Happy Halloween!!
Title: Jack's Spooktastic Adventure
Author: Annerb
Classicifications: Humor, crack, S/J
Warnings: Blatant abuse of Celine Dion, songfic, babyfic, good taste, and, on occasion, the English language.
Author's Note: I guess you could see this as second in my series of Un-Holiday fics, of which The Last Christmas was first. I'd blame Queen Mab, if she were still around. Dedicated to Kat, with love. Happy Halloween!!
Jack’s Spooktastic Adventure
The club lights were low, allowing its guests to sink anonymously into the booths lining the walls. The bar sat just a couple men staring deeply into half finished drinks. Along one wall was a small stage, soft white light flooding the empty space. Jack darkly mused that at least he had that to be thankful for, he wasn’t sure if he could handle an obnoxious amateur band on top of everything else. He wound his way over to the bar and gruffly ordered a beer from the barkeep.
His headache had just begun to subside when the first soft chords of piano music spilled across the bar.
“Oh hell,” Jack muttered, even as he turned in his seat to locate the source of the saccharine sound.
What he really hadn’t expected, even if he’d had a dozen more beers than he’d already consumed, was Samantha Carter to be standing on that damn stage with a microphone in her hand. She wore a long red dress that clung to her body like a second skin and shimmered slightly under the warm light every time she moved. She lay across a black baby grand piano that he could have sworn wasn’t there two minutes ago, but that really wasn’t the weirdest part.
She was singing.
“Dreamin', dreamin', dreamin'...
You are my knight in armor
The hero of my heart
When you smile at me, I see
A true world go up
The river is getting deep, believe it
You're all these arms of mine wanna hold
All wrapped up with a river
Baby, I'm giving you this heart of gold.”
She was actually pretty good. That just made it all that more disturbing.
After rolling around the top of the piano for a while, Sam slid off and began to work her way through the crowd, sidling up to Jack who still sat in shock, mouth partially ajar. Her hand latched onto his thigh as she sang, staring straight into his eyes.
“So listen up--it's you I trust
I feel magic ev'ry time that we touch
I pledge allegiance to the heavens above
Tonight to you, baby
I make my declaration of love.”
As every stanza passed, her hand traveled further and further up Jack’s thigh until he was finally galvanized into action by her ever increasing proximity to a place she had no business reaching for. He grabbed her hand, but she just took it as an opportunity to shift her weight so she ended up draped across his lap.
“I love you, Jack,” she said breathily, her bosom heaving. “And I just can’t stand another second being apart from you.”
If Jack’s mouth hadn’t already been hanging open in complete astonishment, it surely would have popped open again. Carter’s bosom heaved? Who knew?
“Ravage me, flyboy,” she purred. “I want to make sweet love down by the fire.”
And somehow, behind her where the stage and piano had once been, was now a fireplace complete with soft animal fur rug strewn with rose petals.
Jack stood up abruptly, dumping Sam rather unceremoniously to the floor. But she didn’t seem to particularly care as she pulled herself onto all fours and crawled towards him, all the while crooning softly.
“For all those times you stood by me
For all the truth that you made me see
For all the joy you brought to my life
For all the wrong that you made right
For every dream you made come true
For all the love I found in you.”
Intergalactic space hero or not, Jack O’Neill began to scream like a little girl.
* * *
Jack nearly launched himself out of bed, he sat up so abruptly. He gasped for air, desperately trying to rid himself of the vision of Sam Carter singing Celine Dion. What the hell was that about? He’d had nightmares before, but nothing quite on that level. He seriously doubted he would ever be able to sleep again.
Just as his breathing finally began to return to some semblance of normalcy, a hand wound its way around his waist from behind.
“What’s wrong, baby?” a voice mumbled sleepily. “Have a bad dream?”
Like some bad horror movie, time slowed to a painful crawl as Jack turned to look behind him.
Sam Carter was lying in his bed.
She wore a soft white lacy cotton thing that spilled gracefully off one shoulder. But he wasn’t staring at her creamy skin. He was staring at the enormous mound protruding from her stomach. She was pregnant. Really pregnant. With an entire litter from the looks of it.
Sam grabbed one of his hands and placed it on the enormous belly. It took every ounce of black ops training Jack had not to slap away her hands and dive out the window, glass panes and all.
“Don’t worry, snookums,” Sam said soothingly, obviously misinterpreting the absolute terror plastered on his face, “you are going to make a great father.”
