The Queer Sisters
P2Y-793 is a 1950s lesbian pulp novel.
A beat. Silence. Jack ogles a voluptuous blonde.
"Sir, I don't know how this is possible. I mean, it shouldn't be, given what we know about the Goa'uld and human history, but, then again, what with solar flares and the possibility of time travel, well-"
"Carter, today."
"This whole planet seems to be a recreation of a fifties pulp novel, sir. I mean, think about it, sir: the brooding yet seductive women, that guy in the corner with the eyepatch, the excessive smoking, the-"
"-women making out on that park bench?"
Jack and Daniel stop talking. Gawk.
The natives are getting restless.
(They're not, of course, but that's how things go in these stories.)
The natives are (Holy Hannah!) getting restless.
"I am Krys, and this is my partner Nikola. And who might you be?"
There should be music right now. A drum. Something seductive and slinky and not at all subtle. There is not. Still, there should be, and that's the though that keeps echoing through Sam's mind as she shakes Krys's outreached hand.
"Major Samantha Carter, of Earth. And this is Colonel Jack O'Neill, Dr. Daniel Jackson, and Teal'c."
She points them out in turn. They are practically drooling and completely nonresponsive.
(Men. Ugh.)
(Exactly.)
"It is lovely to meet you, Major Samantha Carter." "And you too, Krys," a nod, "Nikola."
"Come, we shall escort you to your quarters."
The man in the corner lights a cigarette. Switches his patch to the other eye.
"Nikola wishes to know where your partner is."
(Janet?)
"My, oh, I don't have a... I mean, that is..."
"What Carter's trying to say is," and here Jack stops for a moment to smile at a young redhead, "she's a serious scientist with no social skills whatsoever. Isn't that right, Carter? and she definitely has no, um, partner to speak of."
(You are a strange people, indeed.)
Daniel wipes his glasses on a tissue.
Nikola turns to Sam, "but what of this Jah-nett you think of so fondly?"
"Doc?!?!"
Jack faints. Daniel opens his mouth, fishlike, and blinks. Teal'c merely lifts his eyebrow and nods.
The man in the corner smokes.
That night, she refuses to dream.
She does, of course, in spite of herself. Visions of hands and lips and, always, the subtle taste of vanilla and cinnamon on her tongue. Soft sheets and softer touches. She wakes up with her fingers inside her panties.
(Your Dok-tor Jah-nett is lovely. You will bring her to us.)
Daniel cuts himself on a piece of glass at breakfast. Jack volunteers to go back through the Stargate to summon Janet. Krys merely smiles.
"Sir, wouldn't it be a better idea to just send Daniel back through the Stargate? That way Dr. Frasier could-"
"Oh no, Carter, there's no way I'm missing out on this."
He smiles and waves as he heads off. The man in the corner lights another cigarette.
(What is this sicks-tee nine your Ker-nal Jack mentions?)
Sam covers her face with her hands, "I am so going to kill him."
That night, they hold a dinner in Sam's honour.
In honour of her marriage, to be specific. To Janet. Jack lurks in the corner, smoking with the man wearing the eyepatch.
Sam isn't quite sure how it happened. There was a glass of wine, and then they held hands while Nikola danced. Suddenly, they were married. Krys, of course, neglected to explain the significance of the ritual until after it was completed.
(We thought you knew.)
Not that she's complaining.
Because she's not. Not with Janet's oh-so-talented tongue in her mouth. Not with her fingers doing that thing that makes her entire body feel like it's on fire while simultaneously nibbling at her neck, oh no.
"Hot damn, do I love you."
In fact, Sam's discovered that she really really likes being married to Janet.