Rating: R
Codes: C/P. Davis, OC
Category: Het/Romance
Summary: Sam faces up to three nephews and shares something intimate with Paul.

Peter and Wilson watched glumly as their mother finished making the guest room bed and carefully set the fresh flowers in the vase in the nightstand. The tiny room was tidy and welcoming, but neither boy looked particularly impressed. Wilson pounded a grubby fist on the coverlet.

“Do we HAFTA?”

“Yes, Wilson, you HAVE to. This woman is important to uncle Paul and we’re going to be polite and friendly and NOT ask her embarrassing questions,” Connie Davis-White announced firmly. She took one final look at the room and sighed, remembering her last phone conversation with Paul.

“If it was just Kyle and me it wouldn’t matter, Paul, but we’re all meeting her for the first time—“

“Con—“ came his exasperated tone, but she snorted.

“I MEAN it, Paul. You two can’t share a bed. No hanky panky in my house, not with three impressionable boys. I have some rules I HAVE to enforce you know.”

“I know, I know. And I DO respect your choice, really. Just because she’s flying in for a SHORT visit and we won’t have ANY privacy for the 72 hours she’ll be here—“

“Oh don’t EVEN try to guilt me into changing my mind, Paul! The two of you can have your fun before and after the visit and don’t tell me you can’t.”

Paul had laughed at that and assured her he’d behave himself in the house, that Sam would appreciate the ground rules as well.

And now she and Paul would be arriving within the hour for the long weekend. Connie hoped it would go well and sensed that for all his relaxed charm her brother was actually--nervous.

~~~~~

“I can’t HELP being nervous, Paul! I mean they’re you’re FAMILY and I want to make a good impression. Working with men all day doesn’t automatically mean I relate well to boys—my grasp of the male psyche is based on Teal’c, Daniel and the colonel, remember?”

“Those three are practically the template for men in general—“ Paul replied reassuringly. Next to him in the car, Sam snorted, settling her sunglasses more firmly on the top of her head as Paul sighed and continued.

“Besides, all you need to do is be yourself. Connie has you all set up in the guest room so you can manage a strategic retreat if we all get too boisterous for you.”

Sam shot Paul a knowing look and he flushed, grumbling.

“Come on, Paul, a little enforced separation isn’t the end of the world!” she teased. He sighed dramatically and took the exit off of the turnpike shaking his head.

“Not the end of the world, but after not seeing you for almost a month—I am SO tempted to drag you off to a motel and phone our regrets in—“

“Hey—if we could handle not going after each other for three years, I think we can cope with this weekend,” Sam teased him, batting his arm lightly with her hand. Paul snorted.

“Speak for yourself, babe—as far as MY libido is concerned we’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.”

“Yes well it’s not the only one, but we’re a couple of mature responsible adults and we CAN behave—at least in front of everybody else,” Sam amended with a brilliant smile in his direction. Paul let one hand drift from the steering wheel to seek hers and squeezed her fingers gently.

“”So it’s Ian oldest, Peter middle and Wilson youngest, right?”

“Right. Connie’s younger than me by three years and Kyle’s my age.”

“And he’s in a wheelchair—“Sam prompted through a frown of concentration. Paul nodded, making a turn down a side road. They were in a lovely rural part of upstate New York, and the warmth of summer was held by back by the breeze and the huge old trees that lined both sides of the country road.

“Right—Got in an accident as a teenager. His fault and he freely admits it, but Kyle’s pretty amazing that way. He’s got really limited mobility so the chair is his primary means of getting around.”

Sam said nothing, thinking quietly. Paul shot her a sideways glance.

“Worried about being compared to Lil the Pill?”

“Of course. She and I are NOTHING alike, Paul, and I don’t want to dash anyone’s expectations.”

The car slowed as they approached a stop sign; Paul took advantage of it to lean over and kiss Sam’s cheek.

“Elevate them to new heights more like, Nell baby.”

~~~~~

The car pulled into a long driveway; the house itself, a rambling two story was set back from the road by a gravel drive. Paul honked, and the front screen door burst open under the impact as a sturdy child in overalls very nearly shot through it.

“Uncle PAUL!” Wilson bellowed, as if this needed confirming at the top of his lungs. Paul climbed out and intercepted the figure, swinging the boy around, both of them laughing. In a simple gesture of affection, Wilson hugged Paul tightly for a few seconds, then pushed away and grinned up at him.

“Mom is making lasagna!”

“It better be a BIG one—“ Paul grinned, and turning, looked over the top of the car at Sam who had gotten out and was stretching. Wilson glanced at her then ducked behind his uncle shyly.

“That’s Sam,” Paul urged gently, looking down again at the small figure behind him.

“Sam’s a boy name!” came the slightly scornful observation. Sam nodded.

“I AM a boy,” she announced, earning matching looks of incredulity from both Paul and Wilson. Seeing it, she grabbed the neckline of her tee-shirt and peeked down it, calling out,

“Oops, wait—looks like I’m a girl after all.”

Wilson broke into delighted laughter, appreciating the sheer dumbness of the joke; Paul sidled closer to her, rolling his eyes.

“I think I should double-check your findings there—“

“Down, boy—“ Sam laughed in a low voice. Any further comments were quelled by the sound of the screen door again, and a slender curly haired woman emerging as she wiped her hands on her apron.