Jack sputtered incoherently and she patted his hand reassuringly.
“To all three of them.”
Black Ops training be damned, Jack ran screaming down the hallway and never looked back.
* * *
Someone was poking Jack in the ribs. He blearily opened one eye to find himself sitting in the briefing room, Daniel glaring at him from one side.
Jack straightened in his chair, wiped surreptitiously at the trail of drool escaping down one side of his chin. He really hoped he hadn’t made any noise during those damn dreams. Nightmares, actually. Jack shivered through a serious case of the heebie jeebies just thinking about them.
Ugh…that was what he got for sleeping through briefings. Or at least that what he was pretty sure Daniel would say. Bastard.
Jack yawned behind one hand and tried to focus on what Daniel was saying, but then his eye was caught by Sam sitting across the table from him.
She was wearing standard blue BDUs, but they lay open at her throat and it was pretty clear that she wore nothing underneath. Staring across at Jack, she languidly ran one finger along the edge of the cloth.
Jack’s eyes darted to Teal’c in panic, but the Jaffa seemed completely unconcerned by Sam’s actions, glancing at her once and smiling serenely before turning his attention back to Hammond.
Even Hammond didn’t seem to care that Sam was wearing thick, glossy, pink stuff on her lips and apparently was going commando under her uniform.
Hunh. Well, if Hammond didn’t care, who was Jack to say any differently? If this was another damn dream, at least it was one Jack could easily get behind.
A foot began gently running up and down Jack’s leg, moving slowly along his thigh, and even though Jack knew it was physically impossible for Sam’s leg to reach that far across the table, he just happily sat back and watched her. He was ready to claim strange alien influence if he had to.
He was just settling in to enjoy this particular briefing room fantasy, when he glanced down with the intention of grabbing her sweet little foot and running his own hand up her leg. But he couldn’t see her foot, or anything of his lap, because of his enormous stomach.
He pushed back frantically from the table, trying unsuccessfully to escape the mass protruding from him. He couldn’t even form a coherent word or sound to express the utter terror coursing through his veins. He just flapped his arms in an agitated dance of disbelief.
“Don’t get overexcited, sir,” Sam said from across the table. “It’s bad for the baby!”
Jack couldn’t be positive, but he was pretty sure he fainted.
* * *
When next he woke, sunlight was spilling through the windows. Jack gingerly opened one eye, peering around for anything anomalous before daring to open the second. He took stock of the situation, still lying prone as if scared to give away his wakeful state. He ran one hesitant hand over his stomach, beyond relieved to find it normal sized, though he did take a moment to muse that he should kick up his crunches regiment.
He was in his own bed. Alone. Normally that wasn’t something to get so excited about, but today he would take what he could get. Gingerly sitting up, Jack could see that his room was exactly as he remembered leaving it. Another good sign.
Jack was finally beginning to let himself think positively when he heard it. Someone was in the shower. And they were singing, if he wasn’t mistaken.
Okay, that’s it, Jack thought. I am so done with this crap.
With all the wits left that he could muster, Jack charged full battle mode into the bathroom.
It was Sam. In his shower.
Singing really, really horribly.
He reached out and wrenched the shower curtain back.
Sam squealed in surprise. “Jack! What the hell are you doing?!”
Jack ignored her and carefully looked her over, paying special attention to her flat stomach. From the way she was glaring at him, he figured she wasn’t about to call him shmoopies either.
But there was still a chance she would mutate into a gremlin or start crying. Or offer to make him homemade blintzes for breakfast.
So Jack did the only thing he could. He pinched himself. Hard.
“Ow!” he yelled indignantly as the pain seared up his arm.
Now Sam was staring at him with a mixture of concern and wariness. “You’re really starting to freak me out, Jack.”
He’s starting to freak her out? She doesn’t know the meaning of the damn word. Celine Dion, for crying out loud!
“We are not watching your chicky flicks before bed anymore,” he demanded, laying down the law.
“Oh, please,” Sam snorted, reaching for a towel. “You’re the one who rented them!”
That might have been true, but totally beside the point.
“Okay, Jack, give. Did you fall and hit your head or something?”
Jack reached out and grabbed Sam, who was still regarding him with a beguiling mix of amusement and annoyance. She smelled like his soap. There was something intensely comforting about that.
With the pain still throbbing in his arm as a reminder that he was actually awake, Jack leaned down and kissed her softly.
