Author: Christi (christim@comcast.net)
Author’s Note: First off, my sincerest apologies to everyone
for this being exceedingly late. I have no good excuse other than sheer
laziness and a muse that was distracted by other things. My assignment was jemster, who wanted 1) S/J playing 2) massage and 3) ice
cubes. She did NOT want 1) playing with others (although they could be within
earshot of the bedroom door) 2) voyeurism or 3) humiliation. Of course, I am
insanely contrary person by nature, and thus, the fulfillment of this challenge
is definitely not at all what she had in mind. For that, I sincerely apologize
and hope that she likes it anyway, pointless fluff though it be.
---
If Jack O’Neill had thought that paperwork was tiring back
when he was head of the SGC, that was only because he
had yet to be fully introduced to the endless circle of mind-numbing,
soul-sucking enterprise that was politely called bureaucracy. As Head of Homeworld Security, he spent his time in meeting after
meeting, arguing at the top of his lungs with people that in his previous job
as a glorified space cowboy, he would have deemed a clear and present danger to
national security.
After all, what else could you really call politicians?
The end result of all of this, besides a nearly continual
desire to shoot the people that surrounded him, was that Jack was exhausted.
Weekdays were filled with frustrating
It was okay that he was exhausted after the weekends,
because there was no better reason for exhaustion than lots and lots of sex
with Carter, which is basically what his weekends had been filled with since
his promotion.
But it was all starting to catch up with him, and as Jack
slept through the entire flight to Colorado, hazily hailed a cab at the airport
to get him to Sam’s house and went so far as to not only fall asleep again in the car ride there, but also to
drool on his collar, he was annoyed. There were few sacred things in life, but
sex weekends with Carter was definitely one of them. Too tired to have lots and
lots of sex was not an issue that
should come up when a couple was still in their all-over-each-other phase.
Though come to think of it, he really couldn’t imagine a
time when he wouldn’t want to be all
over Carter, so maybe this one just one of those things that had to happen
eventually. The possibility didn’t really make the immediate prospect any more
appealing, though. He still had to come up with a way to explain this all to
Sam without sounding either pathetic, flustered, or
just like the old man he suspected he was becoming, a task he didn’t really
feel particularly up for—no pun intended.
So when he unlocked the front door and dragged his stuff
into Carter’s front hall, only to find Sam propped up on her couch in sweats,
left ankle resting on a stack of pillows, a bruise across one cheekbone, and a
vaguely apologetic look on her face, the first thing out of his mouth was,
“Thank God.”
She blinked, raising an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”
He shook his head, kicking off his shoes and doing his tie,
slowly shedding pieces of his uniform. The jacket he hung up, the rest he just
let stay wherever they ended up. “Nothing, sorry. What
happened?”
Sam glowered a bit at nothing in particular. “Daniel.”
That brought a smirk to Jack’s face as he unbuttoned his
shirt and shrugged it off before heading to the kitchen. “I told you Space
Monkey was nothing but trouble. What’d he do this time? Get kidnapped by a
giant lizard man? Not-die again and require rescuing? Inadvertently cause an
alien revolt?”
“No, he left his damsel-in-distress persona at home for this
particular mission and resurrected his ultra-geek persona. He was talking about
some carvings we found on P4X-273 and tripped over a log. He was fine, of
course, but on the way down he accidentally pushed me down a cliff. Then Teal’c felt it necessary to carry me back to the ‘Gate—piggyback
style,” Sam called back to him.
Jack couldn’t help but smile at that, walking back into the
living room considerably more laden down than he had been. “The Three Stooges
do the universe, huh?” he commented, offering her the glass of ice water and
three aspirin he had brought with him.
“Sometimes I think so,” Sam admitted, taking the glass and
downing the pills in one swallow. “Thanks.”
He nodded, rearranging her on the sofa so that she was
horizontal before settling a bag of ice cubes wrapped in a towel on her ankle
carefully. “Okay?”
“Very okay.”
“Good,” he replied before stripping off his belt and pants
and lifting her head so he could collapse on the sofa, her head nestled in his
boxer-covered lap. Finally situated, he couldn’t help but let out a long, deep
sigh, finally feeling muscles that had been wound tighter than an Oversight
Committee start to relax. Bringing a hand up to entwine his fingers in her
short blonde locks, he cracked an eye open to look down at her. “Hi.”
She shot him an affectionate look that he was pretty sure
he’d never get tired of. Not that he’d actually consider saying something like
that out loud, or anything. “Hi yourself.”
Not really having the mental capacity for deep conversation,
he just let his fingers massage her scalp, feeling a secret sense of pride when
she made a nice hum of appreciation and her own eyes drifted shut. “I’m sorry
Danny sprained your ankle.”
“He’s Daniel. It happens.”
“True,” he agreed, letting his eyes drift back shut and just
enjoying the feeling of her hair around his hand, her head nuzzling into his
thigh. “Missed you.”
She didn’t say anything in response, but a hand squeezed his
knee and she nestled a little further into him.
“Gonna sleep now,” he muttered as
he felt unconsciousness creeping upon him once again.
“Sounds good,” she replied before the world went black.
Somewhere around six hours later, Jack woke up in almost the
exact same position, chilled with a monster of a crick in his neck. And he was still exhausted, but at least the edge
was off.
Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he looked down to find
Carter’s eyes blinking up at him. “What time is it?”
“Nearly
“Some,” he admitted. “You?”
She considered. “I’d feel better if there was pizza.”
Jack couldn’t help but grin. “Carter, you always have the
best ideas.”
And so the first sex-free Carter filled weekend began. While
the lack of sex was certainly not something Jack was advocating as a general
practice, for this weekend, it was perfect. There was pizza—
“Carter, you
can’t eat pineapple on a pizza.”
“Why not?”
“It’s
just…you can’t…I mean…ick!”
“…”
“Why are you
laughing at me?”
“…Never
mind. Continue. You were on your highly rational argument of ‘ick’.”
And there was poker—
“You were
bluffing.”
“Well, yeah,
but how’d you know?”
“It doesn’t
matter, Jack. Point is, I beat you. Pay up.”
And chess—
“Come on. Mooove.”
“Don’t rush
me, Jack.”
“You didn’t
take this long to figure out an answer to the whole black hole thing, and from
what you tell me, that took weeks.”
“Fine. There.”
“Good.
Checkmate.”
“…Gah!”
And a viewing of
When all was said and done, they had spent two days in very
little but pajamas and sweats and the couch cushions had imprints of their
bodies that probably wouldn’t be fading any time soon. Suddenly Sunday had
arrived, and while Jack felt more rested than he had in weeks, the idea of
getting on his flight to face another week without this to come home to felt
less appealing than facing a squadron of super soldiers with nothing but a yo-yo
and a box of kleenex.
“You know, Carter…my couch in D.C.? Much more comfortable than this one.”
“Is that right?”
“Mmm-hmmm. And would probably stand up better for long term use than this
dinky thing, too.”
“Jack?”
“Yes?”
“Do you want me to come back to D.C. with you for awhile?”
“…Please?”
She kissed him then, and Jack was finally ready for the sex
part of sex weekends with Carter to start.
“Okay.”