“Paul! And you must be Sam of course, welcome! Get her bags Paul and carry them up. I’m Connie—“

“—The bossiest little sister on the planet—“ Paul muttered, but not softly enough for her not to hear; Connie shot him a glare. Sam didn’t miss the affection between them though, and as Wilson ran back into the house announcing them, she could see the family resemblance. Both Paul and his sister were slender with similar green eyes and dark hair, and the same way of smiling, a quick flash with dimples prominent. As they all walked up the ramp to the house, Paul lugged the suitcases.

“Lasagna?” he sniffed, grinning. Connie nodded, and turned back to Sam.

“You’re not vegetarian are you? I could always whip up an antipasto too—“

“No, I’m good with lasagna, absolutely. Wow—“ this last was her quiet exclamation upon entering the living room. It was huge and cheery, with large Boston ferns on hangers in the corners. One wall had a tiled fireplace with a glass screen, the mantel topped with framed photos. A built-in bookcase took up another wall, and a bay window with a built in seat was on the opposite side overlooking the front yard and porch. Thick colorful rugs covered the carpeting and large inviting sofas made a natural conversation pit before the fireplace.

“It’s home—“ Connie blushed. Sam nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s wonderful—the bookcase is amazing!”

“Dad did that—when we bought the place seven years ago he walked through and gave us some advice about how to modify it—did the woodworking himself. He and Paul did the bay window and the wainscoting too.”

Sam looked at Paul, who actually blushed. Connie rolled her eyes.

“You didn’t tell her? Paul!”

“It’s not that big a deal, Con—let me run these to the bedroom okay?”

After he’d left, Connie moved closer to Sam and looked at her with an amused smile.

“I have never seen my brother this modest before—are you sure this is the SAME Paul Davis?”

“It’s Paul,” Sam laughed softly, shyly. “At work he’s completely professional and austere, but I’ve seen enough of him off-duty to know he’s got his moments.”

Connie sensed a sweet sincerity to Sam’s confession. Rather than embarrass her, she nodded and moved to an archway that led to a hall. “Kyle! Come meet our guest, honey.”

The soft hiss of rubber wheels and into view rolled a man in a wheelchair, bright-eyed and surprisingly muscular. Kyle White looked up through his wire rims at the two women and flicked his long ponytail over his shoulder.

“Hello! You must be Samantha. Paul warned us you were incredibly special and that we weren’t to screw things up or embarrass the two of you in any way.”

It broke the ice and everyone laughed, Sam the longest. Paul sauntered in and looked around suspiciously.

“So help me Connie, if you make a MOVE towards those photo albums you are such a dead woman—“ he warned.

~~~~~

Friday night dinner was a happy collective of noise; Sam passed plates and listened as Connie dished up food at one end of the table and Kyle directed traffic at the other end.

“Ian, you HAVE to have green beans, it’s a non-negotiable. Wilson, those hands are NOT clean, go wash. Paul, wine?”

“Sure.” Casting a glance to Sam next to him, he asked, “You too?”

“One glass—“ she blushed. Across from her, Peter stared intently. When she met his gaze, he managed a tentative smile.

“Are you really a scientist?”

“Yes I am. I spend all day listening to emissions from outer space and checking to see if they’re signs of intelligent life. So far, nothing.”

“Like Mulder and Scully? Do you think there are aliens out there?” Peter asked eagerly as he passed the salad bowl to Ian. Wilson looked up, interested in Sam’s reply as well. Under the table, Paul squeezed her knee reassuringly as she took a sip of wine.

“Don’t quote me on it, but yeah, I believe there is intelligent life in outer space, Peter. There are too many phenomenon that can’t be explained as random chance, too many patterns and designs and sets for a rational mind to pass off as undisciplined in some way. And besides, it’s my job to be optimistic about that kind of stuff.”

Peter looked at her for a long moment, digesting about 40 percent of her words, but pleased at her candor in taking his question seriously. He sighed.

“What would you do if you met an alien?”

“She’d lock him up, you doofus! Aliens might be dangerous to us, or us to them, right dad?” Ian broke in. Kyle gave a thoughtful shrug.

“Possibly—but I’d like to keep an open mind on THAT subject and move onto another one—what’s the plan for tomorrow, guys?”

“Football!”

“Soccer!”

“Water fight!”

“Water fight?”  Paul snorted, looking at Wilson, who was grinning.

“Yeah we got some new super soakers and Ian says he’s gonna CREAM you this time, blues against reds!”

“What?” Sam puzzled; Connie sighed and jumped into the buzz now going on among the boys.

“Waterguns with colored water in teams—like paintball but much less dangerous and cooler in the summertime. Usually it’s the boys against Paul, but with you being a guest of course—“

“You can be on my team, Sam—I’ll watch your six—“ he teased, his gentle innuendo making her grin. Kyle passed his plate back to Connie for a refill and nodded.

“Sound fair, guys?”

Ian looked at his brothers; Peter was nodding, but Wilson looked slightly troubled as he seemed to size Sam up again. She gave him an innocent look until he turned his glance to Paul.

“Mom said we had to be nice to her.”

“Hey! You HAVE been—I don’t want you holding back tomorrow just because I’m a guest or a girl you know.”

That seemed to satisfy Wilson, who grinned.

~~~~~

Chapter Two

“Okay you three up to bed—no fussing! I let you skip the baths and we’re all Pictionary’d out so behave and do as I tell you—“ Connie announced to her three boys who each shot back looks varying in resentment and resignation. She followed them out after their goodnights to everyone, leaving the living room a slightly messy scatter of paper scraps and half-finished sodas. Sam started to clean up, but Kyle shook his head cheerfully.