“Let’s just say there’s no place like home.”
Author: Annerb
Classicifications: Humor, crack, S/J
Warnings: Blatant abuse of Celine Dion, songfic, babyfic, good taste, and, on occasion, the English language.
Author's Note: I guess you could see this as second in my series of Un-Holiday fics, of which The Last Christmas was first. I'd blame Queen Mab, if she were still around. Dedicated to Kat, with love. Happy Halloween!!
Jack’s Spooktastic Adventure
The club lights were low, allowing its guests to sink anonymously into the booths lining the walls. The bar sat just a couple men staring deeply into half finished drinks. Along one wall was a small stage, soft white light flooding the empty space. Jack darkly mused that at least he had that to be thankful for, he wasn’t sure if he could handle an obnoxious amateur band on top of everything else. He wound his way over to the bar and gruffly ordered a beer from the barkeep.
His headache had just begun to subside when the first soft chords of piano music spilled across the bar.
“Oh hell,” Jack muttered, even as he turned in his seat to locate the source of the saccharine sound.
What he really hadn’t expected, even if he’d had a dozen more beers than he’d already consumed, was Samantha Carter to be standing on that damn stage with a microphone in her hand. She wore a long red dress that clung to her body like a second skin and shimmered slightly under the warm light every time she moved. She lay across a black baby grand piano that he could have sworn wasn’t there two minutes ago, but that really wasn’t the weirdest part.
She was singing.
“Dreamin', dreamin', dreamin'...
You are my knight in armor
The hero of my heart
When you smile at me, I see
A true world go up
The river is getting deep, believe it
You're all these arms of mine wanna hold
All wrapped up with a river
Baby, I'm giving you this heart of gold.”
She was actually pretty good. That just made it all that more disturbing.
After rolling around the top of the piano for a while, Sam slid off and began to work her way through the crowd, sidling up to Jack who still sat in shock, mouth partially ajar. Her hand latched onto his thigh as she sang, staring straight into his eyes.
“So listen up--it's you I trust
I feel magic ev'ry time that we touch
I pledge allegiance to the heavens above
Tonight to you, baby
I make my declaration of love.”
As every stanza passed, her hand traveled further and further up Jack’s thigh until he was finally galvanized into action by her ever increasing proximity to a place she had no business reaching for. He grabbed her hand, but she just took it as an opportunity to shift her weight so she ended up draped across his lap.
“I love you, Jack,” she said breathily, her bosom heaving. “And I just can’t stand another second being apart from you.”
If Jack’s mouth hadn’t already been hanging open in complete astonishment, it surely would have popped open again. Carter’s bosom heaved? Who knew?
“Ravage me, flyboy,” she purred. “I want to make sweet love down by the fire.”
And somehow, behind her where the stage and piano had once been, was now a fireplace complete with soft animal fur rug strewn with rose petals.
Jack stood up abruptly, dumping Sam rather unceremoniously to the floor. But she didn’t seem to particularly care as she pulled herself onto all fours and crawled towards him, all the while crooning softly.
“For all those times you stood by me
For all the truth that you made me see
For all the joy you brought to my life
For all the wrong that you made right
For every dream you made come true
For all the love I found in you.”
Intergalactic space hero or not, Jack O’Neill began to scream like a little girl.
* * *
Jack nearly launched himself out of bed, he sat up so abruptly. He gasped for air, desperately trying to rid himself of the vision of Sam Carter singing Celine Dion. What the hell was that about? He’d had nightmares before, but nothing quite on that level. He seriously doubted he would ever be able to sleep again.
Just as his breathing finally began to return to some semblance of normalcy, a hand wound its way around his waist from behind.
“What’s wrong, baby?” a voice mumbled sleepily. “Have a bad dream?”
Like some bad horror movie, time slowed to a painful crawl as Jack turned to look behind him.
Sam Carter was lying in his bed.
She wore a soft white lacy cotton thing that spilled gracefully off one shoulder. But he wasn’t staring at her creamy skin. He was staring at the enormous mound protruding from her stomach. She was pregnant. Really pregnant. With an entire litter from the looks of it.
Sam grabbed one of his hands and placed it on the enormous belly. It took every ounce of black ops training Jack had not to slap away her hands and dive out the window, glass panes and all.
“Don’t worry, snookums,” Sam said soothingly, obviously misinterpreting the absolute terror plastered on his face, “you are going to make a great father.”
