I Didn't Like You Anyway

by Raisintorte

"So, what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" Sam didn't have to look up to identify the speaker – she would recognize that voice anywhere. Only Nathan Stark could mix equal amounts of charm and condescension into his words.

"Fuck off, Stark, and just for my personal edification - does that line actually work?" Sam signaled the bartender for another drink. Really, she should stop drinking and just go back to her room and sleep it off, but she was pissed, and the alcohol was making her forget why she came into the bar in the first place.

"Wow! I never thought I would hear the brilliant yet demure Dr. Samantha Carter use such language! And it's not a line, I don't need those." Stark sat down on the stool next to her, smiled in her general direction, then turned to the bartender. "Vodka tonic, with lime."

"I thought I just told you to fuck off, not order a drink."

"And I'm choosing to ignore you. I want to get drunk, and you appear to be well on your way. Drinking alone is never a good thing, so I'm actually helping you."

"In what universe do people actually fall for your bullshit?" If Sam hadn't been glaring at Stark, she wouldn't have noticed the almost imperceptible flinch he made when she called him out. Maybe the three Screwdrivers she had already finished were getting to her, but she suddenly felt bad for Stark. Well, not bad, but she didn't want him dead as much as usual. "Fine. You can stay, but no talking shop – I've had enough physics for one day."

"That's fine." The bartender handed Stark his drink and Sam couldn't help but notice how tense his hands were when he took it.

"I take it you heard what Klein said about your article, then?"

"I thought you said no shop talk – because if you want to talk about what Klein said about me, we should talk about what Pareseki said about you." Stark downed the drink in two gulps and motioned for another – which he drank almost as quickly. He wasn't kidding when he said he wanted to get drunk. When drink number three arrived Sam figured she should get him talking, or she would be dealing with making sure he stumbled up to his room in one piece, and that wasn't exactly on her agenda for the evening.

"Okay. So how 'bout them . . . wow, I'm pathetic - I don't even know what sport season is going on right now, let alone any team names. There goes that not-so-subtle attempt at a subject change." Sam leaned back on her bar stool and twirled the straw in her drink.

"What are you doing after this?" Stark turned toward her and took a sip of his drink.

"Classified. You?" Sam smiled ruefully and took another sip of her drink. If rumors were to be believed, he couldn't tell her about his job either.

"Classified. Well, that was productive. He panned your thesis because you wouldn't sleep with him, didn't he?" Sam was expecting Stark to change the subject, but she wasn't expecting it to go there.

"I thought we weren't talking about work."

"We're not. We're talking about you not sleeping with Erwin Pareseki." She could tell from his tone that even Stark didn't believe there was a distinction.

"Fine, then let's talk about you sleeping with Abby Klein. Mrs.Abby Klein." Sam tilted her head to the side and smirked, thinking that oughta shut him up.

"Right. Okay – next subject – Hey bartender! Two tequila shots please!" Stark waved his hand at the bartender grabbed a salt shaker and put it between them.

"What? No! I am not doing shots of tequila with you!"

"Don't be a spoil sport Sam-an-tha! And don't try and act like you have some place better to be, or you're too good for this - because if you did or you were, you would be there. So sit back, shut up, and take a shot." Stark grabbed the shots from where the bartender had set them and put one in front of himself and one in front of Sam.

Well, if she was going to be bad, she might as well be really bad. Sam closed her eyes, grabbed Stark's hand, and licked his wrist. She could tell he was startled for a second, but then he went with it. She poured the salt on his wrist, licked again and took her shot. She was about to grab for her lime when she saw Stark's mouth coming towards her – with her lime in it.

She almost pulled back, but then decided to go for it, leaning forward and fumbling for the lime. She almost missed it – which would have been horrifying – but Stark steadied her with a hand on her back and a firm press of his lips against hers. She wasn't entirely sure what to do with the rind, but then they were kissing and it magically disappeared, and she really didn't care about finding out how. After a while, Stark pulled back and Sam had to steady herself as she bobbled in her seat.

Stark reached for the salt, and then for her hand. "My turn?"

When Stark's – she could probably call him Nathan now, seeing as her tongue had just been exploring his mouth – hand grabbed her wrist it was like a freezing cold reality check. She had no idea what she was doing here, in this seedy bar, getting drunk with a man she barely liked. Suddenly it was just too much to handle.