“You’re the guest, Sam—time enough for Connie and me to tidy.”

“Ah, well in that case, I’m WITH the guest—“ Paul laughed lazily and stretched his arms up, bringing one down to encircle her shoulders; Sam grinned, snuggling against him a bit. Kyle glanced in the direction Connie had gone herding the boys and then back at the couple, his expression one of bland innocence.

“Gee Paul, since you can’t go to bed until Connie and I get the living room picked up, maybe you ought to show Sam the gazebo.”

“The gazebo? But it’s pitch black outside—“ Paul muttered, confused. Kyle gave his brother in law a meaningful look and rolled closer.

“Yes, Paul—“ he began in a patient voice, “The gazebo. It’s such a lovely SECLUDED piece of workmanship that’s not officially part of the HOUSE. Way out there in the clearing Sam might appreciate your HANDS-ON skills—at carpentry.”

Paul blushed. Sam blushed. Kyle smirked and steered the wheels of his chair around the coffee table, laughing softly.

“Man, you’re normally quicker on the uptake. Connie and I are going to be occupied for at LEAST two hours, so how you choose to entertain yourselves is up to you—“

He rolled away, leaving Paul and Sam to look at each other thoughtfully.

“A gazebo?” Sam asked softly. Paul rose and held a hand out to her, pulling her to her feet.

“Yeah. Dad and I put it together from a kit and then modified it for Kyle’s wheelchair. It’s screened in with all the amenities—including a great view of the fireflies. Want to go see?”

“Fireflies?” Sam murmured sweetly, her eyes bright and knowing. Paul nodded.

They walked hand in hand through the little woods at the back of the property, Paul leading the way, although with the nearly full moon above the silvery light was more than enough to light the narrow path. The moonlight’s gleam dappled the mossy ground underfoot and lent a sweet wildness to the night; Sam loved the rustle of the trees as a soft warm breeze glided on the air.

“And here we are—“ Paul announced in a slightly strained voice, waving to a structure before them. Sam could see it, a gingerbread of a gazebo, an airy circular room with a pointed roof topped by a dragon weathervane. Impressed, she let her gaze take in the octagon pavilion from its hip high walls and screening to the charming carved screen door. Paul pulled it open and waved her in.

“Oh Paul it’s gorgeous!” Sam blurted as they walked into the carpeted space. The gazebo was roughly twenty feet in diameter with built in bookcases along every other wall. A brass-framed daybed stood in the back, and Sam saw a pull-down desk off to one side. Paul put his hands on her shoulders, pulling her back against him.

“It’s a getaway for Kyle and occasionally Connie—the boys have their own tree house over on the other side of the house, and that one’s nice too, but this place is just for grownups.”

“Grown ups? Well that disqualifies YOU—“ Sam teased, loving the feel of Paul’s warm solidity up against her back. He snorted in her ear before kissing it.

“This coming from a woman with a stuffed panda dressed in doll clothes on her bed?”

“Hey, Daniel says Bob the Second is a fertility fetish, and perfectly acceptable in North American middle class culture, so back off.”

Paul felt a prickle of jealousy and tightened his grip around Sam’s waist.

“And just how does Daniel KNOW about Bob?”

Sensing an opportunity to tease, Sam let her hands drop behind her to cup the rising ridge of Paul’s jeans as it rubbed against her ass.

“He gave me a ride home a few weeks back when my bike broke down. Came in to use the bathroom and saw Bob out on the sofa—“ as she spoke, Sam gently stroked her fingers over the straining denim, inching the zipper down with excruciating slowness. Paul rocked against her, his breathing a bit faster.

“Ooooh babe—speaking of fetishes---“

“Um hmmmm?”

“You know those sandals of yours drive me crazy—“ he accused with a sigh. In response, Sam glanced down. Her feet twinkled in their thin green beaded straps, showcasing her elegant feet and pink toenails. Playfully Sam bent her knee and slid the arch up the side of his leg behind her in a deliberate caress.

“That would explain why you wanted my feet in your lap all during the game.”

Paul was too busy to reply; his hands unzipped her denim skirt and pushed it off her hips, letting gravity pull it to the carpet. Sam neatly stepped out of it and away from Paul, who was clawing his own back to pull his shirt off.

“I thought the rule was—“

“—In the house. Technically we’re not in the house. Come here—“

“And what if I don’t?”  Came her gentle taunt. Paul flashed a smile, slightly feral, definitely wicked as he tossed his shirt away.

“Then I chase you, catch you, spank you and have my way with you, ALL of which I am totally good with.”

Sam swallowed at this recitation, noting Paul was bare-chested, wearing a thin gold chain with a medal on it twinkling between his broad pecs.

“You wouldn’t DARE spank me—“

“Don’t think I wouldn’t,” before she could move, reply or breathe, Paul had wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a kiss. It started gently, but Sam’s desire rushed up between her thighs and she thrust her tongue into his mouth with sweet aggression. Paul met it, answered it with hunger of his own, pulling her to him, breaking off and diving in again with wet little nips, animal-like and slightly wild.

Sam ground herself against him, feeling exciting heat through their underwear. Paul had managed his way out of his jeans, leaving them in a crumpled pile on the carpet behind them. Sam felt his hands cup her ass, caress the cotton of her panties; she ran her nails along his strong warm back, rewarded with a low groan of pleasure.

