Spun Around

by Christi and Ryuu

Pre and Post-Foothold

As resourceful as she was, Sam was forced to acknowledge that some problems were beyond her skills – completely out of her control. Even if she didn’t like that fact, it was reality, and right now, reality was biting her in the ass.

Or, more accurately, the foot.

She was fairly certain that if she glared at her own feet any more intensely, it was entirely possible that she would burn a hole right through them. “This is bad,” Sam stated balefully.

“Very bad,” Cassie agreed gravely.

Janet, who was admittedly somewhat out of the loop, looked between the two of them, confused. “What is?”

“Well, this,” Sam reiterated, gesturing wildly to her feet, where her big toe had just had the nerve to rip through her electric blue, hand-knit socks.

Janet blinked. "Well...do you remember where you bought them? Can't you buy another pair?"

"I'd hardly be upset if I could do that. But these were special socks," Sam retorted, realizing that she was whining and not caring much - tomorrow was sure to be a long, wet, cold day and she had wanted her socks. They were warm, and comfortable, and tended to take a lot of moisture before becoming gross and soggy.

Plus, they were just…special socks.

Surprisingly, Cassie said it best. "Those are the Jack socks," she tried to explain.

"Jack...socks..." Janet blinked again.

"Jack made them for her," Cassie clarified.

“And they're some of the nicest socks I've ever had. And now they have a hole," Sam stated, pouting in a most unattractive fashion. Objectively, she realized that she was being ridiculous. But during girl’s night, ridiculous behavior was tacitly allowed by all parties, and she really was upset.

"Easy there, Sam. Your pathetic side is showing," Cassie teased.

If anything, this merely caused Sam to pout a little more, although now there was admittedly a touch of humor in it. "I hate the wet planets."

Janet patted her shoulder, a hint of a smile flitting around her mouth. "Well, maybe Jack could make you another pair?"

"I can't just ask him for socks!" Sam protested. "I mean, I'm still sort of trying to figure out the rules, but I'm pretty sure that's not how it works."

"There are...rules?" Janet raised an eyebrow.

"We think so," Cassie confirmed. "The intricacies of Jack's Brilliant Sock Plan are still a bit sketchy."

"And he's called it that?"

"Only when under the influence," Cassie assured her.

Janet shook her head. "I worry about all of you."

"That's probably wise," Sam agreed, flopping onto her couch next to them with a distinct air of dejection. "I want more socks."

"Okay." Janet held up a hand, trying to stop the progression of this thoroughly ridiculous conversation. "Let's look at this logically. Why did Jack make you the socks in the first place?"

Sam grinned, looking down at her feet once more and wiggling her toes. "Look at the color. Remind you of anything?"

Janet studied them with a faint frown. "It's too bright to be the starg-oh. Oh."

"Yeah. They showed up in my locker about a week after that whole debacle."

"So...he made you socks to thank you for saving his ass?"

"So it would seem," Sam agreed, pondering this. "Wait. Are you seriously suggesting that I make it a point to...well, do my job in hopes that he will make me more socks?"

"Think of it as a bonus?" Janet suggested with a grin.

"That's...so ridiculous that it might actually work," Sam noted thoughtfully. "Are you sure that you weren't an evil genius in a past life?"

Curled up between them, Cassie grinned. "Who said anything about a past life?"

--

As it had turned out, the wet planet had been the least of Sam’s problems. Arriving back at the SGC and finding herself in the midst of a serious foothold scenario had understandably distracted her for a few days. By the time it was all over, she was past exhaustion, wanting nothing more than at least twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Well, she reflected upon entering the locker room to get her things, maybe a shower first. Then sleep.

Unfortunately, she was tired enough to forget about protocol. Tired enough not to check the sign on the locker room door. And definitely tired enough that when coming face-to-face with her CO who was wearing only a slightly damp towel around his waist, she could only stare.

Seemingly unaware of her discomfort or the reason for it, the Colonel merely smiled at her. "There's the lady of the hour," he praised.

She flushed. "I, uh, I should go away."

"Don't rush out on my account. I'm just going to grab my stuff and get going myself," he assured her. "I know I didn't break out of a secure facility, fly to Washington, and single-handedly thwart an entire alien invasion today, but let me tell ya, hanging from the ceiling in that purple gunk took its toll."

"Sir!" She fought the urge to laugh hysterically. "You're not wearing pants. You can't think of a reason that I should leave?"

Her exclamation caused him to look down at himself, suddenly seeming to realize his state of undress. "Well...crap." If she hadn't known better, Sam would even swear that he began to blush. "Sorry about that, Carter. Just...step outside. I'll be quick."

She was unable to prevent a short, slightly-hysterical giggle from escaping, rapidly clapping a hand over her mouth to prevent another one.

His eyes narrowed before an expression of mock chagrin locked into place. "Go on, now. You're ruining my virtuous reputation."

"S-sorry, sir," she gasped, gratefully leaning against the wall. "Just...tired."

The admission extinguished any trace of humor from his expression, and instead he looked deeply sympathetic. "I know. You're not planning to drive home, are you? Because I'm not sure you're really up to it."

"I, uh, hadn't really thought about it?" she admitted sheepishly.

He nodded. "I'll drive you home. Just...let me get dressed, would you?"

She flushed again, "Er...thank you, sir."

"It's the least I can do, Carter," he dismissed easily. "Seeing as you pretty much saved all our asses today."

She paused, remembering that girl night that seemed so long ago now. "Saved your ass?"

"Such as it is," he confirmed lightly. "And seriously, you're not planning on leaving, are you?" Smirking at her, he turned to his own locker and grabbed his clothes to take back into the bathroom and change. "When you're tempted to think that chivalry is dead, remember this moment," he ordered over his shoulder as he made his way to the adjoining room.

“Sir, yes, sir!” she called back, still giggling a bit.

“Are you mocking me?” he protested, obviously in high spirits despite the disasters of the last few days.

“I would never, sir,” she protested, albeit weakly, finishing the few steps to her locker. The clasp was sticking a little, and she had to pull harder than usual to get the metal door to swing open. When it finally did, the force jostled the contents a bit, and something fell into her hands.

Make that two somethings, she mentally corrected as she looked down at two perfectly sized, bright purple socks.

Even as tired as she was, holding a new pair of socks made her grin stupidly. Janet had been right – further proof that the former evil genius theory needed to be revisited, Sam thought. But that didn’t matter now, and neither did the exhaustion and the jet lag and the mental replay she kept having of shooting the Colonel’s double. All that mattered was that she had socks, which meant that she had done well.

The Colonel reentered the locker room just then, toweling his hair dry, but fully clothed. “What’ve you got there?” he asked, with an air of innocence so convincing that she nearly believed it.

“Socks,” she replied happily.

“Ah,” he said, smiling that enigmatic little half-smile of his, “You never know when you’ll need a pair of good socks.”

If anything, this made her clutch them tighter. “No, sir,” she agreed.

They stood like that for a few minutes, things that could be said left comfortably unvoiced. Finally, he broke the stillness, shaking his head. “Go get showered,” he said dismissively. “I’ll wait outside to take you home.”