paul drained his cup and helped Sam gather up the trash, avoiding the few sluggish wasps buzzing around the oil drum bin.
They passed a marksman's booth and Paul slowed down, arching a questioning eyebrow. Sam smiled in response, and wandered over to the stall.
"Care t' try yer skill and win the lil' lady a prize?" The skinny carny with a pork-pie hat grinned at Paul as he got up of his stool. "Four outta five'll get ya a penguin." Sam and Paul looked up as one to the lurid plush animal the size of a medium dog.
"She's not my 'lil' lady'", Paul told him, albeit reluctantly, pretending to think about it. "What does five out of five win?"
"Mister, if ya get five outta five ya win Bertha." The carny jerked a thumb toward the corner where a huge stuffed canary-yellow Great Dane sat, its vivid red tongue hanging out lewdly. "But ain't nobody ever been able t' win her."
"Yet." Handing over three tickets, Paul watched in amusement as the barker smirked when he realized Sam, who was hefting each rifle and checking the sight, would be the one to play. The smirk changed to a gawk of surprise as one by one Sam put a BB through the center circle of the target.
Paul came up to stand next to her, peering at the pentagon shaped cluster of holes. "Nice grouping." Sam flushed at his knowing smile, shrugging to cover her embarrassment.
"Well I'll be dammed." Taking off his hat and scratching his head, the carny looked at the bull's-eye. "My apologies, ma'am." He reached over and picked Bertha up, handing the huge animal over to Sam. "I'm right sorry t' see her go, that's fer sure," he added with a grin.
Sam muttered a thanks of sort, trying to get a comfortable and secure grip on Bertha. Finally figuring out a way to carry her and see at the same time, the pair continued down the fairway.
They hadn't gone five steps before a voice rang out. "Bertha! You won Bertha, mister?" Sam and Paul looked over to see a teenaged boy hanging out of his stall, a smile splitting his face.
"Not me, her," Paul answered, pointing to Sam, who managed a weak grin.
"You go, girl!" came another voice, this one from a buxom woman who manned the ring toss. Congratulatory calls came left and right as they walked, Sam hiding her face in mortification against her prize.
"That's it, no more," she muttered. Craning her head over the yellow mass in front of her, Sam spied a family with a small girl that was obviously on their way home. Striding over, she handed the dog to the father, quickly walking off before the stunned man could refuse. The girl's cries of delight faded as they walked on, unencumbered again.
Paul glanced over at Sam. "You have to take something home from the fair other than a stomachache from the food."
Grimacing, Sam ran an eye over the shocking rainbow of prizes offered at the booths. "We'll see," she offered up noncommittally.
The next hour was taken up by the Tilt-A-Whirl, both the adult and children's roller coaster, and a spinning teacup. Sam convinced Paul to try out an empty moon bounce; they spent most of the time laughing and hanging onto each other, trying to stay on their feet. It wasn't until they began to get dirty looks from waiting children that the two majors sheepishly came out of the attraction.
Later, trying to gracefully eat a waffle cone filled with chocolate ice cream, Sam almost missed it, stopping short and backtracking to stare at an inconspicuous panda bear. Paul, also attempting to eat his butter pecan without getting it all over himself, had gone another fifteen feet before he realized Sam wasn't next to him.
"It's Bob," she said as he came up to stand next to her.
"Bob?" Paul looked from her to the panda and back again while the barker patiently waited to see what the couple would do.
Sam nodded. "Bob. My uncle took me to the fair one year when my Dad was overseas, and he won me a panda bear. This bear. I named him Bob. Not very original, but I was six," she added with an apologetic smile. "I wore that bear out. Finally Mom couldn't repair him anymore and he went to bear heaven. Had a funeral and everything." Sighing, she laughed at the same time. "I haven't thought of him in years."
Paul looked over the game attached to the panda; it was the classic Strength Meter, with a bell at the top. There were six levels, the top one, He Man, was picked out in flaking gold paint. Giving the waiting carny a few tickets and his cone, Paul stripped off his jacket and handed it to an amazed Sam. "You're going to try?" A warm, pleased feeling rushed through her, fueled by the sight of Paul rolling broad shoulders to warm up, his ribbed Henley stretched tight.
He gave her a cheeky grin, then swung the mallet with surprising ease. The slug shot up, ringing the bell sharply. Twice more he swung, and both times the bell rang, the last as strident as the first. Paul set the mallet down, turning back to see an almost bouncing Sam.
"Three times earns one of those," the carny informed them, waving his free hand at a menagerie of animals not found in nature, at least not in that color. "But you probably want this one." Taking down the floppy panda, he handed it to Paul with a flourish, who in turn gave it to Sam.
"He's exactly the same," she whispered, turning the animal over in her hands, a look of wonder on her face.
Paul smiled. "What are you going to call him?"
"Well, it isn't very original, but Bob the second. Continue the lineage, as it were."
Still smiling, Paul just shook his head, taking back his jacket and slinging it on. Nodding at the carny as he was returned his ice cream, he spun Sam around the way they had been going and started her walking.
A few yards down a small crowd was gathered around a booth, coming closer Sam and Paul worked their way along the fringes to find out it offered up temporary tattoos. Three older teenage girls were sitting on stools inside, each getting one applied to various parts of their bodies.