“Take me, take me, you she-beast—“ came Paul’s playful chuckle in her ear. Emboldened, Sam laughed and nipped his neck, savoring the sweet taste of his sweat and aftershave. Along her ass, Paul’s hands got very busy tugging at the cotton, stroking and squeezing the taut muscles it.

“Yesss!” he crowed. Sam snorted, pulling back to give him the evil eye. Paul laughed, kissing her nose.

“Do-Right, you are SUCH a horn dog!” She accused, trying to wriggle out of her tee shirt. Paul considerately helped her, tugging it over her head, and then fumbling behind her back for the hooks on her bra.

“Of course,” he agreed cheerfully, “Complaining?”

“No!” Sam felt the bra loosen and the straps slide down her shoulders. Paul gave a sigh of satisfaction and leaned back to look at her.

“You are so damn gorgeous,” he declared hoarsely. “If I could I’d keep you just like this, all tousled and wild for me, babe—“

With big blue eyes, Sam stared at him, slowly letting her bra drop away from her in a move so uncharacteristically coquettish that Paul blinked, fighting back a fresh surge of lustful desire. He cupped her shoulders and slowly drew her to him.

“Kiss me—“ he crooned, and Sam lunged happily, wrapping her arms around him mouth open and hungry. They stood that way a while, luxuriating in the warm slide of bare skin on skin, caressing each other with slow sensual delight. Paul slowly backed her to the daybed and forced Sam down, looming over her in the dim light.

“Want me?” Paul asked hoarsely as his hands slid over her bare chest, toying with her stiff nipples. His medal brushed against her skin.

“Yes!” came Sam’s greedy voice, “Ooh yes I do—“ Her legs slid up the sides of his as he bent over her, the sandals twinkling in the moonlight. Paul laughed low, his voice muffled against her skin.

“Show me you love me, Sam. Show me—“ he ordered softly, his baritone rumbling in her ear. Electrified by his words, Sam writhed under him, breathing hard, her kisses sliding over his face as he dropped onto her. Paul caught her feet and swiftly, lightly folded them until Sam was pinned, her long legs crossed Indian style against his stomach her sex open and gleaming with slick desire. Paul looked down and smiled wolfishly.

“Just like this, wild for me—“ he groaned, and thrust slowly. Sam whimpered, feeling amazingly exposed and exotic, watching the thick length of Paul’s cock push into her. She propped herself up on her elbows, mesmerized by the sight of her lover slowly possessing her, the feel of him sinking deep. She gasped.

“Ohhhhhh sweet, sexy Sam,” Paul growled, thrusting a little faster, his hands caressing her feet through the sandals. He let his weight rest against her folded legs, pinning her down, taking her with ruthless sweetness, kissing her with hot swipes of his tongue in her mouth. Sam stiffened, the slow coil of sensual tension swiftly tightening low in her belly, stoked to fiery heat with every stroke of Paul’s cock.

“Ohhhhh—“ her moan escaped around Paul’s tongue; he thrust his hips faster, responding to her with a hint of roughness. The daybed creaked softly under their weight, the sound a rhythmic squeak drifting in the gazebo. Sam arched her long neck, giving in to the hot flood of raw pleasure rolling through her body. Paul’s grip on her feet tightened, thumbs rubbing her insteps as he grunted, hips rocking into her with strong jabs.

“LoveyouSamloveyouSOmuchbabe—“ came his hoarse confession as sweat from his brow dripped onto her breasts. She reached for him, caressing his face as he came, slow and deep, stomach tensing against her folded legs.

For a while they stayed locked together, a little dazed and breathless in their afterglow. Sam caressed his face, running her fingers over his lush lips, smiling as he kissed the tips.

“Good?” she asked softly. Paul laughed lazily, rolling off of her onto the daybed, reaching for the Kleenex on the table next it.

“Very good.”

“Did I—please you?” something in her wistful question, so unlike her normally confident self reached Paul and he gave a deep sigh.

“Yes you did, babe. Hell, you would have pleased me just by BREATHING.”

He could feel her tentative smile and reached for her, pulling her across his chest. The daybed was a bit short for people as tall as they were, but Paul managed to make them fit. Sam nuzzled his face with her own, rubbing her nose on his.

“That’s good. Sometimes I just really like to know that I—made you happy.”

“Any happier and I’d explode, Sam. Come on, I KNOW you liked it too, I could hear it in your voice, feel it in your kisses—“ he paused, looking up into her face, “—And I didn’t mean to get pushy, but I wanted you so much—“

“No, no that was fine! It was perfect for me!” Sam broke in, her tone light with relief. “It was just what I wanted. I kind of—need—that every now and then. It’s not easy to explain, but it’s true.”

“Need it—“ Paul mused after a moment. On him, Sam tensed a bit, and a slightly embarrassed, slightly wary expression crossed her face. She dropped her chin to break the stare, looking at the St. Christopher’s medal on his chest.

“I, sort of--yeah. It’s weird, I know, but that’s the way I’m wired, Paul. I spend so much of my career giving orders and taking charge of missions and projects that I get wound up pretty tight. And I learned that sometimes I need something to—unwind.”

“Hey, makes a hell of a lot of sense, babe. I’ve seen you so tight with tension a couple of times that you look like you’re ready to shatter. So when you GET to that point, you need--?” he let the comment trail off enticingly. The breeze picked up, shaking the trees outside the gazebo before Sam’s soft whisper came back to him.

“I need someone to take charge of me. Tell me what to do. Let me—PLEASE them. Do you think that’s freaky?”

