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Entry tags:
Fluff.
So. Um. Sam/Jack fluff. To amuse Little Red. s8 spoilers, probably.
"I've got a crick in my neck." It's not really what she wanted to say, but she's sitting here on a couch, leaning against the man who is her commanding officer. There's really not a lot *to* say that could be taken well. Or not well. Or not at all.
"So?"
He is mocking her. She can tell by the way his voice has a smirk in it. If she weren't completely comfortable (except for the pesky crick), she'd shift to glare at him. But that would require *effort*. "It hurts."
"Carter?"
"What?" Maybe if he shifted slightly, she could curl more into his side. That might do the trick.
"You're interrupting the movie."
Oh. Maybe she doesn't want to be snuggled up against his side if he's going to be such an ass. Maybe she should--
The shift takes her by surprise and so she almost falls into his lap before her instincts take over and she's snuggled into his side better, her head *not* at an impossible angle. And he's breathing into her hair.
"Better."
"Sshhh."
Resisting the urge to poke him or something, she shushes. And tries to watch the movie.
But it's a silly thing with explosions and sex and she's seen it all before (Pete liked them), and so she's bored with it before it's halfway through. Besides, she knows who really did it.
For a moment, she considers spoiling it, but he might never speak to her again.
He's still breathing on her. This is almost distracting enough, but not quite.
"What now?"
He definitely knows her too well.
"I'm bored."
"There are explosions."
Like that helps. "I'm not causing them."
That thought gives him pause, and she can almost see the shift as his focus changes from the TV to her. Maybe he's remembering those times when the explosions saved his ass. Or maybe he's just glaring at her hair.
"You're going grey."
She blinks. Blinks again. "What?"
"Your hair." He explains, his free hand coming up to poke at one (apparently) offending lock. "Not a lot, but it's there. At the base."
"...I'm going grey?"
"It's a kind of silvery grey. It's..." The pause is obvious his struggle to come up with something to explain himself. He fails. "Cute."
"Cute?" She raises an eyebrow, but refuses to move enough so he can see it. Besides, he's supposed to be watching his movie. So is she, but they've established she's bored by it.
"Yes. Cute."
"Right."
He shifts slightly under her, tucking her more firmly against him. "Carter?"
"Yeah?" Ooo. Another explosion. Pity it looks so fake.
"Aren't grey hairs supposed to freak you out?"
Probably. But she's bored. And she's staring at a badly done explosion and a stupid romantic sub-plot that claims to be sexually tense. "You're not."
"That's different."
"How?"
"I'm a guy, Carter."
"Yes, Jack, I had noticed."
He shifts again, and this time she's sure he's uncomfortable.
"So. You like your hair grey?"
"Maybe." She considers shrugging, but that would require moving. And possibly finding herself sitting up straight and not cuddled right here.
An impatient sound comes from his chest, and she almost giggles. But there's a whole moratorium on giggling, and she can remember that even if it's been more than seven years.
"Hey."
"What?"
"You watching the movie?"
"No." Except the hero and heroine just kissed, and she wonders if they slipped in a little tongue. Probably not.
"Neither am I."
He doesn't move to get the remote. Probably because that would require *her* moving. And she's not. Moving, that is.
"Carter?"
"Hrm?"
"I can't turn off the tv with mental powers."
"Pity."
They watch the movie for a while, until she sighs. "That's so stupid."
"Mhmm."
"I dye my hair."
"Mh--what?"
She smirks. "That's why I'm not bothered by the grey. I've been dyeing it for nearly five years now."
"Five..." She can hear the wheels turn in his brain as he counts, determing-- "Hathor's freezer?"
"Janet thought it was a weird side-effect of that and Jolinar."
"Ah."
She can talk about Janet now without it hurting so damn much. Without a dull ache starting, without wanting to curl in a corner and cry. She can talk about Jolinar, too. But that would make him uncomfortable. She's really not in the mood to make him uncomfortable. Yet.
The movie is ending before they speak again.
"My arm's asleep."
"Sorry."
"No, no, it's all right. Really." He shifts them both a bit, and she can feel him flexing his hand to get the circulation going again.
The movie is over. Time to sit up. Except she doesn't want to. She wants to stay here, cuddled against her commanding officer.
"Carter..."
"I know." Her voice is small.
