Title: Blonde and Blonder
Author: wendy (email@example.com)
Pairing: Sam Carter/Donna
Category: Stargate/West Wing crossover. f/f UST.
Date: July 7
Archive: the Wing Swing http://www.gatefiction.com/wingswing/index.html
Notes: my entry in the Wing Swing. My first attempt at West Wing, or femslash, or all-dialogue. That's enough firsts for one story, doncha think? UST.
Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of MGM/UA, SciFi Channel, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. West Wing and its characters are the property of Aaron Sorkin, NBC and so forth. I do not own the characters and indeed am only playing with them for a little while. I am not making any money from this. No copyright infringement whatsoever is intended. The story is for entertainment purposes only. At least I hope it's entertaining.
Blond and Blonder by Wendy
"That squeak is very unattractive, Josh. And yes, I'm taking Sam to dinner in the mess."
"In that dress?"
"Watch your blood pressure, Josh, that vein in your forehead is even uglier than the squeak. And again, yes. I'll be back in an hour, surely you can live without me for that long."
"But Sam! He's my -- he's -- you can't. He wouldn't. He would have told me."
"There's no he-Sam."
"But you just said...."
"Pay attention, Josh. I'm not going to dinner with Sam, I'm going with *Sam*."
"Of course. Silly me. Not Sam, *Sam*. That's all the difference in the world."
"Dress blues, Carter? I thought we were just gonna shoot some pool."
"I'll meet you there, sir, after dinner."
"You're not coming to dinner with us? What'll Davis say?"
"He'll say 'oh, Daniel, that tie goes well with your eyes.' Then the three of you can belch, scratch yourselves, and make crude remarks about bazongas. But I won't have to listen, because I'll be having dinner at the White House."
"The White House!? And I wasn't invited? Hmmph. And I thought the President liked me."
"I'm sure he does, sir, but he won't be there. I'll be in the basement mess with a staffer. No Presidents."
"This is much better than the mess on-base."
"We like it."
"Do you come here often?"
<giggle> "I'm sorry. That's just... not that I haven't heard that line before, but not... you know... here."
<snort> "Okay. I guess that was .... have you always wanted to work in government?"
"No, not really. I sort of fell into it. When I broke up with Dr. Free-Ride, I was at loose ends, so I volunteered with the campaign and... one thing led to another. Then I left. Then I came back. And here I am. Have you always wanted to be a space radio whosiwhatsit?"
"Deep-space radar telemetry. And no, I started out wanting to be an astronaut. When I was little I had a Major Matt Mason doll with all the accessories -- the little moon buggy, the cool jet pack. I was gonna be the first woman on Mars."
"Like John Carter, from... oh what were those books called? You know the ones I mean. Did you pretend to be related to him?"
"Of course. But now.... I don't think Mars is in the cards. Edgar Rice Burroughs be damned. Can I have your Jell-o?"
"Only if I can have your chocolate pudding. Wouldn't it be cool, though? You'd have a whole Martian family, your Venusian friends might drop by for dinner, your kids would be in the soccer carpool with Jupiterians. Is that a word? There's probably a zillion different kinds of aliens. You'd be the designated Earthgirl, in one of those 1950's sci-fi spandex bodysuits. Of course your hair would have to be much bigger."
"Goes without saying."
"What color is my bodysuit?"
"Red, for Mars, with blue and green stripes to represent Earth. It has to be truly hideous. And you'd fly around with your jet-pack, saving the galaxy by shooting big-headed gray Whitley Streiber aliens with your raygun."
"And are you the President who pins the medal on my chest?"
"Prime Minister. Lots of medals; every time you save the world you'd get another one."
"Every time. I'll give you so many medals it's lucky the lower gravity and air pressure made your chest blow up to three times normal Earth size."
"So I have to save the world a lot."
"And I have to keep getting reelected. Good thing Prime Ministers don't have the same term limits as Presidents. <sigh. Reaches a hand out, brushes her fingers across Sam's cheek.> And I'd repeal 'don't ask don't tell.'"
"<leaning her face into Donna's hand> I'd vote for you."
"Hey, you're back. Where's the Parkinson file?"
"Right here, see? The one with the big blue label that says 'Parkinson'?"
"Thanks. How was dinner?"
"It was nice."
"Good. I need -- "
"Do they still make Major Matt Mason dolls?"
"There you are, just in time. Eight ball, my team, break for us."
"If I must."
"The team needs bigger hair."
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