“No.” came Paul’s strong and reassuring reply. He cradled her close, his hands rubbing soothing circles across her back. Sam relaxed a few degrees, sighing.

“I think it makes perfect logic. You outrank damned near everyone at the SGC, and while you take orders from O’Neill, it’s not quite the same when it’s official—am I right?”

“Yeah—“ palpable relief colored Sam’s words, and they came in a rush, “It’s weird, but the kind of rank the colonel pulls on me isn’t what I need. It’s not personal, not a choice. Oh Paul, I swear to you, I’ve never really told anyone about this part of me, never thought I’d find myself talking about this—but—I love you. I—“

“—Need me? Jesus, Sam, why not hand my ego the world on a silver platter?” came his low teasing reply. By keeping his tone light, Paul managed to keep her relaxed even as his mind turned over various exciting scenarios revolving around this side of Sam. His body stirred under hers; he sighed.

“I love you too, and I’m blown away that you trust me enough to talk to me this way. We need to talk, a lot more about what you want and what I can give you, all right? Right now though we need to get back into the house and look innocent.”

“Mmmm—I don’t think we can do that just yet—“ Sam giggled, her hips rolling against his, trapping his renewed hard on with lascivious intent. Paul laughed in agreement, his long fingers sliding down her sleek buttocks.

“No, not JUST yet—“ he conceded, gently starting to kiss her again.

Later, they walked back to the house, hand in hand, not speaking but keenly focused on each other, aware of a special intensity to the moment. Paul squeezed her fingers lightly and Sam responded with one in return. As they approached the back porch, Paul gestured to the upper window. Sam glanced up, amazed.

Clearly outlined in the soft light, they could see the shadows of Connie and Kyle on the curtain, moving gently in a slow familiar rhythm that sent a pang through Sam’s chest. Paul sighed and looked at her.

“Yeah I figured those two hours weren’t just for US—“ he breathed gently, and Sam nodded, amazed at the tenderness welling up within her.

~~~~~

Chapter Three

“Is she awake yet?”

“Don’t know—she’s got a pillow over her head.”

When Sam finally opened her eyes, she glanced first at the clock, then at the slightly ajar bedroom door. On a hunch, she called out,

“Hey!”

The door swung open immediately, confirming her guess. Wilson and Ian stared at her innocently, both of them still in their pajamas. Sam grinned.

“It’s early.”

“Waaay early,” Ian agreed. “Want some Corn Pops?”

The three of them sat around the kitchen table in their pajamas eating noisily, Sam demonstrating her shovel and crunch technique to the amusement of Wilson.

“How did you do that?”

Sam swallowed and grinned. She scooped up a spoonful and waved it lightly.

“It’s simple—three spoonfuls go in, but no chewing until the THIRD one—the chipmunk cheeks full of cereal help make the noise reeeeallllly loud.” 

Wilson followed her directions, his cheeks bulging out like a greedy hamster.  At the sight of him, Ian laughed, spraying cereal across the table.

“Ewwww—“ Sam snorted, just as Paul walked in, sleepy and curious as to the noise. The three at the table glanced up at him, Wilson still looking like a mumps victim.

“What are you doing?”

All three of them chorused, “Nothing,” at the same time.

Paul scratched his head and yawned, looking adorably warm and sleepy to Sam, who grinned.

“Yeah right. So who just woofied up that mess on the table?”

Ian laughed again; Wilson started crunching his double cheeks full of Corn Pops while Sam began to sweep the scattered cereal up with the edge of her hand.

“You’d have to convict us ALL, Paul.”

“Uh huh. Spoken like a true ringleader, babe---“ He busied himself with the coffeemaker pouring fresh grounds into the filter. Paul was still so enticingly warm and rumpled that Sam slipped out of her seat to hug him from behind. Wilson made a gagging noise.

“Yuck!” came the disapproving mutter. Sam shot the youngster a LOOK and stuck her tongue out with perfect timing; Wilson spluttered up milk in wet gush out both nostrils as Ian howled.

Paul glanced at the chaos behind him and shook a warning finger at Sam.

“I can’t believe you ever worried about fitting in—come on, let’s get the kid some paper towels—“

~~~~~

The trip to the mall took only twenty minutes, but Paul nearly missed the turnoff as he and Sam tried to run referee on the back seats. Peter was slug bug punching Wilson, who was demanding a ruling on whether a VW van counted or not. Sam shook her head.

“Nope, only bugs—no Jettas, Cabrioles, squarebacks or vans, guys—there are RULES about this stuff.”

“Uncle Paul?” Peter demanded on appeal. Paul shook his head sadly and pulled into a space outside of Sparky’s Hobby Hut.

“Sam’s right. And models in the shop do NOT count, so don’t even think about it—“