The crowd pressed Paul up against Sam as he looked over her shoulder, easing back almost immediately, but he stayed where he was. "Interested?" Paul murmured into her ear. "Maybe a heart? An alien?" he added wickedly.
Sam chuckled. "No... "
The slight adrenaline spike from his feat of strength and the tail end of the admiring glance Sam had given him made Paul a little reckless. "You could put it where no one would see-" he teased, placing his palm on the curve of her hip, fingers tightening gently.
Giving a small gasp, Sam was sure she could feel the heat from his hand through her jeans. His chest was hard against her back, and the faint scent of his aftershave swirled around her. The crowd retreated from her senses, there was only Paul, only the sweet giddy rush he was sending through her.
Sam laughed weakly, throwing a half smile over her shoulder. She made her way through the mass of people to the open fairway, taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart. So many conflicting feelings for Paul were running through her, add to that her treacherous body's response to him... Resolutely she tried to squash them all. They were friends. Nothing more.
Not sure if her reaction was favorable or not, Paul followed Sam out, the pair aimlessly walking through the fair before coming to a photo booth.
"Come on," Sam cried out, pulling him toward it. She fished in his pocket for the five tickets it took, and fed them into the machine. Ducking into the small booth, Sam wedged her and Paul in the seat, pushing the button to get it started. Three times the flash went off, Sam and Paul making faces at the lens, holding Bob II up to join them. Being in such close proximity to Paul, practically sitting on his lap in the miniscule kiosk was sending a dull throb of arousal through Sam. Giving in for a moment, she turned her head right before the flash went off for the last time, placing her hand against his face to keep him there and kissing him soundly on the cheek.
Paul froze as Sam's sigh drifted over his skin, watching her scrambled out unassisted. It wasn't the physical touch of the kiss itself, there wasn't really anything romantic about that fast smushing of her mouth to his cheek. It was more the fact that she actually did it, and the gentle sigh afterward giving it more weight than a friendly buss. Shooting out of the booth, Paul was just in time to snag the three by five photos as they came churning out of their slot.
"Hey!" Sam tried to take them from him, but being the taller of the two Paul just held them out of reach as he looked the pictures over. The first three were goofy, as he knew they would be, but the fourth one had captured the surprised and longing expression on his face as Sam kissed him. Not quite ready to have her see that, he tore off the top two and handed them to Sam who had been pacing about like a frustrated terrier.
"I get two, you get two," he informed her. She grabbed the ones he offered her, peering at the black and white images. "The last one was blurred, you were moving," slipped out the easy lie.
"Anything else you'd like to do?" he asked, tucking his copies away as she humphed at him. The sun was slipping behind the mountains in an orange blaze that gave everything a golden glow.
"One last thing." She led the way to the Ferris wheel, craning her neck to watch it go around. The lights were just beginning to glow in the half-dark of dusk, turning the rundown and shabby ride into a wonder.
"Shall we?"
For an answer he steered her to the short line; within moments the carny had stopped the ride, letting the few people on. Sam and Paul sat down in the rocking seat; both of them making sure the bar was latched after the worker had lowered it, Sam holding on tight to Bob II.
With a creak and a groan the wheel moved, lifting the pair into the sky. "Can we see the Mountain from here?" Paul asked, leaning in close so she could hear him.
"No, but I can see my house," she quipped back, earning a chuckle from him. He sat back and rested his arm along the top of the seat behind Sam, memories of them on the bench eating ice cream coming to mind. As they reached the wheel's zenith, the contraption came to a slow, grinding stop and Sam leaned back too. Paul wasn't sure what to expect when she realized where his arm was, but to his relief she didn't say a thing, in fact she snuggled in closer to him.
"It's a little cold, with the wind." Sam burrowed deeper into her jacket, using the admittedly chilly breeze from this high up to get nearer to Paul. She could feel his solid form, and visions of his shirt stretched over those broad shoulders as he swung the mallet teased at her, keeping that warm glow alight low in her belly.
Paul made an affirmative sound, tightening his arm around her to give her some warmth but really just to have her against him. He let himself enjoy the feeling, not thinking about tomorrow, when their ranks would come between them. All that mattered was the here and now, with Sam pressed against him.
~~~~
Sam smoothly pulled to the BOQ parking lot, turning off the car. It was silent in the old Volvo after the noise of the engine.
"Thanks for Bob the Second," she said with a smile. "He'll have a place of honor in my bedroom." Sam could feel a flush creep over her cheeks, and was glad for the dark hiding her face.
"I had a lot of fun," Paul assured her. They sat there an awkward moment, neither saying anything, not sure what to say. The ride home through the inky black of night had been charged with feelings left over from the Ferris wheel, but now reality loomed before them in the shape of the squat, blocky base housing. "See you tomorrow then." Opening the door, Paul had one foot on the pavement when Sam called him back.
"I had fun too." Leaning across the console, she gave him a kiss on the cheek, lingering at the smooth feel of his skin on her mouth. The faint scent of his aftershave rose up to tease her again, kicking into high gear the dull ache low in her belly. Drawing back, she met his half shadowed eyes. "G'night."
A smile tugged at the corner of Paul's mouth. "Good night, Sam."
She watched him go, waiting until he has passed into the BOQ before leaving herself. Before she left the lot, however, Sam reached behind her to the back seat and pulled Bob II onto her lap with a contented sigh.
*****
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