He shifts again, and she almost falls off the couch when he drags her into his lap and swings his legs up. They end in a tangle there, almost face to face until she gets her head off his shoulder. His arms are still loosely around her. "So..."
"Yeah." He tightens his hold and then glares. "I still can't reach the remote, Carter."
"No, but I can." A bit of leaning (and he's got a nice grip on her now) and she has the small object. Two buttons pushed and the tv is silent. She drops it and pillows her head on one arm, staring down at him. "So..."
"Comfortable?"
"Are you?"
"It's a couch, Carter."
"So, no." She guesses, her lips curving into a smile.
"Nope."
"Pity." Funny, but he doesn't seem to be letting her go so she can get up so he isn't uncomfortable anymore. "Jack."
"Carter."
"We should sleep."
"Yup."
"In a bed."
"Sounds like a plan, Carter." He shifts, pulls one arm behind his head and leans his head against it, eyes watching her. "You're getting good at those."
He is really going to make *her* be the one to stop this. Stubbornly, she refuses to. "I've been taught by the best."
There's a smirk around his lips. "I should hope so."
"Oooh, egotistical. Who said it was you?"
"Gee, Carter, I'm the only one you've been around to learn from--"
"What about Teal'c?" She wants to distract him, but he's a devious man, and she's just noticed the way his free hand is trailing along her back. Once or twice, it's tugged at a belt loop on her jeans. She is so ignoring it. Really.
"T's good, but I'm better."
Yup. He was smug. She snorts. "Riiight, sir. And that explains all of the times we got captured. Really."
The hand stills, and he turns serious. "Still got us out safe, though."
"Yeah."
"So... time to go to bed and sleep?"
"Yep."
Neither moves for a moment, and then she shifts and carefully clambers off of him. By the time she's standing, he's sitting up, groaning.
"Feeling old, Jack?"
"I'll show you old." The hands catch her arms, the tug insistant until she's against his chest again, staring at him. There is time for her to retreat, to move away, before his lips meet hers. She doesn't take it, doesn't do anything except stand there.
Then his lips meet hers, and she suddenly doesn't care.
She's kissing Jack O'Neill.
That distracting hand plays at her belt loop again.
"I've got a crick in my neck." It's not really what she wanted to say, but she's sitting here on a couch, leaning against the man who is her commanding officer. There's really not a lot *to* say that could be taken well. Or not well. Or not at all.
"So?"
He is mocking her. She can tell by the way his voice has a smirk in it. If she weren't completely comfortable (except for the pesky crick), she'd shift to glare at him. But that would require *effort*. "It hurts."
"Carter?"
"What?" Maybe if he shifted slightly, she could curl more into his side. That might do the trick.
"You're interrupting the movie."
Oh. Maybe she doesn't want to be snuggled up against his side if he's going to be such an ass. Maybe she should--
The shift takes her by surprise and so she almost falls into his lap before her instincts take over and she's snuggled into his side better, her head *not* at an impossible angle. And he's breathing into her hair.
"Better."
"Sshhh."
Resisting the urge to poke him or something, she shushes. And tries to watch the movie.
But it's a silly thing with explosions and sex and she's seen it all before (Pete liked them), and so she's bored with it before it's halfway through. Besides, she knows who really did it.
For a moment, she considers spoiling it, but he might never speak to her again.
He's still breathing on her. This is almost distracting enough, but not quite.
"What now?"
He definitely knows her too well.
"I'm bored."
"There are explosions."
Like that helps. "I'm not causing them."
That thought gives him pause, and she can almost see the shift as his focus changes from the TV to her. Maybe he's remembering those times when the explosions saved his ass. Or maybe he's just glaring at her hair.
"You're going grey."
She blinks. Blinks again. "What?"
"Your hair." He explains, his free hand coming up to poke at one (apparently) offending lock. "Not a lot, but it's there. At the base."
"...I'm going grey?"
"It's a kind of silvery grey. It's..." The pause is obvious his struggle to come up with something to explain himself. He fails. "Cute."
"Cute?" She raises an eyebrow, but refuses to move enough so he can see it. Besides, he's supposed to be watching his movie. So is she, but they've established she's bored by it.
"Yes. Cute."
"Right."
He shifts slightly under her, tucking her more firmly against him. "Carter?"