Three disappointed sighs greeted this; Sam glanced at Paul, who was trying to suppress a smile and failing.

~~~~~

“I take it you’ve refereed these matches before—“

“Since Ian was born. Let’s move.”

Sparky’s Hobbies was the usual intriguing shop filled with bins of wire and Popsicle sticks and glue. Immediately the three boys split up and moved down different aisles, combing the store for a replacement skateboard wheel. Sam meandered, paying only vague attention as Paul ran herd on his nephews. She stopped in front of a tall display near the far end of the shop and smiled suddenly, knowing she’d found the perfect something she hadn’t known she was looking for.

Carefully she picked up the box and flipped it over, checking to see if it came with everything needed. The launch pad could be improvised of course, but the engine itself--

“You’re kidding—“ Paul breathed, peering over her shoulder. Startled, Sam looked up at him, blue eyes wide and amused.

“You don’t think they’d like it?”

“Oh they’d like it all right, but it ain’t cheap,” he replied, noting the price tag with a wince.

“I want them to like me, and I’m willing to buy my way into their good graces—“ Sam smiled. Paul smiled in return, his pulse jumping a bit.

“That’s the analytical, slightly fiendish mind I love so well—“ he accused as Peter sauntered up, his hands full of wheels, followed by his two brothers. Ian focused on the box in Sam’s hands, intensely curious.

“What’s that?”

“Model Rocket—we could build it and launch it tomorrow if you want—“ Sam offered. Wilson looked up at the ceiling, his eyes going wide.

“How high?”

“Well, this one would go about 1500 feet give or take—“ Sam did some mental calculations while Ian and Peter studied the box. Paul snickered, crossing his arms and watching.

“Don’t fall for it, guys—she’s going to make you do the math—“

“We can even stick an egg in the parachute harness and see if it lands or—“ Sam offered, making all three boys grin and cheer.

“Oh yeah, SPLATTO!”

“SmashGOOEY!”

“Mom will HATE that!”

 Paul sighed. As Ian took the box and raced with his brothers to the cashier, Paul took a second to rub noses with Sam.

“If this was a reality show I would be voted out of the family by now, you KNOW that—“

“Nah, we need you for the rocket science, Paul—after all, you know so much about thrust—“ she rubbed his crotch lightly; he groaned and trailed behind her up the aisle.

“No messing with my launch pad—at least not in public—“ he hissed. Sam laughed.

~~~~~

Kyle turned the page of his novel and cocked an ear. He could hear a rustling just outside the gazebo, and a hint of hard breathing. He spoke up.

“Neutral territory—I’ve got lemonade—“

“Okay—“ came Peter’s gasping voice. His eldest slumped in and took the Snapple bottle from his father with a tired grin. Kyle looked him over carefully.

“No hits yet?”

“Not yet. Wilson’s soaked, and Uncle Paul took a good one in the face, but Sam and Ian are still dry. Did they come this way?”

“Neutral means I can’t say, remember?” Kyle reminded his son patiently, “No favoritism given to you OR your brothers.”

“Yeah, yeah—“Peter grunted, chugging more lemonade and wiping his mouth. They stared at each other a moment, and Kyle rolled closer to his son.

“So—what do you think of Sam?” he asked curiously. Peter grinned.

“She’s—really good for Uncle Paul. Not like the other one, even though I like Max.”

“Good for Paul?” Kyle smiled at this assessment and gave a nod of agreement. Peter gave a shrug.

“He’s googoo on her, you can tell, even though he pretends he isn’t. It’s because he watches her all the time.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” Kyle chuckled. Peter gave a nod and checked the gauge on his Super Soaker.

“Yeah well, she’s pretty cool, and Uncle Paul needs somebody to take care of. He doesn’t say it, but I think he gets lonely sometimes—that’s why he hangs with us so much.”

Kyle digested this preteen insight with a soft smile. He patted his son’s shoulder and scooped up the lemonade bottle without a word. Silently, Peter slipped out of the gazebo and into the sun dappled clearing just as an anguished yell from the far side of the house announced another successful ambush on Wilson.

Sam threw herself on the soft patch of clover under the big oak, laughing long and hard as she rolled on her back. Paul glowered at her, colored water racing down his face, running in rivulets through his hair and along his neck. His tee-shirt was saturated enough to be transparent, and the expression in his eyes boded ill for his ambusher.     

“You bitch—“ he began in a mild conversational tone. At that, Sam laughed harder, clutching her ribcage with both arms as he dripped and dropped down next to her.

“S-s-sorry, but you were SUCH an easy target, Hon once Ian lured you into the garage—“

“On YOUR order—I can’t believe you got them to team up against me!” his outrage grew even as he laughed. Sam gave a helpless little shrug, scooting away as Paul eyed her relative dryness.

“You’re not even DAMP.”

“I dodged a lot—Pauuuuul----“ came her warning tone as he set his soaker down and reached for her shoulders. Sam struggled briefly before sticking her fingers in her mouth and letting out a piercing whistle; instantly Ian and Wilson rushed up, nozzles aimed at their uncle’s head. Paul’s jaw worked back and forth for a moment.

“I’ll give you—“ he began in a soft, slow voice, “Twenty bucks EACH to go AWAY.”

Ian and Wilson looked at each other; in a panic, Sam shook her head, but it was too late. Both boys shrugged and disappeared again around the corner of the house and Sam burst out laughing.

“Paul Dominic Davis that was the most, most Machiavellian thing you’ve ever done!” she accused. Ignoring her outburst, Paul neatly snagged her by the waist and rolled on top of her, pinning her, deliberately rubbing his wet chest on hers.