Jack sputtered incoherently and she patted his hand reassuringly.
“To all three of them.”
Black Ops training be damned, Jack ran screaming down the hallway and never looked back.
* * *
Someone was poking Jack in the ribs. He blearily opened one eye to find himself sitting in the briefing room, Daniel glaring at him from one side.
Jack straightened in his chair, wiped surreptitiously at the trail of drool escaping down one side of his chin. He really hoped he hadn’t made any noise during those damn dreams. Nightmares, actually. Jack shivered through a serious case of the heebie jeebies just thinking about them.
Ugh…that was what he got for sleeping through briefings. Or at least that what he was pretty sure Daniel would say. Bastard.
Jack yawned behind one hand and tried to focus on what Daniel was saying, but then his eye was caught by Sam sitting across the table from him.
She was wearing standard blue BDUs, but they lay open at her throat and it was pretty clear that she wore nothing underneath. Staring across at Jack, she languidly ran one finger along the edge of the cloth.
Jack’s eyes darted to Teal’c in panic, but the Jaffa seemed completely unconcerned by Sam’s actions, glancing at her once and smiling serenely before turning his attention back to Hammond.
Even Hammond didn’t seem to care that Sam was wearing thick, glossy, pink stuff on her lips and apparently was going commando under her uniform.
Hunh. Well, if Hammond didn’t care, who was Jack to say any differently? If this was another damn dream, at least it was one Jack could easily get behind.
A foot began gently running up and down Jack’s leg, moving slowly along his thigh, and even though Jack knew it was physically impossible for Sam’s leg to reach that far across the table, he just happily sat back and watched her. He was ready to claim strange alien influence if he had to.
He was just settling in to enjoy this particular briefing room fantasy, when he glanced down with the intention of grabbing her sweet little foot and running his own hand up her leg. But he couldn’t see her foot, or anything of his lap, because of his enormous stomach.
He pushed back frantically from the table, trying unsuccessfully to escape the mass protruding from him. He couldn’t even form a coherent word or sound to express the utter terror coursing through his veins. He just flapped his arms in an agitated dance of disbelief.
“Don’t get overexcited, sir,” Sam said from across the table. “It’s bad for the baby!”
Jack couldn’t be positive, but he was pretty sure he fainted.
* * *
When next he woke, sunlight was spilling through the windows. Jack gingerly opened one eye, peering around for anything anomalous before daring to open the second. He took stock of the situation, still lying prone as if scared to give away his wakeful state. He ran one hesitant hand over his stomach, beyond relieved to find it normal sized, though he did take a moment to muse that he should kick up his crunches regiment.
He was in his own bed. Alone. Normally that wasn’t something to get so excited about, but today he would take what he could get. Gingerly sitting up, Jack could see that his room was exactly as he remembered leaving it. Another good sign.
Jack was finally beginning to let himself think positively when he heard it. Someone was in the shower. And they were singing, if he wasn’t mistaken.
Okay, that’s it, Jack thought. I am so done with this crap.
With all the wits left that he could muster, Jack charged full battle mode into the bathroom.
It was Sam. In his shower.
Singing really, really horribly.
He reached out and wrenched the shower curtain back.
Sam squealed in surprise. “Jack! What the hell are you doing?!”
Jack ignored her and carefully looked her over, paying special attention to her flat stomach. From the way she was glaring at him, he figured she wasn’t about to call him shmoopies either.
But there was still a chance she would mutate into a gremlin or start crying. Or offer to make him homemade blintzes for breakfast.
So Jack did the only thing he could. He pinched himself. Hard.
“Ow!” he yelled indignantly as the pain seared up his arm.
Now Sam was staring at him with a mixture of concern and wariness. “You’re really starting to freak me out, Jack.”
He’s starting to freak her out? She doesn’t know the meaning of the damn word. Celine Dion, for crying out loud!
“We are not watching your chicky flicks before bed anymore,” he demanded, laying down the law.
“Oh, please,” Sam snorted, reaching for a towel. “You’re the one who rented them!”
That might have been true, but totally beside the point.
“Okay, Jack, give. Did you fall and hit your head or something?”
Jack reached out and grabbed Sam, who was still regarding him with a beguiling mix of amusement and annoyance. She smelled like his soap. There was something intensely comforting about that.
With the pain still throbbing in his arm as a reminder that he was actually awake, Jack leaned down and kissed her softly.
“Let’s just say there’s no place like home.”