"Yeah?" Ooo. Another explosion. Pity it looks so fake.
"Aren't grey hairs supposed to freak you out?"
Probably. But she's bored. And she's staring at a badly done explosion and a stupid romantic sub-plot that claims to be sexually tense. "You're not."
"That's different."
"How?"
"I'm a guy, Carter."
"Yes, Jack, I had noticed."
He shifts again, and this time she's sure he's uncomfortable.
"So. You like your hair grey?"
"Maybe." She considers shrugging, but that would require moving. And possibly finding herself sitting up straight and not cuddled right here.
An impatient sound comes from his chest, and she almost giggles. But there's a whole moratorium on giggling, and she can remember that even if it's been more than seven years.
"Hey."
"What?"
"You watching the movie?"
"No." Except the hero and heroine just kissed, and she wonders if they slipped in a little tongue. Probably not.
"Neither am I."
He doesn't move to get the remote. Probably because that would require *her* moving. And she's not. Moving, that is.
"Carter?"
"Hrm?"
"I can't turn off the tv with mental powers."
"Pity."
They watch the movie for a while, until she sighs. "That's so stupid."
"Mhmm."
"I dye my hair."
"Mh--what?"
She smirks. "That's why I'm not bothered by the grey. I've been dyeing it for nearly five years now."
"Five..." She can hear the wheels turn in his brain as he counts, determing-- "Hathor's freezer?"
"Janet thought it was a weird side-effect of that and Jolinar."
"Ah."
She can talk about Janet now without it hurting so damn much. Without a dull ache starting, without wanting to curl in a corner and cry. She can talk about Jolinar, too. But that would make him uncomfortable. She's really not in the mood to make him uncomfortable. Yet.
The movie is ending before they speak again.
"My arm's asleep."
"Sorry."
"No, no, it's all right. Really." He shifts them both a bit, and she can feel him flexing his hand to get the circulation going again.
The movie is over. Time to sit up. Except she doesn't want to. She wants to stay here, cuddled against her commanding officer.
"Carter..."
"I know." Her voice is small.
He shifts again, and she almost falls off the couch when he drags her into his lap and swings his legs up. They end in a tangle there, almost face to face until she gets her head off his shoulder. His arms are still loosely around her. "So..."
"Yeah." He tightens his hold and then glares. "I still can't reach the remote, Carter."
"No, but I can." A bit of leaning (and he's got a nice grip on her now) and she has the small object. Two buttons pushed and the tv is silent. She drops it and pillows her head on one arm, staring down at him. "So..."
"Comfortable?"
"Are you?"
"It's a couch, Carter."
"So, no." She guesses, her lips curving into a smile.
"Nope."
"Pity." Funny, but he doesn't seem to be letting her go so she can get up so he isn't uncomfortable anymore. "Jack."
"Carter."
"We should sleep."
"Yup."
"In a bed."
"Sounds like a plan, Carter." He shifts, pulls one arm behind his head and leans his head against it, eyes watching her. "You're getting good at those."
He is really going to make *her* be the one to stop this. Stubbornly, she refuses to. "I've been taught by the best."
There's a smirk around his lips. "I should hope so."
"Oooh, egotistical. Who said it was you?"
"Gee, Carter, I'm the only one you've been around to learn from--"
"What about Teal'c?" She wants to distract him, but he's a devious man, and she's just noticed the way his free hand is trailing along her back. Once or twice, it's tugged at a belt loop on her jeans. She is so ignoring it. Really.
"T's good, but I'm better."
Yup. He was smug. She snorts. "Riiight, sir. And that explains all of the times we got captured. Really."
The hand stills, and he turns serious. "Still got us out safe, though."
"Yeah."
"So... time to go to bed and sleep?"
"Yep."
Neither moves for a moment, and then she shifts and carefully clambers off of him. By the time she's standing, he's sitting up, groaning.
"Feeling old, Jack?"
"I'll show you old." The hands catch her arms, the tug insistant until she's against his chest again, staring at him. There is time for her to retreat, to move away, before his lips meet hers. She doesn't take it, doesn't do anything except stand there.
Then his lips meet hers, and she suddenly doesn't care.
She's kissing Jack O'Neill.
That distracting hand plays at her belt loop again.
no subject
Dammit!
Well, I tried.
no subject
I'm just enamoured of blowing things up.