Author: Christi (email@example.com)
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?”
“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 . Feeling any better?”
“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.”
“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.”
“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.”
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.”
“Do you want me to come back to D.C. with you for awhile?”
She kissed him then, and Jack was finally ready for the sex part of sex weekends with Carter to start.