“Oh I get worse, trust me—“ he growled with an evil grin.

~~~~~

Sam looked up and smiled at Connie, taking the stack of dishes and moving to the dinner table, setting them around efficiently.

“Something smells great—chicken?”

“Yes, sort of a casserole, with noodles,” Connie replied. “Kyle’s favorite.”

Sam cocked her head and looked at the other woman, her expression almost shy.

“Paul claims his favorite dinner is some family recipe your mom makes, a sort of seafood stew?”

“Clams Cioppino, yeah. Mom makes that on New Year’s Eve with just about every type of seafood and shellfish you can think of. The story is that it’s good luck to eat it on New Year’s and mom’s pretty big on tradition, so we’ve had it every year for almost three decades.” She paused, then added, “Want the recipe?”

It wasn’t a casual offer, and Sam, looking into Connie’s eyes, blushed both at the sweet sincerity and outright affection there. She nodded.

“Yeah, I would. I’m not much of a cook myself, but the way he described it made me interested in giving it a whirl.”

Connie chuckled. She handed Sam the silverware, then turned back to the stove, fussing with the peas there.

“It’s easy, but from the fuss mom makes you’d think it was the Genome project. Just make sure all the ingredients are fresh, not frozen, and you can’t go wrong. Best bet—come back on New Year’s and help mom yourself. That way you get the full treatment.”

The invitation hung there, lightly offered, a matter-of-fact acceptance that made Sam’s eyes sting briefly. She met Connie’s smile with another one of her own, the full and brilliant one.

“I’d love to—“

“—Love to what?” Paul demanded as he strode in, sniffing around. He gravitated to the stovetop as the two women eyed him them smirked.

“Sam’s thinking about coming on New Year’s and learning about Cioppino from mom. Is that scaring you yet, Paulie?”

“Nope,” he muttered, staring into the window of the oven.

“MOM, Paul—“ Connie prodded with a grin, “That lady with all the incriminating photos of you?”

Paul stiffened and turned around swiftly his expression alarmed.

“Sam doesn’t want to see those—“ he insisted quickly. Sam batted her eyes at Connie and crossed her arms.

“Photos? Of Paul?”

“Mom’s got the master collection of course, but I have some copies in the living room albums—“

“Con, for the love of God, NO! If I want this relationship to go any further you can’t whip those out and LIVE.”

“Come on, Paul—and the pictures aren’t that bad, so stop fussing!”

At that moment Kyle rolled into the kitchen, followed by Wilson. Paul scowled.

“Some of them ARE—bad doesn’t cover it, Con. They’re not photos I want to share with anybody.”

“Now Paul, we ALL have photos we don’t want people to see—“ Kyle teased.

“Like Ian! He’s got pictures of naked ladies!” Wilson piped up in a self-important tone.

The kitchen went completely silent following this little outburst. Kyle reached out and snagged the nearest shoulder strap of his youngest son’s overalls, hauling the boy closer. Sam was struggling with a blush; Paul bit his lips to keep from laughing as his sister gasped.

“Wilson—“ Kyle intoned slowly and clearly, “I’ve WARNED you about snooping around in your brother’s room. Your business ends outside his door, Bud.”

Wilson pouted unwilling to concede this point. Connie shot an exasperated glance at her husband while Paul shook his head.

“Kid, you know Ian’s going to KILL you—“ he pointed out to his nephew. Alarmed at this realization, Wilson began to struggle, but Kyle’s grip remained locked on the strap.

“Lemme go dad! I didn’t MEAN to!”

“Too late now, Wilson. This is a house where we respect each other’s privacy, and Ian’s due as much as anyone. Garbage or Garage?”

Sam watched with keen interest how Wilson thought seriously about his punishment.

“Garbage—“ Wilson chose, deflated. Kyle let go of the strap and reached out to tousle his son’s hair.

“Good choice. Nobody here is going to say anything about this, squirt, but you’ve got two weeks of garbage detail starting tonight, you hear me?”

“Yessir—“ came Wilson’s defeated sigh. Kyle gave the boy a slight nudge; he slunk over to his mother and hugged her. Connie shook her head when he slipped out.

“Naked ladies?” she demanded of her husband archly. Kyle held his hands up in a placating manner.

“Don’t look at me—I’m not the free and easy bachelor with possible subscriptions to various unsavory publications he might leave around during his visits.”

“Oh HEY—“ Paul protested, going a little pink around the edges, “--The occasional issue of Maxim, NO subscriptions, and how do you know the kid hasn’t got an outside source?”

Connie was laughing behind her hand; she shot Sam a twinkly look as Kyle rolled his eyes.

“Give me a break, Paulie—“

“Arm or leg?” he growled. Sam reached over and tweaked his nose.

“Stop threatening the cook—and you three are going to have to work on your poker faces, because we promised Wilson we wouldn’t tell—“ Kyle sternly reminded them.

~~~~~

Chapter four

The four of them were at the table, working on the Goddard Express, as Paul had so aptly named it.

Wilson was busily drawing wild flames in green and yellow along the body of the rocket as Ian looked over Sam’s shoulder, holding wires and assisting her. Peter read the final directions outloud, all of them making an amusing tableau under the overhead light.

Out on the front porch, Paul sat with his sister looking out over the slow approach of twilight. They hadn’t spoken much but now Connie stirred and laid a hand on her brother’s shoulder.

“She’s a good one, Paulie.”

“I know.”

“Mom’s going to like her.”

“Yeah?” Paul smiled at his sister, his eyebrows going up as she nodded.

“Oh yeah—and before SHE asks, I have to—is it serious?”

He nodded in a deliberate way, a small smile playing around his mouth.

“Con, I don’t think Sam knows yet HOW serious it is for me.”

This confession startled Connie, who looked up at her brother with a slightly troubled expression. He read her thoughts and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, squeezing his sister gently.

“I love her, plain and simple. It didn’t happen overnight, and it’s not a rebound from Lily, so don’t look at me like that.”

“No, I know—Lily had her moments, even if she wasn’t quite your type.”