"Excuse me, I . . . have to go to the bathroom." Sam stumbled away from her chair and towards what she hoped was the general direction of the ladies' room. She was almost to the wall when she felt a hand on her back.

"Sam." Stark had a look on his face that Sam was too drunk to decipher, but he seemed actually hurt that she ran off on him. "Let's go upstairs. I think you're too drunk to be down here, and I'm too drunk not to try and have sex with you at the bar."

Sam might have been drunk, but she was a genius – "And going to your room is going to stop you from having sex with me how?"

"It's not. But at least we won't get arrested for public indecency."

"Yes, highly classified military jobs tend to frown on arrests like that. Do you have alcohol in your room? Because I'm going to need more than one shot before I hop into bed with you – and, oh God, did I just say that?"

"Yes. Yes, you did. Let's go." Stark kept his hand on her back as he led her out of the bar and toward the bank of elevators.

They didn't have to wait long for an elevator, and Sam was feeling the effects of the alcohol when the elevator started. She swayed a bit, and Stark caught her and anchored her to him. He was so solid and warm, she couldn't help but snuggle in.

When the elevator opened Stark grabbed her hand and led her down the hall. He hadn't spoken since they left the bar, but then again, neither had she.

She was secretly hoping he would just press her up against the door and that would be that and they wouldn't have to talk, but that idea was laid to rest when he held the door open for her to walk into the room.

After the door was closed and locked, he made a beeline for the mini bar and pulled out a few bottles of alcohol.

"Vodka, Rum, or Tequila?" Stark turned toward her and held out the bottles.

"Do I get a mixer?" Sam eyed him as she considered her choices.

"Nope." Stark didn't even pause to consider the question before he answered.

"Vodka then." Sam grabbed the bottle, twisted off the top, and started drinking.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa – let's at least have a little fun while we're getting drunk." Stark put his hand on her wrist and pulled the bottle away from her mouth.

"I thought we were getting drunk so we could have fun?" Sam pouted a bit and flopped down on the bed.

"We're already drunk – but we might as well not waste the alcohol. Have about strip, ‘I've Never.'"

Sam was already drunk enough to think watching Nathan Stark strip would be fun. "Sure – I'll start. I've never slept with my thesis advisor's wife."

"That's low." Stark took a drink and removed his shoes.

"Nuh-uh. Shoes aren't clothing. And neither are socks. This is going to take too long if you go that slow. Off with the pants!" Sam leaned back on the bed to watch the show. Stark was drunk enough to clumsy but there was almost an art to how precisely he removed his shoes and socks. She breathed in deeply when he started unzipping his pants. They really were going to do this.

"I've never hid in closet at a party for 3 hours."

"I was trying to avoid –" Sam tried to explain but Stark cut her off.

"Don't care. You did it. Now drink and strip. May I suggest your top?" Sam glowered as she took a shot, pulled her shirt over her head, and took off her bra. She hadn't exactly been expecting anyone to see her underwear, so her bra was pretty boring and standard issue – she might as well get rid of it now.

"Well, that was unexpected. If we're going that fast, I should get rid of more clothing." Stark took of his shirt as he was talking. This left Sam in her pants and shoes, and Stark standing in his boxers. "This seems a bit unfair." Stark knelt down and started taking off Sam's shoes. Wow, that was a new one.

"My turn. I've never –" Sam didn't get a chance to finish her sentence because Stark got up off the floor and moved to straddle her on the bed. He took the bottle out of her hand and set it on the nightstand with his.

"I think I've had enough of this game."

"But we aren't done yet, I still have my pants -." Sam stopped talking and helped Stark take her pants off. They were both quite drunk, so they weren't coming off very smoothly.

"Not anymore." If Sam were more sober, she might have been embarrassed that she was lying on a bed wearing nothing but plain white underwear with Nathan Stark straddling her, but she was drunk, and he felt good in all the right places.

"Just to be clear – this never happened." Sam said with as much dignity as possible as her underwear flew off in the direction of the desk.

"Right. Never happened." Stark smiled down at her and then she stopped thinking all together.