Connie’s voice was quiet and sincere; Paul gave a depreciating nod in acknowledgement.

“Yeah well—we can’t all be pursued by an incurable romantic in a wheelchair.”

“I got lucky—speaking of which—“ Connie coughed a little, self-consciously. Paul shot her a glance and she broke into a grin.

“Connie—are you saying--?”

“Not yet, but we’re trying. Kyle’s tenure came through, and I was thinking about going to half-time anyway, and you KNOW I just can’t tell that man no—“

“Evidently—Hey!” Paul growled when she punched his arm. To make up for it he hugged her hard, kissing the top of her head.

“I’m glad. Really, really glad,” he admitted to her. Connie laughed knowingly.

“Because this is going to take Mom’s attention off you and Sam—“

“—Exactly.”

~~~~~

It was a glorious mid-Sunday morning, and the high school field was deserted. Mostly.

Sam was nervous. She chided herself for it, but it was clear a lot was on the line, and even if this wasn’t a mission through the Gate or a presentation at the Academy it was still vital to get it right. She looked up at Paul, who had his hands on his hips, watching her.

“Houston honey, do we have a problem?” he teased. Sam pointed at the flimsy cardboard.

“I skimped on the launch pad, Paul and I think it’s going to be a problem, yeah. The rocket won’t be stable enough to launch. The minute we ignite the engine it’s going to tip over and just scoot on the ground.”

Paul knelt and looked over the section of the field with a thoughtful eye. Around them, Wilson, Ian and Peter stood waiting and watching, none of them saying anything, and beyond them on the blacktop of the basketball court, Kyle and Connie waited.

“So it’s a matter of bolstering it around the base long enough for ignition?”

“Yeah. We’d need either a section of plywood, or some sort of material around the bottom of the rocket to stabilize it.”

“So let’s just wrap my jacket around it.” He peeled the leather jacket off and dropped to one knee. Sam’s blue eyes widened.

“Paul!”

“It won’t burn—at most it will scorch it a bit, but this one’s old, and come on, we don’t want to keep everyone waiting, right?” Paul soothed, wrapping the jacket around the base of the rocket and shooting Sam a teasing look.

She glanced at the boys, who were watching solemnly. Wilson’s lip was quivering, and seeing it, knowing how important the whole launch was, Sam suddenly nodded. She helped Paul secure the rocket, stabilizing it with the jacket.

“Is it going to work?” Peter asked, an anxious note in his voice. Sam rubbed her nose and nodded, handing the remote to Paul as she stood.

“It should, thanks to your uncle. I think all three of you need to flip the switch though—“

Eagerly the boys surrounded Paul, who waved them off, laughing.

“Let me back up, guys,” he pleaded. They trailed after him by about six yards, and Sam stood on the other side, her hands shoved in the back pockets of her jeans, smiling. A ragged countdown began.

“—ThreetwoONE!” came the exuberant cries. The rocket rose, gaining speed, climbing up into the sky to the applause and whoops of the boys. Sam strode over to the jacket, her nose wrinkling as she picked it up and shook it out. Paul was too busy watching the skies to notice. The rocket soared straight and sweet, out of sight while Wilson ran around cheering and Peter jumped up and down. Ian had binoculars out and was tracking its course.

“The parachute’s out now—“ he announced as Sam walked up behind Paul, draping the jacket on his shoulders.

“It’s singed, Do-Right—probably permanently,” she whispered to him with regret. He shrugged, grinning.

“A minor sacrifice for the common good—you know, that old ‘needs of the many’ thing?”

“Selfless of you—“ she teased, kissing his ear, laughing softly. He slipped a arm around her.

“Here comes the EGG!” Peter yelled as the fluttering white parachute hung in the air, the egg beneath it twirling in its harness. Sam lifted her face to watch, laughing as it came sailing down gently. Wilson and Peter took off, trying to anticipate the landing zone while Kyle rolled across the grass, laughing.

“Better than a shuttle out of Canaveral! Lovely job, Sam, really. If I didn’t know better I’d say you were wasted on the whole telemetry thing.”

“Paul worked on it too—“ she protested with a grin. Kyle scoffed.

“Paul’s already adored around here—nice to see some competition for favorite relative.”

Connie grinned at Sam’s expression, but didn’t get to add anything as Paul tightened his grip around her waist. The three boys came racing back over the grass, laughing and breathless, Wilson beaming.

“Th’ egg ALMOST made it—“ he shouted, his hands full of goo. Both his brothers were snickering, looking at Sam with unabashed affection. She motioned Wilson closer, looking at his palm.

“Whoah. This isn’t right-- Paul, check this out—“

He leaned down to look, and Sam swiftly brought her hand up under Wilson’s palm, pushing the goo into Paul’s face. Wilson cracked up completely; Paul growled.

“Ohh Babe, THAT was a mistake—“ he lunged after her playfully. Wilson snagged his uncle’s leg; the other two grabbed his jacket sleeves beseechingly.

“No, don’t hurt her!”

“Yeah, it was just a joke, Uncle Paul!”

“It’s not a big deal—“

Paul glanced down at the three standing in a protective ring ready to defend her and then looked at Sam herself. She blinked innocently at him, her smile warm and sweet, and for a moment Paul’s chest seemed so full of amazing tenderness he thought it would burst.

“Sam—“ he choked. She reached up and wiped away fragments of egg from his face with her thumbs, cupping his face and smirking.

“Yes?”

“—Gotcha!” he replied, grabbing her face, pulling it to his and kissing her soundly.